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 Dee Does HS 5 By peregrinf

   I'm not going to bore you with endless tales of the requests we fielded
after emerging from Worthington's office -- stand up straight, stick your
chest out, spread your legs, arms behind your head, behind your back, above
your head, bend over and show me your ass, spread the cheeks -- other than
to say that what some people regard as reasonable I don't.

   Put a pencil up my butt?  Eraser end first, please.  A pickle?  Sure,
why not.  Better that than a banana, they break too easily.  I'm told it
was a sweet pickle, but I drew the line at even looking at it, let alone
eating it afterwards.  That, I felt, would really have been unreasonable,
and if I get reported for refusing that request I'll fight it all the way
to the Supreme Court.

   I also did my best to make sure that Peggy got her share of requests, as
long as the requester had clean hands.  Turns out Peggy has probably a
year's supply of those sanitizing wipes in her backpack, one of those
pop-up boxes of them you see in the market for moms to use on a baby's
butt. Okay, they've got baby lotion on 'em, but that just means the hands
that touch the baby maker are baby soft -- not a bad thing, considering
some of the places the touchers want to touch.  Used ones -- wipes, that
is, not fingers!  -- go in a closable plastic baggy kept in a different
pocket of her backpack.

   She's very organized.

   Oh, it also turns out she has about 14 years of stored up lust to
release.

   We share all of our afternoon classes so we could share the adventure,
and before the day was over she agreed it was a Good Thing that her parents
had signed her up for The Program.  Maybe Worthington had put the fear of
God in her, but whatever the reason she accepted the spirit of the program,
and once she'd cracked that metaphorical egg, she proceeded to make an
omelets with all the trimmings, including a dash of hot sauce.  Sex was a
revelation to her.  She'd only learned theory from The Dirty Dozen, she had
no practical experience at all.  She'd remained -- I can't think of a word
that exceeds chaste, but she was it.  She'd even been too shy and
fastidious to have touched herself Down There other than with toilet paper
or a washrag, and only for the purposes of hygiene.

   My goodness!  Had she no curiosity?

   Fortunately, the Tweedles were not in evidence and she was blessed with
gentle, thoughtful admirers, for the most part.  Okay, maybe I managed to
draw off the barbarians, like the pickle pusher, rather than have her be
overly challenged on her first day.  But the first time a geeky sophomore
toyed with her delicate boobies Peggy almost melted down in her loafers. 
When another was given permission to kiss her tits she wound up hugging his
head to her chest and almost suffocating him.

   Oh, and she didn't insist he brush his teeth before his mammary
osculation.

   After that it wasn't far from there to her carefully cleaning a boy's
fingers with one of her wipes, and checking his fingernails, before he
explored her sweet little pussy.  Peggy's little squeaks of joy had
everyone around smiling and laughing, and she was almost late to her next
class.

   The only surprise for me was when Kathy Powers showed up in front of me
just before my last class, but I was overjoyed with her request.

   "Would you and Greg come by the studio this afternoon and pose for me?"
she asked nervously.

   Would I!  I'd been kind of hanging back, not wanting to be pushy -- sooo
unlike me!  -- for fear of offending or upsetting her.  I know, I was
supposed to be keeping an eye on her for Stephanie, and I had been, from a
distance, but I couldn't believe she'd need my help.  Now, up close, I felt
shy and a little guilty, as well as happy to be asked.

   "Of course I would," I agreed, "but Greg's kinda locked in to the bus
schedule." I beckoned him over from where he'd been anxiously watching me
respond to requests, waiting his turn.

   "Whassup?" he asked.

   "I really need your guys help," Kathy explained.  "Got an idea I want to
work on with you."

   "Uh, okay.  When?"

   "This afternoon?"

   He frowned.  "I've gotta take the bus home."

   "I can drive you home," Kathy answered.  "Both of you."

   "Oh, okay, I think," Greg agreed.  "I'll just have to call my mom and
clear it with her."

   Kathy seemed so hopeful, almost anxious.  I had to think fast.  I had
other plans, my encounter with Worthington being at the head of the list.
Vice Principal Devers had an open office policy, and I was heading for that
right after closing bell.  "Could you call my mom, too?" I asked Greg. 
"Just leave a message on the machine in case she gets home before me. 
Kathy, I've got to see Mrs.  Devers right after school.  Shouldn't take
long.  Can it be about a half hour after last class?"

