Chapter 4: Champions

On a Thursday night, halfway through the semester, I was sitting at my desk, shuffling my feet against the floor, trying to work my way through John Stuart Mill, for a class in Philosophy, and Kira was lying on her bed, reading a "Roots of Judaism" text for one of her Theology courses. Something had been bothering me all day, and I was finally able to find the words to express it to Kira.

"Hon, can I ask you a question, and have you give me your best impartial answer?" I said.

"Uh huh," Kira answered absently, absorbed in the thick book.

"Well, do you think that I could ever be 'good looking?' I mean, I know I could never be beautiful or anything like that, but do you think that, maybe with, like an extreme make over or something, I could be, uh, maybe not too ugly?'" Kira looked up at me, over the lenses of her reading glasses, something that I always thought looked cute.

"Rachel, honey, I think you're already beautiful..." Kira ventured.

"I know baby, and I love you beyond life for it, but you're not being impartial, and that's what I really need here," I said. "Could I ever be pretty, or good looking, or cute, or, not gross if, say, people taught me to do stuff to look better?" There were tears in my eyes already, and I had a feeling that this was going to be harder for me to discuss than I had expected.

"C'mere baby, Kira said, patting the mattress next to where she was stretched out, her upper body resting against the headboard, her panties-covered bottom and bare legs and feet resting on the mattress. She was wearing a tee shirt with "Cheerleader Squad" in green silk-screened on it, no bra, her hair hanging loose, and a pair of white athletic socks, and of course, her panties had kittens on them, this being Thursday. Kira was sometimes a slave to habit.

I got up and padded over to her, I was a little more formally dressed, wearing cutoffs and an old golf shirt of my father's, that I'd rescued when my mother got around to throwing out his clothes sometime after his death, and my fuzzy cat slippers that I thought were cute, but at which Kira rolled her eyes, something I thought was perhaps just a tiny bit hypocritical, given her 'animals on the panties' issues, and her own fuzzy bunny slippers.

I sat down next to her, and Kira put her arms around me and hugged me, her fingers stroking my long brown hair. I never needed a hug so badly as then, and I felt so warm and safe in her arms there. Of course, that just made me start crying for real, then. Kira held me, and just made quiet little "shshsh" sounds, and rocked me back and forth. The smell and warmth of her hair was comforting to me, and reminded me of the few times I could remember when my mother was a mother, and hadn't been actively trying to fuck with my head.

I kind of cried myself out, and looked at Kira, and I said, "I'll bet I look REAL attractive now, huh?" And Kira said, "My impartial answer is, 'You've looked better.'" I started giggling and said, "This is my serious heartfelt problem for the day, and YOU'RE making me giggle?" I tried to look outraged, but didn't have much luck.

"Okay, seriously Rachel, you really ARE good looking, that's my impartial answer. And the feminist, empowering answer is that looks are a man-generated non issue, and that looks aren't important. But I understand that you want to demonstrate to yourself somehow that you're good looking, at least that's what I THINK you want." Kira looked at me uncertainly, and I slowly nodded my head, as I looked deeply into her soft blue eyes. My fingers nervously flattened the wrinkles in the sheet next to me.

"Yeah, that kind of sounds like it. I'd just like to BELIEVE that I'm not ugly," I said, tears welling up again. I rubbed my eyes to clear them, and sniffled, then looked at Kira.

"Do you think that you'll EVER believe you're good looking?" Kira said, "given what your mother did to you?" She pulled a tissue from the tissue box on her side of the bed, and handed it to me. I dabbed at my eyes and nose. "Think about it. You wonder if you could ever be considered 'good looking, ' but you keep defaulting to 'not ugly.' And the longer you talk about your looks, the lower your self-assessment becomes."

"I didn't notice that," I said, mulling over her words. "But I think that I can." A brief smile flashed over my face, and then was gone, like a passing butterfly.

"Well then, it's for sure that you're not going to believe that I can be impartial about your looks," Kira said, thoughtfully, her hand over mine. "And I don't think that you could be impartial about your looks either. So, maybe if somebody else said you were 'attractive, ' 'cute, ' whatever, then you'd have to believe them, right?" Her eyes remained steady on mine.

