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Subject: {ASSM} RP: Dana and Dana Naked in School (6/7) (ff mf mmf mg fg, exhib, voy,   NIS, naked, cussing, sexuality issues)
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Date: Sat, 28 Jan 2006 16:10:29 -0500
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Repost with corrections and to fix formatting.

P. Random

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<1st attachment, "DanasNIS-6.txt" begin>


Dana and Dana Naked in School
(ff mf mmf mg fg, exhib, voy, NIS, naked, cussing, sexuality issues)
by pseudoRandom

6. Friday

Dana Smith

Because I still wasn't up for any crypto work and tired enough to bag 
homework after not too long, I actually got to bed on time.  So I arrived 
fifteen minutes before school started next morning -- outside, in the 
clearing puddles.  Dana, of course, was already there, still dressed.  
She was pleasantly surprised to see me.

	"You're on time."

	"Yeah," I said ruefully, "I'm more on-time when I'm off than when 
I'm on."

	"Less distraction in your head?"

	I thought a moment.  "Pretty much."

	In the circle were Pat and Patty, undressing each other.  At least 
it wasn't lascivious in the sense of lusting after each other -- more in a 
you know you want him/her way.  It was still disturbing.

	"I want us to go next," Dana said.

	"I'm not sure how distracting I can be."

	"Not like that."  She considered me.  "I know you're not on, but 
you're fizzing a little, at least -- how inventive are you feeling?"

	I thought about it a moment.  The meds were kicking in, making me 
feel less like a blank wall.  "I can follow a lead."

	"Good -- I wanna do a drama project."

	Meaning, it turned out, improvise a skit -- that we go up 
together, and pretend to be a long-married couple undressing for bed, 
telling each other about their day.  As in long enough married to be so 
comfortable with each other's bodies we weren't erotic with each other.

	We pushed through the crowd to arrive up front just in time to 
watch the twins masturbate to orgasm for the audience -- doing themselves, 
not each other, fortunately.  Ms Angeles smiled as they came together.  
That woman is one sick fuck, as Scarlett might say.  She gestured the 
twins over.

	As they went, I spun into the open stage.  "And now, the Dana & 
Dana Players present -- "

	" -- 'At the End of the Day'," Dana finished.

	And then she put on her character.  I could watch it happen -- 
she's in drama for a reason.  I tried to do the same.

	"Oh God," she sighed, hand over her eyes.  "It's been a long one."

	"I'll say," I said, pulling off my shirt.  "I thought it would 
never end."  I didn't watch her, pretending that we did this all the time.  
I tossed my shirt at a bin.

	"Hun!" she complained.

	I grimaced ruefully.  "Sorry," and picked it up, and mimed 
dropping it into the laundry basket she was using for her top.

	"I swear, you're as messy as the kids."

	"Were they bad today?"

	"Worse than ever.  I don't know why I became a high school 
teacher.  They're AWFUL."  Which got a laugh.

	I pulled off my shorts without my underwear.  "I'm sorry.  Maybe 
they'll get better."

	"Hun, could you help me?"  I looked over -- Dana had her hands 
behind her back, undoing her lacy blue bra.  "It's stuck."

	"Sure."  I stuffed my shorts under my arm as she turned her back 
to me.  I pretended to fiddle with it for a couple moments.  "Okay, this 
really is stuck.  We may have to cut it."

	She made a small exasperated sound.  "And to think you used to be 
so good at getting this off me."

	Behind her back, I acted out not dignifying that with a response.  
Then I popped it open.  "Oh, there, got it."

	As she pulled off her bra, I dropped my shorts into the laundry 
bin, then my underwear into a different one -- separate whites and darks, 
don't you know.

	"What about you?" Dana asked me as she took off her short skirt.

	"Oy -- constant sniping, constant stupid demands, constant 
trouble, blah blah blah -- " I made a talking mouth with my hand, " -- all 
day.  They never let up."  Which got another laugh.

	"But you only have to deal with our two," Dana said.  A smaller 
laugh, a little delayed.

	"Okay, don't start," I said, "this has been just as bad a day -- 
as bad a WEEK -- for me as for you."

	"Okay, fine, don't talk about it," she snapped.

	"That's not what I meant, and you know it."

	She peeled off her panties, blue that matched her bra, and flung 
them into the laundry basket harder than necessary.

	"Look," I said, and took her arms by the wrists.  "I just meant, 
don't say anything we'll both regret.  Let's just go to bed and hold each 
other."

	She closed her eyes and sighed.  She moved closer and rested her 
head on my shoulder -- on the side towards the audience, so they could 
hear her speak.  I put my arms around her.  After a moment's rest, she 
said, "I don't have the energy for anything."

	"That's okay," I told her.  "Neither to I."

	She pulled back.  "When did we turn into an old married couple, 
anyway?"

	"Ah, who cares," I said.  "I'm just glad I have you."

	"Me too," she mouthed.  She held out her hand, and I took it, and 
we exited, stage left.  Or maybe right -- is that supposed to be from the 
audience or actor's point of view?

	A couple people, prompted by Gabrielle and Phil, started clapping.  
Others took it up.  Jake, I noticed, just shook his head.  Ms Angeles 
looked baffled.  But she called us aside and told us, "First period, 
report to my office for a Program meeting."

	"That's the second history class I'll miss this week," Dana told 
her.  "I thought the Program wasn't supposed to interfere with our 
academic subjects?"

	"Your teachers have been instructed that this is an excused 
absence."

	We moved to one side, and Peri came up to us.  "That was great, 
you guys.  How long did you rehearse that?"

	"Improv," I said.

	"Really?"

	Dana nodded.  "You can do a lot when you channel what you're 
feeling."

	Spike came up to us.  "Danas, I gotta tell ya, that has to be the 
most unerotic undressing I've ever seen."

	"Amazing what happens when you force a lesbian into a straight 
marriage," I deadpanned.

	"Don't give me that," Spike said, "you guys had connection.  Just 
not an erotic one."  She patted her camera, perched on her shoulder.

	"Speaking of which," I said, "shouldn't you be seeing something 
true?"  I glanced back at Gabrielle undressing to a pavane inside her 
head.

	She shrugged.  "Still waiting for Sylvie and Bruno -- they're both 
late."