   "Sure." Kathy looked incredibly relieved.  For a moment I thought she
was going to ask something more, but she didn't.  I tried to hide my
disappointment.  I'd have done almost anything she'd asked.  As she walked
away she seemed lighter on her feet and I hoped I was the reason for that.
I know my afternoon had brightened up considerably.  In the interests of
being fair and balanced I hauled in Greg for a quick kiss and grope before
he had to dash off to his next class.

   Then Dennis, the redheaded boy from home room asked if I'd give him
relief in our last class of the day, and how could I possibly refuse?  I
am, if nothing else, obliging in such matters, and it seemed so fitting, to
begin and end the school day -- well, almost, anyway -- by giving the same
boy a blow job.  I liked the symmetry of it.  Only this time both of us
were naked and as I knelt in front of him he toyed with my titties while I
sucked and sucked and tickled his balls until he filled my mouth (Yum!), my
pussy juicing merrily from the combination of his taste, his teasing my
tits, and anticipation of the time with Greg and Kathy!

   I wondered if maybe Dennis would like to learn how to give me relief. 
If so I'd be happy to give him lessons.

   Maybe tomorrow.

   Peggy was also in that last class and she watched me suck him off, her
fuck finger deep in her mouth, her tongue obviously working, her eyes as
big as saucers as I devoured Dennis's dick for the second time that day. 
How long would it be before she obliged some boy with her own mouth?  Of
course she'd towelette him clean before she did, but I really don't think
he'd mind.  Already, when she wiped a boy's hands it looked like foreplay.
She'd look up bashfully into his eyes as she carefully swabbed each finger,
then suck and lick the tips to make sure they were clean.  That girl was
hot!

   I wonder if she'd be up for a little girl-girl action with me?

   Once free of my last class I hurried off to Mrs.  Devers's office before
someone got in ahead of me.  She looked surprised when I, still naked (well
doh!  That's what 'naked in school' means), knocked on her open door.

   "Dee!  I didn't know you were in The Program this week!" She was doing
some filing or something.

   "I wasn't.  I sort of talked my way into it," I confessed.  "Do you have
a few minutes?"

   "Of course!  Come in, come in, and close the door behind you." She moved
around behind her desk, and motioned me into a chair.

   She's a tall woman, slender and athletic, and always very nicely turned
out but not prissy -- white satin blouse, knee length navy skirt this day.
Her graying hair is short, framing a face a little more handsome than
beautiful -- strong jaw, delicate nose, nice cheekbones.  But it's her eyes
that capture you, or at least me.  They're gray, and seem to see right into
my soul.  They can be warm and welcoming, like now, or sparkling with
laughter, storm clouds when she's angry, or icicles that drill right
through you if you screw up.

   "Looking forward to the school swimming season?" she asked.  "Gail is
still over-the-top at winning the county championship."

   "So'm I," I admitted.

   "She gives you all the credit for it, you know.  She insists that
warm-up routine of yours made all the difference.  I must say, it was a
treat watching your bouncing naked butts -- my husband especially liked
that, once he got over the shock of seeing Gail that way.  And I must say,
those boys have great butts, too."

   "It's the swimming," I pointed out.  "The swimmer's kick builds the
glutes.  "

   "Anyway, I was so surprised when you got the boys to do it, too, and it
worked for them!"

   I shook my head.  "They did it all themselves.  As for us, Gail got us
off to a great start with the best split time she's ever had.  She'll be
the best backstroker in 9th grade this winter."

   "And you'll be whipping everyone in butterfly again," she responded.

   "I don't know about that.  This isn't age-group swimming.  I'll be
taking on seniors."

   "You'll do it.  Now, what can I do for you?  How come you're naked?"

   I guess she hadn't heard from Worthington, so I told her what had
happened, beginning with Peggy being chosen for The Program, taking it
through our encounter with the Tweedles -- I didn't call 'em that, of
course -- to our summons to Worthington's office.

   "He probably wouldn't have let me in his office, but she was so scared I
couldn't abandon her, and I really didn't give Mr.  Worthington a chance to
keep me out.  By the time he got his mouth open I had the door closed
behind us," I admitted.  "His office is kinda small, by the way."

   "A converted closet," Mrs.  Devers admitted.  "He wasn't my idea.  He
was foisted on us by the National NIS Board after they'd suitably
indoctrinated him."

