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Message-ID: <49086asstr$1094029805@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: "Gina Marie Wylie" <gmwylie98260@hotmail.com>
Subject: {ASSM} Laura Alban Hunt Ch 18 {Gina Marie Wylie} (con, Ff, FF)
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Date: Wed,  1 Sep 2004 05:10:05 -0400
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<1st attachment, "Laura Ch 18.doc" begin>

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

	The following is fiction of an adult nature.  If I believed in
setting age limits for things, you'd have to be eighteen to read
this and I'd never have bothered to write it.  IMHO, if you can
read and enjoy, then you're old enough to read and enjoy.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

	All persons here depicted are figments of my imagination and any
resemblance to persons living or dead is strictly a blunder on my
part.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

	Official stuff:  Story codes: Ff, FF, con.

	If stories like this offend you, you will offend ME if you read
further and complain. Copyright 2004, by Gina Marie Wylie.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

	I can be reached at gmwylie98260@hothothotmail.com, at least if
you remove some of the hots.  All comments and reasoned
discussion welcome.

Below is my site on ASSTR:
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Gina_Marie_Wylie/www/

My stories are also posted on StoriesOnline:
http://Storiesonline.net/

And on Electronic Wilderness Publishing:
http://www.ewpub.org/

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Laura Alban Hunt

Chapter 18 -- Toy Shopping

I woke later, heard a soft sound and turned to look.  Carolyn had
her eyes shut and she was rubbing her clit very fast.  She
started to climax and, for a bit, drifted, her eyes wide open,
but unseeing.  I hadn't masturbated often when I was in junior
high, not much more when I was in high school or college.  I'd
done it often enough, though, to recognize that Carolyn had
achieved satisfaction for herself.

I leaned close and kissed her on the nose.  "Good morning, my
friend."

She started.  I'd been right, I thought, she might have had her
eyes open, but she hadn't seen anything.

"I didn't wake you up, did I?"  Carolyn asked, anxious.

"No, it's just about the time I usually get up," I told her.

"It's not wrong, is it, to want sex stuff so much?"

"No, it's not wrong."

"I rub myself a lot at home.  Mom says I need to be quieter."

"You were fine just now; not a peep," I said with a smile.

With the awesome and breathtaking mental leaps that the young are
capable; she changed the subject radically.  "Yesterday, when we
were swimming June was showing us how strong she is!  Wow, is she
ever strong!"

"Yes she is," I agreed.

"She picked me up," Carolyn went on.  "She put one hand around my
front, another behind me and she lifted me up.  But her hand
was... there... you know.  It felt like when I rub myself."

Careful, June, I thought.  Careful.

"It felt really nice and I couldn't help wiggling.  She touched
my button, and..."  Carolyn sighed.  "It was like just now.  Like
last night."

Oh June, you playful little fox!  We both have to be careful!

"She asked me if I was going to be at your party Saturday and I
said yes.  She said we could have a lot of fun together then."

"That's up to you, Carolyn," I said with a smile.

She smiled back.  "June's friends were with Susan at the other
end of the pool.  I think they were touching too."

My alarm clock picked then to go off, so I turned it off.  I gave
Carolyn a little hug.  "Want to take a shower together?"

Carolyn giggled.  "Mom and Aunt Nancy shower a lot!"

I went into the bathroom, turned on the water, and stripped out
of my nightie.

I really liked this house from the first time I saw it.  It was
laid out well, the rooms were large and the closets were huge. 
But who goes around and turns on the faucets to see how long it
takes the hot water to arrive?  It was a mistake I'd never make
again; still, most days I wait impatiently the minute or so it
takes for the hot water to arrive in my bathroom.

Not today.  Carolyn came in having shed her panties, smiling at
me shyly.  I smiled back, and I waved to the shower and explained
about having to wait.

I stared at Carolyn.  I'd gotten used to the surge of hormones
that I got looking at the girls, but this time was a stronger
surge than most.  Carolyn undressed was a completely different
person than Carolyn dressed for the street; an order of magnitude
sexier than she'd been in her bathing suit or just wearing
panties.  My eyes kept coming back to the perfect curves, the
tight muscles bunched under the pale skin of her bottom.

It is a good thing my sense of duty and obligation is as strong
as it is; I wanted nothing more than to take Carolyn into my bed
and spend the rest of the day making love to her.

We got under the spray, getting wet; then I was soaping the
washcloth and running it over Carolyn's bottom.  I spent a lot of
time there, before finishing her back and then turning her around
to do her front.  I spent a bit rubbing her budding breasts, much
longer washing her sex.  Too long.  After a second I let the
washcloth go and simply fondled Carolyn's clit, sliding my finger
along the folds of her vaginal lips.  She came, and that seemed
to break the spell I was under.

Still, Carolyn insisted on her washing me, so she tried to do the
same things to me.  I knew we were taking too long, but it seemed
churlish to ask her to hurry.  When she soaped my breasts, I was
only mildly stimulated, a little more so when she rubbed my
clit.

Then we were out and drying off, getting dressed.  A quick
breakfast for Carolyn and Susan; all too soon I was dropping them
off at school.

Nancy had called early and told me to hold onto Carolyn's
suitcase.  "I'll pick her up from school, then come and get it. 
Denise is..."  She sighed.  "I don't know what Denise is.  That
time of the month, that time in her life.  We've been close for a
long time; it's like each day she's a completely different
person.  Terry, her husband is being really good and patient,
but..."  Another sigh, "No one can take the abuse Denise is
dishing out right now without some damage."