	I blinked -- Bruno was the other Whitman freshman in the Program, 
another musician.  "Together?"

	"Let's just say they were unable to keep their hands off each 
other, yesterday after school.  I almost told them to get a room -- and 
sex in public almost looks normal now."

	I grinned.  "They'd just come from one."  That practice room, I 
was willing to bet.

	Dana followed my thinking, and gave me one of her mock-frowns.  
"And you'd know about that."

	To which the only thing I could do was tickle her.  Dana squeals 
beautifully when she's tickled.

*

Dana Partlow

Once I got to homeroom and had some peace without reasonable requests, I 
thought about what I'd said about emotions and acting.  That was what Mrs. 
Clemens had been talking about, using one's emotions, I realized.  And I 
certainly was more emotional this week -- all over the place.

	I was preoccupied enough by this, I almost went to history on 
auto-pilot.  It was a Program boy, a sophomore -- Tyler? Taylor? -- who 
reminded me as we passed in the hall

	He pointed behind me.  "Wrong way!"

	"Oh, right."  To the main office.

	When two girls tried to stop him for a little friendly fondling, I 
shook my finger at them.  "Uh uh, Program business -- we gotta go."

	Tyler/Taylor looked at me, startled, as we walked on.  "We can do 
that?"

	"No," I admitted.  "But it works."

	"Heh.  Well, thanks.  I'd rather not get any more worked up till I 
can get relief."

	Which made me do a double-take -- the Program meeting wasn't a 
class, after all.  Though I doubted Ms Angeles would mind if we 
masturbated.  Heck, she was probably hoping for an orgy or something.  I 
didn't want to put the idea in his head.

	Ms Angeles was in her office, as were Principals Skinner and 
Jackson, and Nurse Jones.  Dana was there before me, in a seat.  Rather 
than sit in one of the cold things -- the towel only protects your butt, 
not your back -- I sat on the carpet, leaning against his legs.  He put 
his hand on my shoulder.  It felt nice.

	Everyone's emotions were running high.  Well, not Gabrielle's -- 
she's unflappable, I think.  But Jake and Madison were pointedly Not 
Noticing each other, with Madison jilling off while Jake and Colleen 
masturbated each other lightly.  And they weren't the only ones getting 
frisky -- Sylvie was sitting in Bruno's lap.  Not having sex, mind, but 
feeling each other up -- though Sylvie was looking at Dana the whole time, 
biting her lip when Bruno wasn't kissing it.

	I caught Spike's eye, and she rolled her eyes at them.

	Phil was the last kid to arrive.  As he found a seat, Principal 
Skinner cleared his throat.

	"IF I could have your attention please?" he said at the Madison/ 
Jake/Colleen drama.  Hands left laps.  "Thank you.  Congratulations to you 
all for surviving the Program."  Some kids chuckled -- though not I.  We 
still had to get through today.  "With all seriousness, I would to thank 
you for participating in this inaugural week.  It's because of you that 
the Program is successful, and is likely to continue to be -- because of 
the direction you people have taken it."

	I nearly choked, and wasn't the only one.  If this was a 
successful Program week, I didn't want to know what a BAD one looked like.  
Either that or he was a sadist.  Which I didn't think, though Ms Angeles 
surely was.

	She took over.  "You kids should give yourselves a lot of credit 
-- it took COURAGE to open yourselves up the way the Program asked you 
to."  She went on for a while -- blah blah Program is good blah blah, as 
Dana puts it.

	Eventually, Principal Jackson took over.  "Now, because you were 
the inaugural participants, it's especially important that you tell us 
about your experience with the Program.  Not now," she raised a finger.  
"It's still not over.  But we have an assignment for you -- all of you, 
Grant and Whitman.  Tell us about it, any way you want to.  It can be your 
story, an essay, a poem, painting, whatever.  Miss Spicard here is doing a 
photo-documentary," she gestured at Spike.  "But whatever you do, tell us 
about it.  And not just us.  Tell your fellow students.  Tell them what 
they need to know."

	I was so croggled that Spike turned out to be her LAST name, I 
almost missed the next part.

	"Monday morning, you'll present them to the schools.  There will 
be a joint assembly, first thing in the morning, with you sixteen on 
stage.  So be prepared."

	I panicked.  "Wait, we'll be clothed, yes?"

	Before Angeles or Jackson could answer that, Skinner said, "The 
Program ends Sunday night.  Yes, clothed.  Unless you want to volunteer to 
be naked."

	I could tell Madison was seriously considering doing that.  But it 
was Gabrielle who said placidly, "That might be fun."

	"As you wish," Skinner said.  "After the assembly, next week's 
participants will be announced, and they'll enter the Program.  Any 
questions?"

	"How long does it have to be?" Madison asked.

	"As long or as short as you want," Jackson said.  "Whatever it 
takes to say what you want to say.  This isn't graded.  This is to help 
us.  You'll have only five minutes on stage, if that helps you any.  But 
speaking of which, please have an electronic copy, so we can post it on 
the school web sites.  Anything else?"

	Three other kids asked the same question, worded differently -- 
trying to game what she wanted.  Jackson evaded them as deftly as a 
teacher.

	I knew what I wanted to write -- a damning critique of every 
little thing the Program does wrong.  Five minutes to tear it down?  Yes!  
I was almost cackling against Dana's leg.

	Tired of this, Jackson took the next question from Spike, who 
asked the rest of us for a favor.  "For this photo project, I'll like a 
shot of each of you standing against the wall here -- just standing, no 
emotion, no seduction.  I want to show that you're unclothed, not that 
you're you."

	Doing that took the rest of the period.  It took a lot of coaching 
to get Madison and Colleen to not be seductive, especially with Jake 
watching.

*

Smith

On the way to English, Dana and I decided without consultation that 
kissing each other, even "just like an old married couple," was not a 
reasonable request.  We were asked twice, by Ricardo and then by Rani and 
Fatima.  So with nothing to perform, we got to class just before the bell.  
We walked through the door and both almost stumbled at the sight.

	Ms Emerson's waist chain was worn even lower, arcing across her 
pussy -- which today was shaved bare, exposing puffy lips and an erect 
pink clit.  It looked like a failed pretense at modesty, which made it 
erotic as hell.  And when she saw us, she smiled warmly.

