Ann Crouse - Runaround Stews

Professor Jacobs was not alone in his screaming need for attention from the lovely Ann Barot. To a man in love there is no torture as sweet as rejection,. and his mad pursuit. He purchased a telescope, telling his wife that he was tired of biology and wanted to turn to astronomy for inspiration. It was now the second semester and Ann's gym class was learning archery.

With his telescope adjusted to the stance of the bow and arrow sport, he could sit for a full hour with his instrument encompassing the high mounds of her breasts, even more accentuated now by the exaggerated pose of archery. The Professor had met Carol Nester, the thirty-seven year old gym instructor and he had thought her a bit kinky. She was a single woman with a butch-type haircut and a broad flat face; her posture was anything but stunning now as she stood with her heavy legs spread wide and her hinds on her barely evident hips. The wind blew through her hair, but it did not stir. Christ, does she use grease or what? thought the professor in disgust as this boyish woman blocked his view to instruct Ann on how far back to draw the shaft.

Word spread like a wild brush fire a few years back when a few of Carol Nester's students complained about her enraptured attention to her girls' hygiene. There was no excuse for not showering in her class. But no one could make a well founded objection because although she was constantly tempted and excited by the naked female bodies around her, she had never actually approached any of them.

Ann Barot had never exhibited modesty in the stuffy confines of the girls' locker room, reeking from the stench of sweaty bodies and athlete's foot powdered mats, and she stripped in front of Carol as if she were a professional, and stood brazenly naked before the bulging eyes of Carol, her heart pounding with lesbian desires.

"You… you're doing just fine, Ann," Carol congratulated her student on her fine performance during the first archery lesson of the spring season.

"Why, thank you," acknowledged Ann as she swept by in her naked glory, leaving her instructor trembling with itching hands.

In five short minutes, Ann had showered and dressed in her casual attire-Levi's and a pink long-sleeved tee-shirt with "Oui" printed in bold black letters across her chest. Her hair was still a bit damp now from the shower and with a free hand she lifted her gold locks and ran her fingers through the baby soft waves, glistening in the sunlight of the warm April afternoon.

God, I've got two exams tomorrow, thought the lovely blonde strutting past the crowded library mall where countless eyes focused on her svelte form headed for the doors of the main library building. It's a good thing John won't be back from his flight to London until this weekend, she continued her thoughts, planning every minute of her busy day now that the spring session was well under way and her grades screamed for attention. Not that they were bad, she considered silently, especially for someone who hadn't been in school for four years.

Ann's life had taken a new course since her marriage to John Barot a year ago that May. Accustomed to the hectic life of a stewardess – maintaining two residences, one on each coast of the country – she found her new lifestyle surprisingly mellow and peaceful, especially now that she and John had purchased a house high on the winding road leading to Mount Tamalpais in Marin County, just a half-hour ride to San Francisco. There was the sunshine and the cool mountain air to wake up to every morning instead of rushing to put on makeup and press up uniforms. Her country life was growing on her, and horseback riding and hiking were among her newly discovered pastimes, since John spent a great deal of time away now that he was flying internationally.

Ann was humming to herself now as she thumbed through the card catalog under 'subjects' for a speech she had to give next week on changing marriage patterns in the United States. Mechanically fumbling through the endless stream of cards entitled, 'marriage,' 'courtship,' 'divorce, rate of', she sighed deeply, wondering if she should spend so much time on her speech when her two examinations were a day off. Anyway, she reasoned to herself, if anybody knows about marriage it's me.

Her mind drifted off, her hand still clutching a card, as she reflected on her first marriage, which ended two years before she met John. His name was Paul and he was a test pilot for the Navy in San Diego where she'd met him on a weekend yacht cruise from Monterey to San Diego. It was truly one of those rare 'love at first sight' occurrences that you read about in thirty-five cent magazines at bus stations. His square shoulders and red perky hair, that always stuck up in a cowlick, peeking out from the back of his head beneath the strict confines of his Navy hat, and his merry blue eyes, so typical of the Irish, struck her dead.

It was a week she would never forget! They'd met on Saturday and on Monday she called her friend and fellow stewardess, Trudy, and begged her, "Please, please, please, exchange schedules with me. I've met this knockout of a test pilot. He's with the Navy and he's such a hunk. God, Trudy, wait'til you see him!"

With thoughtful consideration, Trudy complied, and that very day Ann and Paul flew in his private plane to Reno where they were married. The honeymoon was spent at the honeymoon suite of the Harrah, breakfast delivered every morning, lunch every afternoon and dinner every evening, while the newspapers piled up outside of their hotel door, completely ignored. For three days they didn't leave the room, not even to try their luck at the tempting machines that clinked and clattered in the downstairs of their love bungalow. Frank Sinatra was opening in the very building, but they did not stir from the honey sweet love nest of their bedroom.

It was now Thursday morning and Paul had to return to the Navy base in San Diego or go AWOL – neither a pleasant choice for a newlywed husband hopelessly in love with his Cinderella blonde wife, who purred her affection endlessly in streams of provocative lovemaking. But there was no choice, and with a freckled hand, he wiped the tears from her rosy cheeks, and bade his wife goodbye. He had to hurry now as the plane still needed some last minute repairs and a good check before he'd dare cross the desert, blasted with sand storms now sweeping the Southwest.

With trembling hands Ann packed her suitcase, the tears rolling down her tanned cheeks, dampening her honeymoon peignoir soiled from their three-day celebration of love and family hood. How she loathed going back to work, 'is there anything I can get you sir!' 'an aspirin for your headache, ma'am. Of course.' Smile, smile, smile, that's all you do when you're a stewardess, thought Ann securing the top button of her red blazer. I'm so tired of taking care of everyone's needs, she sighed, but now that Paul and I are married maybe I can live in one place and maybe, just maybe, even raise a family. Tucking in a blonde curl that escaped her red hat, she considered calling the airlines and telling her supervisor that as of that very minute her career as servile female was over – for good. God, it's only been four hours since Paul left and already I'm hopelessly lost without him, she thought, stroking on her curled thick lashes.

The telephone buzzed. "Hello?"

"Ann? This is the desk. We have a call for you. Please hold on for the connection."

Ann cradled the receiver to her heaving chest; maybe it was Paul and he had decided to go AWOL and they'd romantically fly his private plane to Sweden and bask in the sun for the rest of their lives. Her reverie was broken by the flatulence of a deep voice.

"Ann Bailey. I have a notice here in my hand," he belched out every word, "that you are the recent bride of Paul Bailey."

"Yes," she stammered.