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The Wilkerson Institute

Rollie Lawson


The Wilkerson Institute



I entered Federico's a few minutes after eight in the evening. The place was fairly crowded, as usual. I greeted Henri, the maitre`de, and he showed me to a table.

“Harry” I said “Jack is coming, too. Show him over when he gets here.”

“Of course, Mr. deFrame.”

I ordered drinks for both of us when the waiter came over, but was surprised when Jack came in. He was with another man. Jack introduced him as John Wilson, and they both sat down. When the waiter returned, Jack ordered Wilson a drink. “I asked you to come tonight to introduce you to John.” said Jack, by way of breaking the ice.

“Oh? A business proposition, Mr. Wilson?” Jack had introduced several potential business associates to me this way. Some had worked out and some hadn't. I returned the favor when I could. Jack and I go way back.

“Um, not precisely.” replied Wilson. He had a faint English accent.

Before he could elaborate, a waiter approached the table. “Excuse me, Mr. James, a phone call for you.”

Jack pushed himself away from the table and stood. “Probably something at the office.” he said and left.

I turned back to Wilson. “Should we continue? Or wait for Jack to return?”

“It might be best to continue on. In truth, I asked the waiter to call Jack away. Our talk should be private.”


“Quite. I think you'll agree shortly.”

“So?” I was simultaneously intrigued and wary. Certainly, this was an unusual approach.

“I think I should start by telling a story. I suspect you might find some interesting points to this, um, story.

“There once was a young man. Let's call him Tim. Tim was a very bright young man, and of course, went to a very good college. In college, he learned quite a bit of electronics, and this eventually led him to a very nice job with a rather large computer firm. IBM, I think.

“Well, anyway, Tim was a very ambitious fellow. Despite a rather tiring schedule doing research for the large computer firm, he managed to go to school nights and earned another degree or two. A very bright young man, as I said.”

“Quite.” I said dryly.

“Yes. Now, as I said, Tim was very bright and ambitious. He had a very good idea for a new type of computer chip, but his bosses at the large computer firm didn't want to take the obvious and large risks to develop the chip. So, Tim decided to do it on his own. He quit his job and started his own company. It took years of grinding, back-breaking work, long hours, tight money. Several times he thought of just chucking it all in. But he succeeded. Today, Tim's firm is the industry leader in its field, and Tim is considered the hottest man in the business.”

“A real Horatio Alger.” I said through clenched teeth.

“Indeed. But Tim has a problem. And it's a problem with a solution. You see, Tim has difficulties with women. He married right out of college, to his college sweetheart. But she had different dreams and hopes than he did. The long hours at the big computer company, and then worse, the longer hours and lack of security when Tim started his own company, broke her love for him. She divorced him after almost a decade of marriage. Then the poor fellow married again but discovered that his wife was more interested in his money than in him.

“Now, you can see Tim's problem. Twice burned, twice shy. He can never know whether a woman is attracted to him or to his wallet. Or that a woman will stay, what with his work and schedule. So, Tim, now in the prime of his life, and for the first time with the time and money to pursue a more leisurely schedule, now has no one to share his new freedoms.”

“I certainly hope there is a moral to this story.” I bit out.

“Oh, yes. In fact, a most happy ending. For Tim had a most devoted friend. A friend who had known him for more than twenty years, through thick and thin. And the friend put him in contact with an acquaintance of his. And the acquaintance had a solution to the problem. The acquaintance was associated with the Wilkerson Institute. And the Wilkerson Institute arranged for Tim to meet a lovely young lady, and all of Tim's desires were satisfied by her.”

“Uh, huh.” This was intriguing, in a painful and very personal way. “Did Jack ever mention to you, my first name is Timothy? Or that I used to work for IBM, and now own a computer chip company?”

“What? Really? What an astounding coincidence!” said Wilson. A two-year-old wouldn't have believed him. “Have you been married twice, also?”

I gave him a semi-amused smile, raising an eyebrow at him in the process.

“My heavens. Then perhaps the Wilkerson Institute can help you as well!”

“And just what is the Wilkerson Institute?” I asked.

“Quite simply, the Wilkerson Institute trains young ladies in all the arts necessary to satisfy its patrons. We are the finest establishment in the world at providing such training.”

“What do you mean, all the arts?”

“Precisely that. All the arts.”



This took me back. I flopped back in my chair and drained my glass. I simply stared at Wilson, until I was brought back to the table when the waiter placed a fresh drink in front of me. What in the world was this? A high-class pimping operation? An escort service? Hookers? Electronic dating? I drained the fresh drink and leaned forward again.

“What do you mean?” I started.

“Please, allow me to explain.” interrupted Wilson.

I nodded assent. I didn't trust myself to talk.

“First, a potential patron visits the Wilkerson Institute for a week's rest and relaxation. The Institute is located in the beautiful Yucatan. A truly lovely setting. We have a large, beautiful campus, much like a deluxe resort. Large luxurious suites, world class cuisine, golf, swimming, nearby nightclubs. And while there, the patron has the opportunity to meet numerous students with the potential to meet his specific needs. The patron will receive expert assistance in such selection, with Mr. Wilkerson personally overseeing such assistance. Ultimately, a student will enter into a long-term relationship with the patron.”

So far, it sounded somewhat interesting. But, there had to be some buts. “I can assume that this, um, what did you call it, Wilkerson Institute? That this Wilkerson Institute is not doing this from the goodness of their hearts?”

“Well, no, not really. As you can imagine, such a setting, and such training and selection, do carry an overhead.” He took a gold pen from his pocket and wrote a number on a napkin. He slid the napkin over to me. “This would cover the initial appraisal week in Mexico. And, of course, it would be applied to the total package, if a student proved suitable.”

I looked at the napkin. While, I didn't faint or scream, I think my eyes bugged out. “This is a rather large figure.” I protested.

“Not really. It's not considerably more than a luxury cabin for two on a deluxe cruise to Europe.”

“Perhaps not, but I'm not taking two. If I was, we wouldn't be having this conversation.”

Now it was Wilson's turn for a wry smile. But the smooth bastard was prepared. “No, you aren't going with a companion. Instead, you'll have literally dozens of companions, all young, attractive, eager, and talented. I can guarantee you'll have the time of your life.” Wilson looked up and nodded towards the bar. I turned and saw Jack stand and head our way. I turned back to Wilson, who was reaching into his suit jacket. He pulled out a business card and slid it across the table.

“I think I will take my leave for the moment. Please take a little time to think my proposal over. You can reach me at any time.”

He stood smoothly, and shook my hand and then Jack's, and was gone. Jack plopped down into his seat and picked up his menu.

I reached across the table and slapped the menu down. “Jack, if you weren't my best friend, I'd rap you upside your head with a two-by-four. You should have given me some idea of what you were up to.”

Jack gave a hearty laugh. “And if I had, would you have come?”

“Well, no, of course not!”

“The ends justify the means.” He laughed again. “That'll teach you to go to a Jesuit-run college.”

I just looked at Jack. We had been roommates then. After college, Jack had gone to law school. I was his first client when he hung up his shingle. He had been best man at both my weddings. I could never stay angry at the fat lug for long. He looked back and smiled. I smiled. Then I grinned. Then we were both laughing, long and loud. Several people at nearby tables stared until we calmed down.

“Where the hell did you find this character?” I asked.

“He is a bit much, don't you think?” Jack said. “I think the English accent has gone to his head.”

“Quite, old chap!” I said in a mock British cant. We laughed again.

“You could say that a friend of mine introduced us years ago.”

That caught me short. “Huh? You?”

“Yep. I've been a, er, patron for a number of years now.”

“But...I mean...who...um...I mean, I've never...”