   "Figures.  Anyway, I was between him and the door, and I'm taller than
he is." I went on to explain how frustrated he made me waving that silly
rule book at us when I tried to explain what had really happened.  Mrs. 
Devers is a great listener.  She didn't interrupt, and gave me her full
attention, then, when I was done talking, she thought for a minute, leaving
me twisting my hands together.

   "I'll probably get his report on this by the end of the week.  I'm sorry
you're in the program," she said at last, "but I'm not going to reverse Mr.
Worthington's decision, if that's why you're here."

   "Oh, no, don't feel bad!  I don't mind.  You know me, I'm not bashful
about being naked.  And I did get kind of loud when he wouldn't listen to
me, so I guess I deserve it, except for me it's not really punishment."

   "Putting you in The Program is like that old story of Brer Rabbit and
the Briar Patch," Mrs.  Devers responded, a twinkle in her eye.

   I couldn't help it, I had to laugh.  "At least I didn't say, 'Oh please,
Mr.  Worthington, don't make me go naked in school!' if that's what you
mean.  But if I'd thought of it I would have."

   She laughed with me.  "I bet you would have.  I've witnessed some of
your escapades, known about others, heard about how well you handled the
sex ed program that Carl and Beth put on in your school.  How are they,
anyway?"

   "Okay, I guess.  I get email from Carl pretty often, and Beth, too. 
They're excited, and both real busy, of course.  I miss 'em."

   "I'll bet you do.  But what is it that brings you here, if it isn't
being in The Program?"

   "Well, it is The Program, really, but it's not about me."

   I reminded myself to sit up straight, my hands in my lap, knees and feet
together, legs cocked to the side so my knees didn't stick up.  I sat like
a lady's supposed to sit, even though I was stark naked.  Maybe, in fact,
it was for the best I did sit like that since I was stark naked.  Otherwise
she'd'a been looking right up my crotch.  If nothing else, that would be
distracting.

   "Anyway, this morning got me thinking.  Peggy didn't refuse a request.
All she wanted was for the Tw...the boys to wash their hands before they
touched her.  They really were kinda grubby, with dirt under their nails,
and they always smell of cigarettes and -- other stuff -- and she's got
this cleanliness thing going."

   She nodded.  "Who were the boys?"

   "One of 'em's named Cagney.  I don't know the other.  They're always by
the front door, staring at us girls, and now that The Program's started
they'll be on us like white on rice." I made a face.

   "Ah yes, Mr.  Cagney and Mr.  Lacey." Mrs.  Devers sighed, making notes
on a pad.

   "You know them?"

   "Better than I want to," she admitted.  "They -- come from a challenging
environment.  But I can certainly understand Miss Hughes being reluctant to
submit to their fondling."

   I'd been trying to get my thoughts about The Program sorted out all
afternoon, and now I had to reassemble them all over again.  I knew I
shoulda made a list.

   But she let me think, didn't prod me.

   "Well, the thing is," I began, "as I said, she didn't actually refuse
their request, but Mr.  Worthington treated it as if she had.  He kept
waving his rule book at us.  I kept trying to tell him she didn't refuse a
request, she'd just asked them to wash their hands.  She just had a
condition for them to meet before they could.  But Mr.  Worthington
wouldn't listen to me, to us."

   "He's young and inexperienced.  I'll talk with him."

   I had the feeling she wanted to add "not that it'll do any good" but she
didn't say it.  I was getting the feeling that Worthington was as much of a
trial to her as he was to any students hauled before him.

   "But it's not just that," I went on.  "I mean, yeah, it would have been
nice of he'd at least listened, but it's this whole 'reasonable request'
thing.  Who decides what's a reasonable request?  Is it only the requester
or -- what was it Worthington called it?  -- can it be the requestee?  What
seems reasonable to some boy may not seem reasonable to me."

   Mrs.  Devers looked a little surprised.  "I'd never thought of it that
way," she admitted.  "Requestee -- an interesting word."

   She scribbled another note.

   "I'm not sure it is a word.  Anyway, like, well, after lunch today some
boy wanted to put a pickle, a big one -- I think it was a sweet pickle --
up my -- uh -- anus." I blushed.  "I didn't mind that, though I prefer dill
pickles, to eat that is.  Of course I can't taste back there, but it was
kinda cold...." I realized I was rambling.  "But then he wanted me to eat
it, after he took it out, and, well, I wasn't about to do that!  So I may
be back in Mr.  Worthington's office tomorrow for that," I finished lamely.


