Brie: It's What's For Breakfast

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The Recalcitrant Virgin


I was humming a little tune and adding a bit of water to the bouquet of six dozen pure white roses Tyme Traveler had sent me when the knock came on my office door.

“Come on in!” I called, turning to water the bouquet of six dozen blazing red roses my … ahem … sponsor, Ze Baron had sent me. ( I still haven’t taken delivery of the Partridge Family Bus, so he doesn’t completely own me yet.) I heard the door open and then close, but whoever entered had not said anything. “Yes?” I asked cheerfully, my back still to the door.

When there was still no answer, I turned around, hoping I wasn’t about to get Shanghaied by some angry Samoan father. I was relieved to see Susan, but my relief immediately changed to concern when I saw her trembling and noticed a tear plunging down her cheek.

“Oh, no!” I put the water pitcher down next to the six dozen pristine yellow roses Sir Agincourt had sent me and crossed the room to Susan, giving her a reassuring hug. “What’s is it, dear?” I asked, steering her by the elbow to the fainting couch near the window. She began to sob in earnest and I quickly mixed her a Margarita. “Tell Wenchy what’s wrong,” I encouraged, handing her a delicately embroidered, soft, linen hanky.

Susan’s sobs turned into sniffles as the Margarita began to work its magic and she was able to catch her breath.

“Oh, Wench! I’ve done the most terrible thing a Virgin can do!”

“Now, now, Susie.” I said soothingly. “You were one of the very first students to matriculate here at Wench’s Virgin Training School. You know there’s nothing we can’t fix.”

Inexplicably, she began sobbing again. I patted her shoulder and mixed my student another Margarita. I also went to the phone on my desk and called for Sherry and Silly. If anyone knew what was wrong with Susan, they would.

Sherry arrived first. “Uh-oh. I was afraid this might happen,” she said when she saw the shape Susan was in.

“Clue me in, then,” I requested. I was worried. Susan was inconsolable.

Silly arrived just then and drew up short. “What did that man do to her?” she exclaimed.

“Man?” I cocked an elegantly sculpted eyebrow. “No man has been authorized to have access to Susan.”

Silly’s eyes widened and she slapped her hand over her mouth. Sherry shook her head sadly.

“Susie, may I tell Wench what’s going on?” Sherry asked. Susan cried harder but nodded her permission. I looked at Sherry expectantly. Sherry sighed. “Mind if I have a Margarita? This isn’t going to be easy.”

I nodded and indicated the pitcher of drinks already mixed and waiting. Sherry poured one for me and one for Silly, then gulped one herself. She refilled her glass, sighed again, and began.

“Susan met the Encore Shooter a month or so ago, and the sparks were instantaneous. He’s asked her to move in with him.”

“Move in with him? But she has a home! Her FEMA trailer is gorgeously and tastefully decorated, and her SEALs are so devoted to her they’ve even done spectacular landscaping around it!” I was utterly mystified. Why in the world would Susan want to leave the school and her home? And then his name hit me.

“Wait a minute!” I yelped. “Encore Shooter?”

Sherry and Silly both nodded.

I dashed to my desk and began rifling papers. Aha! There was the letter I wanted!

“Encore Shooter wrote me last week asking if I would consider taking payment for a Virgin in some medium of exchange other than camels or oil wells. I nearly threw it away but kept it for a good laugh. I had no idea he already had a particular Virgin in mind!”

“He has had a particular Virgin in more than just his mind,” muttered Sherry.

“Excuse me?” Susan was sobbing so loudly at this point that I wasn’t sure I had heard Sherry correctly.

“They’ve been seeing each other in secret,” Silly offered hesitantly.

“Seeing each other…?” I was stunned. Dumbstruck.

“Unchaperoned,” confirmed Sherry with a tight nod of her head.

I gasped.

This was disaster. If one Virgin was going over the fence at night, what kind of example would this set for the others? Susan may be one of my favorite and best students, but this matter would have to be dealt with swiftly and firmly. Once again I picked up the telephone on my desk. I dialed the Twisted Wench Daiquiri Lounge. When Mad Diane LeDeux answered, I simply said, “We have a Situation. Please come to my office immediately.” The line went dead in my ear, but I knew Mad Diane was on her way.

“We obviously need to get this man here so we can discuss a price,” I said decisively to Sherry and Silly. “Do either of you know how to reach him quickly?”

To my chagrin, Susan actually was able to cry harder and louder. I rolled my eyes. Susan’s reaction to my question could only mean one thing. “Silly, go to Susan’s FEMA trailer. Have any men who are there, including her SEALs, come here to my office at once. And find Basser, too.” Silly ran to obey, the colorful silken veils of her harem outfit flapping behind her.

I turned my attention to the still-sobbing Susan. “Susan, pull yourself together. I’m going to deal with this situation, and it isn’t the end of the world. Have another drink.” I handed her a freshly topped-off Margarita. She gulped it and hiccuped.