Jack set his menu down and looked straight at me. “Listen, Robert, I like sex. I'm not gay. But my one marriage was more of a disaster than your two combined. I've worked as hard and as long as you have and command the same kind of money and respect as you do. Well, maybe not quite as much, but not too shabby either. I've got the same needs as the next guy.”

“Yeah, but who...”


“Your maid?!”

“She really knows how to clean my pipes and haul my ashes.” he smirked at me.


“Hey, I don't want another wife. What I do want is someone to clean my house, cook my dinner, and warm my bed. For this I do not want to relearn the law concerning community property.”

“So how does this work?” I asked. The idea that Jack had gone for something like this fascinated me, and somehow reassured me, in a strange and bizarre fashion.

“I assume Wilson told you about the place in Mexico.” I nodded. “Well, it really is just like a fancy resort, only with hot and cold running women. Every few years I go down there and select a new girl. Sign 'em to a three-year contract.” He smiled and said, “Variety is the spice of life.”

He continued. “Once you're in, you can go back every year, sort of like a time share with babes. And I'm talking babes. I've never seen less than a nine down there. I mean, I don't know where Wilkerson finds them, but if it was a mine, I'd buy stock. Absolutely gorgeous.”

“But the price...”

“Get real. I do your taxes, or did you forget that. For you, it's petty cash.”


Two weeks later I made the phone call. “Mr. Wilson? This is Robert deFrame...”



When I got into the Cancun airport I was exhausted. I had planned to be back from the German convention in time to rest at my place on Park Avenue before I came here. Instead, the trip had gone over, and I had to fly directly here from Bonn. I can never sleep on planes and the meal was sitting like a stone in my stomach. I was tired and felt filthy.

The last thing I needed to hear, as I came off the plane, was an intercom blaring out my name. “Mr. Robert deFrame, please come to the white courtesy phone. Mr. Robert deFrame, please come to the white courtesy phone.” I looked around and found a ticket agent. He pointed me towards a desk with a white phone on it. I trudged over.

As I picked up the receiver, a cool, feminine hand reached over and pushed it down again. I turned and faced a beautiful blonde. “Mr. deFrame?” I nodded. “Hello. I'm Janice. Mr. Wilkerson asked me to come into town and pick you up. Why don't you follow me? Could I have your baggage stubs?” I fumbled the stubs over and she walked towards a large sign saying LUGGAGE.

This girl was really gorgeous, a knockout. She was average height, very curvy, great legs. I studied the figure eight movement of her rear as she marched through the airport. I noticed more than a few of the other men in the airport were watching also. She was wearing a muted gray suit consisting of a stylishly short, tight gray skirt and a matching tight suit jacket. Her stockings or hose were gray, as were her high heels, which clicked delightfully across the linoleum. Topping it all off, was a small gray chauffeur's type cap.

When we got to the baggage claim area, she handed the stubs to a porter, and pointed him towards the parking area, with a few quiet words I couldn't catch. Then she led the way through the automatic doors to a large limousine. She opened the rear door to let me in. “As soon as your luggage comes out, we can go.” she said smiling. Then she popped the trunk. Maybe she was a chauffeur, after all. There was no driver that I could see.

Five minutes later, the porter loaded my luggage in the trunk and Janice settled in behind the wheel. “We'll be there in about forty-five minutes.” she said. “Why don't you just rest and watch the scenery. It's simply lovely this time of year.”

I suppose it was, but I really didn't notice. I was too tired to care, but every time I was about to fall asleep, the limo jolted over a bump or dip. And besides, I was intensely curious about any operation with beautiful blondes as drivers. It didn't seem all that long before we pulled into a long driveway leading to a resort-like building entrance. Janice got out and opened my door for me.

“Just go inside to the front desk. I'll arrange for your bags to be taken to your suite, sir.”

“Thank you.”

“My pleasure.” she said. Smiling, she added “I hope to see you soon. Have fun.”

“I hope so, too.” I responded. And I did hope so. She really was lovely.

I entered the lobby and walked up to a large marble counter to the side. Behind the counter, several pretty young ladies were doing various secretarial type things, but one promptly came over to me. “Mr. deFrame? So good of you to join us. My name is Delia. I'm going to escort you through the welcoming process.” Perhaps pretty wasn't strong enough. Delia was a short, petite brunette, in a light-yellow suit similar to Janice's, albeit without the cap. “Why don't you just follow me? We'll have your luggage in your room by the time you get there.”

It was a pleasure following Delia down the hallway. She wiggled and moved wonderfully. And she made up for her lack of altitude with very high spike heels. In fact, by now I had seen a number of really good-looking young women around, and they all wore high heels. But I was rather surprised when she led me into a doctor's office rather than my room.

“Your first step is a fast checkup. Then you can go up to your suite and rest, or change, or whatever.”

“A physical?” I asked, somewhat confused.

“Very routine.” said a baritone voice behind me. I turned to face a young man in a white lab coat, with a stethoscope in his coat pocket. “I'm Doctor Henson.” he said, gently taking my arm and steering me into an examination room. “You know, blood pressure, listen to your heart, a few standard tests. I just want to check out the report you furnished us.” Henson said, referring to a long medical report my regular sawbones had forwarded to them. He closed the door behind him.

“Now, just take off your shirt, and Jenny will be in momentarily to check you out. Then I'll be right back.” He smiled and left through a side door.

So, I took off my jacket and shirt. Then, not knowing what to do, I hopped up on the exam table. Immediately thereafter, I heard the side door open again, so I hopped down. It figures.

“No, please, hop right back up there, Mr. deFrame.” said a light contralto voice. I turned to see a young lady, barely nineteen, in a crisply starched white uniform come in. A name tag perched above a large breast, one of a pair of large breasts, told me this was Jenny. Not your average nurse's knockers, I thought. Or whites. Rather short, with a zipper that went from collar to hem. And I can't recall the last time I saw a nurse in white high heels. I hopped back up.

But for all her looks, Jenny gave me a thorough and professional checkout. Temperature, weight, blood pressure, even taking a couple of vials of blood. If she noticed me staring at her cleavage while she worked, she didn't say anything. But she seemed to position herself so that it was easy for me to do. Then she smiled, stepped back, and excused herself.

I sat there about fifteen minutes before she came back, this time with the quack. He popped the stethoscope into his ears and tapped and listened to my chest for a few minutes. Then he looked at me.

“Your blood pressure is a bit high, Mr. deFrame. Taking your medication?” he asked, referring to the pills I take. I assume he knew from my own doctor's report.


He thought for a second, and said “Well, let's assume the trip raised it a bit. It'll probably drop by tomorrow. But I want you to come down here in the morning for a recheck.” Henson turned towards the girl. “Now, Jenny, if it's normal tomorrow, we'll just forget about it. Otherwise, I want to know. Okay?”

Jenny said “Yes, doctor.”

Turning back to me, he also asked “Okay?”


“Well then, you might as well get dressed and you can leave here and have some fun. I hope we don't see you after tomorrow.” he said with a laugh.

I laughed, too, and after they left, put my shirt and jacket back on. The tie I stuffed in my pocket. As I came out of the exam room, Delia rose from the chair she was sitting in and came over. Really great legs. “Now,” she asked “the nickel tour? Or would you like to go up to your room and rest or freshen up?”

“Miss, right now I just want a bath and a nap! We can tour later.”

“No problem. Follow me. Here's your key.”

We walked together back to the lobby, and from there took an elevator to the third floor. Despite my declination of a tour, Delia kept up a running commentary on the areas we were passing through and by. The building was modern and low slung, with two main wings, and a number of open spaces and atriums, as well as a considerable number of more secluded nooks. Apparently this was the main residential area for guests, or “patrons” as we were called. In addition to the main reception desk and the doctor's clinic, the west wing also included the restaurant and a nightclub. The first floor of the south wing had pro shops for the golf course and tennis courts, and a few other things. The suites were all in the top four floors of this wing, which was the larger of the two.