	"Dana, Dana, do you need relief?" she said hopefully.

	Now as I said, when I'm off, I basically have no sex drive.  But 
between sitting around in a room full of naked teenagers, with one leaning 
against me, and with Sylvie frantically trying to get my attention with 
her little show, and with Emerson herself looking like a gods-be-damned 
wet dream, I actually had an erection.  Not that I NEEDED to get off, but 
I could.  And I knew that Emerson didn't want to give us relief, just 
watch us receive it.

	I stopped in front of her desk.  "Only if you do me," I told her, 
posing with my hips cocked.

	"No, Dana, I don't think so."  Her voice was amused, but I thought 
I saw her drooling.

	"Aw, come on," I said.

	"As we already established earlier this week," she drawled 
suggestively, "of course not -- I'm a cock-tease.  If I wasn't, of course 
... "  She spread her hands as if helpless.

	Dana raised her hand from her seat.  "Are you willing to give me 
relief?  After all, I don't have a cock.  And you seem so eager to be 
helpful."  Some of the class tittered.

	Emerson looked taken aback for the first time.  "Ah, no, Dana."

	Dana went on, "Because I'm a girl?  So, what, you get to 
discriminate based on sex when Program participants can't?"

	Emerson started regaining her poise.  "No, it's because you're 
students."

	"It's a reasonable request, and you're in the Program," and Dana 
waved her hand at Emerson's (luscious) naked body.

	"Actually, I'm not -- for one thing, I don't have to perform 
reasonable requests.  And for another, it would get me in a lot of 
trouble, if I were to engage in anything sexual with a student."

	I couldn't help it -- I glanced at Christopher.  He was poker 
faced -- but he would have to be, to become Emerson's boy toy.  My eyes 
only flickered, but Dana caught it.  She looked at Chris, and I could tell 
she'd guessed at least something of the truth.

	Anyone else would have thought she was just getting angrier about 
Emerson's flirtations.  I knew better.

	"Never mind," I told Emerson, "I don't need relief anyway.  I can 
hold it till I meet my girlfriend."

	It was a long class, and not just because I was behind on reading 
MOBY DICK -- Peri kept teasing me to tell her about my supposed 
girlfriend.  At least I quickly lost my erection.

	When it finally ended, Dana dragged me by the hand out of the room 
and into the first bathroom she could find -- a boy's room.  She turned 
and faced me, fists on hips.

	"You said Monday that you and her had a past history together."

	I sighed.  "That was joke to take your mind off things."

	"But not just a joke.  Tell me, what was the half-truth?  What 
were you covering up?"

	I rubbed my eyes with my hand.  She had my number.  "I know 
someone who had an affair with her, last year.  And before you get your 
hopes up, a boy -- she's straight."

	"And a pedophile."

	"Ephebophile -- she likes adolescents, not children."

	"It's still wrong."

	"And not mine to right," I said.  "Even if I knew how."

	She glared at me.  "You're smart.  Think of something."

	"I'll think about it," I told her, pulling her out into the hall.  
"In class."

	As we parted, she hissed at me, "And it wouldn't matter if it was 
a girl, anyway."

	She was right -- that had been a low blow.

*

Partlow

I simmered all the way to Drama -- enough so I barely noticed three 
requests for poses.  It was bad enough the Program opened us up for abuses 
-- Ms Emerson was taking advantage of it to flirt with us, teasing us as 
if it were all in innocence.  It was as bad as an aw-come-on-just-fooling- 
around-unreasonable-request.

	Mrs. Clemens called me up when I entered the classroom.  "I heard 
about your little show this morning."

	"Ah, thanks," I said.  And then thought, I think.

	"The Program has definitely helped your acting, despite any other 
difficulties it may cause you."

	I smiled wryly.  "Yeah, well, it definitely arouses emotions in 
me."

	She shook her head.  "No, you had emotions before.  You're just 
USING them more."  And with that cryptic note, she dismissed me to my 
seat.

	Funny how she didn't ask if I wanted relief.

	Mrs. Clemens asked how many of the class had seen the Dana & Dana 
Players.  About half the class raised their hands.  She picked two, a boy 
and a girl, to improvise a scene on our "At the End of the Day" scenario.  
They mimed taking off their clothing -- which didn't work as well, I don't 
think.

	For the next try, Mrs. Clemens asked if there were any students 
willing to actually undress, given they all would have to by the end of 
the year.  A few raised their hands, and another couple tried.  It didn't 
work as well, because they were too self-conscious about getting naked.  
The key of our scene had been not noticing.

	For the third and last try, the teacher had me and Craig do it.  
Craig's the best actor in the class, bar none.  There was one problem, 
though.  "I can't wear ANYTHING -- not even props," I told Mrs. Clemens.

	"Well, pretend you've done it all except your elaborate sandals," 
pointing at my flip-flops.

	It worked.  I sat on the "bed" and slowly undid them as the scene 
unfolded.  It worked, too -- it wasn't the same scene, of course, because 
even though I clicked with Craig, we took it different directions than I 
did with Dana.  When my sandals were off, I mimed brushing my teeth and 
taking some medications.  Craig timed a couple lines beautifully, to catch 
me with my mouth "full" and unable to talk back.  Which pissed off my 
character all the more.

	We got applause for that scene.

	And I realized Mrs. Clemens was right.  It wasn't that I was more 
emotional now.  I was less bottled up.  And it wasn't just Program 
openness.  If that at all.  I couldn't wait to find Dana and talk about it 
with him.

	I tracked him down at his locker, just as he closed it.  He looked 
guilty when he saw me.  Oh, right, the whole Emerson thing.

	"Never mind that," I said as we started towards my locker.  
"Chalk it up to a cranky Program dyke being discriminated against again."

	"But you have a point -- "

	I waved that aside.  "Listen, something else.  About our scene 
this morning -- "

	But before I could say more, Principal Skinner stopped us.  "Mr. 
Smith, if I could have a moment."  He looked very harassed, with his tie 
flying loose for the first time I could remember.

	Dana blinked but quickly said, "Sure.  What's up?"

	"Would you mind opening your locker for me?"

	Which must have surprised him as much as me, but Dana still shot 
back, "Can I see your search warrant?"

	"I don't have one -- this is just a request.  Please."