"I'll do what I can to help.  How's the girl from the team? 
Elizabeth?"

"She was in surgery until past midnight.  She was riding in the
back seat of her mother's car and a big SUV tried to run a red
light, broad-sided them after having hit another car first.  The
rear window shattered, and bits of glass hit Liz in the face; she
was really badly cut.

"Permanent eye damage, permanent facial scars.  It was a big SUV,
going very fast."

"It's not good," I told her, "and you hate to take comfort from
something that awful happening, but at least her mom still has a
daughter."

"Her mom's in critical condition, very critical."

I let out a sob.  "I'm so stupid!  God, I'm stupid!"

"You wanted to put the best face on it, Laura.  I understand. 
Just sometimes... life bites."

"Yes."

I sat poolside later, staring out at the water; too much to think
about, that was for sure.

Eventually I decided yes, I was a pervert and I that I could do
one of two things about it: try to stuff the genie back in the
bottle or relax and enjoy it.  Unenlightened self-interest won
that argument, hands down.  Literally, because I started
masturbating, right there in the morning sun.  I'd not really
done it for a long time, but it was in more like riding a bicycle
than sex with Gail had been.  You never forget.

I wasn't interested in teasing or taking my time; I rubbed my
clit very fast, pulling on my breasts.  After about two minutes I
moaned, came, then pushed ahead, coming again a minute or so
later.

I sighed, wishing right then for someone, anyone, to make my day
by making love to me.  I decided that the clothes that were now
half off could come off all the way; I stood and started to take
off my blouse.

Sherrie was standing at the sliding glass door, nude.  Her hands
buried between her legs, rubbing herself as frantically as I'd
just been.  Her eyes were closed, I saw, which brought a smile to
me.

Looking at her nude brought the same pangs I'd felt watching
Carolyn earlier in the morning.  My insides were twisted up in
knots, my hormones were screaming for more, more, more...

Sherrie came, and then opened her eyes, smiling.  She saw me and
blushed for a second.

I was so proud of the fact that I'd never made an aggressive move
towards one of the girls.  I stepped towards her, and she opened
the door.  I stopped a few inches short of her, willing my hands
to stay at my sides, instead of reaching out for her.

"You want to make love, don't you?" Sherrie asked.

"Yes."

"Even if we're inside?"  She was teasing, I knew.  I could see it
in her eyes.

"In my bed, actually."

"A bed you shared with Carolyn, last night."

I nodded.

"I like watching you by yourself or with Marybeth.  I don't know
if I'd like watching you with Carolyn."

I shrugged.  "Not a lot to watch."  I knew in my heart of hearts,
while it was sort of a true statement, it wasn't a true
reflection of my feelings.  Carolyn and I were engaged in the
sort of sex play I imagined Susan had, with her friend back on
Long Island.

My eyes dwelled on Sherrie's breasts, breasts that were a little
larger than Jackie's, but not much.  Hemispheres without sag,
nipples that were erect.

I took a step closer, my erect nipples meeting hers.  Sherrie
moved so that our nipples rubbed together, making mine even
harder.

Sherrie ran her fingers over my nipples, and then trailed down to
my stomach, then lower still.  She brushed my clit, and I nearly
came.  I saw a smile on her face.  "What?" I asked softly.

"You should think about shaving or at least trimming this."  She
ran her fingers through my bush.  "You have such a nice clit, but
I imagine it would be a lot easier to touch with less hair."

I contemplated that, picturing myself in my mind when I'd been
Carolyn's age, curious as I could be about the mysteries that
were hidden in the folds of skin.

The next thing I knew, I was sitting on the edge of the tub,
Sherrie applying scissors to thin the hair, then taking a second
to look critically at what she'd done.  All along I'd been slowly
climbing the walls, desperate for something more than the
occasional touch.

She reached up to the windowsill and pulled down the bottle of
Johnson's Baby Shampoo I kept there.  "You use this?" she asked,
half amused.

"I don't like soap in my eyes," I told her.

"That's good, because regular soap can burn the soft tissues!"

She set to me with a razor that had last seen duty making my legs
smooth, being careful.  I started to say something about how
Sherrie seemed to be quite knowledgeable about technique, but
elected to keep my mouth shut.

I stood up and we made love there in the shower, with Sherrie
using her fingers to give me a lot more pleasure than I could
remember from any other shower.  I tried to give her the benefit
of my lessons from Marybeth; we ended up in my bed, Sherrie
between my legs, lapping and sucking me to several orgasms.

Then she got up, giggled, and told me she had to get ready for
school.  I slapped her lightly on the bottom as she turned to
leave.  "I will, I promise, repay you in kind!"

Sherrie grinned at me over her shoulder, but kept going.

I went and sat down on the bed.  I had, I thought, hit the nail
on the head.  Sherrie had given me money to live in my house. 
How could I justify what just happened with that?  I could easily
tell Sherrie not to bother any more... but what if her parents
found out that she was no longer paying rent?  That would be a
clear indication that something was going on.

On the other hand, what would Sherrie's reaction be if I told her
I didn't want rent money any more?

I dressed in time to give Sherrie a very chaste goodbye hug, and
I went back to the kitchen.  I fixed myself some toast and a
glass of juice, and I sat outside next to the pool.  After a
while, I decided that the best solution would be to do something
unexpected.  Then several threads of thought came together and I
grinned.

When I was finished eating, I went back in the kitchen and called
Marybeth.

"Morning," I said when she picked up the phone.  "Not too early,
I hope."

