The Tutor

Chapter 1

Amy wasn't a spoiled little rich kid, she was a trust fund baby, but the trust didn't pay quite that much. She could survive on it, but little more. She was pretty; long blond tresses spilling from her crown. She would, from time to time put streaks in it just to spice things up. Not that anyone noticed, ever. The only thing that people noticed was her boobs, she got them early, and they were a gift and a curse. They seemed to attract all the wrong guys. Guys who were so vapid, and dull, that it made her want to drill a two-inch hole in the side of her head just so she could be on the same level as them. But that, she had big breasts, perhaps big wasn't quite the word for it, some women had teased her about her tata's. Some of the attention she got from them made her feel pretty, other times it made her feel like a freak. She would often fixate on the freak part and be on the verge of tears because she didn't believe that she was worth knowing. Maybe her left breast was worth knowing. Maybe it was the right one, boys, men didn't seem to care they just stared intently at them as if they were some wonder of the world.

If she thought about it hard enough, she would get to where she just thought of herself as just a big pair of boobs. It was wholly depressing thinking that everyone thought of her as a big cow. She cursed her breasts sometimes, comparing them to udders on a cow. Sometimes she wished that she wasn't "Blessed", as her mother had told her, with them. She would often wear baggy clothing to disguise her figure. It helped some, but then people thought she was fat, and she wasn't sure if that was better, or worse. No on second thought, that was worse. Although having people overlook her made her feel better than when people stared at her because she looked like a cow.

Amy lived a fairly normal life otherwise. She watched the cooking Channel, and Scorpion, Dr. Who, And the Big Bang Theory. Everything else on television seemed like a waste of time. Sports were fine if she was playing them, not that she ever got picked for a team, She was a little clumsy, and she cursed herself for it. It was probably because she had two great big boobs in her way.

She tried writing, she had a vivid imagination or at least she thought she did. She published a short story on the Amazon publishing site. It was a few days before she got a response. It was bad, she didn't understand what she had done wrong. Another writer on the site called it bad porn, and she still didn't understand. He left her an e-mail address.

She sat down at her desk. Who does this asshole think he is, she thought to herself, as she got ready to write something scathing to him. But then again, she was unsure. She wrote a note to him, to the effect of, "okay wise guy what the hell am I doing wrong".

The response took a while, and the waiting was a bit maddening. He explained that her story was rushed and didn't have enough depth. The characters, as well as the action, were flat and needed more flavor. He attached a short story he wrote, a rough draft he said. She assumed, this person was a he, judging by the surname on the email header, but that could be a pen name too. She read the story entranced, she felt all quivery inside when she finished it.

This guy had chops, that's for sure, but could he teach her, would he teach her?

She told him where she lived, and asked if he would help her personally.

He said he would help her, and he would think about the personal part.

She asked him where he lived.

He responded, "Close." He sent a barrage of stories to her. "You need to read and understand what the writer is doing," he explained. "These are mine." He also supplied a reading list for her to go through. She was overwhelmed, reading now more than writing. The Marquise De Sade, Anais Nin, Jacqueline Susann, Anne Rice, just to name a few on the lengthy catalog.