   Mrs.  Devers looked shocked.  "I don't think so!  That's not a
reasonable request, no matter which way you look at it.  That's plain
unsanitary, unhealthy!  Frankly, I'm not sure I'd have agreed to the first
part of the request, be it a sweet, sour or dill, and if it were one of
those little gherkins I'd be afraid it'd get lost in there.  But, I guess
if that happened nature would take its course, of course."

   After chuckling along with her I continued.  "And when Peggy wanted the
hand washing before they touched her, it made me think.  What if they'd
forced her, put one of their grubby fingers in her and she'd gotten an
infection?  I bet that would get the school sued!  I know my mom would be
furious!"

   Last year, thank you lang arts, I'd learned the word "blanch" and knew
that it meant to turn white, and I'd heard of a person blanching, but this
was the first time I'd ever seen it -- Mrs.  Devers actually blanched, and
for a minute I was afraid she'd faint.  "My God!  Why didn't I think of
that?"

   Then, her eyes like a thunderstorm, she scribbled another note on a pad
on her desk, pressing so hard she broke the point on her pencil and had to
grab another one.  "I wonder if there are statistics they aren't letting us
hear," she muttered, still writing.  "Go on, Dee, please."

   I took a deep breath and plunged on with all the stuff I'd been thinking
about.  "And then there's this thing with putting people in The Program as
punishment or extending their time in it if they do something like refusing
a request.  Isn't it supposed to be a positive experience, we're supposed
to be getting something good from it?  I think using it for punishment just
sends the wrong message entirely, and in my case it doesn't work anyway."

   After making more notes her eyes focused on me, not angry or anything,
but intent.  It made me a little nervous.  She nodded, so I went on.

   "And then, I remember when Carl was in the program, and Beth.  Well,
Carl got in trouble for failing to report being bullied, and Beth -- what
was it?  -- oh, yeah.  She was nervous about boys touching her, I think it
was her second day or something like that, and asked her friends to hold
her while they did, instead of just standing there and taking it.  And for
that they were spanked, in public, with a ruler.  That's humiliating. 
That's like something out of The Scarlet Letter!"

   I didn't go on to tell her that both of them became incredibly horny as
a result.  Some punishment!  Or that my mom had never laid a hand on me for
punishment in her life, though I'd certainly given her good reason
sometimes, but now that I'd uncovered her secret I wondered what I could do
to deserve a little -- uhm -- tuning up with the Cat -- while I was
suitably restrained, of course.

   Realizing Mrs.  Devers was patiently waiting, I hauled my mind back on
course.  "And then, the chairs are really cold on your butt -- our butts, I
mean -- when we're naked, and sometimes we leave sticky spots, or stick to
them, but that's just a silly little thing, I guess.  Giving us towels
would solve that problem."

   "And another cost because of The Program," Mrs.  Devers mused, making
another note.  "And we should issue hand-sanitizers," she went on under her
breath, still writing.

   "But the big thing is figuring out what's a reasonable request," I said,
returning to that problem.  "There should be some way for the -- uh --
requestee to refuse one she -- or he -- feels is unreasonable before being
stuck doing it.  If they're forced to do it, even if they think it's
unreasonable, well, that's just not fair.  This is about gaining
self-respect.  How can we develop that if we're being forced to do
something against our will, or principles?  And there's another thing --
guys are always making requests of us girls, but girls almost never do of
guys, but I guess that's just a gender thing.

   "Anyway, we need a court of appeals, or something, that will decide
what's reasonable, and maybe a list of what's reasonable and unreasonable.
And what if I'm in the program and I want someone to -- uh -- do something?
Can I make a request to someone not in the program?  Other than asking for
relief in class, I mean, like maybe I'd like him to kiss my -- breasts, or
something, maybe after I've done his request?"

   At that point I realized I'd been kinda running on here, and being kinda
harsh on The Program, so I shut up, and looked at my hands sort of huddling
on top of my pussy.

   When I looked back up, for the longest time she just looked at me.  I
think she was smiling, sort of, maybe, but I couldn't read her eyes at all.
Then she nodded.

   "You'll do," was all she said.

   "Uh -- I'll do what?"

   "You've raised some important issues about The Program," she answered
cryptically.  "Some that I'd already thought of, and some that I hadn't."