When we got to the third floor we stepped out into a wide hallway. Another pretty young girl sat behind a secretarial desk. What an embarrassment of riches! Delia led me forward. The secretary's nametag said “Debra”. Debra was a tall, slim, lithe young lady, with long, dark blonde hair.

“Debra, this is Mr. deFrame. He'll be staying in 307.”

Debra rose and curtsied (How rare these days!). “Good morning, Mr. deFrame. I hope you enjoy your stay.” Turning back to Delia, she continued. “Mr. deFrame's luggage came up a few minutes ago. I've sent Jeanine down to help get Mr. deFrame settled in.”

“Excellent.” replied Delia. She turned back to me and led me down the hallway. “Each floor has one of the students assigned as concierges at all times.”

“Always? Even at two in the morning?”

“One never knows when the sudden urge for something will come up.”

I was impressed. Such service was generally reserved for only the finest hotels.

We walked a short way down the hallway to an ornate door marked '307'. Taking the key from my hand, she unlocked the door and ushered me in. Again, very impressive. I walked into a fairly large living room, with several couches and armchairs, a wet bar, wide screen TV, even a fireplace (Although, what I'd do with a fireplace in the Yucatan, I have no idea!). To one side was a small dining room/ kitchenette. To the other, French doors led to a very large bedroom. I could see a king-size four-poster bed through the open doors. A third doorway led to what was obviously a bathroom which, I could tell by the layout, also opened onto the bedroom. A final set of French doors opened onto a large, private, patio. All in all, very plush and well appointed.

Also very plush and well-appointed was the blonde quietly standing to one side, next to my neatly stacked bags. Delia motioned the girl over and introduced us. “Mr. deFrame, this is Jeanine. Jeanine is your room steward, and will be taking care of laundry, bedding, cleaning, and such. If you have any problems, or wish to make a change, just let the concierge know, and we'll be happy to accommodate you.”

I looked at Jeanine. She was wearing the classic “French Maid” outfit, a short black dress with built in white apron, short puffy sleeves, very low-cut bodice, rather short hemline, black fishnet stockings or pantyhose, black high heels. The bodice was really cut low, showing an amazing amount of cleavage. This girl couldn't drown with cement blocks tied to her feet. Her nametag was perched almost off to the side. She had her hair cut short in a pageboy style.

I looked back at Delia. “I'm sure we'll get along just fine.”

“Excellent.” she said to me. Again, turning to the maid, she continued “Mr. deFrame has indicated he'd like to rest and freshen up before he ventures onto the grounds.”

“Of course.” replied Jeanine. “I delayed unpacking your bags, sir, until you arrived.” she said to me.

“I'll be leaving now, Mr. deFrame. Oh, one last item. You have an appointment scheduled for Wednesday morning with Mr. Wilkerson. I'm afraid he can't see you till then. If there's a problem or conflict, just let the concierge know and we can reschedule. Good day.”

My guide left and closed the door behind us. I turned back to Jeanine.

“Will you be resting first, then freshening up, or the other way around, sir?”

“Right now, all I want is a long, hot shower and a nap.”

“Very good, sir. The bath is right through here. I'll unpack for you. Any special instructions?” The last question sounded intriguing. No, I better not. I still didn't know quite what to expect.

“No. Unpacking will be fine.”

“Yes, sir.”

I walked into the bath and closed the door. As I expected, a second door opened into the bedroom. I closed this door as well. The bathroom was huge. Two marble sinks, a matching whirlpool bathtub, a shower for three, Italian tile, toilet and bidet. Not that I needed a bidet. Which made me wonder, who would be needing one, here? An interesting question. But no matter, I stripped down and hung my clothes on a hook and turned on the water. Within seconds I was under a stinging, hot, shower. I luxuriated in the water for a seeming age and felt the miles of travel wash away with my grime.

To my surprise, when I stepped out, my clothes had disappeared, to be replaced by a long, plush velour robe. Jeanine was being quite efficient. Still drying my hair, I opened the bedroom door and walked in.

Jeanine was still there, putting my luggage in the bottom of a closet. She looked up and said “I've unpacked everything, sir. Your clothes are in the dresser and the closet. I noticed some dirty clothing and separated it. I'll see that it's either dry-cleaned, or cleaned and pressed. You'll have it back by tomorrow morning.”

“Well, thank you. That's very efficient, indeed.”

“Thank you, sir. Feeling better now?”

“Yes, quite. But I still want that nap.”

“Of course. I've turned down the bed for you.” And she had, too. I stood there like an idiot for a moment, not knowing what to do. Ask her to leave? Tip her? Was she going to stay and tuck me in?

Jeanine seemed to understand my confusion. She came over from the closet and took my elbow. “Now, why don't you just come over here.” she said, leading me to the edge of the bed. “Just sit down here.” I sat on the edge, where it was turned down. “I think I can help you relax.”

And then, as I sat there and dumbly looked up at her, she reached behind her back. In seconds, she had unzipped her maid's uniform. It fell away from her front and slid to the floor. Deftly, she kicked it off to one side.

Wow! Just WOW! All she had on under the uniform was fishnet stockings, thigh high, right up to the tops of her thighs. And her high heels. Her tits were really huge, with small, pale nipples. Her waist was narrow, with a very pleasant curve to it. A deep navel. She was a natural blonde, with faint, very curly pubic hair. Wide hips. Pleasantly thick thighs, but not lumpy or ugly, tapering down to very tiny feet.

I was awestruck. Almost immediately after stripping, she knelt at my feet and placed her hands on my knees. Effortlessly she spread them apart and moved between them. Reaching up, she untied my robe and spread it apart. My cock literally sprang out of the opening. I hadn't been this hard in ages. Without a skipped beat, she leaned in and wrapped her lips around the head.

The sensation was pure heaven. I could have died a happy man at that instant. Lord knows she could have sucked me to death if she had tried. And Lord, could she suck! Not content with simply sucking the tip, she continued lowering her mouth onto my organ. She only stopped when it was completely engulfed, with my pubic hairs tickling her nose and chin. And her tongue! It was swirling on all sides, bottom and top. Her cheeks were puffing in and out. The action was like an erotic vacuum cleaner. And her teeth never touched me. Not a single nip.

I looked down on her actions. Her head was bobbing up and down furiously on my root. Her long fingernails were gently scratching and rubbing my balls. Oh, that felt good! I hadn't been laid in weeks, and they were just filled with cum. Below, I could see those huge tits bouncing up and down, and side to side. I think that's what did it for me. With a mighty groan, I cried “I'm cumming!”

Amazingly, this only spurred Jeanine on. The vacuum cleaner went into overdrive, and she sucked everything I could give her. Her head stopped bobbing near the top of the stroke, with just my cockhead between her lips. One hand gently squeezed my nuts, while the other furiously pumped my shaft. She was pumping me dry, and I gladly accommodated the demand. I don't think any of my cum landed in her mouth, it just went straight down her throat, I was spewing so hard.

Finally, the well ran dry. I collapsed backwards onto the bed, my legs and balls still hanging over the edge. Jeanine stood up again, and I weakly dragged myself back from the precipice. Laying atop the turned down bedclothes, I sprawled in the center of the bed.

But Jeanine wasn't down, yet. Walking to the foot of the bed, she crawled onto the bed and buried her face in my crotch again. Maybe she really was going to try to suck me to death. Although I thought I was done for, my partner in crime came to life again. As she sucked on my flaccid cock, I looked down, and could see it stiffening again, slowly at first, and then faster and faster. But she didn't plan to suck me dry again.

