The Saturday morning sunlight crept into the boat house till it filled it with brightness and deep, contrasting shadows. It slid patterns across the two blanket covered figures cuddled together against the remnants of night chill, spilling from the window above them to lay a plane of brightness across Deena's face. Her eyes flickered briefly, tightening to deny consciousness only to open as she turned her face away from it.
Deena brushed her hair away from her face and sat up, stretching gradually to release the stiffness of sleep, her arms curling upward as her head rolled languidly. The light showed dark blue highlights in the ebony fall of her hair, outlining the contours of her body, her breasts casting shadows to one side, her nipples a rust color. She gradually let her arms drop and took two handfuls of hair from either side of her face to draw them down between the firm orbs of her breasts. She glanced down at Jennifer's face buried in the pillow, her upper lip pulled out against the case, her sunlit hair a golden mist swirling around her childlike countenance.
Sliding out from under the sheets so as not to wake Jennifer, Deena walked to the glass door and looked at the light dancing on the water. She smiled and slid the door open, feeling her flesh warm under the sun. She cupped her breasts and then slid her hands down her body to either side of the jet plume, flexing her thigh muscles. Then she dove into the water, feeling the chill sweep down her body as she plummeted amongst foam and bubbles, her body coming awake as she arched up to break the surface in a gleeful spray, her hair swinging hack. She floated, casting a yellow cloud of relief into the blue that created a swirl of green before it was one with the ocean. She swam hack and forth for ten minutes and then pulled herself up onto the porch, standing till the sun had dried her body, tightening her flesh with goosebumps, her nipples tight and hard.
She stepped though the door and saw Jennifer smile up at her drowsily. She toweled her hair, putting a fire on under the coffee, and then sat on the edge of the bed to brush her hair out.
"Didn't wake you, did I?" she asked.
"No," Jennifer shook her head.
They turned their heads at a knock at the door.
"It's me," came Zap's voice.
"Come on in," Deena smiled, standing to save the coffee from boiling over.
"Morning, ladies," Zap smiled. He wore a pair of chinos and carried a rolled up newspaper which he handed to Jennifer, his eyes smiling into hers, his peripheral vision noting the luxuriant softness of her shoulders and arms above the sheet and blanket that covered her body.
"Coffee?" Deena asked, with no self-consciousness over her nudity.
"Yeah, ought to be cool by the time I'm back," he said as he went through the glass doors. Out of Jennifer's line of vision, he pulled his pants off. He turned and grinned at Deena, his prick still rigid from sleep, and dove into the water.
Deena poured three cups of coffee, handed one to Jennifer, and lit a cigarette. She sat on the edge of the bed again, sipping at the coffee as Jennifer opened the paper.
"Anything heartening and cheerful in the news?" Deena asked. When Jennifer did not answer, she turned her head to see a stunned expression on the other girl's features. "Hey what's wrong?"
"The men… those two who… they," and she turned the front page for Deena to see.
Under the headline "Heroin Pushers Die Ablaze" were two photographs, obviously culled from police records, of John and Billy. Beside them was a larger photo of their burning car. Deena slid the paper from Jennifer's limp fingers to read the story:
"John Ivy, previously convicted of smuggling heroin and under police surveillance, died last night with addict James "Billy" Battson when their auto crashed into an electric power generator outside Pete's Bar None. Patrolman Issac Allison reported that he and his partner Patrolman Shelby Pickens saw the auto attempt to run down Winslow Bass, an engineer who had just left the club, in the parking lot. Patrolman Allison surmised that, upon seeing the patrol car, the driver, Ivy, lost control of the vehicle. All efforts were
Deena said, "Wow, that's heavy."
"The man in the parking lot… what was his name?" Jennifer asked, confused.
"Um, Winslow Bass," Deena said, finding the name. "Why? You know him?"
"He lives next door to my parents," Jennifer said, her forehead lined.
"That's weird. Strange coincidence," she nodded, dropping the paper onto the bed.
"Yeah. I guess," Jennifer nodded. Could it be simply a matter of coincidence? She had never even talked with the man other than to say good morning.
"How do you feel about it?" Deena asked.
"I'm not sure. Relieved in a way. I don't have to be afraid of them finding me again, of seeing them on the street. But… it seems such a waste," she said with a trace of sadness.
"Apparently their whole lives were wasted, that one trying to lay other people's to waste," Deena observed.
"Yes. I'm not sorry about… John, because at least he won't be… hurting anybody else like… me or Jud… or Billy. Poor Billy," she shook her head.