   She took a deep breath.  "We've been thinking about what to do about the
whole Naked in school program, how to fix it.  We've had a lot of questions
about it.  The problem right at the top of the list is the whole
'reasonable request' thing.  As you said, who decides what is a reasonable
request?  Should there be an appeals process to resolve issues such as the
one that got Peggy called in?  In that particular case I agree with you,
and it should never have come before Mr.  Worthington, but there are others
that are less obvious.

   "But, as you pointed out, an appeal after the fact does no good.  We
need some definitions of what is reasonable and what is unreasonable.  We
need guidelines to avoid trouble before it starts."

   "And what if the girl, instead of satisfying the request she's given
proposes a different one?" I asked impulsively, then felt badly about
interrupting.

   But all Mrs.  Devers did was nod.  "That is why I said 'you'll do.'"

   I wanted to ask her "do what?" again, but figured she'd heard me the
first time, so I kept my mouth shut.

   She drummed her fingers on her desk for a moment, thinking.

   "We've known from the get-go we needed to look into these things.  In
fact The Powers That Be, of which I am one, I guess, have been floundering
around about it and we're still clueless.  Now I'm thinking that we need a
committee to study it and make recommendations.  My idea is that the
committee should be made up people familiar with The Program, students and
faculty, specifically -- not parents, that would open a whole 'nother can
of worms -- and you're perfect for it.  Will you do it?"

   "Huh?  But I'm just a kid!"

   She smiled softly, kinda the way Mom does sometimes when she looks at
me. Then looked a little more thoughtful, studying me like I was under a
microscope, and reached some sort of a decision.  I was braced for
something like Ms.  Andrews's "natural leader" comment.  That still made me
itch.

   "There's no such thing as 'just a kid,'" she countered, to my relief. 
"Each of you is different, unique.  I don't want to say 'special' because
that has so many other connotations these days.  Let me just say that I
think you'd bring particular abilities to the table that the committee will
need."

   "I'm only a freshman," I pointed out, "and I've only been in the program
for one day."

   I wasn't really sure I wanted to be on this committee.  I was already
looking at the German club, and there's my swimming and diving, and the
math club was another thing that interested me, and maybe chess....

   "And already you're raising some good questions, some that I'd not
thought of," Mrs.  Devers responded.  "Questions that the committee will
need to answer, that you can help the committee answer.  It's important. 
It's going to be a challenge, maybe impossible, but I know you're not the
type to avoid a challenge."

   She did know how to push my buttons.  I hadn't been about to "volunteer"
to be on the committee, anything but, but the moment she used the word
"impossible" she had me.  Telling me something might be impossible is like
waving a red flag in front of a bull.

   "Who else is on the committee?"

   She smiled, and when Mrs.  Devers smiles like that it's like the sun
coming out.  "As a matter of fact, you're the first, if you agree, and if I
can set it up.  I'll have to run the idea by the rest of The Powers That
Be, but I don't think I'll have any trouble getting it approved.  We've
been wrangling over these issues ever since The Program began, and getting
nowhere.  This will kick it out of our court, at least for the time being.
For that we'll all be grateful.  At least I know I will be.  No.  I don't
think there'll be any trouble from them."

   "Oh!"

   "Now, I was thinking, we don't want it to be too big -- say, two
students, one male and one female, from each class, plus one faculty
member. That's nine people, which avoids tie votes, assuming everyone is
equal.  What do you think?"

   My head was spinning things were happening so fast.  She was asking for
my opinion?  "Uh, okay, I guess."

   "Who would you suggest for the committee?  Oh, and will you do it?  I
guess I should have asked that first."

   I was rocked back by this.  "You want me to suggest people?  Can I think
about it?  I mean, yeah, I'll do it, I guess."

   "Great!"

   "But I want time to think who else should be on it." My mind was racing.
"I guess I'm willing to try to come up with a boy from my class, but
upperclassmen won't take kindly to being picked, or not picked, by a lowly
frosh.  Besides, I don't really know too many of them," I pointed out. 
"Don't try to saddle me with that."

   "Fair enough.  I'll put some feelers out with some people I trust in
those classes.  But don't hesitate to make suggestions, from any class. 
Dee, that is so good!  Thank you!"

   "Uh -- you're welcome."

   Then I had another thought.  I wasn't going to say anything, but, well
heck, she had asked me for my opinion.  "Do you think everyone on the
committee should have Program experience?"

   "A good idea," she agreed, "yes, of course, excellent!"

   Then I saw a sly smile, and I knew she'd seen through me.  "And you
think that should include the faculty member, too.  Right?"

   I felt myself pink up, and nodded.