"Oh, I'm kind of a late riser these day... why a couple of weeks
ago I slept in to almost seven."

"I have kind of a personal question to ask."

"You know me," she laughed.

"I do, I do."

"I'd come over and offer to sip some of your tea, but I have a
raft of errands to run this morning."

"I'll be quick.  The other day reminded me that Susan has a
birthday coming.  I was thinking about getting her a toy or
something.  We'd talked about them and you mentioned you'd seen
something like I was thinking about.  Could you tell me where
that store is?"

She gave me the address and laughed.  "For Susan?"

"Who else?" I asked with a straight face.

I considered going right then, but decided that odds were a place
that sold 'toys' might not have the same hours as Costco or Home
Depot.

I heard someone outside the front door and a knock.  It was June
and company.  "Can we swim for a while, Laura?"  June asked.

"Sure, no problem."

They hit the water, doing some laps.  I should do that, I
thought.  I went into my bedroom and changed into my bathing
suit.

They were still swimming strong when I got in and they kept at it
longer than I did, June in particular.  I ended up sitting on the
steps in the shallow end, half submerged.  I was fascinated by
June's thinness, accentuated by her two-piece suit -- and her
ability to keep going and going and going.

Sylvia and Toni got out and started to use the diving board.  I
watched them for a bit, but it was clear they knew what they were
doing.

June pulled up next to me and stopped a few feet away from me. 
"Yesterday, that girl Carolyn?"  I nodded, remembering what
Carolyn said had happened yesterday.  "She should get a diving
coach."

"A diving coach?"  The direction the conversation was taking
wasn't at all what I'd expected.

"Yeah, I mean she's fantastic right now; I talked to her and she
said she's never had lessons, she just does it.  Our diving coach
from the country club team would go ape if he saw her."

"I saw her dive once the other day," I admitted.  "She looked
pretty good.  I haven't really watched her very much, though."

I studied June for a moment, and then said what was on my mind. 
"She told me you picked her up."  I was curious how June would
respond.

June shrugged.  "It's kind of a trick, kind of not.  When you
pick up someone who's in the water, they aren't very heavy.  We
float, you know?"

I nodded, yes, indeed we did.  "But, when you lift someone up,
less and less is in the water."  She smiled at me.  "I'm really
strong.  I can lift two people Carolyn's size, even out of the
water.  One handed."

What had Jay said about Karen?  She'd "pulverized" the man who
attacked her.  June had broken Jamie's nose; maybe Jamie should
count her blessings.

Evidently, June was a mind reader.  "When I hit Jamie, at the
last second, I knew it was wrong.  I tried to stop.  I'm glad I
didn't hit her as hard as I wanted to, the first few seconds."

"I'm glad you didn't either.  When I was in junior high my mom
used to make me so mad.  Once, I lost my temper and threw
everything in my room around.  Emptied the drawers, took
everything out of my closet and threw it on the floor.  Clothes,
papers, school books... everything."  I shook my head.  "Let's
just say my dad applied his hand to my bottom in a very firm
way."

She smiled.  "I spent a lot of time cleaning my room afterwards,
a lot of time making sure I never lost my temper again."  I waved
towards the house.  "The other day when the social worker was
here..."  After a second, I met her eyes.  "She really pushed my
buttons."

"They do it on purpose, Dad says.  They want to make you angry,
if they succeed, it shows that you're no good.  They take your
kids away; they put them in juvenile hall or foster care... out
of sight, out of mind.  More work for them... doesn't matter what
it costs anyone else."

I remembered the meeting, remembered my anger, almost rage.  Had
Sanchez been goading me?  At the time I thought she lacked a
soul, all human compassion and understanding.  Had she been
goading me as well?  Both, I thought.  Soulless as well as
prodding me to make me jump.

I slid a little forward, sank to the bottom of the pool.  I'd
never thought about drowning as an anger management tool, but
after thirty or forty seconds, the anger I'd felt was wholly
replaced by the urge to surface and take a breath.  I let it go
another few seconds, then came up.

"I didn't mean to upset you, Laura," June said quietly.

"It wasn't you, June, it wasn't you."  Dear God!  Was I so
utterly transparent that a teenage girl could look right through
me?

I realized the diving board was now silent, I glanced down at the
other end of the pool; saw that Sylvia and Toni were kissing.

June saw my glance and turned around to look behind her.  "Those
two..."  June said with a laugh, shaking her head.  "You would
think with as much time as they spend together, they'd get tired
of it.  But no..."

"It's not a problem limited to them -- or even limited to
teenagers."

She looked at me steadily.  Well, Laura, this time the ball's in
your court.  I was nervous as well as thoroughly jazzed.

Yet, for the first time I paused.  Gail, Susan, Jamie, Jackie,
Sherrie, Nancy, Marybeth.  Carolyn, a little.  Amy, a little. 
Fred in theory.  The list was already too long.  June?

I pictured the list of names written in chalk on a black board. 
I stood in front of the list, contemplating the names.  With cold
deliberation I reached out and rubbed June's name off the list. 
Then Gail and Jackie.  A memory of this morning -- had Carolyn
been thinking of me or June when she'd had her orgasm this
morning?  I rubbed Carolyn's name off the list.

I pictured the young police officer, his eyes glued to Sherrie's
breasts.  You don't know it Sherrie, but I don't think you're
going to be on the list much longer.  The list was still too
long.  After Nancy and Marybeth, none of the names on the list
was a rational choice... no matter how much my heart went
pitter-pat at the thought.