	Dana and I looked at each other.  Then we walked back to his 
locker.  He spun the dial a couple times, and opened the door wide.

	Skinner looked at the photos of Madison and sighed.

	"Mr. Smith, I'm sure you're aware the policy about obscene or 
pornographic material on school property.  And that the punishment is 
automatic suspension."

	"That's not obscene -- that's Madison."

	I smiled.  I'd warned Dana about this, but I still wanted to cheer 
him on.  Anything against the Program?  Oh yeah.

	Skinner waved at the pictures.  "THAT is obscene material."

	"The girl walking around naked all day -- that's not obscene?"

	"Nevertheless, Mr. Smith -- "

	Dana cut him off.  "So you're telling me it's okay for me to look 
at her," and he gestured at me, framing me with his hands like a 
photographer, "but I can't put a picture of her in my locker," and he 
moved the frame to the door.

	I thought of another issue.  "And what about Spike's photo project 
-- isn't that just as much of a problem?"

	Skinner rubbed his hand through his thinning hair.  "Look, Mr. 
Smith, I'll make a deal with you.  Take down those pictures and don't ever 
put any back up, and we'll consider this closed, okay?"

	"Only if you revise the school guidelines to eliminate the 
contradiction, one way or another," Dana said.

	Principal Skinner looked at him for five seconds.  And then, 
without argument, Dana took the pictures down.  I bit my lip.

	When Dana was done, Skinner quietly said, "Thank you."  Then with 
a nod to me, he strode off.

	Dana looked down at the stack of photos and tape in his hand, and 
sighed.

	"You should push it," I said.

	He shook his head.  "Not worth it.  If I get suspended before the 
end of the day, I have to repeat my week."

	"Or, well, heck, I can do it," I said.

	He tried to grin.  "And you tried to tell me you didn't want any 
Madison pin-ups."

	"You know, I would not have described the Dana I met Monday as a 
pushover.  If anything, that was the second-to-last word on the list, 
after 'quiet'."  He looked at me, soft pain in his eyes.  I ignored that 
and said, "It's like Emerson."

	"I'll THINK about it," he said.  "I'm not supposed to make any 
decisions on off days."

	He probably wasn't, though surely Dr. Thea was talking about 
anything suicidal.  Though maybe he classed taking on a teacher or 
administration suicidal.  Yet with his popularity and trust, you'd think 
he'd have enough clout.  Then I mentally bopped myself in the forehead.  
Oh, right, that would mean VALUING himself.  Stupid depression.

	"Right," I said, "let's get some lunch inside you.  That always 
helps."

	Peri met us just inside the door of the cafeteria.  "There you 
are," she said to me.  "Just wanted to tell you, Dana, before I forgot.  
I think it's amazing -- the transformation you've gone through, and how 
well you're handling it."

	I blinked at her stupidly.  What, she liked me more cranky?

	She gestured with your hands.  "You're more open -- freer.  I 
hadn't realized how much of your being closed off was because you were in 
the closet.  Now you don't have to pretend.  It must have been so hard, 
before."

	I felt like I'd been clobbered by a sock monkey filled with sand.

	"No," Dana told Peri, "it's more that she's been forced to face up 
to her fears."

	"Exactly -- of being found out."  Peri beamed.

	"Oh," I said.  "Ah.  Thanks."

	"Anyway, I just wanted to say that," and Peri turned to leave.

	"Where are you going?" Dana asked.

	Peri grinned.  "Phil and Donny are giving a demonstration on gay 
sex -- with pointers on how to write it believably."

	She all but bounded away.

	Dana looked at me.  "Your head hurts, doesn't it."

	"Yeah," I said.

	"She's right you know."

	"Yeah."  Hadn't Mrs. Clemens the same thing, in different words?

	"Let's go sit down."

	"Yeah."

*

Smith

I saw Spike behind her camera over at the Whitman end of the cafeteria, so 
I found us a small table for just ourselves.  I kinda worried about 
leaving Dana alone to the mercy of possible reasonable requests, but 
decided her shocky look might ward them off.  Besides, if I asked the 
right person nicely, I might be able to cut in line.

	I did -- Zoe and Talia really are sweet girls, if a little 
cock-obsessed.  I got hard from their attentions, but I also got my lunch 
quickly.

	When I got back, Dana was munching thoughtfully on her whole-wheat 
sandwich.  I let her stew her thoughts a bit while I dug in.  Peri's 
revelation had landed in a prepared mind, apparently, and it takes a while 
to absorb that kind of bomb.

	Just as I was deciding the mystery meat was tofu after all, she 
said, "How long have you known?"

	I looked up as I swallowed.  "I hadn't thought about it, actually.  
I was never close to Honors Student Dana -- the Dana I got to know had 
been knocked off-kilter by the Program and Liz and all, and was out to me 
right off the bat."

	She considered her sandwich a moment.  "I have to say, I'm not 
entirely sure I like how cranky the new Dana is."

	"Assertive," I corrected.

	"That too."

	"Strong."

	"I wouldn't go that far."

	"Takes no crap from no one no how."

	"You can stop shoving the crap now."

	We grinned at each other.  She was recovering.  Whoever she was 
going to be, she was going to be a good friend to hang with.

	"There you are!" a girl said anxiously behind me.  Sylvie.  I 
turned around -- she was standing, trying to twine her arms together.  
"I've been looking and looking for you -- I wanted -- that is -- "

	I don't think I've ever seen anyone that high-strung look that 
sexy -- despite her nerves, her face all but glowed, as did her swollen 
labia.  Just above her jutting left nipple was a half-dried glob of semen.  
She reeked of sex.  She was the perfect picture of a debauched pixie.  An 
incredibly cute debauched pixie in need of reassurance.  I patted the 
empty chair next to me before she tied her tongue into a knot worse than 
her elbows.  "Sit."

	She sat.  She didn't even notice how cold the chair was.  "It's -- 
I -- just -- "

	"Deep breath," I told her.

	"Focus," Dana said, less helpfully.  I gave her what I hoped was a 
quelling look.  Though the New Dana doesn't quell easily.

	Sylvie swallowed.  "I want to apologize.  I didn't get a chance 
during this morning's meeting.  But I really was in love with you, you 
see?"

	I didn't, yet -- she was worse than a gaggle of Ginny's friends.  
"I'm flattered," I said.