   "And I bet you already have a faculty candidate in mind, don't you."

   I didn't say anything, but the thought of having Worthington in The
Program certainly appealed to me.  "They'd have to obey the same rules the
students do, wouldn't they?  Requests and everything?"

   She was grinning now.  "They certainly would!  So, you will do it?  Be
on the committee, I mean."

   I only hesitated a moment.  She was giving me another chance to bow out.
But I nodded, not about to go back on what I'd already agreed to do.

   She seemed really thrilled, and I suddenly kinda wished maybe I hadn't
agreed.  It suddenly felt like a heck of a responsibility.  I mean, I could
see the outcome of it being the total dismemberment of The Program, and I
didn't want that.  I'd seen how much good it could do for people like Carl
and Beth, and how Peggy was blossoming under it already.  It could even do
dorks like the Tweedles some good, if they were handled right, so I'd hate
to see it go away.

   Oh my.

   After making me promise not to say anything to anybody about this until
it was formally announced, Mrs.  Devers sent me on my way, my head whirling
as I tried to get my mind around what had just happened, how it had
happened.  I'd gone in there just to talk, and suddenly I'm on a committee
that doesn't even exist yet, even helping to set it up.  Who could I
recommend from my class?  Greg came immediately to mind, but maybe that was
just because I knew him, and because of how I feel about him, and we'd have
more time together.  But maybe that's not a good thing.  I'd have to get to
know some other boys better -- maybe Dennis?  -- and what about John?  No,
not John, he's got enough problems.  Maybe when he was a soph, or
junior.... The only senior I knew well was Kathy....

   Kathy!  Ohmigosh!  And Greg!  I promised I'd pose with Greg for her this
afternoon, and I was late!  I almost broke into a run, but managed to stop
myself, telling myself I was a high-schooler now, not some impulsive kid.
But I wanted to skip and dance.  I felt important.  And then, the next
minute, I felt the responsibility, and worried about that.  I wanted to
tell somebody, but knew that I couldn't.  Maybe I could talk with Mom about
it, at least.

   Then I thought of Greg and Kathy and almost ran again.  I saw so little
of Greg, and this would be super, posing with him.  Kathy might pose us
really close to each other.  I wanted to feel him naked against me -- in me
-- so much!  I rounded the corner and saw the puddle of light from her
studio at the far end of the hall -- I always think of it as her studio,
even though it's really the school's -- my sneakers squeaking on the floor
as I hurried.  My soles sort of screeched at the doorway.

   Kathy looked up, and for a moment I saw a frown that switched to
surprise and relief, then worry.  "You came!"

   She was sitting on a tall stool, a lump of clay on a pedestal in front
of her, fingering it.  It was kinda shapeless and ugly, like she'd been
wrestling with it and losing.

   "I'm sorry I'm late," I apologized.  "Where's Greg?"

   "He couldn't make it.  He called his mom and she said she needed him
home, something about keeping an eye on his sister." She poked the clay,
hard, making a dent in it, not looking at me.

   I was as much worried about Kathy as I was disappointed about Greg. 
"She's a handful," I admitted.  "Kinda like me when I was her age."

   She poked the clay some more, then squeezed it hard and whacked it.

   "What's wrong?" I asked.  I'd never seen her so upset.  I dropped my
backpack with a thud.

   "Have you been avoiding me?" she asked softly, studying the clay, and my
heart sank into my shoes.  "You have been, haven't you."

   I sank down on the floor next to her, feeling more awful than I ever
remembered feeling since I'd pulled my bonehead stunt with Missy and Mike,
cutting school and fucking and breaking Mom's trust.  This time I'd hurt
Kathy!  My stupid shyness had hurt her!

   "Don't you love me any more?"

   "Oh, Kathy!  I love you more than ever!" I couldn't say it, of course,
but to me she was a goddess, and I'd been afraid to approach her, even
after what she'd done for me on my last birthday, painting my body so I
looked like a phoenix, and making love to me as she did.

   "Then why?"

   I took her hand, feeling the drying clay on her warm skin, and pressed
it to my cheek.  "I was afraid you wouldn't want me.  I couldn't believe
you'd want me.  I mean, you've had Stephanie, and she's so -- well, so
perfect for you, and I'm just me.  I can't play the flute, I'm skinny and
bony, and young, only a freshman, and you're...."

   And I was crying.  Crying!  I thought I was over that, now that I was in
high school.  I was one of the big kids now, and I was crying!

