Friday
"No retreat," was the phrase that came to mind as I faced the door, ready to head off to school. I was carrying my book bag, and in it were books, nothing else; no undies, no skirt, no blouse. Nothing. I had nothing on but my loafers, my gold cross and my glasses.
It meant I was committed to my plan, though I suppose there are some people who will say I should be just plain committed.
Once I walked out the door I had nothing to cover myself with until I got home again that afternoon. What's more, I'd vowed not to dress again until - well, indefinitely, though I think in the back of my mind I'd already decided that if everything went well I'd let myself get dressed on Monday.
Maybe.
If only it was to be that simple! Had I known what was coming, what would I have done?
Probably the same thing. I am not a quitter! Nor do I have any regrets.
Taking a deep breath, I opened the door and stepped out into the bright morning sun, the cool air making my already stiff nipples wake up even more. Since I was running a little late I wheeled my bike out, a first since my time in The Program started!
I tell you, riding a bicycle naked is a whole new experience! The seat rubbed me in some very interesting ways. The air whistling past my naked body was a wild sensation, too.
I'd called Carl, so he had his bike, too, and he met up with me, of course, and we rode together. He was surprised I was naked - I hadn't told him about that - so I had to explain what I was doing. He thought it was incredibly brave of me.
He's such a sweetie!
Anyway, we got to school and I got off, flashing my naked pussy at everyone to starboard as I did, of course, `cause it's my brother's old ten-speed, not a girl's bike that allows a more modest dismount. After locking our bikes to the rack we walked in to school just in time for the first bell.
That, at least, saved me from another group grope.
Oh, I'd have submitted to it, without help. Better that than another spanking - a second offense would have resulted in a doubled penalty!
Chemistry went as usual. I was getting better at concentrating on the lessons, rather than the way everyone looked at me.
Or, maybe they weren't staring at me as much? I guess they were used to seeing me naked now. It was a bit of a relief, of course, but I was kind of surprised to find that I missed the attention, too.
Mademoiselle Duclos had exhausted my anatomical offerings, so I wasn't subjected to any more "show and tell" in French class -another let-down.
But math class with Freschetti brought with it a nice touch of normality, wouldn't you know. He accosted me outside the door this time, though.
"Hey, Finchy, I think I need some relief again today," he announced snidely.
I looked down at his diminutive dick, trying to figure out if it was up or not. If I'd been nasty I would have said something like "It's hard to tell," but I didn't. Maybe I should have.
"How about you suck it out of me this time?" he asked with a sneer.
I really, really hate being called "Finchy," by the way. Without even thinking, I went for his balls again, curling my fingers around them and giving them a warning squeeze.
"In your dreams, Freschy," I retorted. "What's the matter, can't you even get Marilyn Beaverton to hoover you? If you want relief, you'll have to settle for a hand job from me, if you're willing to risk it! I might just decide to twist it off instead."
Marilyn, you'll recall, is the one who had sucked Carl off so effectively on his second day in The Program. The joke around school was that she was so orally fixated that if a terrorist gave the order to blow up a school bus she'd die of carbon monoxide poisoning.
Freschetti flushed.
With my other hand I squeezed his dick, finding it as limp as I suspected it to be. He didn't need relief. It was all a power trip with him.
"Are you still taking steroids? Haven't you figured out they suck the juice right out of you? To say nothing of giving you the attitude of a grizzly with a toothache. Get a life, Freschetti." Dropping his privates I pushed past him into the classroom, shaking with a mixture of fury and fear.
He slunk back to his seat, and left me alone, but I couldn't help worrying that I'd made a real enemy this time, and he was not one you wanted as an enemy. I was pretty safe, as long as he or some of his buddies didn't catch me alone, but if they ever did -well, I tried not to think about that!
Lunch was lunch, of course, with my friends. Stephanie looked at me longingly, and I flashed her a little kiss as I patted the seat next to me. When she rested her hand on my thigh under the table I didn't discourage her. I even kind of wished she'd been naked like me - I might have nestled my hand in her pussy.
