CHAPTER 1: You Can't Win If You Don't Play

Lesa Crews was forty-two and a supervising librarian at Georgia Tech. She had a lifetime habit of sensible eating and exercise, and with the right makeup and clothes she could easily pass for thirty-something. Her 5'9" frame comfortably supported the 150-pound mass of her body. She had a naturally dark complexion that required little makeup. At work she typically wore medium to dark business suits over a silk blouse with her dark strawberry hair in a tight bun. The muscular legs that extended below the knee-length skirts where encased in dark hose that ended in 2" heels that made her height even more imposing.

Her powerful father traveled almost constantly, and she had been raised mostly by boarding schools. Her father was supportive, but had always stressed the qualities of independence and self-reliance. She had typically joined him during summer breaks in whatever part of the world he resided at the time. Some were exotic and some mundane, but she was often exposed to economic realities that, shall we say, daddy didn't learn at Harvard Business School.

Her husband, Franklin, had been killed when the transport ship that was bringing him and his team back from an offshore mining facility broke up in a light gale and sank. When investigators revealed irregularities in the inspection and maintenance of the vessel, Lesa had enlisted the help of one of her father's oldest friends from his Harvard days and received a sizeable wrongful death settlement. It was never proven with evidence admissible in court, but several executives in a rival mining operation were implicated in the false certification of the doomed vessel. From her summer experiences, Lesa also knew some of her father's friends and associates who were not Harvard graduates. When legal avenues had been exhausted, there were a series of unfortunate accidents and disappearances among the prime suspects.

The loss of her husband and two of their best friends, Charles Lawrence and Randy Philips who had also been onboard, had been a serious blow. Lesa had taken a sixteen-month sabbatical to focus on salvaging what she could of her husband's business dealings, and to bond very closely with her children. Her oldest, Sara, was only nine-years-old the time of Franklin's death. Samantha was less than a year old, and Franklin Jr. was five.

Lesa's father had not been pleased with the body count among those suspected of complicity. He cautioned her with three rules to make her life easier: kill only murderers, steal only from thieves, and do nothing that gets noticed by the press. In her mind, those who knew that the vessel was unsafe were responsible for the deaths of eighty-six people, making them murderers.

Just when it looked like she could put her loss behind her and get on with her life, the news that the Earth was not alone in the Universe was released. The good news came first. There was an advanced civilization out there called the Darjee that we could consider our allies. The bad news followed. There was another advanced civilization known only as the Sa'arm that was closing in on Earth and destroying every civilized world in its path. The worse news came even later. There was no stopping the Sa'arm, and there were not enough resources available to evacuate the population of Earth. The one ray of hope was sending selected humans from Earth to dispersed colonies.

Lesa's CAP score of 6.3 meant that the only option for her and her children to leave Earth before the Sa'arm arrived would be if she was chosen as a concubine of a Confederacy volunteer. She became even more motivated when her oldest turned thirteen. If she didn't emigrate in the next twelve months then she would probably be separated from her daughter forever.

She began frequenting coffee shops every morning even though she always ate breakfast with her children. She also took them to parks, malls, and every public event that she could manage. These gatherings could turn into Confederacy recruiting parties if enough volunteers and concubine candidates were present.

Taking stock of her situation, she started looking for a way to get some control over her future. It was not in her nature to wait for things to happen; she was more of a make-things-happen type of person. Leaving her future and that of her children to chance was simply not acceptable. She began actively looking for candidates she could manipulate who would qualify as Confederacy volunteers.

Due to his young appearance, Jacob Caulfield had caught her attention long before she learned of his very rare 8.7 CAP score. There were not many sixteen-year-olds spending late nights in the library's reference rooms. She knew that he was a Georgia Tech student and, therefore, had to be very smart.

Lesa saw how distressed Jacob became when approached by girls in little more than body paint and big smiles, unless they were genuinely collaborating on an academic project. Her mothering instincts motivated her to shield him. But she sensed that mothering would repel him. Somehow she knew that Jacob already had an overprotective mother.

She got his name and student number by looking up the history of a book he had returned. Jacob had a perfect 4.0 academic record with a very tough load of math, science, and ... literature? If she was not intrigued before, she was certainly interested now.

Lesa was playing scenarios in her head looking for one that would bring her to his attention when she was brought out of her reverie by a disturbance in Jacob's direction. Lesa signaled the staff librarian approaching from the central kiosk to return to her desk. Approaching the table herself she heard a heated argument originating from under the table at Jacob's feet.

"Look what you did, you clumsy cow. You made him cum all over his slacks!"

"Hey, he went off before I got started. It's not my fault!"

"Oh yeah? Move over and I'll show you how it should be done."

Lesa squatted down on her heels with as much dignity that she could muster in her short wool skirt and peered under the heavy table. "Ladies, ladies, please keep your voices down." There were two buxom girls with badly bleached blonde hair grasping Jacob's wilting shaft in one hand and pushing each other away with their free hand.

"This is hardly the place for effective fellatio. I suggest you collect yourselves and leave through the nearest exit." Swinging a stern gaze from one combatant to the other, Lesa backed them down. They left quickly enough, but continued glaring and slapping at each other all the way to the door.