"Laura?" June's question brought me back.

"Sorry," I told her, then smiled at her.  "I think I'm going
inside and get some tea," I told her.

I walked to the pool steps, climbed out without a glance at Toni
and Sylvia and went inside and poured myself some tea.  When I
settled back down on the picnic table, the three girls were
diving again.

"Ladies!" I called.  They all stopped and looked at me.  I waved
the tea glass.  "Last night was the last time you were company;
starting today, you can serve yourselves.  There's tea, juice and
soda in the fridge."

They continued to dive for a while, and then swam a bit more. 
Then they got out, June went inside and coming back in a bit with
three cans of coke.  They sat at the other table talking, while I
just contemplated sunlight glints on the pool.

It was, I thought, a watershed event.  I'd wanted June.  No doubt
in my mind, if I had started something, she'd have responded. 
But I hadn't started anything, so the idea that I wasn't
initiating sex with the girls still held true.  It seemed like a
flimsy thread, but I clung to it.

Once again I pulled up my mental list.  What had made up my mind
in each case?  Gail?  Gail was too hungry; Amy might have
forgiven Fred and shrugged off Gail.  I liked Gail as a person,
but liking was going to have to be enough for Gail.

Jackie?  Jackie had already moved on.  If she were to come back,
it would be for nostalgia or old times sake.  I wasn't into
either.

Carolyn was ready to move on as well.  It hadn't taken much to
give her the self-confidence she needed.  I would gently, very
gently, make sure that last night and this morning never happened
again.  Carolyn was too close to the abyss; I didn't want to go
there and I was thinking maybe she knew that.  After each time
we'd gotten intimate, Carolyn had rushed off to be with someone
her own age.  Better for you, Carolyn.

Sherrie.  I laughed at the thought.  Sherrie was the simplest
puzzle of them all.  Her friend Ann had left her, but in truth,
Ann simply beat Sherrie to the punch.  Sherrie liked sex, and she
had a wild streak... but I'd seen the light in her eyes when she
talked about the police officer.  If it wasn't that young man, it
would be another.  It was time for Sherrie to realize the obvious
and not allow herself to be distracted -- by me or anyone else.

Once, not all that long ago, Linda had told me that most girls
from the cheerleaders went straight in college and lived happy
lives ever after.  I suspected that perhaps in middle age there
might be a little nostalgia and perhaps an occasional return to
old preferences.  Linda was right, though.

I looked at the next table and met June's eye.  She knew what I'd
been thinking earlier.  She hadn't been put off, but  if she'd
been truly interested, she'd concealed it well.  I was, I
thought, someone new and exotic.  Interesting.  Perhaps I was,
but that wasn't the best reason to make love to someone.  It
wasn't even a good reason to make love to someone.

June knew I was looking at her and she stuck her tongue out at me
in an impudent manner.

I chuckled, got up, walked over to her, reached out and pulled
her suit top away from her breasts.  I dumped my ice dregs from
my glass into her suit top.  "Be cool!" I admonished.

Sylvia and Toni had looked surprised for a second, traded looks
and then started giggling hysterically.

I sat back down.  June flipped me a bird, but she was laughing
too.

"That worked," June said, trying to maintain some aplomb.  "I'm
not nearly as horny as I was a second ago."

"Probably for the best," I agreed.

She looked at me, and then nodded.  "Maybe."

"For the best," I repeated.

June shrugged.  "Okay."

A while later, they bid me goodbye and headed home for what I was
sure was going to be a heavy afternoon of lessons.

I took a quick shower, then got in the car and headed off to do a
little shopping.

The store was "Cathy's Cool World" in a small strip mall, closer
to Paradise Valley than to Scottsdale.  In the main part of the
store it rather resembled Victoria's Secret, except there was
more than sexy undergarments.  Cathy seemed to be aiming at
keeping a woman cool from the temperature.  There were any number
of filmy bras, slips and panties.  But, on top of those, so to
speak, were thin pants and blouses, as well as teddies and
peignoirs.  If it could be made out of gossamer fabric, Cathy had
it for sale.

I found a pair of pajamas for Susan; while they were opaque in
their normal state, they were also stretchable.  Moreover, when
stretched, they were the opposite of opaque.  The trick was to
get a set just a size or so too small.

I could see the little alcove that Marybeth had told me about,
where the toys were located.  There were two women who were
standing at the cash register, talking to each other.  That
didn't bother me, which was nice, as I hate "help" when I'm
browsing.

I laughed at myself after a minute.  The thing to do was to walk
through the door, I thought.  If it was going to embarrass me
enough to keep me out, what was the point?

I walked towards the door and went through it.

Marybeth had said alcove; the room on the other side was easily
the largest alcove I'd seen.  It was about forty feet long and
twenty feet wide; the aisles and walls were lined with counters
and showcases.

A young woman in her early twenties was working stocking shelves.
 When I came in, she looked up.

She was dark-skinned, dark-haired and dark-eyed.  She looked me
up and down, put down what she was doing and came towards me. 
"You must be Laura," she said, holding out her hand.  "Marybeth
said you might be coming sooner rather than later."

It was on the tip of my tongue to say that evidently Marybeth
knew me quite well, but I decided to keep my mouth firmly shut. 
I'd have said too much.

She smiled at me.  "I'm Elena Bustamonte."  I finished the
handshake and let my hand drop.  She smiled at me.  "I graduated
from Scottsdale.  I think you could say I majored in cheer in
high school."

In other words, she had a pretty good idea where I stood.