   "Oh, Dee, no!  You're beautiful, slender and graceful in the air, and so
powerful in the water, like a dolphin!  And I was so afraid I'd done
something wrong...."

   And the next thing I knew she'd slid down off the stool and she was
holding me, and we were both crying and hugging and I was saying "I'm
sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry" until she muffled me with kisses
and we were lying on the floor, kissing and hugging, and I didn't care that
the door was wide open or if the whole world saw us, I just wanted to be
closer to her, and she was letting me undress her, and then we were skin to
skin, our thighs tangling, and we were fucking as only girls can fuck,
pussy to pussy, thighs to thighs, and crying and crying and crying until we
were both coming and coming and coming, pressing against each other, and it
felt so good, and it felt so good to know that she was feeling just as
good, until the pleasure finally burned itself out and we were left
cuddling and fulfilled, and then I was wiping tears from her cheeks as she
wiped tears from mine, and we looked into each others eyes, and kissed
again, long and deep and tender, and sighed into each others mouth, sharing
our breaths, savoring the scents of our loving, and just relaxing in an
embrace for a long, long time, sharing our closeness.

   I could only marvel that she felt this way about me.  Me!

   Then I remembered something Stephanie had told me about taking care of
her.  "Have you eaten today?" I asked her softly.

   "I don't know," Kathy admitted.  "I was in classes, and then at lunch --
at lunch I was here, working, and I guess maybe I forgot."

   At that point her stomach gurgled, and we both giggled, and kissed
again.

   "Would you like to come home with me for supper?" I invited, knowing Mom
wouldn't mind.

   "Oh, Dee, I wish I could," she sighed.

   "There's plenty of food," I offered.

   She touched my cheek again.  "It's not that.  I've got to be home. 
Maybe next time?"

   I squelched my disappointment.  "Okay, but promise.  And for now...."

   Untangling myself from her, I scrambled to my backpack and dug into my
emergency rations, pulling out some granola bars.  They can't compare to
chocolate chip cookies, but they're nourishing and durable.

   For a while we sat there on the floor, cross-legged, munching away,
sharing water from my water bottle.  "Now, what's this project you need me
and Greg for?"

   "I want to do a sculpture of the two of you together.  You're such a
beautiful couple.  Uh -- do you think Greg minds that you and me -- uh
--you know..."

   I shook my head.  "We've talked.  He knows how I am, and that we're both
young, and that he's got my permission if he wants to.  I think he'd be
more jealous if you were a guy, but he knows about me and John -- not that
I've done it with John since -- well, in a long time."

   "Greg's quite a guy."

   I nodded.

   "And he won't mind posing with you the way I have in mind?"

   I smiled.  "I don't know exactly what you have in mind, but I have a
good idea.  I know how I feel about it, and I'm pretty sure he'll feel the
same way.  Anything that gives us an excuse to -- uhm, cuddle -- is just
fine with us.  The only problem is going to be working out a schedule, but
if you can get him home so he doesn't have to take the bus every day that
would be a big help."

   I was remembering a charcoal sketch she'd done of Carl and Beth
interlocked, just a few simple, graceful lines, and the thought of Greg and
me like that while she modeled us in clay made my palms sweat.

   "That's no problem," she assured me, dusting the crumbs off her hands.
"Oh, Dee, thank you."

   "It'll be fun!" I was thinking of the posing, of course, but she knew.

   She cupped the back of my head, drew me in for a kiss.  "Not that. 
Thank you for you being you!  I miss Stephanie -- I always will...."

   "You'll see her again!"

   "Yes, but we know we're growing apart.  She's got her music, at one of
the most wonderful music schools in the world, and I've got my art, and
I'll be going to a different school for that.  She was my first real love
but, as you said, we're young.  Life moves on."

   "And you'll move on," I mused, seeing the future.  She'd graduate, and
I'd be left behind.

   "Yes, and you'll move on as well," she reminded me.  "But for now, we'll
have this."

   "And I'll be part of your art," I said, cheered by the thought.

   "Yes.  But for now, you've got to get home, and I've got to do some
clean-up in here."

   "I'll help!  Can I help?"

   So we spent half an hour tidying, turning it back from her studio into
the school's art class studio, and she drove me home, me still naked,
having left my clothes in Worthington's office, unless he'd gotten them to
the main office, which I doubted, and not about to brave him again.