Carl was on my other side, of course, and he sneaked his hand down on to me, too. When he found Stephanie's hand already in residence there he shot me a sly look, and they finger wrestled for possession of me.
"Share nicely, children," I told them softly as I tried to eat in spite of the distraction they presented.
The next thing I knew I had two fingers up inside me. They even figured out a way they could both diddle my clit! Before I knew it I was choking on my Jell-O salad!
Karen was across the table from me, of course. She dropped her napkin and when she emerged from beneath the table after "looking for it" she gave me a wicked wink. My giggle sounded a bit like a moan as my cunt went into orgasmic spasms.
From lunch it was off to art class, where I was still posing, of course. Henry was now working on me from the waist down. At first it was just the curves of my ass, the swell of my hips, the curve of my tummy, the creases where my thighs joined my hips, places like that. Which, I might mention, was certainly stimulating enough!
He was still as shy and polite about it as ever, of course. But Henry was getting steadily more and more intimate in his tactile explorations (isn't that a delicate way of putting it?). He started figuring out the geography of my pussy area.
Oh my!
I mean, I was still stirred up from Carl and Steph's lunchtime frolic in my playground and here was Henry, literally studying my most intimate anatomy by Braille!
Oh my!!
"You're - not hairy," he commented.
"I shaved it a few days ago," I admitted.
"Oh! Are you sure you don't mind me touching you there?"
"I don't mind." I couldn't bring myself to tell him that half the male population of the school had already become intimately acquainted with my genitalia.
He felt my labia, traced the slit delicately.
"The - uhm - underlying structure influences the contours," he hinted. "I mean, like Michelangelo studied the bones and muscles of cadavers."
"Well, you don't need to wait until I'm dead," I assured him with a nervous giggle. Thank goodness the teacher had some Mozart on to provide "ambiance," as he put it, so our little exchanges couldn't be overheard.
"Are you sure?" He "looked" up at me anxiously, his blind eyes hidden by his dark glasses.
"I'm sure." Breaking my pose, I took his hand and steered it back to my crotch, working his fingers into my slit.
"It's hot, and wet," he mused softly. With both hands he parted my labia. His fingers traced my ruffles and folds, touch my clit, which sent a jolt through me, of course.
"My vagina," I explained softly as his finger probed my cunt, my legs going rubbery.
"May I" the girl who had been doing the sketches of my pussy asked, joining Henry, a small sketch pad and a pencil in hand.
"Sure," I answered, deciding that "the more the merrier" would be too explicit an invitation to everyone in the class.
Finishing with my pussy, at least temporarily, Henry went back to his clay sculpture of me and did things to the crotch of his clay model of me that made me quiver as I watched, like it was a voodoo doll and I was feeling his every touch. He used this little loop of wire to shape my hairless slit. Wow!
Meanwhile, the girl sketched, her pad at my feet, using her fingers to spread my labia so she could capture the "inner me," I guess you could say. I could even feel her breath on my upper thighs, even on my pussy as she studied it intently. It was a disappointment when she finished and went back to her easel. I'd even found myself hoping she'd like a taste, I was getting so horny again.
But then Henry came back, moving behind me. His fingers pried into the crack of my ass, touched my anus gently and my knees went weak again. He traced the little gap separating that opening from my pussy, and I remembered how his guide dog's nose had felt as she'd touched me there, and tried not to squirm.
I was blushing furiously throughout all this, of course. I mean, after all, the whole art class was watching, sketching me while all this was going on! And to make it even worse, the teacher was snapping pictures for the school Web site as an example of what the art program had to offer even the visually impaired.
Even with the usual two breaks I was sweating and trembling by the time class was drawing to a close.
"Thank you very much, Miss Finch," the teacher said a few minutes before the bell rang. "You've been most cooperative, an excellent model. Would you be willing to consider posing for some of the other art classes in the future?"
"Uh, well, I don't know," I admitted. "Let me think about it."
"And if you'd like to earn a bit of money, I know of some private classes and some artists who are always looking for willing models," he went on.