	"I know -- that's why I feel so bad about this!  I tried to find 
you ALL DAY yesterday, to tell you.  But you didn't even come to the 
practice room, seventh period."

	I started to see the pattern, where this was going.  "Because 
Bruno was using it."

	"Oh.  Oh! -- you knew.  I'm so glad.  Because I was like so horny 
and lovesick for you, and he was horny and lovesick over that girl he 
talks about, and we decided to help each other out, a little mutual 
relief, you know? -- and it was like WONDERFUL, better than you -- not 
that he can screw me nearly as well as you can, not yet, but it FELT 
better, you know?"

	I had a hard time keeping a straight face through her breathless 
confession.  "Because you're in love."

	"Yes!  That's it!  How'd you know?  It turned out the girl had 
been me all along, and I'd been stupidly jealous of her Monday, when I 
misunderstood him, though of course if he'd only said it straight out -- 
but anyway.  When I came to you, Tuesday, I wanted to learn how to have 
sex so I could make him jealous.  And you did, and I started having sex 
with all the boys.  But they weren't as good -- you were so wonderful, 
compared to them, so perfect that of COURSE I fell in love with you.  
Which is why I've been feeling incredibly guilty, even while I'm like 
totally giddy with him, because now you can't have me, because I'm Bruno's 
and he's mine, forever."  After a moment, she added, "Not that I can't 
give you a mercy fuck now and then.  If you wanted me."

	Far be it from me to puncture young love by taking advantage of a 
continuing crush.  "I'm flattered.  But that's not necessary."

	"It not?  Oh.  Oh good."  Her face was a mixture of dismay and 
relief.

	To sidetrack her, I asked, "Did you sleep together last night?"

	"Oh yes!  Well, not sleep, much.  Daddy's SUCH a cool parent, 
especially when he thinks it'll piss off Mom and my stepfather."  She made 
a dreamy little smile.

	I wondered how long the adrenaline of limerance would last and she 
crashed in exhaustion.  I hoped before midnight.  "That is cool."

	"Yes, I almost don't deserve it.  ESPECIALLY after what I've done 
to you."

	"It's not a problem.  Really."

	"Really and truly?"

	Dana openly took my hand in hers.  "No, really, it isn't."

	Sylvie looked at our interleaved fingers.  "It won't?  Oh, I see.  
Oh that's so sweet!"

	Dana went on, "So why don't you go back to your boyfriend and show 
him in the best way possible that he has no cause to be jealous."

	I swear Sylvie's nipples went SPROING! at the thought of shagging 
her boy.  She stumbled as she got up.  "Oh, yes.  I will.  Right now.  
Buh-bye.  And I'm so sorry!"

	When she was safely away, Dana and I wrapped an arm around each 
other's shoulder, leaned our heads together, and howled with laughter.

*

Partlow

It's moments like these that OMGWTFBBQ! was invented for.  My ribs ached 
for an hour afterwards, from laughing so hard.

*

Smith


	After we'd wiped our tears away, and stopped our third bought of 
renewed giggles, I finally managed to say, "I have to admit that was a 
remarkably painless puncturing of a crush -- not that I have much 
experience dealing with crushes ON me."

	Dana snorted.  "I don't see why not -- a guy like you must be 
fending off crushes left and right."

	Which just brought back all the old empty feelings back.  "Yeah, 
right," I said sarcastically.

	"Okay, what the heck -- no, sorry, what the FUCK is that about?"  
She glared at me.  For a moment -- ONLY a moment -- I kinda regretted the 
New Bullshitless Dana.

	"You know," and I gestured helplessly at my chest, "a guy like 
me."

	"Just because you're on an off day doesn't mean you can't face the 
truth.  You are THE best-known kid in this school and while I won't say 
you're universally liked, because the creeps you help keep down don't like 
you, you're the least DISliked.  Just because you're not part of the 
'official' social structure doesn't mean you're not popular.  You have 
your own authority.  Just look at how kids do what you say, when you put 
yourself forward."

	"Uh ... "

	"And don't you say that it's just because they're afraid of you 
because of your condition, even if they don't know what it is.  I think, 
Dana Smith, you've been using being bipolar as a shield to keep anyone 
from getting too close for far too long."

	I don't know what it is -- I mean, Dr. Thea's been telling me 
this, in different permutations, for a while now.  Maybe it was the 
bluntness.  But for once, I believed that last statement.

	Dana saw Spike coming towards us.  "Spike, here -- Dana's a Good 
People, right?"

	"Hell yeah.  What, all that clowning around's masking insecurity?"  
Then off whatever my face told her, Spike put her hand over her eyes.  "I 
don't believe this."  Then she mimed whapping me upside the head.  
"Listen, Dana, the mask is off -- stripped away with your clothes.  
Everybody now knows that deep down inside you're a good guy and the best 
friend anyone can have, even when you're just an acquaintance.  You'll 
just have to live your life with the knowledge that your good surface is 
also your good core."

	I finally snorted.  "I'll try."

	And you know, it did feel good to hear that, from both of them.

	The bell rang.

	"Ah, shit," Spike said as we got up and started for the door.  
"Listen can you two meet after school?  I want to talk about this Program 
project for Monday."

	"I have class at Trinity until 4," I said.

	"And I'm at the dojo until 4:30," Dana said.

	"How about meet me at 5 at Bill's Burger Hut, down on 6th St?  
I'll buy you guys dinner."

	I like Bill's burgers.  "Sure."

	"What's this about?" Dana asked.

	"I have a proposal for you guys -- but later, eh?  Gotta run."

*

Partlow

I spent all of algebra thinking -- about Dana and me, and our masks.  And 
our fears.  And how my ingrained sense of privacy was part of my closeted 
persona.  That was Honors Dana -- the staid, rock-no-boats Dana I didn't 
like any more.  I didn't want to be staid.  I didn't want to be boring.  
Okay, not that I was boring before.  But I'd been too careful.  Just as 
Jeanette had been telling me all along.  I wanted to be Out There.  I 
wanted to go cruising with Dana for cute chicks.

	Which meant letting go, just a little, of my modesty.  For even 
after a week in a Program designed to strip away any shred of modesty, I 
still had a lot of it.  And as a first step, before the end of the day and 
I lost my chance, I had to take relief.