   Mom was already home, and took one look at me when I came in the door
naked.  "Uh oh, The Program strikes again."

   So, of course I had to explain what had happened between me and
Worthington, and that she should be expecting a letter from him.  And that
led to talking about my meeting with Mrs.  Devers, of course, and I poured
out all my worries about her committee.

   As I expected, Mom heard me out as she sipped some wine and I had some
juice.  I sat beside her on the couch, her arm around me, holding me close.


   "Oh, Dee!  I'm so proud of you!"

   "I'm scared," I admitted.  "We could screw the whole thing up, run The
Program right off the rails."

   "It sounds like it's already off the rails," she pointed out.  "So
you'll have to figure out how to put it back on the tracks."

   "I'm gonna be awful busy, too, with diving and swimming, and other stuff
I want to do, and I've got Algebra and German, danke schoen und bitte sehr.
High school is hard!"

   "You can do it.  Carl did."

   "But I'm not Carl!"

   "No, you're not, you're yourself, and I've got confidence in you.  It's
mostly going to be a matter of time management, and you're already good at
that, and I'll help keep you on schedule if I can.  If it gets to be too
much for you, well, we'll deal with it.

   "So," she went on, "you're going to be on a committee.  I've got an
idea, a book you should read, and take with you, but that's for later. 
Right now, supper.  Oh, how's Kathy?"

   I blushed.  "Oh, she's wonderful.  Greg and I are going to be posing for
her."

   "You love her, don't you?"

   I nodded bashfully.  I still couldn't believe that she loved me, too. 
"And Greg, too," I admitted.

   "I'm happy for you," she said huskily, tousling my hair and kissing my
head.  "You're going to be a busy girl this year, I can see that.  Now come
on, let's rustle up some grub.  I'll help, and I'll take care of cleanup so
you can get to your homework."

   Later, as I lay in bed, trying to get to sleep, my mind kept running,
and running, and running, like my hamster, Henry, in his wheel, a mad dash
to nowhere.  There was school, and homework, and Kathy and Greg, and The
Program, and most of all, the committee, and it all kept going around and
around and around, leaving me tossing and turning.

   Finally I turned on my bedside light and slipped out of bed, padded over
to my memento shelf, with the little broken figurine that Missy had given
me, and I got my old hairbrush, and brought it back to bed with me.

   Oh sure, I had a vibrator, but this old friend was like comfort food for
me.  I guess, in a way, you could say it had taken my virginity.  I don't
know how many times in the past I had lulled myself to sleep with it, even
falling asleep with it still in me.

   Now, a fantasy.  Greg, of course, even after my wonderful love-making
with Kathy, it had to be Greg.  His beautiful blue eyes, blond hair,
wonderful swimmer's body, lean and muscled.

   How would Kathy pose us?  Would she pose us the way she had drawn Carl
and Beth, Beth on her back, Carl covering her, between her thighs, their
legs twined together, their bodies one.  Or maybe she saw Greg and me as
we'd been a year ago, on the diving board at Stephanie's house, Greg on his
back, me straddling him, his cock sunk deep in my cunt, his hands squashing
my barely-there tits as I leaned against him, rising and falling, rising
and falling.

   I spared a fleeting moment to the knowledge that I had another birthday
coming up soon, wondering what Mom might plan for me this year, hoping that
Greg would be involved -- oh what a joy that would be!  -- then returned to
my erotic musings.

   I began to warm up, imagining him standing over me, looking down at me
as I lay naked on the bed.

   Oh my.  Maybe I was bound to the bed, totally at his mercy.

   Oh my!

   I teased myself with the handle of the brush, sliding just the tip of it
along my juicing folds, a touch at my clit wrenching a gasp out of me.

   I was imagining Greg's wonderful cock, hot and hard and ready to fill me
to the brim, and I pinched my nipple, squeezed the mound of my breast,
breathing harder.  He'd reach for me, stroke my body, kiss my lips, and I'd
breathe in his scent as his body descended on mine, and I'd spread my legs,
opening myself to him.

   The brush handle, cool and slick, slithered into my oozing vagina, an
old friend penetrating my welcoming cunt.  Greg was somehow with me, and
filling me, and we were joined, and he began to stroke in and out, in and
out.

   A touch at my clit and I began to come, hot, sweet, pulsating pleasure,
and that was all there was in the world, that wonderful sensation sweeping
away the last vestiges of thought and worry as I abandoned myself to my
fantasies and my orgasm, and I slept.