"Well, like I said," I answered warily, "let me think about it."
Just then the bell rang, liberating me from that particularly awkward conversation. I mean, did I want to continue something like this after I was done with The Program?
That was not a question that I cared to explore very closely at the moment, because just the thought of it made my innards wriggle.
And I also couldn't help thinking that I could use the income.
The next period I had free in the library to study for the PSATs. It gave me more time than I wanted to think about so many things.
My afternoon and night with Stephanie and Carl, for example. I'd done things with them that I'd never thought I'd ever do with anyone. And it had been good! I had no regrets. We hadn't resolved Stephanie's sexuality issues, but explored her options very thoroughly, you might say.
In fact, I had few regrets about anything that had happened so far this week. Even the spanking, while it had been painful, had revealed another aspect of my sexuality. And the transgression that had triggered it had exposed another facet. I had enjoyed being restrained as all those boys felt me up! It was something I knew I would explore in the future.
The future.
Well, the immediate future was two-and-a-half more days of nudity in public - the rest of today, all day Saturday, including the football game. Would I really go to church naked on Sunday? How would I be accepted there if I did? Would God be offended? I didn't see how He could be. After all, He'd made me in His image, hadn't He?
I'll let the theologians and philosophers debate that, thank you! Anyway, if Pastor Bill vetoed it, well, I'd just have to skip church, or dress for it, I guess.
And then there was the slightly more distant future. What if The Powers That Be did approve my idea for a community service project. Would Carl and I actually have sex in front of a whole classroom of middle schoolers? The thought gave me the shivers, but I couldn't tell if it was terror or something more earthy.
I was shaken out of my musings by the bell ending the period, and realized I'd not done a bit of studying. Well, the PSATs would have to wait until next week, I thought, as I gathered my stuff and headed to history class.
I was trying to keep awake during Mr. Whiterspoon's usual dry lecture when the announcement that really capped my week was made over the school PA system.
"It is our pleasure to announce that this week's Miss School Spirit is none other than Junior Elizabeth Finch! I'm sure you'll all want to congratulate her on receiving this honor, and I'm also sure that, with her in The Program, you will all come out for tonight's pep rally and tomorrow's game against Eastern High! Go Spartans!"
I sat there, frozen, like a rabbit facing a cobra, as the whole class turned and looked at me. Me? Miss School Spirit?
You see, Miss School Sprit, or MSS for short, was a gimmick dreamed up by the football team and endorsed by the student council and the administration to boost school spirit. The victim - uh - honoree - is chosen by the football team and has the assignment of boosting school spirit and drawing attendance to the game of the week.
And yes, it is incredibly sexist. There is no MISTER School Sprit. What would you expect of something promulgated by a bunch of testosterone overloaded apes who go around head-butting each other with feral howls of "HOORAW"?
The honor usually went to a cheerleader or one of those other rah-rah types, usually one with a chest measurement exceeding her IQ, if you get my drift; one who bounced around squealing and giggling and whose greatest concern was her cup size and the right shade of lipstick.
Well, okay, I do giggle, but not ALL the time! And yes, I do squeal, given the - ah - proper stimulus! But I do NOT bounce around the halls squealing and giggling, dressed like - like -well, like a Barbie Doll! I am a Serious Student, a future Medical Doctor. A brain. A geek.
I remember when I heard about the MSS program, my first thought had been that it was like they were offering up a public sacrifice to propitiate the gods of sport. Not that many of the sacrifices were likely to be virgins!
Now I was to be offered up on the altar of sport.
Not, I admit, that I was a virgin any longer either, of course, thanks to my sweetie, Carl.
As I acknowledged the applause of the class I was desperately reviewing the responsibilities of MSS, and cringing.
I was to be a living pin-up, a reminder to the team of what they were fighting for, like a poster of Betty Grable or something, and a stimulus to the crowd.
We were studying World War II in history, in case you want to know where I got the Betty Grable image from.
First off, tonight I had to attend the pep rally and light the bonfire. Then tomorrow, of course, I had to go to the football game, and lead at least one cheer - God, did I even know any cheers?