As soon as I was erect, Jeanine pulled her mouth off me and pulled her legs up beneath her. Moving quickly and surely, she promptly straddled my waist. Both hands had never left my cock during this movement. Now they positioned my dick between her legs, and she sank down onto it, impaling herself.

If the blowjob was good, this was great. My back arched as I thrust up to meet her descent. But the urgency of before was gone. Although my hips kept bucking upward with the pleasure, my orgasm could be delayed for a while.

This seemed to suit Jeanine just fine. Her hands were still at our now joined crotches. But now, in addition to rubbing the length of my shaft, they also were furiously working her clitoris. She had stretched her pussy lips, and her clit, small and blood engorged, seemed to throb from the attention. I reached up and cupped her breasts. My thumbs and forefingers whirled around the nipples, pinching and pulling. She had small nipples, but they were pleasantly warm and hard. This had an electrifying effect on her. Her breath became ragged and coarse, and sweat began rolling down her chest. Her tits became delightfully slick and beads of sweat dripped down onto my chest.

I kept up this action, and her pelvis, previously moving slowly atop mine, began bouncing faster and faster. Her hands were in a blur on her clit and my cock. I could feel myself approaching the edge again, but this only made me increase my tit action. Finally, with a ragged shriek, Jeanine collapsed onto my chest. Both hands snaked down between us, and she squeezed my balls, one in each hand. That did it. I exploded upwards into her. She lay on top of me until I fell asleep, my limp cock still inside her.


I awoke in the same position as I had gone to sleep in, sprawled across the bed. Jeanine had left. Maybe she had to tuck somebody else in. Before going, she did cover me with the robe I was still wearing. I was still atop the turned down sheets.

What the hell, what did I expect, anyway? Literally. I had no idea what to expect. I got up.

Another shower and I felt fairly fresh and clean again. I wandered back into the bedroom and opened the closet. And was rather surprised by what I found. The closet was a large wall closet. Behind the bifold doors on one side were my clothes, on the other side were a large collection of ladies garments. Nighties, negligees, gowns, robes, teddies, the whole nine yards! I looked through them. They were all quite sheer and seductive. I guess they allowed the girls a chance to change without returning to wherever they returned to.

I grabbed a pair of slacks, a shirt, and a sport coat, and threw them on the bed. Walking to the large dresser, I opened it to look for some shorts and socks. No shorts. Curious, I turned back to the closet and popped open my suitcases. There they were. I guess Jeanine figured I wouldn't be needing them. Maybe I wouldn't. Fuck it, I closed up the suitcases and tossed them back in the closet.

I grabbed the slacks and pulled them on over my bare ass. What other surprises awaited me? Going back to the dresser, I pulled the other drawers open. The bottom drawer had more women's clothing, a wide variety of stockings, several different sizes, both garter length and thigh high, a few garter belts, several types of panties and bras, and so forth. This was becoming quite interesting.

Continuing dressing, I looked into the nightstands. One had a number of vibrators and dildos, along with a tube of KY jelly. The other had several different types of restraints, handcuffs, straps, ropes, shackles, and the sort. Maybe Jeanine had a kinky streak. Other drawers contained several pornographic magazines, mostly mainline like Playboy and Penthouse, some not quite so usual, and a few DVDs. I had a pretty good idea what kind, but I couldn't find how to turn on the TV in the bedroom.

Finished dressing, I pulled out a pair of socks from the dresser, then threw them back. If Don Johnson could dress like this, fuck it, so could I. I slipped on my loafers and went out to the living room. Back to the investigation.

The living room didn't seem to hold as many surprises. I still couldn't figure out how to turn on the tube. An end table held some more magazines and tapes, but that was about all. No whips and chains. The bar was well stocked, but that really wasn't a surprise. The kitchen was semi-bare, except for some beer and a few salted snacks. A fruit bowl was filled. A Xeroxed schedule was on the buffet near the entrance, detailing events and doings I had no idea of, in places I didn't know about.

It was now late afternoon. Time to see what there was to see. I walked back out into the hallway, back to the elevators. Debra was no longer concierge, a different girl was behind the desk, now. As I approached, she stood.

“Mr. deFrame. I hope you're feeling better now?”

“Yes, quite.” I replied.

“Good. I'm Terry. Debra mentioned that you were resting. When you woke, I was to give you the guided tour and get you oriented to the Wilkerson. Is that all right?” she said in a light soprano.

“Sure, no problem. What do we do first?” I looked Terry over. Terry was considerably different from Jeanine. For one thing, she was tiny, barely five feet tall. Very slim. I doubted she weighed 98 pounds soaking wet. Not that this was a problem. I thought the sight of her naked and soaking wet would be quite stimulating. She was very pretty, with a classic oval face, shoulder length blonde hair, and enough curves to keep a fellow more than interested. She, too, was in the yellow skirt, jacket, and high heels which seemed to be the uniform for the staff. Very becoming. I felt my cock begin to stir. Maybe Jeanine hadn't killed it after all.

Terry pushed a button under the desk and walked around to my side. “I just called for my replacement. As soon as she's here, we can go.” We talked for maybe five minutes, mostly about my trip in, when the elevator opened. Another girl, similarly attired, stepped out, and we stepped in. Moments later we were back in the lobby. Tucking an arm through mine, she led me down the hallway.

To be honest, this time the lecture took hold. Earlier, when Delia was showing me around, I was too tired to really pay attention. Now, fresh and fit, I found everything fascinating. A fairly large number of men were present, all being squired around, or otherwise accompanied by, one or more very pretty young women. The women, again, a surprisingly large number, were all quite exquisite, centerfold quality. Mode of dress for the girls was fairly casual, the vast majority wearing some combination of very short skirts, various revealing tops, and high heels. Only a few seemed to be wearing brassieres. A few were in nothing more than thong and string bikinis. Pool side, I guess.

Terry showed me around the west wing, keeping up a pleasant patter the entire time. I've already mentioned the restaurant and night club. A small, dark bar, with several very secluded booths, joined them. Then we went out a side door and walked outside.

I should have left the jacket upstairs. Mexico in the summer afternoon is rather warm. I slung it over my free shoulder, and together we walked down a path through a large garden. Shortly, we went through another door. I found we had entered the south wing near the pro shops. Terry asked if I golfed or played tennis.

“No golf. And I haven't played tennis in years.”

“I'm surprised.” she remarked. “You seem to be in excellent shape. Do you work out at all?”

“Some. I jog twice a week, and I like to swim. I guess I'm just lucky.”

“I guess so.” she said, looking up at me. “All I have to do is look at a cheesecake, and I put on five pounds.” She puffed out her cheeks like a chipmunk. We both laughed.

Going through the golf shop, she grabbed a set of keys for a golf cart and said, “Come on, let's take a ride!” We continued on outside, where she hopped into a cart. I climbed in opposite her, and we bounced and puttered on our merry way. Despite my lack of interest in golf, we rode along the course for a while. I didn't mind at all. Terry exuded an air of available sexuality, and I delighted in watching her legs working the pedals.

Shortly, she turned off the golf path and drove past the tennis courts. About half were open air, the rest under an open-sided pavilion. We continued on, past the courts, and drove around a pool area. Several small, and one large, swimming pools were set amid more gardens. I was surprised by the time the tour had taken when we pulled up at the pro shop again. And Terry mentioned several other places, such as a riding stable and jogging paths, which we hadn't seen.