I decided that I wasn't going to be equally forthright.  "I have
a friend who has birthday coming up.  I was thinking she might
like something a little better than what she uses now."  I
swallowed; it was harder to say than I thought.  "A dildo," I
concluded lamely, stumbling over the word.  Maybe I was being a
little too forthright.

She smiled at me, nodded and guided me to a series of counters. 
Marybeth had been right.  Some of the devices on offer were of
incredible dimensions.  However, they had thoughtfully been
graded by size.  I started at the length and girth that seemed
more suitable for my daughter.

Elena simply talked about the advantages of ribs, of "natural
shape."  Some could be filled with warm water; some were softer
and more flexible than others.  They came in a simply amazing
variety of sizes and colors.

After a bit of that, Elena pointed to another display case. 
"Perhaps your friend might like something a little more...
active."

I looked.  Of course I'd heard about vibrators, but I'd never
used one myself before I met Marybeth.  They were like the
dildos: all shapes and sizes and colors.  "We include batteries
with everything we sell," Elena said, looking serious.  "We
wouldn't want a customer to get home and find her new friend
unable to function."

I swallowed again, more uncomfortable than ever.  "We wouldn't
want that," I echoed the thought.

Elena waved at the door to the 'cubicle' that led back to the
main store.  "We want to help our customers, we want them to be
satisfied."

My stomach knotted up.  Too many people knew too much.

Elena reached across the counter and lightly touched my arm. 
"Laura, I understand.  A lot of us understand.  You don't have to
be embarrassed or ashamed.  Not about what you are looking for,
or who it's for."  She waved around the room.  "You're an adult,
Laura.  Anyone could make a reasonable assumption that you were
looking for something for yourself."

I don't know what expression I had on my face, but Elena read it
like a printed page.  "You're having second thoughts."  Her voice
made it sound like it was something almost inconceivable.

"Once, eight years ago, Laura, I was a shy, short, skinny girl
just barely into my teens.  I saw all those bouncy, happy, and
above all popular girls who were cheerleaders.  Sweet Mary,
Mother of God, did I want to be like them!  I wanted to be one of
them!  There wasn't anything I wouldn't do to join.

"I was athletic; I hadn't had any formal training in dance, but I
was a quick study.  That was Nancy Howland's first year as coach,
Coach Farmer's last year."  She smiled at me.  "I thought I was
going to ruin all of my hopes, when I realized that I was
obsessing on Nancy.  It wasn't even sexual at first, not really.
I just wanted to grow up to be like her; I followed her around
like a puppy.

"One day we had an away football game and I sat next to her on
the bus home.  The game had been in Flagstaff; it was really cold
and none of us had more than light jackets."  Elena smiled at me.
 "Nancy pulled a blanket over the both of us, to keep us warm.  I
snuggled up against her, and she leaned down and kissed me. 
Pretty soon, I was plenty warm."  She smiled, obviously having no
regrets.

"A few days later I stayed late to help put things up, and she
washed my back in the shower.  Then my front, then she kissed me
again.  That afternoon was the first time someone made love to
me.  I was in heaven, Laura.  It was beautiful, wonderful, and I
was eager to do it again and again.  And we did, for the better
part of four years, Laura.  And not just her, either.

"Sometimes, some of the girls would talk about Nancy and
Marybeth, about some of the other older women who helped out with
cheerleading who also made love to us.  I never thought for a
second they were taking advantage of us.  No one did.  We
understood why it wasn't good for an adult to be with a
particular girl exclusively; I was one of the lucky ones that
way.  And that's how I thought of myself: lucky beyond my wildest
imagining."

She paused for a moment, reflecting.  "My home life was the pits,
Laura.  My father was a Type A personality, he was never home. 
Mom drank, and now and then, would hit me.  One day my mother
beat me up really bad and Dad came to my rescue.  Mom hit him on
the head with a frying pan and he knocked her silly.  The police
came and arrested both of them.  After that it I had a choice to
either go into foster care or Nancy offered to let me stay with
her.  Laura, she's done so much for me... for others..."

I nodded in understanding.  "We were taught so much.  Not just
about sex, but about life and living.  Now, I have a degree in
psychology and a minor in history.  I'm going to be teaching
social studies at Scottsdale come fall.  And I'll be volunteering
to help with cheer as well."  She grinned.  "I have a bit of
history there myself.

"Laura, it's more than sex.  Marybeth and Nancy both understand
it has to be more than that.  I do too.  Young girls have a lot
to learn about growing up and what's ahead of them -- beyond what
happens in bed.  That's what people like you do.  Already the
girls at school talk about you.  I've heard from others besides
Marybeth and Nancy about you."

My first instinct was to nod and smile and pick up one of the
vibrators and ask the first question that came into my mind. 
Talking about this was, I thought, foolish.  Each and every
person who knew increased the likelihood of disclosure.

Again, she read me perfectly.  "Come," she told me.  She led me a
few feet to a place that really was an alcove.  A small sofa set
back out of view of the room.  She sat down, and tugged me down
to sit beside her.

"No one," she told me firmly, "is going to talk about this.  I
understand about your concerns; everyone does.  It's one thing
that means more to us than anything else about our experiences. 
There is a long, solid tradition, one that no one wants to go
against.  We don't talk about ourselves, outside of the group. 
Not ever.  Not to someone not in the group.