	Which I needed.  Between Sylvie looking like a sylph taking a 
breather from an orgy -- and wafting all her sex pheromones over us -- and 
seeing Spike naked again, I was actually pretty horny.  I could survive 
till the end of the day.  But I didn't have to, and needed to not to.

	So when I walked into French class, I told Madame Toussaint I 
wanted relief.  Then I looked at Dana and smiled.  Not for assistance -- 
however good at oral sex he might be, he's still a boy.  But to watch over 
me.  That's why I was doing it here, in my last class with Dana.  I wanted 
his support.  And bless the boy's heart, he understood, and nodded back.

	Madison also asked for relief -- no surprise.  Which was good -- 
everyone would watch her.  I ignored her and her boytoy, sat in the chair 
at the front of class, and spread my legs.  Then I closed my eyes and 
lightly stroked my labia, spreading my wetness.  I was worked up over 
doing this -- exposing myself to everyone one -- and it excited me, a lot 
more than I expected, even as it frightened me.  I sighed, and began 
rubbing myself.

	And because I'm working on letting go of that privacy thing, I'm 
going to describe what I fantasized:

	I walk down the hall, the light-filled hall, into a large white 
room, the cafeteria.  There are people here, but it's mostly empty, except 
for her -- she's sitting at the table, writing something.  She looks up at 
me and smiles -- it's Spike, and she's smiling at me.  She's naked like 
me, the body I've been seeing all week, with that constellation of brown 
spots on her right hip and a silver bar through her left nipple, one I've 
been curious to explore, to find out how it feels.  I walk up to her, and 
greet her, though without words because there are no words in this 
fantasy, but I greet her and bend down to kiss her.  Her lips are soft of 
course, like a girl's, but strong.  She's glad to see me, is eager, likes 
me, wants me -- her tongue tells me this, tells mine as we taste each 
other.  And I want her.  I reach out and cup her breast, her round tit, 
with its hard nipple, and she gasps as I lightly tug the piercing.  It 
turns her on, that bar, makes her more sensitive, and she gasps with 
pleasure.  She reaches out, and her fingers find my pussy, my private 
spot, my wet lips, and I open my legs to let her in.  And she's rubbing 
me, first softly like I had been doing, but now harder -- and fast, yes, 
for we have to be quick, this time.  I throw my head back, somehow I'm 
standing, no longer kissing her, standing with my legs open and Spike 
fingering my labia and clit, sliding between and over as she kisses my 
nipples oh yes like that and I shudder and it comes and I

	come

	like that.  I take a deep breath, and Madame Toussaint called out, 
"Time!"

	"Okay, that was better," Madison said.  Some kids applauded and 
whistled.

	I opened my eyes, and lifted my head, and looked at Dana.  He gave 
me a thumbs up.

	I spent that period more relaxed than I've been all week.  As Dana 
says, it may not be sex, but five-fingered love is better than nothing at 
all.  I didn't even hit him when he leaned over and whispered, "I hope you 
didn't think about Sylvie, because she's taken."

	I'd more or less come back to earth by chemistry.  Which was good, 
because it was a lab day.  I didn't get a protective apron, because we 
weren't working with anything caustic -- just heating up various objects
and letting them cool.  I let Peri, my lab partner, handle the Bunsen 
burner.

	As the clock ticked towards the end of the period, I started 
getting more excited.  Soon, very soon, it'd be the end of the day.  I had 
nothing school-related over the weekend, which meant -- praise God -- I 
was almost done with the Program.  The last five minutes of class felt 
like a month.  Finally the bell rang, and I broke out in the biggest grin 
my face could hold.

	Allen looked at me from across the lab bench.  "Glad to be done 
with the Program?"

	"You have no fffffreakin' idea," I told him.

	Allen nodded.  "We're definitely talking about the problems with 
the Program Tuesday."  During our next Student Council meeting.

	"I like the Program," said Peter Newmann, Allen's lab partner.

	"There are definite problems with it," I told him.  I would have 
argued more, but his locker was in the other direction.

	Allen and I talked about strategies and tactics as we walked down 
the hall, with Peri tagging along -- until at the main staircase, I 
stopped.  She was there.

	Liz.  With Mina.  Standing in the biggest nexus on this floor of 
the school.  What, was she going to try and apologize to me?  In the most 
public way she could?  I looked at her face.  She was.

	I wanted Dana.  But he wasn't here.  I'd have to do this on my 
own.  Fortunately, this week had taught me I could.  Peri and Allen stood 
beside me, watching.  Everyone walked around us five, like an island in 
the stream.

	"Dana," Liz started.

	"I don't want to hear it," I told her.  "Not unless you can take 
back everything you've done this week."

	She frowned, rubbing her buzz-cut.  Mina at least looked troubled.

	"Dana," she tried again, "I'm sorry.  I really am.  I hadn't 
realized -- how much you mean to me.  I want to go back to what we were, 
before all this."

	What I said about sex and emotions being linked?  This was the 
flip side.  Standing there, I saw Liz as an egotistical bitch, and that 
feeling, that hatred, is not sexy.  Yes, she was strong and sexy.  But I 
was no longer attracted to her.  Whatever it was I'd felt at the start of 
the week, whether it was love or lust or something else, she'd killed it.

	And here she was trying to pretend the ashes were flames.

	"Liz," I said, "put a fucking sock in it."

	Which shocked her.  Honors Dana never cussed.  "What?"

	"You betrayed me.  You know how.  You know why.  I can't trust 
you, ever again.  Your name," I said clearly, loudly, "is fucking mud in 
my book."  And I walked around, down the stairs to the commons, leaving 
her and school behind.  Never mind that I still had books I needed in my 
locker -- I wasn't about to ruin a exit line with logistics.

	"Dana!" Liz called after me.  "What the hell was that?"

	I ignored her.  I went downstairs to my clothes and got dressed.  
I was out of the Program.

*

Smith

After French, after saying bye to Dana, I breezed out of school.  I 
dressed in my car, in the shirt and shorts I'd stashed in my backpack, 
gods, how long ago?  Only Tuesday?  Whatever -- I was done -- out of the 
Program.  I wanted to leap in the air and shout.  I cackled all the way to 
Trinity.

