Funny. I hadn't bothered to ask Florinda anything about the reason for her trip out of town, assuming that it was some sort of family deal. Nor had she bothered to tell me for what turned out to be an obvious reason.. She came back two days late and bubbling over with news, good news for herself, not so good for me. Her trip had been to the big city for an interview with one of the corporate foundations, the kind that shell out money for scholarships and research grants and such. A successful interview, as it turned out, she had won a grant to go and study the dramatic arts in Europe.
And so, except for what little remained of the school year, I saw no more of Florinda Brokaw. Nor did I have her apartment to look forward to in my second year, no longer subject to the rule that prohibited freshmen girls from living off-campus. And I had pretty much taken it for granted too, figuring on moving in. with her and paying for the privilege with generous donations of my body thus making us both happy. Instead, her good news was my bad news, depriving me of a steady hot-lipped lover and a bunk in a lovely apartment. Alas!
I managed to survive, though, carrying on a few gay flirtations but no big affairs. My sophomore year was interesting but comparatively uneventful. As agreed upon, Lizabeth and I stayed in touch, but neither of us wrote long letters and our correspondence was perfunctory at best. And then even that faded when she found her rich old man-a guy named Greer-and got married. Although she did send me a gift once, an ornately wrapped package that contained a pair of her soiled panties. They smelled ripe. She must have come in them, the crotch was that stiff. I took a sniff and started to chew on it-and then realized that she must have peed in them too oh, such a wicked bitch! But I went right on chewing…
At home that summer, I ran into my old friend Alix, in town on a visit to show off her twin babies, almost a year old. She seemed glad to see me, but we didn't have much in common any more; worse yet, she was already pregnant again, well on the way toward becoming a dumpy little housewife preoccupied with diapers and such-and apparently proud of her part in contributing to the anstocratic Moreau line. The twins had little family crests embroidered on their outfits, imagine! I found it somewhat pathetic, and even felt a certain contempt afterward.
During the next two years at college, I played around quite a lot, always with girls, hoping to get the need out of my system before getting my degree and settling down as a teacher. I became a lesbian flirt and seductress, gaining a bit of a reputation among the underground gay set. In my senior year, Lizabeth wrote and told me about the death of her husband; the guy had died peacefully and left her well provided for, with a big house and plenty of money and some business interests that would bring in even more. Shortly after that, I heard from her again, an invitation to come and visit as soon as possible-some long holiday weekend, perhaps-now that her mourning period was officially over.
The way she put it made me laugh; wouldn't I like to come and console a poor bereaved widow? Reading between the lines, I got the impression that she had probably fucked the old boy right into his grave and was now about to kick up her heels in a different direction-making up for lost time, as it were. My first impulse was to pack a bag and jump on the next Greyhound bus, but I had grown older and wiser over the years, too sensible to go off half-cocked like that. For one thing, I was simply too busy at school then. And for another, well, did I really want to get that involved with her again? I still remembered my submission. Serving her had seemed only right and natural, admittedly, a facet of my character that she had awakened and nurtured to an undreamed-of degree, quite beyond my control; did I dare run that risk again?
Common sense prevailed. I turned down the invitation. Actually, it was the schoolwork that influenced me most; that was my senior year and I was preparing to do my practice teaching, the one important step left toward my degree. Still, it was a tough decision to make, saying no to that remarkable woman. Even after all that intervening time, my memory of her hadn't faded much. The vision of her creamy body, the fragrance, the taste of her flesh-it was all almost as vivid as on that wild weekend. I could even recall the moments, few as they were, when she had seen fit to caress me in obvious appreciation of my youthful beauty. I would probably never forget that, the warmth of her body nestling close to mine, the softness of her stroking hands upon my breasts, my belly, the fingers gentle and yet charged with excitement as they dipped into me with such knowledgeable intimacy, such accomplished ease…
Anyway, even though I refused her invitation, the renewal of those memories had a clearly perceivable effect on me. That was okay around the campus, where I could usually find an outlet for my aroused desires without much trouble. But it became a problem in the town where I was assigned to do my month of practice teaching. The little town of Hagersville, tucked away in the hills; how would I ever assuage my lesbian longings in such a place?
It wasn't that small really, and there were some available women around, more than likely, just going by the law of averages. Even among the other teachers, no doubt. Or perhaps a disgruntled housewife or two, wives grown bored with their husbands enough to give vent to certain long-suppressed lesbian tendencies. Maybe there were affairs going on right under my nose, practically. But in my position, I couldn't afford to take chances. A college girl on a practice teaching assignment had to be on her best behavior, the slightest breath of scandal could mean disaster. Then too, there simply wasn't time to go scouting around, not when there was so much work to do-lessons to prepare, homework to correct, the kind of on-trial work that had to be done perfectly in order to win that precious teaching certificate. So instead of consoling the bereaved widow, I had to try to console myself, lying in my lonely bed in my lonely boardinghouse room. At least that was how the difficult month started.