"I asked Marybeth once about the girls who don't spend time with
the advisors.  We talk among ourselves, like I said.  I knew why
no one would talk; I was curious to know what she thought about
it.  We're special, we're taught to think of ourselves as
special.  Not important special, just unique and special to
friends, our families and ourselves.  We care about each other,
Laura.  We take care of each other.  When Marybeth explained to
me how long that had been going on, it was then I really
understood things."

She smiled at me.  "I don't know if I'm making sense."

"You are," I told her.

"You're feeling guilty for having feelings for us."

I shrugged.  "Yes.  For enjoying sex with girls so much.  And not
just the cheerleaders... my experience lately has been with
girls... younger."

I'd said it.  I waited for the world to end.  I waited to see the
dismay and disgust on her face.  There wasn't any.  "As young as
eleven," I said, my voice a bare whisper.

"And she wanted it?  You?"  I nodded, knowing my face was flaming
red in shame.

"Laura, being a teenager these days is really hard.  There are
all sorts of pressures on you.  All sorts.  From parents who
expect straight A's, to parents who wished they'd abandoned you
at birth, or as one girl I knew, told that her parents regretted
not aborting her.  Family expectations, society's expectations or
the absence of any expectation at all.  The whole spectrum of the
universe, pushing against the girls.

"Guys, hormones, life -- we have it all.  It is so much easier,
Laura, to negotiate the rocks and shoals of life, with someone
there to guide you.  Sure, there are some kids who resent
anything like interference in their lives.  That sort of person
doesn't make a good cheerleader.  You are part of a team; you
have to move together, support each other.  It's fundamental to
what we do.  If you can't listen to opinions and suggestions on
how to do things -- you can't possibly be a member of a team.

"We support each other, we're really close in high school, and as
we get older, well, we grow up.  We stop needing so much close
support, but it's there if we need it.  You have no idea how much
it means and has meant to us.  We know if something happens to
us, anything, be it good, bad or terrible -- someone will be
there for us.  If we paint ourselves into a corner, someone knows
how to get you out of the mess.

"You have a lifetime of experience, Laura.  You want to share
that with us.  Yes, you have likes and desires, but then, who
among us doesn't?  Don't be ashamed of them.  Marybeth says
you're helping get the program back on track, and that the team
had gotten derailed.  That you understand 'don't push' a lot
better than some.

"Laura, that's the core of our beliefs.  That it's all
consensual.  Now I hear that there's been pushing going on, not
just mild pushing, but way over the line.  That even Nancy is
getting careless.  Coach Farmer taught us how important it was to
stick to our core beliefs.  You, Marybeth says, are a breath of
fresh air.  You are helping put things back like they should
be."

I spoke one of the many doubts I had.  "I was never a
cheerleader.  I wanted to be.  But I never was."

"You've seen us," Elena told me.  "Do you think you were better
off not being in cheer?"

"No.  I realize now that if I had, my life would have been very
different.  A month ago, if you'd asked me I would probably have
guessed that at some point in time I'd remarry and continue on as
before.  I can't believe that my tastes have changed that much
over the years; if I'd have been in cheer, I might never have
been with a man."

Elena giggled.  "I don't know; when I was in high school I
couldn't imagine being with a guy either.  Then in college, I
found I could imagine it.  Coach Farmer was married, happily
married, to a husband who understood her and allowed her to help
us.  Her daughter was a teammate for my first two years.  Now,
she's happily married and coaches a cheerleading program in
Southern California."

She reached out and touched my hand.  "And if you like young
girls... well, so do I.  I started when I was a freshman in high
school; that's the age I like best.  And Coach Farmer, she
believed that if you were old enough to enjoy sex and wanted sex,
you were old enough to be wanted and enjoyed."

"Thank you," I told her, grateful for the support.

She laughed and shook her head.  "You're there to help.  You're
here to buy toys for your friends.  Not even the boss can
complain about that."  She waved around us.  "Although, perhaps,
you'd like me to show you some vibrators?"

It wasn't exactly like shopping for a dress or blouse; but before
I left with a bag of toys for my friends and myself I was
certainly a lot more knowledgeable about the subject.

When I got home, there was a message on the phone.  That was from
Nancy, asking me if I would let Carolyn stay another night. 
Carolyn's father had called and said that her mother was a
fraction of an inch from a breakdown.  Nancy told me she would
drive over to Carolyn's house, get some more of her things.

"Look, it's not a problem if Carolyn stays here," I told her. 
"It's Friday, there's a pool party tomorrow for the girls.  Why
don't you ask Denise if Carolyn can stay until Sunday?"

Nancy agreed that sounded like a good idea, and said she had to
run.

Sherrie came back a little later, and we spent a while talking. 
The phone rang and I picked it up.  It was a nervous young man,
wanting to speak to Sherrie.  I grinned and handed her the phone,
then went outside to the pool.

It was definitely getting hot in the afternoons now.  Hotter than
I ever really remembered in New York.  I tried to read for a bit,
but I couldn't concentrate on the pages.

I was restless, unsure if I was horny or just frustrated in
general.  The door to the house opened, and I looked up,
expecting to see Sherrie; instead it was Karen Scott. 
"Afternoon, Laura," she told me.  I waved at a chair next to me,
and she sat down.

"I've gotten spoiled by the nice afternoons," I told her.  "This
is, though, getting a bit too warm."

Karen chuckled at that.  "It's supposed to just break 90 today;
wait until it reaches a 110.  It will be more than a bit warm."

"Dry heat, though?  Right?" I asked.  "Everyone talks about dry
heat."

"Mostly," she agreed.  "However, on monsoon days, it can be a 110
in the shade and a hundred per cent humidity.  The only solace is
air-conditioning."