And then I had another thought that gave me cold chills. My vow to remain naked through the weekend suddenly came back to haunt me.
Not, I realized with a sinking feeling, that going back on my own vow would do any good. MSS was a school activity, and I was in The Program until school opened on Monday. That meant I had to do it naked anyway, and everything else the MSS program demanded of me!
A stimulus to the crowd I would certainly be!
I tried to set that thought aside, reviewing my duties as MSS.
There was carrying the school flag as a member of the color guard, then the opening huddle on the sidelines, where I'd be in the center of the whole football team, building them to a fighting frenzy.
Well, some kind of frenzy, at any rate.
I'd be featured in the half-time show standing on a portable stage in the center of the field, exhorting the crowd to greater efforts, followed by the band serenading me.
Well, that would be nice, because my sweetie Carl would be playing, of course, and so would Stephanie, who had a crush on me.
And then, if we won, the team would carry me around the field on their shoulders.
Oh God.
And, of course there were rumors that MSS, and certain of the less inhibited cheerleaders, took part in the football team's post game festivities, though that was strictly off the record, unofficial and frowned upon by The Powers That Be.
Oh GOD! I would have to do ALL of that naked!! Except, I desperately hoped, the last item. That I could successfully avoid.
I hoped.
But why me? Who could have possibly suggested me for MSS?
Freschetti!
He was big cheese on the football team! He had to have engineered it.
Freschetti's revenge!
I was still thinking up new tortures for him when the bell rang ending classes for the day. If I'd had the well-spring of his progeny in my hands at that moment I would have ripped them off and stamped them into jelly on the classroom floor.
And you thought I was a nice person? HAH! I'd have roasted them over the pep rally bonfire.
While they were still attached!
Somehow, in a performance that should have earned me an Academy Award, I managed to give the impression that I was, indeed, flattered and honored by this unexpected recognition of my unflagging school spirit. First it was the kids in the history class, then it was the general population in the hallways.
Since I had become part of The Program I had, of course, become one of the more recognized figures (pun intentional) around school. Everyone, it seemed, wanted to congratulate me, pat me on the back, and other places, or shake my hand, or other parts of me, or both.
I was blushing from head to toe by the time I reached the door and escaped to where Carl was waiting, his bike and mine locked in the rack.
"Freschetti," was all Carl had to say, and I knew he understood. I practically crumpled into my sweetie's arms, bawling while he stroked and cuddled me.
"What are you going to do?" he asked me when I finally had regained a semblance of control and blown my nose.
"I don't know," I admitted gloomily. "There's nothing I can do. I was going to be naked for the weekend anyway. Now I just have to humiliate myself in front of ten thousand people."
He shuffled his feet, neither of us making a move to unlocking our bikes.
"We don't draw crowds that big," he pointed out.
"Whatever," I grouched.
"Uh - I've been there myself, remember?"
How could I forget? He'd been required to march naked with the band, even been honored by being the one selected to dot the "i" in the formation that spelled out Central High.
"You were so brave!" I exclaimed, giving him a hug.
"You're brave, too," he insisted, hugging me back. "You can do it. I know you can!"
"I guess I'll find out," I answered, kneeling to work the combination on my bike lock. "Starting tonight, at the pep rally. You'll be there, won't you?" I asked desperately.
"I wouldn't miss it," he assured me, unlocking his bike.
I stood up, only to be engulfed in the warm, loving mass of Stephanie. After a lot of hugging and slobbering and kissing and petting we disentangled ourselves.
"I'll be there, too," Steph insisted loyally. "I'll - I'll even stand there naked beside you!"
"And me!" Carl offered.
I looked at them, unable to believe they'd do that for me. Greater love hath no one, I thought, but I realized that I couldn't let them do that.
"Thanks, guys, but no, you can't do that," I argued. "It - well, it wouldn't be right. What they're doing - what Freschetti's doing is already abusing MSS and The Program enough. I have to do this alone."
I took a deep breath while they tried to argue me out of it.