Sherry sat beside her on the fainting couch and patted her had reassuringly. “Sus, I told you Wench wouldn’t get mad if you just told her the truth.” Sherry scolded her friend gently, and offered her a hanky that wasn’t nearly as sodden as the crumpled mess Susan was holding. Susan blew her nose loudly.

While Susan calmed herself I mixed another pitcher of Margaritas. Dealing with this situation was going to take much fortitude, and tequila is chock full of fortitude. Sherry and Susan murmured together quietly.

I settled myself comfortably on the divan across from them, drink in hand, and addressed Susan, who was still hiccuping but calm. “So tell me how it happened,” I commanded.

She glanced at Sherry for support and took a deep breath. “We actually met before the Virgin Training School opened. Just once, and in a crowd. There was nothing compromising about it at all. But then one day when Silly and I were shopping in the open-air market, I bumped into him again. Bumping into him was what did it. That physical contact….” A dreamy look came into her eyes.

“Obviously that one instance of physical contact isn’t what has you so upset,” I pointed out.

“Well, no. He asked for my phone number. Silly warned me not to do it, but I gave it to him. And he called. We met for dinner, and for a picnic, and more.” The dreamy look was back. “He’s so handsome, and so kind, and so funny, and so wonderful…”

I could tell that the adjectives would just keep coming ad nauseum, so I was relieved when Silly returned with Basser and Susan’s two assigned SEALs. A nice looking, tragically American man was with them, too. The SEALs appeared to have him in custody.

I stood and extended my hand for a kiss. “Encore Shooter, I presume?” He looked flustered, but knew what to do. Susan had either briefed him well or this man was indeed a true gentleman. I suspected the latter based on how quickly he seemed to assess the situation in my office.

“Mistress Wench, I have taken shameful advantage of Susan and I want nothing more than to make things right,” he said.

I was impressed. With his first words he had assumed responsibility and was offering compensation for the damage he had done.

“I’m listening,” I said evenly.

From his pocket the man produced a small box. He opened it. Inside was a gorgeous diamond ring. In spite of myself I let out a breath of awe. I am not easily awed by jewelry since I own some of the most sought-after jewels in the world. Nevertheless, the sparkle and brilliance of the stones, enhanced by a setting that would put Cartier to shame, amazed even me. I was about to reach for it when he turned and presented the ring to Susan.

“My darling Susan,” he said, falling to one knee, “I had intended to give you this ring in a different place and at a different time. I hope you know that it is the first of many rings to come. Will you be mine?”

Susan began crying all over again and fell into her swain’s arms. The SEALs started toward Encore Shooter but I waved them back. Basser and I exchanged a knowing look. Susan and her friend might be in a little trouble, but so were the SEALs, who had allowed a Virgin to be unchaperoned with a man. Their dereliction of duty seemed to have cost us one of our most valuable Virgins.

“Basser, I think your SEALs also have some explaining to do.”

Basser nodded. “Yep. They do. Boys, how’d you come to let a man into Susie’s FEMA trailer? I mean, Homeland Security is gonna come down on us like the Fred Murrah Building for this! What if he’d been a terrorist? What if he is a terrorist?” I could see that Basser was about to get really wound up, and I really wanted answers. I interrupted.

“Gentlemen, the reason we allow SEALs here at Wench’s Virgin Training School is to prevent men from entering the campus and stealing away our Virgins. It seems that a man has entered campus and a Virgin is about to leave with him. The Virgin in question was your responsibility. Please explain.”

Both SEALs turned a bit pinkish. The younger one hung his head. The older one cleared his throat. Just then, though, Mad Diane LeDeux arrived. The Flogger of Recalcitrant Virgins had made excellent time coming from the Twisted Wench Daiquiri Lounge.

“Diane, thank you for coming so quickly. I’m afraid we have an rather unusual disciplinary problem on our hands.”

Mad Diane grinned. She fondled the flogger she always carried in a special tool belt attached to her corset.

Yes, Susan has been allowed to leave with her man. I hear she has painted his living room “Buffalo” or some such color. The SEALs are unlikely to allow any more men on the premises just because they aren’t leading camels. Basser has made the SEAL training more rigorous, and fortunately we have escaped closer inspections by Homeland Security as a result.

Mad Diane had a wonderful time wielding her flogger on those four upturned bums. I couldn’t just allow Susan to leave with no punishment, after all, and her noble consort volunteered to undergo the same treatment when he saw how the punishment was administered.

Diane was rather rough with the SEALs, but it’s my understanding she took them back with her to the Twisted Wench Daiquiri Lounge after the experience, where they were each issued a Hot Bottom Wench in a standing position.

May 5, 2007 - Posted by | Creative Writing, Fiction, Humor, Virgin Training School, Writing

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