The remainder of the morning was painfully slow. I had trouble

concentrating on my work, as my thoughts constantly reverted to the

events which had so far transpired between Lolita and me, and as I

speculated at what may come.

Finally I arrived at O’Casey’s, ten minutes early. I automatically made

my way to the bar and sat, ready to order a cold beer. Then I heard the

same husky sensuous voice I had heard earlier on the phone, coming from

behind me.

“Nick?”

I turned. What I saw was a feast for the eyes. There stood a lovely

creature. She was about five foot six inches tall, and couldn’t have

weighed more than a hundred and thirty lovely pounds. The contours of

her body were perfectly proportioned and wonderfully chiseled into a

work of art comparable only to the air-brushed beauties one sees only in

a pinup picture.

“Lolita?” was my reply.

“In the flesh.” she smiled warmly, holding her hand out.

I held it a bit longer than one would a normal hand shake. I released it

hesitantly, still not believing what my eyes beheld. Her almond skin was

smooth and taut, and belied her forty years. Her oval face featured high

cheek bones and piercing brown eyes. She wore her shiny black hair

pulled back severely into a bun.

“You’re early!” I stammered.

“And so are you.” She replied. “Good... now we can get to know one

another that much sooner.”

She beckoned with her finger. “Come. We have a booth.”

She said ‘we’ again. What was going on? I followed her to the ‘smoking’

part of the cafe.

“I hope you don’t mind that I smoke.” She said, questioningly.

“I’m a smoker as well, so that’s not a problem.” I replied.

We arrived at a booth in the back corner. There, sitting alone, was

another, younger lady. This one, a fair-skinned blue-eyed blonde,

appeared to be in her early twenties. Her hair was in a neat “page-boy”

cut, and her body was trim and athletic. I have a daughter older than

her.

“Nick, this is Angie.”

Angie offered her hand, and I shook it.

“Surprised?” asked Lolita, sliding into the booth, opposite Angie, and

giving me a questioning glance.

“Well... yes.” I replied.

Lolita patted the seat next to her in the booth. “Sit down, and I’ll

explain.”

I sat. Lolita’s explanation followed.

“As you know, I’m a Registered Nurse, and I work in the Smith clinic

here in town. Angie was a patient of mine recently, having been there

for a series of tests. The tests called for absolute cleanliness of the

bowels, so, as normal procedure would have it, I administered a series

of enemas to Angie.”

She continued:

“The enemas I gave Angie were the first ones she has experienced, and

after her initial nervousness, she decided she enjoyed them. She and I

had a few frank discussions about enemas and their beneficial and ‘fun’

effects, and she expressed a desire to know more, which included how to

give them to someone else.”

I was beginning to guess the method to Lolita’s madness.

“After you and I communicated via the net and you had expressed a desire

for an enema teacher, I decided that teaching you both together would be

less awkward than as individuals, as you could practice on one another,

under my guidance and supervision.”

Now I understood. I nodded, acknowledging as much.

“So,” she continued, “I contacted Angie and told her about you and this

idea. She agreed to meet you before making a final decision.”

“O. K.” I said, “I guess your plan makes sense.” I looked to Angie. “If

you’re game, so am I.”

“Gee...” She stammered, “I don’t know....”

I interrupted: “I know you’re nervous, Angie, and you really don’t know

me. So I understand how you’d hesitate.” I added: “I promise I won’t

bite, nor will I deliberately do anything to hurt you. And you don’t

have to decide right now. Why don’t we just start by ordering lunch and

get to know one another better?”

The two women nodded their agreement.

It was a nice visit for the three of us, each of whom gave the other two

a brief autobiography.

It turned out that Angie was a local native who had recently graduated

from the State University, where she had earned a degree in interior

design and was seeking employment.

Neither Lolita nor I pressed Angie for a decision, but as the time

approached to pay the check, she volunteered:

“O. K....Um....I’ve decided.”

Lolita and I looked at her, questioningly.

“What the heck... Why not?” and then she giggled.

“So that settles that.” said Lolita. She paused, then continued: “I’m

not positive about my schedule for the rest of the week, but I do know

that I’m on call until Friday. Maybe we can arrange something for one

day this weekend?”

Angie and I nodded agreement.

With that, we parted ways.

On Wednesday, I sent off the following email:

From: qlm@hotpost.com

To: lolita@wahoo.net

Subj: This weekend...

Lolita:

One of my wife’s relatives in North Carolina passed away, so just a

while ago, I took her to the airport. Her plans are to attend the

funeral, which is on Friday, and stay on and visit with her mother an

additional week. This means that whatever you plan for this weekend,

I’ll have no problem being available. Looking forward to “Enema School”

:-)

On Thursday, this message was in my in-box:

From: lolita@wahoo.net

To: qlm@hotpost.com

Subj: Re: This

weekend...

Nick:

You wrote:

>This means that whatever you plan for this weekend, I’ll have no

>problem being available.

One of my co-workers had an emergency yesterday, and I ended up working

a double shift. Boy am I tired. That’s the bad news. The good news is:

She has agreed to work my Friday evening shift, So that means that after

midnight Thursday, I’m off till Monday afternoon!

>Looking forward to “Enema School” :-)

Be careful what you wish for... I can be a strict schoolmistress... ;-)

I live in Neptune beach: 1827 Pelican Lane. Be here at 4:00 P. M.

Friday. Angie has already agreed to that time, and, BTW, is also

available all weekend. Bring a change of clothes and some swim trunks. I

have all the “Training Equipment” we’ll need.

Lolita.

“A strict schoolmistress” she had written. The myriad of pictures which

entered my imagination caused a stirring in my loins. I thought of

filling myself and getting off, but decided to refrain from doing so. I

wanted my “batteries” “fully charged” for the upcoming week end.

My work day Friday was miserable. I could hardly concentrate on what I

was doing. By the time the lunch hour came along, I decided I was just

spinning my wheels, so I called to postpone my afternoon appointments

until Monday.

I tried taking an afternoon siesta but failed to doze off. The

excitement of the upcoming events filled my mind, so I finally just

showered, shaved and packed a change of clothes and my swim trunks. I

wondered why she had specified these.