"Don't you see, the best way to beat him is to stand up to him. I'll do it, and I'll do it proudly, with dignity."
"Dignity? MSS is dignified?" Stephanie snorted sarcastically.
I stood tall - well, as tall as I can - and proudly. "It will have dignity," I insisted. "I will not let that gorilla drag me down to his level."
"But, we have to do something!" Stephanie insisted.
"You can," I assured her. "Walk home with me while we brainstorm some ways to turn this mess around."
Something about "gods" was rattling around in the back of my head, and I had an idea. "But first, where do those guys get that stuff they use to color their faces and hair with the school colors? Let's stop there on the way."
"You've got an idea," Carl observed.
"The germ of one, at least," I admitted. "Do either of you have any money? I forgot my purse," I admitted, looking down at my naked self, hearing the honks of the seniors' cars as they drove past us and out the driveway.
As I sat astride Bucephalus, I tried visualizing it; galloping out of the darkness astride a huge, jet black gelding, remembering my riding lessons of years gone by, keeping my seat, steering the stampeding horse with my legs and the one hand I'd have free for the reins, holding the blazing highway flare so it's sparks wouldn't burn me or the horse.
And all I could think of was The Charge of the Light Brigade.
You know! "Half a league, half a league, half a league onward," and "Cannons to the right of them, cannons to the left of them, volleyed and thundered," and especially "Into the valley of death rode the six hundred."
I was a vision of barbaric nobility. My mousy brown locks had been cropped, bleached a golden blond, striped with bright crimson dye(school colors, get it?) and the whole ensemble moussed to stand up in a crazy crest.
I was, of course, as required by the rules of The Program, stark naked.
Talk about an entrance!
Picture this:
Setting: The school's floodlighted baseball diamond at dusk. The grandstands along the baselines are packed with students, while lined up along the backstop behind home plate is the football team in their flashy warm-up sweats. Naked cheerleaders are spaced along the baselines, stirring the crowd to a fighting frenzy. The band is in rank and file in the outfield, playing stirring tunes, until suddenly all falls silent.
In the shadows of the trees that border center field, I am already mounted on Bucephalus, named after Alexander the Great's war horse. Daddy is on my right, holding the as-yet unlighted flare. Stephanie is to my left, steadying Bucephalus, holding his bridle.
"And ACTION!" calls the director, metaphorically speaking, because all of this is being run by cues and, I might add, without rehearsal, so only God himself knew if it was going to go off without a hitch, and He wasn't talking.
With an abrupt crash of cymbals, drums rum-tum-tumming, the band splits, the two halves swinging smoothly to form an aisle from center field toward the pitcher's mound with its ten foot pile of scrap wood and old furniture that is The Bonfire to Be.
The drums fall silent. There's a breathless hush.
A lone, muted trombone sounds the charge, the notes echoing across the field, a lonely, challenging sound!
ta-da-ta-da-ta-da-ta-da-ta-daaaah!
Carl! My pulse quickens.
Silence, and then;
Unmuted, brazen, all the trumpets and all the trombones repeat the call louder!
Ta-Da-Ta-Da-Ta-Da-Ta-Da-Ta-Daaaah!
Recognizing his cue, daddy strikes the flare, it bursts into flame, causing Bucephalus to shy a bit. Daddy carefully hands the blazing torch to me. Even at arm's length I feel its heat on my naked body. My tummy is all aflutter, along with some other parts of me. I'm very, very conscious of being atop about a ton of very powerful and nervous horse.
The instruments gleaming in the field's floodlights, the whole band repeats the call, summoning me, concluding with a clash of cymbals!
TA-DA-TA-DA-TA-DA-TA-DA-TA-DAAAAH! CLASH!
Releasing his bridle, Stephanie slaps Bucephalus's rump and I rock back in the saddle as he surges forward - no I was NOT about to try this bareback! - and the stampede is on! A thunder of hoof beats and out of the darkness I appear, leaning forward now, a spectral pink figure riding a black horse, brandishing a flare spouting red flames, sparks and smoke. I'm dressed like Lady Godiva, my hair, standing up even in the stiff breeze thanks to a ton of gunk, looking like it is on fire itself, thanks to the garish `do.
