This is a work of fiction. A short story of 700 words.
Penelope was passionate indeed. When she made love to a man, he knew about it. She didn’t just have sex with them, she devoured them. It was her talent, her God-given gift. Not that she knew where it had come from. She had just always known how to do it. Just right. She hadn’t started young either. She held back until her first year at university, and then unleashed her skills.
Penelope picked up the expensive pencil, and made some notations in her journal. This gave her a moment for reflection.
David had been the easiest, by far. Her actual tutor, and he had come to her as meek as a lamb. The wrong side of fifty, married to a secondary school headmistress, and father to two daughters, one at the same university. She was surprised how easily he had fallen for her charms. She had thought that he might have known better. But for David, it was all about passion. It was so long ago for him, he couldn’t even remember if he had ever experienced it. Penelope delivered the passion that he had only ever imagined in his wildest dreams. This was how it should be, of that he was certain. One afternoon after class, and he was hooked. He couldn’t get this girl out of his mind, and his life was in a whirl every day since. Penelope smiled to herself. She had done well. Very well indeed.
Penelope turned a page.
Phillip was not really to her taste. The local M.P., hanging on to a very slim majority. It had seemed logical that she would volunteer to help the local political party. After all, she was studying Politics, Philosophy, and Economics, so some experience on the ground with the local political party was only to be encouraged. She held no brief for that party. Truth be told, she actually found all politics quite boring, and politicians were self-serving dullards, in her opinion. But Phillip was so easy, she just had to do it. Pushing sixty, father of four, and married to what possibly was the most boring woman in England, he was ripe for the plucking. Staying late after a meeting, she had introduced him to passion. It wasn’t pleasant, she had to admit. He was too fat, too oily, and his breath was questionable, to say the least. But he had fallen for her charms, and wallowed in her passion.
She turned again, examining the next page.
Alexander had been the most difficult. Because he ran the most successful bar and restaurant in that university town, he had a high opinion of himself. Penelope had gone to him, asking for a part-time job. He had been stand-offish, almost disinterested. But Penelope had confidence in her passion, and just needed that one chance. Alex was a typical forty-something male. Married to a trophy wife, two small children, and a style that was unacceptably too modern for his age. He dressed like his student customers, and tried to keep up with his wife. But she was fifteen years younger, and he had no hope of that. One night, she asked if she could talk to him about her concerns. A few crocodile tears later, and his arm was around her shoulders. That was all she needed, and Alex was overwhelmed by the passionate nineteen year-old. He had never realised it could be like that. So he had told her afterwards.
Penelope checked the back pages of her journal.
David was good for £500 a month. Between his salary, and his wife’s, they wouldn’t notice that much from their savings.
Phillip was much easier. The thought of the scandal was too much to bear. The small majority, the disgrace, the four children. It would all amount to the end. He could easily manage £500 a month. And he did.
When it came to Alex, she had a head start. Working in the bar, she knew how much he took every week. And it was a lot. Losing it all to the young wife, and two children, was too terrible for him to contemplate. So, £1,000 a month seemed fair, at least to Penelope.
After all, she had told each of them. It was only for two years. She would leave them alone after that.
And she would never have to worry about that student loan, ever again.