They looked up as Zap came back in, his hair hanging wet, his slacks clinging damply to reveal the impression of his now slack prod and the flatness of his ass and stomach. As he got his coffee, Jennifer held the covers to her breast, reaching out for her robe. She dropped the purple cloth over her head and arms. Raising the sheet, she stood, letting the soft draping drop down over her body to her feet. Picking up her coffee cup, she wandered out on the porch past Zap who sat beside Deena to flip the paper over.
“Well, a little justice in the world," he noted, looking at the headline.
"Deena glanced at him in surprise and then realized that he was referring to Johns heroin business rather than to his rape of Jennifer.
"I've got to go to the store for some cigarettes. Either of you need anything?" she asked.
Neither wanting anything, Deena pulled on a pair of shorts and a T-shirt, and drove off. Finishing the comics, Zap stood to refill his cup and bumped into Jennifer as she came back in. They stumbled and he caught her. She smiled for a split second and then realized she was in his arms, feeling his bare arms against hers, the wide sleeves of the robe pushed back, smelling the sea on his bare chest, his thighs against her side, and she froze. She wanted to pull away and her eyes went to his, and held a moment. The ocean slapped against the house boat and a seagull cawed in the sky, the alarm clock ticking loudly in the silence.
With a friendly smile, he stood her up and went to the stove. She looked at his strong back, wanting to thank him but feeling her throat tighten. His hold had been so sure and firm, yet gentle. She felt a tremor of desire mix with her fear. The rapists are dead, she told herself. He's not like them, but…
"It's nice to see Deena so happy," Jennifer said, sitting on one of the stools next to the serving counter. "I'm glad you're here," she added, finding this the only way to voice her thanks, her own pleasure at his presence.
"Yeah, Deena's a beautiful lady," Zap nodded. "When we met it was, you know, an iffy thing, a lotta doubts. But I figured we might have a nice week, anyway." He smiled. "Turned out longer and better though. She knows how to get back up. Born with it, I guess," he said, sipping his coffee. "I think she digs her parents more now. Maybe not as parents but as people 'cause she realized they'd had somethin' to do with developin' that strength. Being able to realize if life knocks you down into the gutter, and even if it puts its foot on your neck to keep you there… well, you gotta get up. Else you might as well be dead, cause you got no hope, no dreams. And you can't get up just to hit back, doin' the same number on somebody else's head. You gotta get up and get back to business, digging life and doin' the same number on somebody else's head." He smiled sheepishly and glanced over at Jennifer. "All I need's a cracker barrel, I sound so wise," he kidded himself.
"No," Jennifer said, thinking about what he had said. "No, you're right."
Zap looked to her but her eyes were adrift in thought as she related his words to herself, to her own problems. The bright sunlight streaming through the door silhouetted her in a suggestion of glowing tones. Her back shifted under the purple jersey, and the highlights were like the sky seen through trails of vaporous clouds, the shadowed areas the sky at dusk. Her hair was a drift of gold with a perambula of platinum. He sipped at his coffee.
Gillian came slowly awake at noon. She smiled at Jud's sleeping tangle of legs and bedding, glad to awaken next to a man again after so long. She showered and' went down to fix breakfast, waking him with soft kisses when she returned.
"Breakfast in bed?" he murmured with a sleepy smile. "Gonna spoil me."
"You spoil me, lover, I spoil you," she grinned, setting the tray over his waist as he sat up.
"What time is it?" he asked, biting into the golden crust of a piece of toast.
"About twelve-thirty," she answered, stretching herself out beside him, cupping her chin in her palms, her rump rising from the small of her back temptingly.
"Supposed to be home by one-thirty to help my dad with his car," he sourly noted.
"That's a whole hour," she grinned.
"Um," he nodded, sliding a forkful of egg into his mouth, savoring the flavor with an exaggerated expression as he looked at the, tumble of auburn above the lightly freckled orbs of her breasts, the sweet rise of her ass, and the long legs.
Jud set the tray on the floor and lowered his face to hers. Their lips crushed together, shifting and writhing as their tongues flowed, and she dropped her hands from beneath her chin to reach out and stroke his sides. Jud pushed down even with her and she rolled onto her side, her body facing him. Her breasts pressed outward as his chest met hers, his hands scooping up her nether cheeks greedily, his hard cock pressing at her underbelly.