This is the shy, modest, demure Beth Finch you've gotten to know over the past week?
I don't think I'll include this incident in my college applications. In fact, the whole week is probably best ignored. It's none of it my fault, it is all my evil twin's doing.
On the other hand, though, maybe this will be the "hook" that grabs the attention at Harvard! Gotta think on this.
Before I go on, I have to explain it had taken a lot of work by a number of people to pull this production together in one afternoon. So I'd like to take this opportunity to thank them.
First, I'd like to thank my hairdressers, Steph and my mom. Without them, especially mom, I wouldn't be where I am today.
Carl, call him my director, did some very important phoning to set things up with the band and the school custodial and grounds staffs, to whom I also extend my heartfelt gratitude.
Meanwhile, my producer, daddy, bless his heart, pitched in by calling some of his clients. Like I told you, he's an accountant and, as it turns out, he knows some very influential and useful people. He's such a pussycat, he'd do anything for me!
Thank you Fanucci and Kai, fireworks specialists. Fannuci and Kai, they light up the sky! For information and prices, call 555-1438.
Oh, and we mustn't forget Steph's role as horse wrangler, for it was her ebony gelding I was astride.
The band blared! Bucephalus galloped, his mane flying to whip me in the face and breasts. I steered him around the pile of lumber and, as I passed home plate, I somehow managed to toss the flare on to the heap of wood which had, with forethought, been encouraged toward flammability with a good dousing of kerosene.
Circling back around the incipient conflagration, I reined Bucephalus to a halt where second base would be, just as flames leaped skyward with a crackling roar! Poor Bucephalus, his eyes rolling and ears laid back, ad libbed nicely, rearing up, pawing the air, almost unseating me, adding a nice dramatic touch to the scene.
Trust me, I've seen the video - definitely way cool! Though it scared the pee out of me when he did it, I tell you!
Somehow I managed to calm him before he stampeded right back out into the darkness with me clinging desperately and ignominiously to his back. Leaping off him, I swung him away from the fire, released the reins, and gave him a swat, trusting he'd find Stephanie out there, somewhere in the darkness. He needed no more encouragement to get himself elsewhere at a gallop, I assure you!
Oh, and, though we staged it all without ASPCA oversight, I assure you, no animals were harmed during this production.
Standing at second base, naked as the day I was born, hands on my hips, feet apart, the light of the roaring blaze washing over my bare flesh, I watched the flames soar into the sky. I felt like a Viking woman, an Amazon, a Valkyrie out of Wagner's opera Siegfried. I was a pagan goddess!
The crowd went wild!
"Beat Eastern! Beat Eastern!" I yelled when the noise died down.
"BEAT EASTERN! BEAT EASTERN! BEAT EASTERN!" the cheerleaders screamed, taking up the chant.
"BEAT EASTERN! BEAT EASTERN! BEAT EASTERN! BEAT EASTERN!" the crowd roared.
I went into a mad dance, circling the roaring blaze, feeling its heat on my naked backside, my nude flanks, my bare breasts and pussy as I twirled and pranced in a primitive, pagan dance, screaming "BEAT EASTERN!" at the top of my lungs. To add to the drama I impulsively swept up a blazing length of wood, scattering sparks, almost setting my hair on fire for real, brandishing overhead like a flaming sword.
Oh, it was GLORIOUS! As I danced, the band closed formation, drums beating furiously, forming up at the edge of the infield, striking up a fight song when the cheering began to peter out. I continued to stir the crowd, waving my arms and the makeshift torch, circling the flames. The cheerleaders filled in with more cheers between band numbers.
Finally I pitched the blazing stick back into the fire and took up a stance at home plate, facing the backstop, the crowd, the football team a few yards away, proudly, bravely staring right into Freschetti's eyes, not giving an inch to him. He was as naked as I was, a dark hairy figure among his sweats clad teammates.