One really fascinating fact, which she didn't mention, but was quite obvious. Everywhere we went, the golf course, the gardens, even the tennis courts and swimming pools, had a large number of very secluded spots. Spots where a fellow could easily retire with a young lady for an intimate alfresco interlude. In fact, I suspected a few were in use. I had seen several golf carts stopped near such spots, with no one in sight. While I hadn't taken advantage of such a spot, I had the distinct feeling Terry would have been willing, if not eager, to introduce me to such a site. Ah well, opportunity lost.

Once back inside, the air-conditioned air felt chilly, so I put on my jacket again. Terry put her arm through mine again and led me back towards the south wing. “Thirsty? I am! Let's get a drink!” she said, leading me into the bar.

We ordered drinks, and I asked if all the girls I had seen were students here.

“Almost all. If they have white nametags, like mine they're students. Blue means they're permanent staff, like the doctor, the chef, and the teachers.”

“Teachers?” I asked, in confusion.

“Oh, yes! We all study, five days a week! Actually, for only half-days. We split shift, half going to school mornings, the rest in the afternoon.”

“Where? I didn't see anybody going to school.”

“Oh, well, I mean, it's not really on the tour, so to speak. And by now, it's closed for the day. The school is the small building down behind the jogging trails.”

“I'm fascinated! What do you study?”

“Nothing special, you know, the usual, readin', 'ritin', 'n' 'rithmetic.”

“But why?”

“Well, quite a few of us come here without a good formal education, I mean, like a high school diploma. But Mr. Wilkerson requires us all to earn at least a GED. And on the off shift, we work around the Institute, learning to keep house and cook, and first aid and such.”

“Very impressive.” And it was. For one thing, it obviated the need for a large staff. And it was obvious, I hadn't seen all of the women here. I could see I would have a number of questions for the mysterious Mr. Wilkerson. “Can I see the school?”

Terry looked surprised but said “Sure. No reason you can't. But you'll have to wait till tomorrow. It's closed for the evening. If you want, you can get a guide in the morning. I'll leave word at the front desk. Is that satisfactory?”

“Perfectly. Now, let's go eat.”

I had slept through lunch and by now had worked up a good appetite. From what Terry had told me, I could order room service through the concierge at any time, but I didn't know that earlier. The dining room was very luxurious, carefully matched silver and china, comfortable chairs and booths, long linen tablecloths. Very long, linen tablecloths. This curiosity was explained, when, halfway through dinner, a man across the room dropped his fork on the floor at his feet. The waitress knelt on the floor and moved under the table to pick it up. In short order, she was completely under the table, almost hidden. She stayed there about fifteen minutes, during which time, the gentleman's face grew rather red. Then a look of pleasure and relief suffused his countenance, and shortly thereafter the waitress popped back up, grasping the fork. And all this while, the man's, um, date, was sitting next to him, seemingly oblivious to what was occurring at her feet.


It was mid-evening when we left the south wing. After a slow, stately meal, we had gone into the bar for a couple of more drinks. By then, the remains of my jet lag started beating on me again, so I mentioned perhaps I needed to get some more sleep. Terry simply stood and took my arm again and walked with me back to the elevators.

She took her duties seriously. She escorted me upstairs and walked me down the hall to my door. I stood there for a few seconds, not knowing what to do next. Thank her? Invite her in? Was she still on duty?

Terry noted the look of confusion on my face. “Is there a problem, Mr. deFrame?”

“Uh...well...I mean...uh, what's the procedure at this point? I mean, what is the, uh, protocol for, uh...”

“Oh, I see.” she said. She gently took my elbow and pointed me towards an alcove with several armchairs. “Why don't we sit here for a second.” We sat. “I believe what you want to know, what is the proper etiquette involved in, shall we say, meeting and getting to know one of the students?”

I blushed and mumbled out an assent.

“Please, there's nothing to be embarrassed about.” She leaned forward and rested her hand on mine. It was a very warm hand. “Actually, I find it quite attractive. It shows you care.”

I didn't know what to say, so I just cleared my throat self-consciously.

“If you see a young lady that you'd like to know better, simply ask her. You can't ask the women on the staff, but any of the students will be more than willing. And you don't even have to ask. It can be as brusque as a snap of the fingers, or as subtle as a raised eyebrow.”

“Really?” I commented, raising an eyebrow. I had finally gotten my voice back.

Terry smiled, seeing the eyebrow. “Really. Why don't we go in for a nightcap?”

I immediately stood up. I hoped I didn't seem too eager, but I certainly felt eager. Jeanine had definitely whetted my appetite. I didn't know if Terry had noticed my erection, but I had noticed it for the last hour or so. Terry stood also, but much more gracefully, and I unlocked my suite. I turned on the lights.

“Why don't you sit down and turn on the TV, while I pour us a couple of brandies?” she said. I had sat down in an armchair before the wide screen television, and Terry had started pouring the brandy, before I remembered. I still didn't know how to turn on the thing.

“How do you turn it on?” I asked.

“Didn't Delia show you? Here, let me get it.” she came over, carrying two snifters of dark, heavy liquid. She gave one to me and went to the set, and pushed on a panel in the front, so a remote control popped out. “The one in the bedroom has a hidden remote just like this one. I'm sorry nobody showed you.”

“No problem.”

Terry came back over to where I was sitting and gently settled onto my lap. She swung her legs over the arm, so that she was lying across me. Then she aimed the remote at the tube and hit a button.

“We get all the stations from the States, the networks, Fox, CNN, HBO, everything.” Terry said, flipping through the channels. “And we have three channels which play only in-house, too.” She flipped again, but slower. The in-house channels showed dirty movies. “And there's a DVD player built in on both sets. Any preferences?”

I took the remote from her and flipped back to one of the in-house channels, then tossed the remote on the floor. “This will do just fine.” I said. She smiled and leaned back against me, and we both sipped on our brandies.

The movie was only average, as these things go, but it put us both in a properly horny mood. As she leaned against me her suit shifted, delightfully. The skirt drifted downward, or actually upward, showing even more of her lovely legs. It was soon obvious that she wasn't wearing pantyhose, as I could see a garter strap holding the edge of her stockings up. Her jacket also shifted, opening at the collar, so that I could look down and see a breast plainly exposed. It was an excellent breast, larger than I had expected, a B cup at a minimum. Terry wasn't wearing a bra, and I could see the nipple, firm and erect, pointing upwards.

We continued to watch for several minutes more, than I drained my snifter and set it on an end table behind her back. Now that I had a closer view of her outfit, I could see that the skirt had a row of tiny concealed buttons on the side facing me. I reached down and, starting at the hem, began to slowly unbutton the skirt. This caused the skirt to drift even more, and before I had it undone, I could see that aside from the garter belt, she wore nothing else under it. She had thick, dark pubic hair, trimmed neatly in a heart pattern. When the last button was undone, she shifted slightly, and I tugged it from between us.

Terry finished her brandy and set the glass on the floor behind her. Leaning into me, she wrapped one hand behind my neck, while the other began to unbutton my shirt. She lifted her head to my neck and began licking and nibbling. I groaned and moved my free hand to the jacket and rapidly unbuttoned that. It fell open, and I promptly moved my hand to the breast I had seen earlier. Now it was her turn to moan, as a shudder went through her hot and compliant body.

I continued to knead and massage her nipples, alternating, first one, and then the other. They were very pointy and wiggled as my fingers flicked over them. Terry's chest flushed, and her breathing became more rapid.

Terry shifted forward on my lap, as I noted that the on-screen action went into high gear with a pair of buxom broads giving dueling blow jobs to a limp cocked clown. Neither girl could hold a candle to what I had seen around here today. My shirt was now unbuttoned, and Terry's hand continued down to my pants. Dexterous fingers soon had my belt unbelted, my snap unsnapped, and my zipper unzipped. She spread the opening apart and my cock surged out, stiff and hard, the head a bulbous purple. God, that hand felt warm! She wrapped it around the shaft and pulled and stroked it lovingly.