My job was in the so-called Middle School, rather like a high school setup but even more departmentalized. I taught history and English and had been asked to fill in for the ailing dramatics teacher, mostly an after-school project, a kind of workshop for one-act plays and such to be put on during the weekly assembly period. I liked it, the school, the town, everything-except for the awful frustration of those nights alone in bed. And almost as a form of amusement-for want of something better I began seeing the kids in my classes with an imaginative eye. Only the pretty girls, of course, although I tried to be impartial in my dealings with the entire group, boys included.
All those budding tittles and coltish legs-so near and yet so far; what delicious torture!
That was when I noticed Noelle Chisholm. Or-more accurately-when I first realized that she was noticing me. There were prettier kids to look at, even a few spectacular beauties, so I didn't pay much attention to this one, a kind of run-of-the-mill type. Noelle was on the chubby side, a blue-eyed blonde with somewhat irregular features and a sprinkling of freckles, hardly a standout in any classroom. Just an ordinary youngster, rather shy, as far as I could tell. And yet, despite her shyness, it wasn't long before she started offering her help wherever possible, running errands for me, passing out books, collecting papers, volunteering her services for anything and everything, obviously trying to gain my approval and put herself in the "teacher's pet" role. She even showed enthusiasm in my after-school dramatics workshop, apparently a new venture for her; how could I help but notice?
And still, rather obtusely, I just didn't visualize the kid in a sexual capacity-not until she forced me into it, anyhow. It happened late one afternoon, after workshop was over and the other kids had left the auditorium. I had stayed to block in a skit for the next assembly program, making chalk marks on the stage floor while my little volunteer assistant followed me around and took notes on my clipboard. All very professional. Even after I finished and went into the wings to kill the lights, there was no hint of anything otherwise. Not until I took the clipboard and sat down to check her notes and see what changes might have to be made at that point. I suggested that she go home then, since it would take a while before my mind was made up.
"Oh, please, won't you let me stay? Miss Daventry? My mother doesn't expect me till late; she knows I'm helping you."
"But there's nothing here for you to do, it's all done."
"Uh, couldn't I just keep you company?"
"All right, dear. If you like."
She caught my hand and brought it to her lips. Embarrassed by the unexpected contact, I acted casual and pretended to ignore it, turning away and focusing on the clipboard in my lap. Only the kiss went on and on, and I knew that it wasn't just her lips but her tongue too that was caressing me, exploring the spaces between my fingers, the hollow of my palm, and the sensation was like a charge of electricity coursing through my body. I made a noise in my throat, an expression of disapproval. She let go and stepped back, swinging around and moving off toward a pile of dusty old props in the comer evidently seeking to hide her shame.
"Noelle? Why did you do that?"
"I-I'm sorry. I just felt like it. You know why. It's because I love you. Because you're so beautiful."
"Oh? Tell me more. I might as well hear all of it. But don't stand in the corner, come back here where I can see you."
"Yes'm. Are you mad at me?"
"No. Not really. Come closer, don't be afraid. Here!" My gesture was peremptory. "Right here."
She nodded and sank to the floor at my feet. For a fleeting instant her eyes probed mine questioning, and then she sighed happily and leaned back to rest her head against me. Against my knee, like a pet hoping for affection.
I stroked her hair. "Now tell me."
"Hmm? Oh. I-I'll try." She trembled as my hand moved down to caress the nape of her neck. "Oooh! When you touch me like that, I can hardly talk. But-but I have to, I have to tell you everything, Miss Daventry. I love you. I want to kiss you. I want to do things for you. Like women do when they're in love, you know?"
"Huh? What do you know about women in love?"
"I-I saw it once. When my aunt came to visit. She had a friend with her, a girl friend, and I watched them one night when my folks were out. I was too young to understand then, but I've never forgotten it."
"And you think you understand now? No, never mind, don't answer that. Noelle, please go home, I'd like to be alone awhile, I've got some understanding to do myself. I'm not angry, I just want you to get up and go home now, my dear. All right?"
"Yes, ma'm. Whatever you say… "
That ended it, giving me a chance to get over the shock. A gay proposition, imagine, and from a mere child! And it wasn't just a schoolgirl crush as I had suspected, oh no, this kid had seen lesbians in action and knew what she wanted. Better yet, she practically worshiped me already and would knock herself out to follow every safety rule-I laid down for her, making it easy to keep my sinful little fling a secret. So meek. So submissive. Such a cute toy for me to play with. And best of all, so safe! I'd be finished with my stint and leaving town long before either of us could get cocky enough to take any unnecessary risks, the kind that might lead to scandal. The temptation was irresistible. Now it was only a matter of figuring out when…
No problem. I did some research around my rooming-house, just enough to learn what the safest nights were. Not that we had to meet in secret, actually, a teacher asking her pupil over to work on an upcoming assembly program; what harm would anybody see in that? And if any unforeseen danger did popup, we could play it cool and sit downstairs in the living room and look busy. But my research paid off-Friday was the best night, everybody went to the local movie palace, leaving the coast clear for me and my eager young guest. And there we were the two of us in my room with the door locked-and the rest of the house empty.
I didn't waste much time getting down to business, delaying it just a few minutes to stress the need for secrecy. Then, quite boldly, “Well? Do you want to make love to me?"
You-you mean it? You'll let me?"