	What with getting make-up work from my professor and class notes 
from a classmate, I didn't get to Bill's Burger Hut until a little before 
5, though it's just off campus.  Spike was already there, once more in her 
usual black shirt/black jeans/black jacket outfit.  She dyes her hair 
black too, as we now knew from her brown pubic hair.  I'd sometimes
thought about introducing her to Scarlett, but decided Spike can find her 
own bad influences.

	"Hey, thanks for coming," she said.

	"No prob.  What's this about?"

	"Let's wait for Dana."

	"Devil, comma, speaking of," I said, for at that moment Dana 
walked in the door.  She looked the best I'd ever seen her -- and let me 
tell you, she was pretty damn sexy jilling herself off in French.

	"I'm FREEEE!!!" she cried, leaping into my arms.  I spun her 
around.  She felt relaxed, if you can say that of someone clutching their 
arms around your neck.

	"Free at last," Spike said, "Free at last, thank God all-mighty," 
and we joined her for, "we're free at LAST!"

	Somehow, I think Reverend King wouldn't have disapproved.

	"You're looking good," Spike said to her.

	Dana grinned.  "Sensei made me work on my extension.  It was a 
good workout."

	I don't think Spike quite got what she was saying, but she dropped 
it.  We grabbed a booth -- Dana and me on one bench, Spike across from us.

	Bill's is near Trinity College -- mostly a student hang-out, 
though nearby families also eat there.  At 5 on a Friday, it wasn't bad -- 
later, it'd be packed.  After we ordered, Dana asked Spike, "So what's 
this about?"

	Spike swallowed a sip of soda and put her hands on the table.  
"I've figured out what I want to do for my Program Project.  It's a 
multimedia thing, with a slide show of my photos -- and your text."  She 
looked back and forth between us as she talked.

	"What text?" I asked.

	"I want you two to tell me your stories -- how you each 
experienced the Program, both the good and bad parts.  No hindsight, no 
apologies, just the naked truth as you saw it at the time, as best you 
can.  Each of you write it separately, and I'll splice them together 
visually, on screen -- maybe two columns, side by side -- I'll have to 
think about that."

	"Huh," I said.  It might work.

	"Why us?" Dana asked.

	"Because as far as I'm concerned, you guys are the poster children 
for the Program Experience.  You two getting together -- yes I know, 
totally friends -- is the best thing to come out of this week.  And your 
awful outing," nodding to Dana, "and whatever it was that happened to you 
Wednesday," to me, "they have to be the worst."

	"What about Rodrigo and Surya?" I asked.

	Spike waved that off.  "They were already having problems."

	"What about Sylvie and Bruno?" Dana asked.

	Spike gagged.  "Those walking bundles of hormones?  I give 'em two 
weeks before they start breaking up and getting back together.  What did 
she want with you at lunch, anyway?"

	I winced.  Dana laughed, and said, "To apologize for no longer 
being Dana's lovebunny, while offering to be his lusthamster if he still 
wanted."

	Spike choked on her laugh.  "You serious?"

	"She has a lingering crush on me," I explained, "and was feeling 
guilty about it."

	"Okay, free advice to you," Spike said.  "Never get involved with 
anyone that young -- even if you are yourself -- they can't separate 
hormones from emotions."

	"Neither can we," Dana said.

	"Yes," Spike told her, "but we have driver's licenses and can get 
away."

	Which statement made our waitress give us a dubious look as she 
delivered our burgers.  We began inhaling them.

	When we started slowing down, Spike asked, "So whadya say?"

	To the proposal.  I looked at Dana.  "I'll do it if you do it."

	She chewed on a fry.  "I don't know if I can."

	"What had you been thinking of?" Spike asked her.

	"A political speech -- a rant damning the whole Program to hell 
with every rhetorical trick Mr. Lanier stuffed into us last year."

	"I'd been thinking of writing a sonnet," I admitted.  Off their 
incredulous looks, "What?  I can write a poem."

	Dana patted my arm.  "What's important, dear, is that YOU believe 
that."

	I looked down my nose at her.  "You have no appreciation for my 
linguistic skills."

	"On the contrary, I have all too much appreciation of them."  
Then immediately to Spike, "I'm in."

	"Why?"

	She took a breath.  "Something I realized today makes me think 
it'd be a good idea -- for me."

	I wondered how this was connected with what Peri had said during 
lunch, and what happened in French.

	Spike made an inquiring noise, but Dana said, "You'll find out 
when you read it."

	"When'll that be?"

	"When we're done," Dana said firmly.

	"You'll have to give me enough time to work with it, put it all 
together."

	"No later than 6 pm Sunday," I told her.

	She thought a moment.  "That'll do."

	We talked for a while, after that.  Not so much about the Program 
as life after.  How weird it'll be to walk into school -- with clothes on.  
How nice it'll be to be ordered to bend and spread 'em -- and get to say 
no.  Apparently, Spike's time through the Program was a little rougher
than Dana's, at least physically.

	"Because she didn't have you," Dana told me.

	Spike smiled wryly.

	Well, maybe.

	Finally the waitress asked us if there was anything else we wanted 
enough times that we got the message and left.

	Outside on the sidewalk, Spike looked at us.  "There's another 
reason why I'm glad you guys are willing to do this.  The Program made me 
realize something, something my lens showed me.  I like girls' bodies as 
much as I like boys'.  And that I want to explore what that means -- now 
that we're safely out of the Program hothouse."

	And with that, Spike stepped up to Dana, put her hand behind her 
neck, and pulled her down for a kiss.  A passionate kiss, which Dana 
returned.  Oh, I thought -- that comment yesterday about the bi-curious 
girls had applied to her, too.  After about ten seconds, just as Dana was 
about hold her closer, Spike let go.

	And then Spike turned to me and did the same.  I may be a fool, 
but I'm not stupid: I immediately wrapped my arms around her as I kissed 
back -- holding her curvy body against me as her lips and tongue explored 
mine.  It was sweet -- really sweet.  My pulse rushed in my ears.  
Finally, after what felt like an hour but was probably exactly as long as 
Dana's kiss, Spike broke off.

	She smiled, and without a word, turned and walked away.  Dana and 
I watched her till she turned the corner into the parking lot.

	Finally, I croaked, "You need to jill off, don't you."

	"Oh yeah," Dana said in a dazed voice.  Then, "You need to jack 
off, don't you."