If she kept this up, I'd spurt all over us. Carefully placing both hands on her waist, I grasped her and lifted her up. She really was small and light. She instantly understood me, spreading her legs apart, and positioning the head at the entrance of her pussy, as I lowered her onto my organ. Boy was she tight! But not dry or difficult, more like slipping on a small but comfortable glove. Every inch of my extended cock could feel her around me, every fold and crevice opened to me. After she was again settled firmly in my lap, Terry spread her legs apart, placing one spike heeled foot on the rug, the other over the leg of the armchair. She leaned back into me, and we settled down to a nice fuck watching the movies.

As we watched, our hands idly worked her now exposed body. My fingers would work on her lovely tits, and her fingers would caress her clit, barely visible between her nether lips. Occasionally, I could feel fingernails scratching the underside of my cock, where it was exposed under her. Then we would alternate, she pinching and pulling on her nipples, as I vigorously rubbed her clit with three fingers. Finally, she reached both hands between her legs, stuffing the fingers of one hand deep up her cunt, already filled with my straining dick, the other guiding my fingers around and on her clitoris. Her pussy, deliciously tight before, now became like a hot, wet vise pressing me all over. I exploded upwards into her womb, as Terry jerked atop me, orgasming herself. Then she reached lower and squeezed the last drops from my cock and balls. Pulling her fingers out of her cunt, she silently licked our mixed juices from them.

The movie was finished, and so was I. My now limp dick slid from its resting place, and Terry stood and went into the bathroom. I reached down for the remote and turned off the TV. Standing myself, I went into the bedroom and threw my clothes, already undone, on the dresser. Through the open door, I could see Terry on the toilet, wiping herself. She stood and went to the bidet. Fascinated, I walked in and sat down on the toilet to watch. With utterly no self-consciousness, she squatted and cleansed herself, as I relieved my bladder. Finishing her ablutions, she went to the sink and washed her face and hands.

“Would you like me to wear anything special, tonight?” she asked.

In response, I made a long arm, and drew her to me. Facing her in front of me, I leaned forward and buried my face in her freshly cleaned crotch. With a quiet shriek of pleasure, she straightened and spread her legs, placing both hands behind my head, pulling me into her. My tongue snaked forward through the damp curly hairs to contact her throbbing rosebud. Despite her washings, I could easily smell her natural fragrance, her abundant fluids acting as the finest perfume. Licking her clit frantically, I put my fingers to work, undoing the snaps of her garters, and removing the garter belt. Unsupported, her stockings slipped to her ankles. Her breathing became more and more labored as I sucked and licked her pussy and the treasure within. My tongue burrowed deep within the tunnel my cock had so recently departed. Finally, her hips bucking uncontrollably, she cried out her passion, as her juices flowed onto my face.

Standing, I held her in my arms for a minute, as she calmed down. My revived erection pressing against her belly. Several times she whimpered “Thank you, thank you.” Finally, I went to the sink and washed her secretions from my face and hands, as she leaned against me. Wrapping an arm around her, I led her into the bedroom, where I gently pushed her onto the bed. Still standing, I removed her shoes and stockings, and climbed in with her.



I slept soundly that night. My first waking thoughts were of the delightfully warm ass pressed against my back. This brought back drowsy memories of the previous night's last fuck, after I joined Terry in bed. Feeling my cock stiffen, my eyes still closed, I rolled over and pressed against her backside. I placed my free arm around her, and we sleepily moved together. My fingers slowly grazed over Terry's breasts, as we slowly aroused each other. Strange, I didn't remember her tits being this big the other night. But still, she was becoming quite aroused, and within minutes had lifted her upper leg slightly, and I slipped my stiff cock deep within her from behind. Rolling atop her, I began a long, slow thrusting.

“Oh, God, yes!” I heard a deep voice implore.

My eyes snapped open. That certainly wasn't Terry's voice. No wonder I had been confused earlier. They weren't Terry's tits! I stopped cold in mid-stroke. “Who are you?” I asked.

“Oh, God, don't stop.” she begged. Too surprised for words, I began my thrusting again. This girl was a big, my height I guessed, brunette. At least I think she was my height. I mean, in bed, everyone's the same height. She turned her face and looked back at me over her shoulder. “I'm Kathy.”

Planting my arms at her hips and holding myself above her, I asked “Where's Terry?”

“She had classes this morning. She asked me to fill in. She said it'd be worth it. Oh, God, it is! It really is!” She moaned as I plumbed her depths from the rear.

This girl was quite a mover. Her body writhed beneath me, her legs spreading and drawing together. In short order, she had kicked the covers from us. This was really inspirational!

Reaching over, I grabbed my pillows. “Kneel.” I commanded, and when she brought her hips and torso off the bed, I thrust them beneath her pelvis. “Now, lie down again.” I told her. Her ass was now several inches higher, and I began thrusting heavily into her. This drove Kathy wild. Her legs were kicking behind me, as she tore at the sheets and screamed pleasure into her own pillows. Together we came wildly, my spewing cock forcing its way deeper and deeper into her wet and sloppy pussy.

I collapsed onto her back and rolled off of her, gasping and sweating heavily. A minute later, she rolled next to me and handed me back my pillows. “Wow!” she said.

I turned the pillows over. With Kathy, the wet spot was prominent. Agreeing with her, I also said “Wow.”

After about five minutes of cuddling, I stood and went to the can. When I came out, Kathy was out of bed, pulling on a T-shirt and shorts.

“I've got to go. Is that all right?” she asked.

I wasn't sure I could take a double dose of this girl so early in the morning. I kissed her and said “Sure. Maybe we can meet again later.”

Kissing me back, she said brightly “Yeah, I'd like that. Bye.” And then she was out the door, barefoot. She was almost as tall as I was.

Well, so far the day had proved interesting. What new wonders would be seen! Returning to the bathroom, I took a long shower, shaved, and brushed my teeth. Deciding to dress a bit more appropriately today, I simply wore slacks and a short-sleeved pullover. I left my room and headed down to the restaurant.

When traveling, I stick to basic bacon and eggs, over easy. I'm not really one for a big breakfast, normally having just cereal and juice at home. Somehow, slurping milk from my bowl doesn't seem the thing to do in a restaurant. I dined alone, primarily from choice. I'm never at my best before my second cup of coffee, and religiously avoid breakfast meetings. Even when still married, I generally ate breakfast alone. Of course, a critic would say that was just another reason I was no longer married. Still, a number of lovely young ladies caught my eye, and generally gave some type of nonverbal indication that they'd be happy to sit with me. A lifetime of habit dies hard. I ate alone.

But the morning double dose of caffeine generally makes me sociable again. By nine, I was up and about, so I headed over to the clinic for the blood pressure check. Get this out of the way, and my time would be all to myself.

Again, the clinic was empty except for the receptionist. Not Jenny, but another young girl. Still in the abbreviated uniform, though. I was still curious about the physical. Very unusual, that. She greeted me and ushered me into the same examination room as yesterday. My short sleeves obviated the need to undress. I hopped up on the table to wait.

Almost immediately, Jenny popped in through the side door. “Good morning, Mr. deFrame. How are we feeling this morning?” she asked brightly.

Good Lord, they even talk that way here! “I don't know.” I responded. “I feel pretty good. How do you feel?” Why do they always talk in the plural? Or does the medical profession prefer to use the 'Imperial' we?

Jenny just laughed. “I feel pretty good, too. I can tell you're feeling feisty, as well. Over your jet lag? Good.” She kept up a light chatter, as she quickly and efficiently pulled out a whatchamacallit and took my blood pressure. “Excellent. Right within normal parameters.” she pronounced. “I'll make sure to tell the doctor.”