Forming my hands into a megaphone, I turned toward the crowd on the first base side.
"Who we gonna beat?" I asked.
"EASTERN!" the crowd on that side roared.
"How we gonna beat `em?" I asked the third base crowd.
"BAAAAADD!" the third base crowd roared.
Okay, so that should be "badly," an adverb. So sue me!
Left - BEAT!
Right - EASTERN!
I kept that up as the flames behind me slowly died, swiveling back and forth, back and forth, my throat getting raw, until all I needed to do was turn and point
Left - BEAT!
Right - EASTERN!
Left - BEAT
Right - EASTERN!
BEAT! EASTERN! BEAT! EASTERN! BEAT! EASTERN! BEAT!EASTERN! BEAT!EASTERN! BEATEASTERN! BEATEASTERN! BEATEASTERN!BEATEASTERN!BEATEASTERN!
Faster and faster and faster until it became a roar.
By then the fire had died down to embers. Whirling to face the glowing coals, I threw my arms up, instantly silencing the crowd, and, right on cue, the floodlights went out, plunging us into darkness but for little blue flames dancing over the mound of glowing coals, a few sparks spiraling upwards.
There was a breathless silence, broken only by an occasional pop and crackle from the remains of the fire, a nervous rustle from the crowd in the bleachers, a small child calling out "what's happening, mommy?"
For a heart stopping moment I thought nothing would happen.
Suddenly, out in center field, three bursts of sparks and smoke shot upwards, one after the other - CHUFF! - CHUFF! - CHUFF!
Unmistakably, aerial fireworks being launched.
There were a few seconds of hushed, expectant, startled silence as the crowd stared upward, their eyes tracking three tiny, dwindling sparks soaring up and up and up into the darkness.
Suddenly three fiery chrysanthemums blossomed high overhead, fireballs, glittering, glowing, swiftly expanding and fading spheres of scarlet and gold lighting up the night sky with the school colors.
BANG! - BANG! - BANG! Almost drowning out the "OOOHS!" and "AHHHHS!" the explosions echoed across the field, across the town, loud enough to be heard all the way out at Eastern High - a final, powerful coda to the rally.
The fireworks faded and I dashed away in the darkness to where mom and daddy waited with the car. Behind me the band struck up a stirring march, and the cheering, yelling crowd began to leave as the field lights came back on.
"Take that, Freschy," I muttered, diving into the back seat of the car and slamming the door behind me.
"What, darling?" my mom asked.
"Nothing," I answered. I'd faced Freschetti, front and center in the ranks of the football players, and stared him down. He'd thought he'd humiliate me, well I wasn't going to let him. He'd handed me a lemon, or at least thought he had, so I'd taken it and thrown lemonade back in his face, and I'd do the same thing tomorrow at the game.
"Hey, don't you have anything to say to me, Lizard Breath?" a wonderful, marvelously, super familiar voice said.
"JOHNNY!" I practically threw myself at my brother, totally forgetting for the moment my state of undress.
"Ooooff! Whoa, take it easy, sis!"
Suddenly conscious of the awkward way he was holding me, I started to pull away, then said the heck with it, and gave him a super-huge naked hug. "Why didn't anyone tell me you were coming home?"
"We wanted it to be a surprise, dear," Mom explained. "We were afraid if you knew he was going to be here it would make you nervous!"
"You mean more nervous than I already was?" I asked, finally unwrapping myself from him and settling next to him, holding his hand, squeezing his arm.
"Is this my shy, modest little sister?" he asked, laughing. "Not so little any longer, I guess," he added, giving me a look that made me tingle.
I made a face. "Not so modest any more, either," I confessed. "When did you get here?"
"In plenty of time to see everything," he answered.
"And everything is what you saw - what you're seeing," I pointed out.
"You're looking good, Lizard Breath!"
Let me tell you, by the way, that he is the onliest person in the whole wide world, in the whooole UNIVERSE, that can get away with calling me that and live!
I blushed. "Thanks. Are you going to be here for the game tomorrow? I'm - uh - on display again then, too."