I contemplated that; decided that it was something I'd have to
see, but I could wait.

"I came over because I was talking to June earlier.  I was
tempted to turn my daughter over my knee and paddle her.  Gus
isn't going to be very happy either, but she's off grocery
shopping."

I decided that she was referring to the fact that the three girls
hadn't been doing a very good job of being discreet.

"That, and I've been feeling badly about a lie I told you the
other day."

I raised an eyebrow.

"Not a big lie, just one we often use.  We're one family you see,
the four of us adults, the three girls.  An open relationship for
us, the same for the girls.  We don't advertise it, but June says
they've pretty much let the cat out of the bag to you where they
are concerned."

	"It wasn't that bad.  I'm a Mom with a pool; I do tend to
snoop."

	Karen smiled.  "I've tried to tell them that about the only
place more uncomfortable making love than a swimming pool is at
the beach.  At their age desire swamps discomfort, almost every
day of the week."  We traded grins.

	"I'd already figured out about you, in any case," I explained.

	"There is something about you, Laura, that just makes people
want to trust you.  You should go into politics."

	I made the sign of a cross, laughing.  "Don't even think such a
nasty thing!"

	"I guess, considering politicians, it really isn't much of a
compliment, is it?"

	"Not much of one," I admitted.

	"Sorry."  She was silent for a while, and then glanced at her
watch.  "School gets out soon."

	I nodded.  "I have another house guest for a few days.  Her
parents are going through a bad patch."  I grimaced.  "There's a
fair amount of that going around, just now."

	Karen looked at me.  "The last few years, it's not a 'fair'
amount, it's a horrendous problem that's getting steadily worse."
 She was silent again, obviously thinking.

	"Laura, I want to ask you a very personal question.  I wish
you'd respect me and not dismiss it out of hand.  I'd rather hear
silence than a lie.  Laura, are you interested in June? 
Sexually?"

	Say yes, go to Jail, don't pass Go and don't collect two hundred
dollars.

	"No, not anymore."  I'm not sure why I spoke, nor why I spoke
the truth.

	"What made you change your mind?"  At least she wasn't screaming
with rage; her voice remained calm and level.

	"Because I find I like making love to girls her age entirely too
much."  Again, I was surprised at my words.  I could go to jail
for speaking them!  Was I crazy?

	"That really wasn't an answer."

	"I've been thinking about a lot of things lately," I told her. 
"I looked at June and decided that there had to be limits.  I
don't think the attraction is anything other than physical... and
I think that's true on both our parts.  I've learned that being
hungry can lead me places I don't want to go."

	"I was going to ask you, gently, not to."  Karen told me.  "June
isn't getting wild per se, but she's gotten into a habit of
seeing someone and chasing them until she succeeds in making love
to them.  I think someone telling her no would be good for her."

	I nodded.  "I won't.  I wasn't before, and I won't now."

	"Can I ask another favor?"

	I raised both eyebrows, and she giggled.  "No, I gather this
morning you didn't say anything, just went and did something
else.  Could you be a little more explicit saying no next time?"

	"I have trouble imagining a next time."

	She shook her head.  "June is a determined young woman.  You
piqued her interest, not the other way around.  There will almost
certainly be a next time."

	The doorbell rang, and I looked up, a little exasperated.  Here
I was setting myself up for a million year jail term and now
there was someone else at the door.

	"Excuse me," I told Karen and got up.

	She got up as well, "I just wanted to say what I said, Laura. 
I'm not upset; none of us are upset.  June is her own person, but
like you said, there are places that can lead that aren't good."

	"I will tell June most definitely not, then."

	We reached the living room, and I opened the door without
looking again.

	Lydia Sanchez looked past me and saw Karen.  "What is that
person doing here?" she demanded, pointing at Karen like someone
accusing a witch at the Salem trials.

	A jail term, remember jail terms.  Nonetheless, I was sure I was
as pale as a sheet for an instant.  Just for an instant, then a
whole lot of things boiled over at once.

	"Karen Scott is a neighbor.  Miss Sanchez, you need to start
using people's names and stop objectifying them.  You offend me
when you do it."  I was an inch short of blowing my stack
completely.

	She looked at me, waved her hand dismissively.  "A woman of
dubious ability as a parent isn't the sort of person you should
have in your home."

	I was caught up in a whirlwind of conflicting emotions; anger,
fear... odd how loathing trumped them just then.

	"You know a cook by the results.  I'd say June Scott is a fine
young woman.  You don't have any children, do you?"

	"I don't let my personal affairs interfere with my work."

	"I should hope not!" I felt something then that I'd never felt
before.  Me, who not only didn't tell jokes, but who usually
didn't get them in the first place.  Me, who hated practical
jokes with a passion.  "If you are having affairs you'd better
not bring it to the job!  Not this job!"

	She blinked, and her face turned prune blue-black.  "Where's
Raul?" I asked.

	"He quit," she said absently, obviously trying to get a handle
on her own emotions.  "This is a difficult job, not everyone is
prepared for it."

	I firmly stuffed all of the smart-ass remarks I wanted to make,
all of the rude thoughts I wanted to impart to her and
concentrated on Amy.  This was about Amy, not this miserable
excuse for a human being.

	I opened the door wider.  "Why don't you come in, Ms. Sanchez? 
We don't need to stand here and let the air-conditioning drain
out."

	"I was just going," Karen said.  She brushed past the woman and
headed towards her house.