“Great.” I said. I hopped off the table and headed for the door.

“Oh, wait.” she said before I had opened the door. “The exam isn't done yet. Remove your pants.”

Confused, I simply said “Huh?”. The quack had simply wanted my blood pressure. What was this about?

Jenny gave a sly smile and looked up at me. If anything, the zipper on her uniform was even lower today than yesterday. The cleavage showing was quite nice. She backed up to the end of the exam table and hopped up on it. “I need to take your temperature, and I plan on using your thermometer.”

My hand dropped from the doorknob, and I turned to face her. Grinning, I walked to her, and said “Really?” I unbuckled my belt. “Just how do you do this?”

In response, Jenny grinned back, and brought her hands up to her collar. Grasping the crisp white fabric with one hand, she used the other to completely unzip her uniform. It fell away from her lush body to reveal what little she had underneath. This consisted of a small and lacy white bra and a white garter belt holding up very sheer white stockings. Then she leaned forward and unzipped my pants. They slid to my knees, leaving my erection pointing at her with my balls swinging in the breeze. “You simply insert your thermometer and move it around. I'll be able to tell if you're hot or not.”

What an interesting medical technique. I wondered if the AMA had learned it yet. Certainly, it would reduce people's reluctance to go to the doctor's! But still, my height and the height of the table weren't going to work. I was going to have to stand on tiptoes, not a great position to insert the thermometer. Looking down at the base of the table, I discovered the answer.

The table was of the solid type, with drawers and so forth built in. Pulling my pants up again, I buttoned them without zipping, so my cock jutted through the opening. I gently kicked two side plates, one on each side, popping them open. As I suspected, inside were a pair of gynecological stirrups. Reaching in, I pulled them out and up, locking them in position. Jenny squealed in delight and kicked off her heels. Next I pulled out a small step stool at the base of the table and stepped up on it. The altitude problem was solved. Ah, Yankee ingenuity in action!

“This should work much better.” I said.

“Oh, my, yes.” said Jenny. She lay down on the table and scooted her ass forward to the edge. Lifting first one leg, then the other, I gently placed them in position in the stirrups. Jenny squirmed around a bit to get comfortable, and I unbuttoned my pants again. I placed my erection along her lower lips and slid it forward on the outside. This was easy to do, for despite long brown hair hanging loosely around her head, her pussy was as bare as a baby's behind. She was shaved completely bald, which I found quite erotic. Her pussy gaped open, and the bright inner pink was blocked only by my cock sliding in the valley above it. I rubbed the underside here for a couple of minutes, my engorged head ringing the doorbell of her clitoris. This was very large, and very visible, protruding redly from between her labia. Jenny relaxed and closed her eyes. Moaning lowly, she reached between her breasts and undid the front clasp on her bra. Heaving breasts, straining against the sheer lace, burst free and upwards.

No longer capable of holding back, I entered her on my next thrust forward. In this position, her cunt was most capable of taking me, and my cock easily disappeared within the naked lips. Reaching down, Jenny grabbed the stirrup uprights, and pulled herself down towards the edge, arching her back and meeting my penetration. Now it was my turn to groan, and loudly. As each inch entered her, no, as each millimeter, moved inwards, her pussy was twitching and spasming around me. Her pussy lips were eating and nibbling at me better than some women had used their regular lips. I watched, fascinated, as I saw her inner lips relaxing and contracting around me, as first I moved in and then pulled slowly out.

But not too slowly. Jenny's eyes were still closed, as she grasped the supports and bucked against me. Her C cup breasts jiggled in time with her rapid thrusting, her large soft nipples moving atop them like soft cherries on large bowls of Jell-O. Inspired, I wrapped my hands around her thighs and began some heavy-duty thrusting of my own.

Jenny's contractions seemed to increase in speed and power. Her ass began to really squirm all over the end of the table, wrenching on my buried root. Her tits wiggled and jiggled in motions that a computer couldn't analyze. After only about ten minutes the orgasm I had been desperately holding out against swept over me. Pulling her thighs rigidly against me, I rammed into her, spewing jism into her cunt. Jenny came, too, clenching her cunt tightly around my engulfed dick, and murmuring out her pleasure. Locked in, my cock spasmed out a seemingly endless supply of cum, but all too shortly the moment ended.

After a standing eight count, Jenny's twat relaxed, and my lifeless prick slid out, followed by our juices. Reaching behind her, Jenny grabbed a handful of tissues. I reached up and lowered her legs from their resting places, and the nurse sat up. First she wiped my cock off, then her gaping gash. Stepping down off the stool, I pulled up my pants and refastened them. “Well?” I asked, “Is my temperature okay?”

Jenny smiled as she stepped down from the table. Redoing her bra, she said “Excellent. If you want, we can schedule a daily checkup, just in case.”

I continued tucking myself in. “And what would the doctor say about that?”

Slipping into her heels, and zipping up her uniform, the girl laughed. “I wouldn't tell the doctor. But I might just tell the other shifts.”

I smiled and kissed her. “Thanks for the checkup.” And then I was out of there, intent on seeing what the rest of the day held.


The rest of the morning was quiet. I figured a nice long walk would do me good. As I wandered back through the lobby area, I heard a soft, feminine voice call out my name. Stopping, I turned in its direction.

“Mr. deFrame? Terry asked me to look you up.” said a very young woman. If she wasn't a minor, then I didn't know anything about women. Which might be the case anyway.


“Yes. I'm Julie, and Terry said you'd be wanting a tour this morning of the school. And perhaps of the rest of the grounds?”

Now what exactly did that mean? Around here, I couldn't be at all sure. I casually looked the girl over. Slim, almost willowy. Late sixteen, maybe seventeen, quite pretty. A little above average height. Light chestnut hair. A junior “student”? Or perhaps not, I had no real way of knowing.

“Well, I was planning on a walk anyway. We'll just put some purpose to it.” I said.

“Excuse me, Mr. deFrame.” interrupted a young woman behind the front counter. “Your appointment for tomorrow morning with Mr. Wilkerson has been moved up to nine. He called to say his schedule had opened up. Is that all right with you, sir?”

“Yes, quite. I look forward to the meeting.”

“Very good, sir.”

I turned back to Julie. It was only then I noticed that for the first time in my visit one of the staff type individuals wasn't in some type of uniform. Well, I gathered that none of the girls were part of the permanent staff. But what else could I call these highly decorative worker bees. Perhaps, uniforms were only worn on duty. But if so, wasn't this tour duty? Every step took me deeper through the looking glass. I resolved to simply wonder silently.

Julie wasn't in one of the chic, short and tight, suits the other reception and concierge ladies were wearing. Instead, she was dressed quite becomingly, in a loose, high necked sweater and a tartan plaid skirt that dropped about halfway between her knees and her ankles. But not a simple plain skirt. This was some kind of wrap skirt that buttoned on one side and was held together at mid-thigh by a large brass pin. Through the slit, where the wrap overlapped, I could glimpse long, lightweight, black high-heeled boots, but not the heavy and shiny kind worn by leather fetishists. No, these were of some very thin, stretchy, matte fabric. Strange boots? Stockings with shoes built in? Whatever they were, they seemed quite long, disappearing above the gap where her skirt swung open as we walked.

For, imperceptibly, we had begun our walk, Julie slipping her arm in mine and leading me outside. It was cooler today, and I mentioned it to her.

“Yes, there's a front moving in. We're supposed to get rain tomorrow. Maybe the next day also.”

“It's beautiful down here. Is the weather always this nice?” I asked.