"I wouldn't miss it for the world. And even at church Sunday, I understand?"
I nodded, blushing even more. "Pastor Bill said it would be okay if I wanted to do it. He's even asked me to do one of the readings, and say something about The Program. You know about The Program?"
He nodded. "Mom's been keeping me posted on it."
"What do you think of it?" I asked anxiously.
He gave my hand a reassuring squeeze. "I'm wishing they'd had it when I was here. Let me tell you, some of the attitudes in college toward women, toward sex, well - things are seriously warped, I tell you!"
"You think it's good?" I asked, thinking of the strain and stress of trying to mold the attitudes of the Freschetti's of the world into something more civilized through exposure.
"I think it's great," he assured me.
"Would you have participated if they'd had it back then?" I wondered.
He thought this over, the street lights playing over his face. He looked older, more mature even after this short a time away. "I don't know if I'm brave enough. I like to think I would have been, but I'm not sure." Then he lightened up. "So, who's this guy I hear you're dating?"
"Carl Walker? Do you remember him?" I asked.
"Kind of a geeky guy?"
"He's not," I argued defensively. "He's a swimmer, and sweet and kind, and real smart, and...."
"Okay, okay," Jeff laughed, reassuring me. "I'm sure he walks on water!"
"He does not!" I argued. "I told you, he's on the swimming team!"
Then I realized what I'd said and joined in the laughter, and I realized suddenly that I really was feeling comfortable in my skin, and nothing else!
I wondered if I should tell Johnny I was no longer a virgin, thanks to Carl. Then I wondered if my brother was still a virgin - or if he had been before he went to college, for that matter. He's three years older than me. We were close before he'd gone away, but not so close that we'd shared his sex life. Of course, I'd been pretty young and naive at that time anyway.
Then I realized he'd only been away a couple of months, and marveled at how much had happened to me in that short time.
"I can't get used to seeing you like that," my brother said softly as we drove homeward, looking at me as the lights outside the car swept over my naked breasts.
"Well get used to it, bro," I countered. "'cause this is how I'm gonna be until Monday morning!"
He grinned. "I think I can live with it," he assured me. "I hear you've even gotten mom and dad into The Program. Something about a naked dinner?"
I eyed him mischievously. "I dare you to join us for a naked breakfast tomorrow."
He laughed. "Be careful what you wish for, sis, you may just get it."
"Oh my," Mom sighed from the front seat. "Naked breakfast? All four of us?"
"I'd hate to be the only one," I answered innocently.
"I think it would be fine, dear, only don't try to fry any bacon that way," daddy suggested, giving mom a grin, and I think he patted her thigh. Then he looked at me in the rear-view mirror with a twinkle in his eye and gave me a wink!
I couldn't help thinking that if this kept up I might wind up with a baby brother or sister! I don't THINK mom was past that yet.
I was exhausted, of course, when we got home. But once we got in the door I still had the energy to give daddy a huge hug of thanks for the work he'd done for the pep rally. He was the one who'd arranged the fireworks, and that hadn't been easy on such short notice.
The poor sweetie, he didn't know where to put his hands on me, his naked daughter!
"It's okay to hug me daddy," I assured him softly, and he gave me a big squeeze then. "Thank you, daddy."
"You're welcome, sweetie."
"Anyone want some ice cream and cake before toddling off to bed?" mom suggested.
So we all gathered around the kitchen table and dug into a half gallon of Rocky Road and one of mom's super-scrumptious chocolate layer cakes with fudge icing, with big glasses of milk, and it was just like old times, when we'd come back from one of Johnny's basketball games or something. Only this time it was after I'd led a pep rally, naked, and I was naked with my family, and I'd be naked with them for two more days.
As I dragged my weary body upstairs I was suddenly aware of some strange abrasions on my butt and the insides of my thighs --naked horseback riding has its hazards! There was one thing good about being naked, I reflected. I didn't need to undress for bed, at least. I barely had the energy to brush my teeth and take care of other little necessities before I flopped into bed.