Gillian's tongue spilled from between Jud's lips, a dagger of pink satin that stroked his cheek and danced at his ear, spiraling down to fill his brain with thunder, his back muscles writhing at the flare of her thrashing. He found his own mouth at her throat and nipped at the flesh, finding the hollow between the mound of the raised jugular and the press of her shoulder muscle, delving down with his tongue to feel her breath drawn in from his ear, her teeth closing sensuously on the lobe. He consumed one dome of flesh in his hand, feeling the hard press of her nipple against the soft center of his palm. His other hand dropped down the curvette of her belly to cleave the humid valley between her thighs, feeling the warm rinse of her pourings as he slid his fingers up to cup the node of her clit and juggle it upon his fingertips.
Gillian felt the soothing veil of pleasure cloud her vision. She pressed the tip of her tongue to her upper lip as her mouth opened with the drifting warmth. Her fingers pressed into the firm muscles of his back, and the cradle of her pelvis arched up to the flexing of his fingers as a fragile gasp pursed her lips with a mellow smile. Her hands slid down his back on the edges of their nails, sweeping around to clasp the trunk of his prod greedily. She linked her fingers around the hardness, pressing as hard as she could to slide the sleeve of flesh up from the thick hairs at the base to the light purple bolt of the head.
Feeling his stomach muscles tighten as Gillian hoisted and thrust at his manhood, embers glowed within his loins, fanned by her gliding hold and the tongue that was once more hovering within his ear. He moved his head downward to straddle her nipple with his lips, nibbling at it as his fingers delved within her moist chamber, buttering themselves in her passion. He sucked in the nipple and aureole, and as much of her breast as his ravenous mouth could consume, vacillating the pressure of his teeth in slow, evocative bites.
Gillian reeled with the lapping joy, and pulled his hand from her nook, driving his hard masthead up into her dilated lodging. They groaned together as his prod rode up into her to brush against her cervix, the head flattening around its lips. He seemed to expand within the confines, swelling as he glided out and then pressed back in. His fingers, sticky with her essence, cupped her free breast as his mouth continued to wash the other. Breathing heavily, he lifted his hips to swing down and up, touch the softness at the end, and pull back out along the shimmering pearl. She strained up against him as the veil of pleasure became an engulfing surge, lancing static electricity through her to sear her nerve endings.
Jud pulled his face back, setting the globe of her breast free with a kiss as it slid loose from the pinion of his teeth. He braced himself and began to swirl himself in the forge of her lap, feeling his flesh melt, glazed with the burning syrup. In and out, faster and faster, engaging and disengaging, undulating and gyrating, probing and retreating, all the while tremoring, Jud felt his mind teeter with the consumptive inferno that began to break through resistance. She was moaning beneath him and he smiled at the ecstasy that whipped her face from side to side, that tightened his own eyes. Suddenly her quim was inundated with his flooding escape from maddening intensity, pumping into her.
Coming away, his eyes dim slits, he saw her brow-line and her teeth bite into her lip, caught on the edge. Breathing deeply, he picked up his movement, faster and faster to race the softening of his flesh, to pull her across to join him. Gillian smiled, the lines in her forehead disappearing as she realized what he was doing, feeling the hardness leaving him even as he raced up and down across her clit. It tremored beneath the wilting flesh; and then his fingers were within her as he dropped from her. His mouth blanketed hers, his tongue flailing in time with his fingers, her mouth and nether lips joined by the probing explosions. And her blood began to rush, her tongue whipping back at his, her loins grinding against his fingers as the culmination swirled and impaled her.
He gradually disengaged himself, smiling down at her gasping face and she pulled him back to kiss him deeply. Then they both laid back, afloat in the crystalline smoldering.
After Jud had kissed her and departed, Gillian lay in bed thinking about their conversation the night before. His agony over Jennifer's rape was a squirming pain within him, and she wanted to be able to remove it, to make him completely happy within the limitations of their relationship. Yet, was that within those limitations? She wanted to tell Jennifer, so that she could let him know that it was not him that she was afraid of, not him that she feared. Surely, the girl would want to, she thought. But it would be foolish to speak to her, to involve herself intimately with a second student. Of course, it had been foolish to become involved with Jud, to allow herself to be faced with this decision.
She sat up and stared at the telephone. She should mind her own business. Jud would get over the pain. Her hand touched the receiver. She was his lover, his teacher, but not his guardian. Her fingers closed around the plastic and raised it from the cradle. With a sigh of resignation at her own mind, she flipped through the phone book till she found Jennifer's number. On the third ring there was an answer.
"Yes?"