"Uh-huh. Give me a hand with my clothes."
She caught her breath and let her eyelashes droop, suddenly shy again now that the chips were down. The freckles on her nose were delightfully appealing. Her hesitation was brief though, and soon I was naked on the bed touched only by the cool sheet and the adoring warmth of her eyes…
"Oh, you're so beautiful!"
"Don't tell me, show me. Show me with a kiss."
"Uh, can I kiss you… uh… "
"Whatever you like, darling. I'm all yours."
I saw her shiver, standing there and looking down at me, at my naked and inviting body. And then, as if her limbs had gone limp, she simply sank down upon me with just enough control to stay on target-a headlong dive between my thighs. I moaned rapturously, feeling my cunt, my long-neglected cunt, become a mouthful for that untutored but enthusiastic mouth.
Her moan sounded in response to mine. But even as I heard the noise, her tongue seemed to graze something extra sensitive down there, prodding me into a convulsive reaction, a spasmodic series of twists and jerks and twitches. I arched up to smear myself all over her face, all wet and squishy, the two of us, giving a special intimacy to the juncture of that burrowing face and my wedged-open cunt, the intimacy of sharing…
That was quite a night, our first but by no means last. We met often after that, every time my preparatory safety check allowed us to. I taught her how to lick my ass with that small but highly maneuverable tongue of hers, an accomplishment that she took to with great pride, aware of doing something that her visiting aunt hadn't done, She did it well, too, somehow always managing to go beyond my expectations in any new trick. I knew what it was to have every nerve singing, vibrating in concert while my torso squirmed slowly on the tip of her tongue. And I knew we would miss each other sorely when my sojourn in Hagersville ran its course, a day neither of us looked forward to.
Oddly enough, it wasn't until fairly late in the month that I learned something about her that everybody else already knew: the kid's father was a big wheel on the School Board. I had a queasy fit of giggles over that, but it was nothing to get panicky about, of course-just a whimsical twist, good for a laugh, something to remember in my old age. And then another twist!-it became something to pay attention to right then and there. As a practice teacher, it seemed that I had won the wholehearted approval of the local gentry, especially for my dramatics workshop and assembly programs, and was being considered for a permanent position next year after I got my degree. It was quite an honor and the money would be good, a cut above most beginning teachers in the state. Better yet, I would be in charge of all the plays and productions, a job to satisfy my craving for theatrical work; what a terrific deal!
But now, all of a sudden, it wasn't so funny to be fooling around with the daughter of a Board bigwig. For that matter, I was jeopardizing a good thing by fooling around at all. The time had come to break it off, but quick, and I did exactly that, trying to let Noelle down easy but still hurting her feelings in the procedure. It had to be a clean break, naturally, so that I wouldn't be stuck with the same problem next year. But the kid couldn't see it from my viewpoint and got so sulky that I wondered if her parents wouldn't notice it and start worrying about her. Which was why I decided to humor her when she telephoned that Saturday afternoon and told me to come over; her folks were out for the day and she had the house to herself, a perfect opportunity for the two of us to get together again, just this once.
I went, hoping to talk some sense into her. Only it wasn't exactly a peaceful occasion, much to my regret. She was pretty upset, on the brink of hysteria practically, raving and ranting about my falling in love with somebody else, one of the beautiful girls in the big assembly show I was rehearsing. I got angry and called her a brat. She retaliated, calling me a bitch and slapping my face. I slapped her back and then all hell broke loose as we traded strangle holds and tumbled to the floor. Someone's foot raked across an electric cord, yanking a big lamp from its table; it toppled and smashed, scattering bits of broken bulb all over the place.
But the fight had gone out of Noelle by then and she seemed to melt all of a sudden. My grip slackened. Triumph surged through me as I felt her, age turn to affection. Or was it lust? Even now, those feverish little hands were fucking my skirt up and clawing at my panties. And that resourceful mouth of hers was kissing up my thighs even as she gasped for breath-yes, this was where it belonged, that mouth, this was its true purpose in life; hadn't I taught her that? No complaining or sulking or whining or shouting or shrieking. No hysterics. Only this…
The sound of our heavy breathing was already too loud. We didn't hear the key scratching m the lock. Nor did we see the front door swing open. Only when an unfamiliar voice became suddenly audible did I realize that we were no longer alone in the house. I froze. They were standing there, a middle aged couple, aghast at the sight of their beloved daughter sucking a cunt. My stomach turned over and I retched. Vomited. All over the floor. All over the rug, All over the glass fragments from the broken lamp. And all over my teaching career, or-course, all over my college degree…
It was a degree I never got. There was no scandal, oddly enough, it was all kept hushed up. I was asked to resign from the university and to seek my means of livelihood elsewhere preferably in some other state. I didn't ever dare go home; besides, what excuse could I make for the best Helen the town of Troy ever had? I felt alone. Alone and helpless. No one to turn to, not a friend left in all the world.
But that wasn't really true oh no I did have a friend, someone who would be glad to see me. Someone who would put me up and tide me over the rough spots until I got myself straightened out. A phone call would cadge an invitation, even If the bereaved widow didn't need consolation any more.