Lesa stood and faced the blushing Jacob. She admonished him with, "You really shouldn't encourage that kind of behavior in here."

Jacob was mortified and humiliated. Turning bright red he tried to defend himself. "I didn't encourage them! I didn't even know anyone was under the table until one of them grabbed my belt buckle. I wasn't able to break free with both of them gripping my pants."

"It wasn't your pants they had a grip on when I looked under the table." Lesa was trying not to laugh at the poor boy. "Tell me why two girls would be fighting over your manhood in here. Are you that good?"

Jacob worked his mouth like gasping fish, but no noise came out until he managed a squeaky, "Sorry." Gathering up his book bag and computer, he also beat a hasty retreat.

"Damn, that was clumsy of me," Lesa mumbled to herself. Knowing that it would be impossible to speak with him openly about the situation and especially the complaint the girls had expressed, she slipped a couple of books on human sexuality and sexual development into the stack of books he had left at the table knowing he would find them when he returned later that evening.

A few days later she approached Jacob. "Excuse me. Allow me to apologize for jumping to conclusions and embarrassing you the other day. Please allow me to buy you a coffee, Mister...?" When he only gave her a deer in the headlights look and made no response, she added, "Would it embarrass you that much to be seen drinking coffee with an old woman?" She was gambling that he possessed a sense of chivalry and was not ashamed of using it to her advantage.

He blushed, "You're hardly what I would consider an old woman. I would be honored to have coffee with you. I'm Jacob Caulfield, but I answer to Jake. When would be convenient, Miz...?"

'Charming' she thought, nodding absently. "Lesa Crews, please call me Lesa. I'm one of the librarians here and have a break at three o'clock." She suggested, "Shall we meet at the Starbucks across from the science building, or would you rather meet in the campus cafeteria?"

"Starbucks would be fine. It'll be easier for us to find each other there," Jake replied.

Smiling, Lesa said, "See you there a few minutes after three, then."

Jake left almost immediately for his afternoon classes.

Lesa stopped by the central kiosk at three o'clock and told the girl she was going to take a thirty-minute break.

Jake was waiting at the door to the coffee shop when Lesa arrived at ten minutes after three. "I was beginning to worry."

"Sorry, it's a bit of walk here, and I couldn't leave the library until three." Lesa paused and looked Jake directly in the eyes, "What I want to discuss is likely to cause you even more anxiety. No, it's not related to the unfortunate event in the library. Please, let's get our coffees and sit out on the patio."

After paying for the lattes and finding a table in the afternoon sun, Lesa launched her carefully planned diversion. "I have three children," she began. "Sara, my oldest, just turned thirteen. The rules for dating have changed dramatically since I was a teenager, and I don't think that the good advice I was given at her age still applies. In order to prepare her for adulthood, I need to know more about current adolescent sexual norms. I'm hoping you can help me, or at least point me in the right direction."

Jake's first inclination was to bolt, but a closer examination of the woman seated across the table in a gray skirt suit and light green silk blouse with a conservative bun and bifocals, convinced him that Mrs. Crews was looking for help with in a serious study of human behavior... and in a way, that was exactly what she wanted.

"I don't have much first-hand knowledge of the subject myself, Mrs. Crews." She could see that he was a bit flustered and uncomfortable.

"That's surprising," was her smiling response. "With all the highly visible sexual activity in public, I'm pleasantly surprised to learn that someone like you chooses not to indulge himself. There are some very attractive young women around you frequently. Many of them have changed their ... 'dating' criteria from appearance to CAP scores. I should think you do well in both categories," Lesa commented honestly, eliciting a nice blush from Jake.

"I'm too young to be of interest," Jake stammered.

"Nonsense," Lesa rejoined. "The two women under the table appeared very interested; however, I can see why they wouldn't be acceptable to you. I believe age difference is less of a factor than you might think. Besides, since the age of consent has been lowered to fourteen it should be possible to find girls who are less aggressive. Have these changes had a significant impact on the current social mores?"

"I haven't really considered the question." Jake was in unfamiliar territory.

Laughing, Lesa replied, "It would seem that you've had other interests occupying your time and haven't taken a serious interest in the opposite sex, yet. My late husband was also a late bloomer."

Her remark did little to put Jake at ease.

"Just look around any public gathering," Lesa remarked. "You'll see any number of older men having relationships with young girls. I believe the girls are looking for some experience in order to perform well if the opportunity to be chosen by a selectee presents itself. I believe that the men are looking for more immediate gratification. It has to be an ego boost for them to garner the attention of hot young girls for even the briefest of encounters." She smiled and tried to hold Jakes eyes, but he wouldn't raise his for more than a glance.

When Jake didn't respond or contribute to the conversation, she asked a more direct question. "Does it not then seem logical for experienced women to instruct young boys?"

Jake just shrugged and nodded; the topic of the conversation was way outside his comfort zone.