"I, uh… could I speak to Jennifer Dallas, please," she asked.
"This is she," Jennifer said, having just returned from the house boat.
"This is Miss Bastrop, Jennifer."
"Yes, Miss Bastrop, what can I do for you?" Jennifer asked with surprise.
"I… I was just grading the test you handed in Friday and I'd like to speak to you about some of the answers. I wouldn't bother you at home except that we're so near finals."
"Oh. Well, yes. Would you like me to come by your place?"
"If you could. Whenever it could be convenient for you.
"I need to change clothes first. Half an hour?" Jennifer asked timidly.
"Fine. See you then," Gillian replied and hung up.
Jennifer stared at the phone for a moment, wondering if she had done badly. She went into her room and undressed, putting on a pleated skirt and black blouse that contrasted well with her hair. Her father gave her the keys to his car with a smile, happy to be hack with his family.
Jennifer opened the front door and paused, seeing Winslow Bass taking in his garbage cans. Their eyes linked momentarily, each wondering what the other knew. And both knew at that moment, though they could never discuss it, that the other knew it was no mere coincidence that linked them.
Winslow continued up his driveway and Jennifer moved down the sidewalk.
Showering, Gillian wished that she had not made the phone call, for how was she to word what she wanted to say to Jennifer. It would be so awkward, but… she did want to help. Burnishing her body pink with a towel, she slid a pair of apricot panties up her legs, the tiny bit of lace just covering her auburn mound, and put on a matching bra that hooked between her breasts. Over this she put a simple tan dress that buttoned up the front, and belted around the waist.
To use the remaining time before the girl's arrival, she took the breakfast tray down to the kitchen and washed the dishes. Shortly after she was finished, the doorbell rang.
"Hello, Miss Bastrop," Jennifer smiled nervously as Gillian opened the door.
"Good to see you, Jenny. Step inside," she smiled as the girl passed by her, a little shorter than she was. She watched the girl's back for a moment, and then closed the door, bracing herself.
"Did I do badly on the test?" Jennifer asked, sitting on the couch.
"No. No, actually you did very well," Gillian said, sitting down next to her.
"Oh? I don't understand then?" Jennifer said, confused.
"It's… it's about something that may not be any of my business, Jenny. And yet it is. It's about Jud," she said quickly, her eyes gauging Jennifer's reaction.
"Jud?" Jennifer asked nervously. What did this woman know? And how?
"To say what I'm going to say, I'm going to have to trust you, Jennifer. Trust you very much. You see, Jud and I've been… lovers for the last few weeks."
Jennifer nodded uncertainly, trying to comprehend. "It's not a big romance or anything. But we both needed someone. But I have become very close to him, and feel concern for his happiness. That's why… why I'd like to explain some things he told me," she said, and proceeded to repeat Jud's conversation to her. "Do you see my purpose, Jenny? I'm not trying to tell you what to do or anything. I just thought that if you knew how he felt, you might want to let him know your feelings. I'm sure this silence between you two has pain for you as well."
"Yes. Yes, it has," Jennifer nodded, her voice cracking, and tears suddenly spilled from her eyes as she began to cry.
Gillian reached out to her consolingly, but pulled in as Jennifer's head bowed, her shoulders tremoring with her weeping.
"I still love him, Miss Bastrop," Jennifer's voice shook. "But I couldn't… couldn't bear the thought of his touching me. It made me afraid, afraid of being touched by a man. Can you understand that, how terrible it is? I've only been able to love another girl. I… she looked up, frightened, eyes wide as she bit into her lip. "Oh, I shouldn't've… I didn't mean to say… "
"It's all right, Jennifer. I understand," Gillian assured her.
"No. No, you're just saying that. It's 'all right for you to sleep with Jud. I mean they might fire you or something, but… sleeping with another girl
is something else. Your whole world looks down its superior nose on some things. Rape is a big joke but two women or two men even if they love each other… well, that's terrible," she said angrily.
"Jennifer, I… "Gillian protested.
"You want to squirm, don't you?" she cut off. "You want to throw up at the idea of a woman kissing you!"
"No, Jenny, it doesn't matter to…"
"Oh?" Jennifer said sarcastically, taking Gillian's face in her hands to kiss her, pressing her tongue into the other woman's mouth.