	I swallowed.  "Mr. Happy is back and I'm turning on."

	She looked at me.  "You ARE on.  The way you're fizzing about the 
edges?  You're manic, boy."

	Well, not yet -- but she hadn't yet seen my FULLY manic initial 
couple hours.  Soon, though, if I didn't channel it.  I smiled -- writing 
would be a perfect outlet.

*

Partlow

Dana was definitely going manic -- it took him just a minute to badger me 
into agreeing to start writing immediately.  He WANTED to write straight 
through until we finished, but I put my foot down and said I was stopping 
for Saturday Aikido.  You have to be firm with him, or he'll exhaust you 
into submission.  As it was, I caved that much.

	Because Dana's house was closer, we stopped there first -- to drop 
off his car and pick up his laptop -- before heading to my place.  And 
while we were there, get permission from his mother to stay out late.  To 
my surprise, Catarina gave it at once -- possibly because we'd be at my 
place.

	While I waited for Dana to pack his computer, Ginny came into his 
room, carrying a fat, long-haired tabby I hadn't seen before.  It took one 
startled look at me and leapt from her arms to get away.

	"Ow!"  Ginny rubbed her scratched arm.

	"Hey, Squirt," Dana said.

	"Hello, Ginny," I said.

	"Hi, Danas."  She sat down near me, on the foot of his bed.  
"Dana, I need help."

	Dana and I looked at each other.  This one was his.  He turned 
around in his desk chair.  "What?"

	"About what happened.  How do I get Mom to let me out of 
Groundation?"

	"You apologize for what you did," he said.

	Which was not enough, of course.  I added, "In a way that shows 
you know what it was and that you won't do it again."  A guilty little
voice whispered in my ear about Jeanette, but I refused to think about 
that.  Later, when I was alone.

	"But that's just it," Ginny wailed.  "What did I do wrong?"

	Dana ticked off his fingers.  "You scared your mother and acted 
like an idiot."  To me, "That about it?"

	"Those are the biggies," I said.

	"I guess," Ginny said sullenly.  "But -- "

	After a moment, Dana prompted her, "Mm?"

	"I mean, Mom's always been, When you're ready to start having sex, 
make sure it's SAFE SEX.  And I was ready, and it was SAFE."

	Dana turned his hand up to me -- lesbian sex was my subject 
matter.

	"Mechanically safe, yes," I said blandly.

	"Why does she think I'm too young?" Ginny went on, as if she 
hadn't heard me.  "I'm TWELVE.  That's not THAT young, is it?  I've 
friends who've done it."

	Dana said, "The average age for Americans to first have sex is 
16.7 years old."

	An authoritative-sounding number that sounded dead wrong.  I made 
a face.  "In what part of the country did they come up with THAT number?"

	"It's a national average.  I'd have to do more research to see if 
there's regional variation."  He looked at his computer bag, as if wanting 
to start it up right there.

	"Or even rural/urban differences," I said.  "And what are they 
calling 'sex'?  Boy-penitrates-girl?  Oral sex?  Heavy petting?"

	Dana spread his hands.

	Ginny just looked back and forth between us.

	I made an impatient sound.  "They keep throwing these numbers 
around, as if they mean something.  But we're not numbers, we're people.  
Each of us different."

	Dana held up a finger, then looked at it.  "I could say something 
about the unique beauty of each number, but a) you'd sit on my head, and 
b) we'd get distracted."

	"I'm just saying," I said, "16.7 years doesn't match what I see, 
looking around me."

	"Yes, but the people who do have sex are often more visible -- 
those who don't, keep quiet for the most part.  The closet for virgins is 
much larger than for queers."  Before I could respond to that, he went on, 
"Also, there's a selection effect -- both of us associate more with people 
who started having sex young, like us."

	Which sidetracked me.  I cocked my head and asked, "How old were 
you?"

	"Not counting some circle-jerks when I was twelve?  Thirteen, 
about a week after my birthday."

	Ginny looked at him wide-eyed.  "Did Mamacita know?"

	"Gods no -- I hope not.  And it was all I could do to not burble 
about it 24/7."  He looked at me.  "The medication I was taking at the 
time had some odd side-effects."  I wondered just what was embarrassing 
about his first sex, and made a mental note to ask him later.

	"Was that the green pills?"  Ginny shook her head.  "Yeah, you 
were hard to live with then."

	Dana rolled his eyes.  "Don't remind me."

	Ginny looked at me.  "When did your parents find out about, 
yanno?"

	I gave a little snort.  "My mother knew the day I first had sex 
with Jeanette.  My father, it's not clear he knows yet."

	Dana wrinkled his nose at me.  "How could he not -- ?  Jeanette 
sleeps in your room, just down the hall."

	"Slept," I said, more sharply than I intended.

	Ginny looked troubled.  "Did you break up with Jeanette?  Because 
of me?"

	I swallowed.  "I don't know, Ginny.  I'm still figuring that out.  
But we've stopped sleeping together -- for the moment."

	Ginny screwed up her face.  "Were you," she said tentatively, 
"were you jealous?"  Of her.  As in, had she broken us up.  I wasn't sure 
which answer she wanted.  But I knew the easy answer was wrong.

	"No," I said firmly.  There'd been jealously in there, yes, but 
mostly it was as I'd told Jeanette.  "I'm pissed off at her for how she 
hurt your family.  You're a good family, and she pulled out your pin and 
let the Ginny Grenade go off."

	"Oh."  Ginny didn't sound comforted.  But I had no comfort to 
give, here.

	After a pause that stretched for several seconds, Dana said, "Have 
you figured out how to apologize?"

	"I guess.  I gotta think about it."  Ginny kicked the bed-frame 
with her heel.  "I HATE this."

	Dana stood up, laptop case in hand.  "Consider it your first 
lesson about sex: always be prepared to accept the consequences."

	"Even," I said, "if your partner was doing it to make someone else 
jealous."

	Ginny of course took that to mean what Jeanette had done with her, 
but Dana heard my reference to Sylvie.  He made a half-laugh/half-groan 
noise.  Ginny looked at him suspiciously.  "No, I'm not telling you," Dana 
said to her, "so just forget about trying."

	And to keep us from any more questions, we left for my house.


[concluded in part 7, Sunday Again]

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