	"Is there anyone else here?" the Sanchez person asked.

	"Sherrie's in her room, homework I think," I told her.  I
glanced at my watch.  "Tell me, how long does someone have to
stay here before I need to tell you about her?"

	"What do you mean?"

	I realized it was going to be difficult to explain, because I
had not, in fact, met Carolyn's parents.  Or even a relative,
just Nancy who was close to her mother.  I would be doing no one
a favor if I was as candid with Sanchez as I'd been with Karen. 
"I was just curious, as all.  My daughter had a sleepover for
some friends a few weeks ago; a friend of hers stayed the night
last night and might stay for the weekend.

	"So, one day?  Two?  Three?  How long does someone have to stay
before I need to let you know?"

	"Long term guests or residents."  Her answer was very quick.

Ah, I thought!  I was asking questions about the rulebook!  I
filed that away for the future.

	"Would you like to look around?" I asked, my temper finally
under control.

	She did, just cruised through, poking her nose into every open
door, including my bedroom.  Sherrie had her door closed and
Sanchez looked at it, as if she wanted to bug Sherrie.  Still,
she didn't do anything; a second later she was gone.

	Susan and Jamie appeared from school, Carolyn in tow.  A short
time later Nancy arrived, whisked Carolyn off, then was back a
half hour later.

	Carolyn had obviously been crying, she ran to me and hugged me
tight.  I hugged her, without saying anything, just looking at
Nancy.

	Nancy just shrugged.  "It's good that you can do this, Laura. 
Right now Denise doesn't appreciate it, but she will later.  I'm
going back over and see if I can talk to her."

	She left, and I scooped Carolyn up and carried her to my room. 
I pointed at my bed.  "I want you to rest for a few minutes,
Carolyn."

	"I'm not tired."  She was making, I thought, a pro forma
objection.

	"Here," I told her, sitting down on the bed, a distance away
from her.  "Face me."

	She did.  I crossed my legs, lotus-style and put my hands in the
position I'd found most comfortable for meditating.  "Sit like I
am."

	What had taken minor tugging on my part was something Carolyn
could do without any help.

	"Have you ever been to the ocean?" I asked and she nodded. 
"What I want you to do now is sit still, close your eyes and
think about the ocean.  Remember how it looked, how it smelled,
the sound of the waves, the sounds the birds made.  I want you to
focus very hard on those, okay?"

	Again, she nodded.  "I'm going to do the same thing, Carolyn. 
When I stop, you can."

	I saw she was, at least in appearance, doing as I asked.  For a
hyperactive kid her age, that was good enough.  I emptied my own
mind and tried to focus.  I wanted to help.  I wanted to help Amy
and Fred, Carolyn and others.  I wanted Susan to grow up happy, I
wanted my daughter to have a chance at doing the things she
wanted, some of which I'd missed out on.  I wanted her safe and
able to look back someday on her life as a teenager and sigh with
pleasure, not racked with regrets about might have happened if
only...  I wanted them all safe and happy.

	Was I making any of them safer or happier by making love to
them?

	I didn't have an answer; it wasn't an easy question to answer at
all.  At first blush, I thought that since I hadn't heard any
complaints, that everything was fine.  But Nancy and Marybeth
hadn't heard Amy's complaints -- or Jackie's, for that matter. 
How many other girls had complaints?  It wasn't a comfortable
question, either.

It had been a fleeting thought at the time.  I'd been talking to
Sanchez about Karen Scott.  I'd observed that the proof of the
chef is in the results.  Maybe it wasn't possible to know right
away, not for sure.  But, over time, you could tell by how the
girls turned out.  What had Marybeth said?  They'd been doing
this same sort of thing for more than fifty years?  She'd gone on
to tell how satisfying it was when girls came back years later,
thanking her for the help she'd given them.

	Yep, the proof was in the pudding.  If it had come out, even
once, it would have ended.  If it was a bad thing for adults to
make love to young girls, a lot of girls would have crashed and
burned.  Marybeth had been part of it, Nancy had.  Others had. 
The idea was fundamentally sound, then.

	Why?  Why did society think it was wrong, when there was at
least some anecdotal evidence to the contrary?  Religion and
culture, I thought.  Not to mention, there were people like Lydia
Sanchez in the world: narrow-minded bigots.  Of course, she'd
deny it furiously if you accused her of bigotry, but it was true.
 She was as much a bigot as any fool in a white bed sheet burning
a cross.

	And that was merely a baneful person.  There were a lot worse
out there.  Evil and malign, like the men who'd killed my
husband.  Like the murders and rapists, the batterers and abusers
that haunted the dark corners of civilized society.

	What does "don't push" mean?  It meant fundamental respect for
another person's wishes and values.  Respect for the person
herself.  Or himself.  How do you teach someone to respect
others?  They see it done around them; they have role models and
teachers.  Could you fully respect someone else's wishes and
values if you didn't respect your own?  I didn't think so.

	At a certain point in the process of going from child to mature
adult, you stopped being self-centered and started paying
attention to others.  Growing up was a long and difficult
process; fraught with places a person could get messed up.  The
trick was to make sure the environment was right.  And in this
day and age, that wasn't an easy task.

	I felt a set of arms go around my waist, a head snuggle against
my shoulder.  I felt the warm glow of my daughter and I was
comforted.  A moment later, another a hand on my shoulder and
another head pillowed against me.  Jamie, I thought.  Then an
encompassing hug, Sherrie, I was sure.

	The proof of the chef was indeed in the results.  And so far, I
liked the results.

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