Gillian was startled by the girl's reaction, but not repulsed, only saddened at her desperation. The kiss was rough in its quest to prove her a liar, hut the lips and tongue were soft, Gillian thought. So soft and delicate, and she realized that Jennifer's kiss was altering into something else. She felt the girl's hand move up the front of her dress, releasing the buttons, and her dress opened down to her waist. The tapered length of the fingers drifted over her stomach, tender plows that blossomed a flower of warmth in her thighs and between her shoulders.
"Still feel all clean?" Jennifer asked, pulling her face back, her fingers tracing the lace of Gillian's braed breasts. Her tone was less certain, less vindictive. She caught herself and pressed her mouth to Gillian's again, her fingers opening the bra.
Gillian felt arousal, not distaste, and felt her own tongue playing back to the drum of Jennifer's. She did not have any desire to make love to another. woman, but she knew herself to be growing warm at the soft embrace, the soft lips and tongue, the soft fingers searing her breasts with weaving strokes.
Jennifer slid her lips free of Gillian's and dropped them to the full breast she held, taking one of the tan nipples into her mouth. And then she began to cry, falling away from the other woman.
"I… I'm sorry. I didn't mean to… I just wanted to, to hurt somebody back. Really," she cried.
"I know, Jen," Gillian said, taking her into her arms and pressing her weeping face against the support of her shoulder. "It's all right. It doesn't matter."
"I was so afraid," Jennifer admitted.
"Everybody is at one time or another. And it doesn't matter what I or anybody else thinks."
Gillian felt Jennifer's breasts press through her bra and blouse against her own naked globes. How soft, she thought. What does that young body look like beneath the clothing, are those legs as finely contoured under the skirt as below? Oh, Jenny, she thought. Why did you have to get this started?
"And I can't go back to him. It would never be the same after all that's happened, even with us loving one another," Jennifer said.
"Nothing's ever the same, Jenny. But if you do still love him, you should at least talk with him."
"I'm afraid of hurting him, and yet I'm hurting him more this way. It's so hard," she sighed with fatigue.
"Yess, Jenny. Very hard," Gillian sympathized, stroking the hair that fell next to her face.
Jennifer straightened, and her eyes took Gillian in. "Miss Bastrop… you're very beautiful. I never realized," she stammered.
Students aren't supposed to notice their teachers that way," Gillian smiled.
"Jud noticed," Jennifer smiled weakly, wiping the tears from her face.
"Teachers aren't supposed to notice their students either. We both broke the rules, I guess," she smiled.
"It sure is easy sometimes," Jennifer said.
"Yes, like right now… well, it didn't feel bad, your kissing me," Gillian shrugged, glancing down.
"I'm glad. It was a stupid thing to do. But I… I liked it, too."
Gillian looked up and they sat there for several minutes looking into one another's eyes and farther back, into the expression. Slowly, Jennifer leaned forward. Their faces an inch apart, both could feel the warm flutter of the other's breath, their eyes still joined. Then Gillian's eyes closed and her lips parted slightly. Jennifer's mouth crushed delicately to Gillian's and their kiss began again, but soft and tender, unrushed this time, able to grow and evolve till their tongues sauntered and lingered together, tapering and stroking.
Jennifer's fingers found the plump cup of flesh again and her fingers inscribed ellipses of pleasure upon it, spiraling in to knead the nipple. Gillian's own fingers wove themselves in the waves of sunshine about Jennifer's face; and then one hand worked down against the swell of the pert derriere beneath the skirt, grazing the resilience. Jennifer undid the remaining buttons of Gillian's dress and the belt, peeling the tan cloth from her shoulders and down her arms. She touched and held the twin domes and swam her tongue into Gillian's mouth more rapidly. She felt Gillian's fingers at her blouse, and the black husk dropped away, followed by the matching bra. They embraced and their breasts flattened together, rolling one to the other, their nipples burrowing into the soft flesh.
Gillian pulled one hand to the zipper of Jennifer's skirt, complaining to herself of her foolhardiness. The zipper went down and she felt nylon covered warmth. Their fingers drifted and skimmed, and the clothing sank to the floor. Gillian's mouth lowered and she tasted the tender, mushroom of Jennifer's nipple, and the fingers that infiltrated the auburn cleft touched at her like a breeze, and she found her fingers answering upon Jennifer's pleasure pearl. Their mouths blended and their bodies quivered together as they ignited, their mouths opening in a joint sigh. The plummet was upon buffeting winds that let them float gradually down into bliss.
After several minutes, Gillian turned her face to find Jennifer asleep. She smiled, kissing her lightly, and stood, disengaging their limbs. Well, she thought, it didn't interest her past this one time, but it had been a very pleasant experience.