"I've seen scores of young women throw themselves at you in the library without success. Do you have sexual outlets that aren't apparent, or are you just disinterested in sex with women?" It was a very direct question that Jake was not prepared to answer. "I apologize for being so blunt. I should have started this line of inquiry when I first noticed the changes in public behavior. I'm now anxious to learn what motivates young people these days, and what is expected within their relationships."

"I'm hardly the norm. My experience is limited to a few ... oral ... encounters. I'm certain I don't compare favorably with my classmates and avoid rejection by not participating." Jake spoke with a bit more confidence as he took an academic tone. "My lack of social outlets and experiences make me prone to premature ejaculation and contribute to my disabling performance anxiety." Jake smiled at Lesa knowingly, "Yes, I was already familiar with the subject of the books that you brought to my attention."

Busted! Lesa had the grace to blush and dropped her gaze from Jake's face to the cup in front of her.

"I'm surprised that a person in your position is holding back. Surely you're not saving yourself for marriage. Would you rather your first experience be with a virgin, or with someone who knows the ropes?"

Again, the frank language shocked Jake. He wondered if Lesa was looking to set him up with her daughter, or maybe even with herself. "I don't know. I just don't want to be made fun of when I fail."

"Of course not, but is it really a given that you're doomed to fail? When you masturbate, do you fantasize about young, nubile virgins or savvy and sultry pornographic stars?" The comfort and sincerity Lesa projected with her shocking question took Jake completely off guard.

"I don't..." Jake started to deny any autoerotic activity. It was his turn to examine his coffee cup.

"Please, forgive me for embarrassing you." Lesa was apologetic, hoping she wasn't scarring him off. "I really want to get some understanding of the current status of the battle of the sexes, and would rather it be from someone who is sexually conservative. I have no idea how to answer my daughter's questions about public nudity, casual sex, and companionship expectations when socializing with the opposite sex."

"I don't participate in any of those activities." Jake indicated.

"True, and you don't appear to be comfortable in any purely social setting. I was hoping that if I could help you interact socially, I could learn vicariously. Are you disinterested in female companionship, or just afraid to try?" Lesa asked bluntly.

Jake just blushed and gestured with his hands.

Lesa looked at her watch, "I'm sorry Jake, but I have to return to work. Perhaps we can get together again tomorrow at the library?"

Jake nodded his reluctant consent.

The next morning Lesa again tried to coax Jake into considering experimental dating. Soon after he arrived at the library she talked him into stepping into her office where they could speak more comfortably.

Jake complained, "I would really like to help you, but I don't really socialize with anyone. I'm just not comfortable around girls. I don't even talk much about dating with the guys I know. My closest friend is my roommate, Toby, and he doesn't date either."

"How about asking someone in one of the study groups I see you participating in quite often?" Lesa was really starting to push. "You appear to be comfortable in their presence."

"You saw what happened under the table. It's not the first time. There was an incredibly embarrassing episode before I left home. I cannot believe I'm about to tell you this." Jake was absolutely crimson.

"What happened, I promise not to make fun of you?" Lesa was very reassuring.

"One of the girls at my old school climbed through my bedroom window one night. I'm a heavy sleeper and was startled awake when I felt myself ... in her mouth. I was ... ejaculating." Jake was almost too embarrassed to continue.

"The commotion woke my thirteen-year-old brother with whom I shared a room. While she continued to try getting me ... hard again, Justin started feeling her up and asking her to let him have a turn with her too. When I couldn't get hard again, she consented to Justin's coaxing and climbed into my brother's bed and helped him climb between her legs and start fucking. Justin came shortly after he started stroking. I could hear the squishy slapping sounds from across the room." He could hardly continue.

"Justin kept on stroking even after his climax and within ten minutes had the girl screaming loud enough to wake our parents who burst into our room and put a stop to their fun. Justin made all kinds of threats when Mom picked up the phone to call the cops. The girl grabbed her clothes and ran out of the house naked."

"Every time a girl comes on to me, I replay the incident in my head and wilt. I'll never be able to satisfy someone like my brother can," Jake admitted.

Lesa nodded, this trauma would be difficult to overcome. Wait a minute... Female lab partners or study group members didn't seem to intimidate Jake. She could host a study session at her home where she could control things better. All she needed to do was identify a group with the gender mix that fit her purpose and find a way to host it.

"Jake, haven't I seen you with a mixed group on Wednesday afternoons?" Lesa asked.

"Yes, several of us are helping each other with classical literature," Jake answered.

"How about changing this week's location from the library to my house? I would be happy to provide refreshments for everyone." Lesa offered brightly. "It could give me a chance to learn more about current dating practices."

Lesa didn't think her chances at direct seduction would be any better than the girls she had seen Jake reject, but if she could create an atmosphere of sexual tension using girls closer to Jake's age then she might be able to exploit a moment of weakness. She knew success was possible if his blood supply was diverted away from his brain and into his pants.

"I can ask everyone and get back to you tomorrow morning. Will that be enough lead time for you?" Jake asked.

"Yes, it will," Lesa assured him, "thank you."

The mix of three males and five females was hardly ideal, but just might give her insight for the next encounter.