“Well, summer is really hot and humid, or at least this last one was. But I haven't really been here long enough to say.”

I was tempted to ask how long she had been here. But something, maybe the way she said it, made me stop. Somehow I knew that this would open some old wound. Old wounds don't have to be that old to be deep and painful. But it also made me realize that this girl, if she hadn't been here a full year, was young. More questions for Mr. Wilkerson.

We walked through more of the gardens, and for the first time I saw what appeared to be some of the permanent staff. Several healthy young men were working in the gardens, wearing official looking work clothes, supervising several of the girls weeding and tending flowers. Again, something in their manner, and the way they gave orders to the girls, told me these weren't locals just called in to mow the lawn. And then it struck me! They weren't Mexican. Oh, they had dark tans, but they were just tans, not a Latino's skin coloring. And I realized that all of the women I had seen so far were North American Caucasian. No blacks, no Latinos, no Orientals. Curiouser and curiouser. I was in a small enclave of the white US in the middle of the Yucatan Peninsula.

Eventually, we came to a low building behind a hill from the main resort area. Less than a mile away from the main area, it was completely hidden and unseen, and I suspected for most of the guests, unknown. But as we entered, I realized the building actually was built into the hill and was larger than it appeared.

“This is the school and dormitory for all of the students.” said Julie.

“Do you live here?” I asked.

“Last hall, second floor.” said Julie with a smile. “And no, you can't see. The dorm rooms are completely off limits.” she said, guessing my next question.

“Why's that?”

“Hmmm, well, Mr. Wilkerson says it's simply our place, where we can kick back and do what we want. No orders or anything.” What an interesting fellow, this Wilkerson. “Anyway, it's just a bunch of dorm rooms. I mean, like mine is just a disaster right now!” she laughed.

Leading me on, she continued. “Now down here are the classrooms. There're only six, and we go to classes either mornings or afternoons. Or did Terry tell you this already?”

I assured her that Terry hadn't told me much at all. “Just keep going, I'll let you know if you repeat her.”

“Okay.” She led me up to a window that opened onto a small classroom. Inside, a teacher was standing at a blackboard, demonstrating something involving English and sentence structure to a small class of young ladies. “Now, they can't see you. It's a one-way mirror, like on TV.” Goggle-eyed I stared at the students.

First, the range of ages was considerably greater than anything I had expected. Some looked in their early twenties, others no more than mid-teens. Younger than Julie! And their uniforms! They all wore long gowns and high heels. The gowns were in a variety of light pastels and seemed slit quite deep both at the front and back, top and bottom. Like sheer, opaque, evening gowns.

After a few minutes, I stepped back and walked on down the hallway, Julie trailing behind me. The next two classrooms were in use, one teaching algebra or math, the other where the teacher was pointing to a large map of the world. Same range of ages. Same uniforms.

But the next three windows showed nothing. The rooms inside were dark, and nothing could be seen. “What's taught in here?”

“Oh, that's the sex lab.”

“Huh? What?” I asked incredulously. My jaw must have dropped to the floor.

Julie looked at the expression on my face and laughed heartily. “Sex lab! At least that's what we call it. The actual course is called something like 'Theoretical and Practical Aspects of Human Sexuality'. Or something like that, anyway. But we just call it 'Sex Lab'.” She laughed again, a bright, smiling laugh. “Oh, if you could only see your face!”

“I imagine.” I said. “Sex lab, huh. I can't imagine. I mean I really can't imagine.” I simply shook my head.

“Yeah? Wanna see?” she asked. Not waiting for a reply, she went to the first door, and opened it. Walking in, she turned and hit a switch next to the door. “Come on in.” Julie motioned me in with a hand. “Come on, it's safe!” She laughed some more.

Grinning ruefully, I stepped across the threshold. Looking around, I felt even more embarrassed by what I saw. It was just another classroom. Several diagrams and cutaway drawings of men and women lined the walls. It looked just like a biology classroom, and I said so.

“Uh, huh. That's part of the course. I guess that's the 'Theoretical' part. Doc Henson teaches some of this.” agreed Julie. Then the girl laughed again. “Wilma and Fred live in the closet.”

“Wilma and Fred?” I asked stupidly. I had a sneaking suspicion that much of what I was saying in sex lab sounded stupid.

“You know, the Flintstones?” Julie walked over to a closet and opened it up. Coming closer, I could see a pair of mannequins, one male, one female, inside. Both had on some leopard-spotted toga type outfits. “God only knows when, but somebody once dressed them up like this, and we just keep them that way. They come to all our parties!”

Now it was my turn to laugh. The dorm sounded a lot like my freshman dorm in college, constantly on the verge of expulsion and/or arrest. Regaining some composure, I walked through an open doorway to the next classroom. But it was dark, and I couldn't see anything until Julie passed me and headed to the door, turning on the lights.

Now this was a bit more what I had suspected. In the front of the classroom were three standard size beds, in the rear, a semicircle of chairs. Instead of blackboards, corkboards lined the walls, with pictures and diagrams of all manner of ways and positions to have sex. More than a few I had never seen before.

“This must be the 'Practical' part.” I said dryly.

“About as practical as you can get.” responded Julie.

“And what's in here?” I asked her, turning towards the door leading to the last classroom.

“One could say that's where advanced classes are taught.” she said mysteriously.

“Hmmph.” I marched in. Knowing where the lights were now, I soon had them turned on. I turned and looked on a scene worthy of Fellini.

Along one wall were a number of shelves containing what must be one of every vibrator, dildo, and sexual device known to mankind. Some I couldn't name but had heard of, some I couldn't even guess about! Parts of the wall had shackles and chains mounted. No beds or desks, but a few padded benches, stools, couches, and armchairs. A trapeze swung gently from the ceiling, as did a chair with the bottom cut out. I knew what that was for!

“Holy shit!” I exclaimed.

“Like I said, advanced techniques.”

“I guess!” I stared for several minutes, and then opened the hall door and stepped out. Leaning back against the wall, I took a deep breath.

Julie followed behind me, turning off the lights. “Are you all right, Mr. deFrame?” she asked, a look of concern on her face.

“Huh? Oh, yeah, just fine.” I responded. “That's just a little bit much, though, don't you think?”

“Oh, I don't know. You get used to it, I guess.”

“You mean...you?...”

“Yep. We all have.”

“Wow!” Looks were deceiving. No matter what these girls’ ages were, they knew more than any girls that age I had ever known had ever known. No wonder the techniques performed on me had been so flawless. These girls had training! Practice does make perfect!

I stood up again, and Julie took my arm. “That's really about it.” she said. “I mean, there're the libraries, but you wouldn't want to see the one here.”


“Nah. I mean, the one here just has textbooks and encyclopedias and books like that. The interesting one is in the main building.”

“I hadn't noticed.” I told her. “What makes it so interesting?”

“Well that one is for the patrons. The textbooks have nothing to do with reading or writing, at least.”

“Really? No kidding?”

By now we were back on a path to the resort. Along the way, I asked Julie where the jogging track was. “I'd like to run some this afternoon. It's been a few days, and I need to stay in shape.”

“Sure. It's over here.” she answered, leading the way. We walked along the track until we were back to the resort building. “One lap equals two kilometers.”

“A mile and a quarter.”

“Close enough.” Julie led me in a side door, and we ended in a hallway off the lobby. Leading me through a pair of French doors, she said “This is the main library.”

It was a small room, but several bookcases and sets of shelves divided the room into a few alcoves. No desks or study carrels, but some nicely appointed couches and love seats. It had been a long walk. I flopped down on a love seat, and Julie sat down to the left of me, crossing her legs.

That was a preview of The Wilkerson Institute. To read the rest purchase the book.

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