"Yeah, I guess so," I said. "But none of our friends would tell us the truth if they thought it would hurt either of us, and strangers would just think I was crazy if I asked them." We both sat there for a while, my fingers absently stroking Kira's bare thigh, so smooth and tan. Kira seemingly went back to reading her Theology text, and had perused a paragraph or two of it, when she suddenly slammed the book shut, making a loud CRACK!, and startling me.

"I know!" Kira said. "The Winter Festival, just before Christmas break. There's always a contest to elect 'Santa's Helpers.' It's supposed to be a charitable thing to raise money, but it ends up being a beauty contest, at least for the girls. The guys usually end up electing a dog, or a wacky celebrity or something as the male Santa's Helpers."

"A dog?" I said.

"Yeah, one year they elected a bottle of beer - they don't seem to take it very seriously," she said. "But, it's always been pretty competitive among chicks." I giggled.

"You sound like a guy. Chicks?"

"Why not?" Kira said, mock-leering at me. "I like the same thing." She cupped one of my breasts, and gently squeezed it, bringing her lips to mine and kissing me for a few moments. She pulled her face away from mine, and said, "Anyway, I think a beauty contest is just what you need, sexist or not."

"I don't think I'm ready for that," I said. "I mean a campus-wide contest, that's ridiculous, I couldn't compete with most of the girls here!"

"Well, I disagree with you, I think you could, but that's the beauty of it. Er, sorry. I mean that's what makes it perfect. It's a dorm-wide competition. Each dorm elects their own male and/or female Santa's Helpers. You can compete for the Female Santa's Helper from 'The Madhouse!' Besides the great honor of representing Madison Hall, there are many awesome gifts for the winners, I think last year Ellen Johnson from the 3rd floor, and an Abyssinian named 'Clyde' won a big bag of Cheetos and a $10 Starbucks gift card. I think Clyde got the Cheetos, and Ellen got the gift card... or was it the other way around... ?"

Kira pretended to look thoughtful, so I hit her with my pillow. I think any jury in the country would vote to acquit, don't you? LOL

"So, what do you think? I'd ADORE helping you get dressed up, and made up, and do your hair, and, and, everything! I'm getting excited!" Kira smiled happily.

"Mm, do you REALLY think it'll be okay?" I said. "I don't mean do you think that I'll win, I just mean, do you think I won't get too embarrassed?"

"Sure, it's a secret vote, they only announce the winners, so nobody else gets embarrassed, see?"

"In that case, okay, and I REALLY, REALLY, REALLY appreciate you helping me, 'cause I don't have a clue what to do!" I hugged Kira, and then we kissed, our soft and full lips coming together, the sweetest, most romantic sensation I've ever truly felt every time I've done it. The sweetest thing about my lovely, blonde goddess Kira, is that she's ALWAYS so good to me, even if I don't deserve it. Her lips, so full and warm, softly conveyed her love for me, gently pressing against mine, her breath through her nose blowing warmly and lightly across my cheek. Her strong, small hands held me, as though she were afraid I was going to fly away in the middle of our kiss.

Her full, ripe breasts pressed against mine, and I sensed, rather than actually felt, her small pink nipples hard and erect against my own breasts. I brought one hand up to feather it across her left breast, feeling her roundness, and her heat. I could die, having known Kira's breasts, everything else was a bonus in life. We broke our kiss apart, and I looked into her eyes. I was stunned to see a glimmer of fear there. "Kira, what?" I said, fearful now myself.

"Nothing," she said. "I just don't want to ever lose you..."

"I will never leave you," I said, perhaps foolishly. It's for certain that the gods laugh at such pride and conceit on the part of lovers. But I was new to the Art of Loving, and didn't know any better.

Not yet a time for lovemaking, we both snuggled down on the bed, and kissed and caressed, inhaled each other's sweet, moist fragrance, assessed each other's state of arousal by pressing lips to softly-fevered flesh, lightly connected fingers to moisture. I remember my hands softly cupping Kira's warm, round bottom, our heat connecting, but not our flesh, my hands outside of her thin cotton panties, her nimble fingers idly stroking my crotch, through the worn blue denim. We both came, gently and just barely, lazily, because that was right for the time. As I was dozing off, Kira whispered, "Just one rule in the Pageant."

"What's that?" I mumbled.

"No fuzzy cat slippers on contestants," she said.

"Not even on Clyde?" I said. Her answer was inaudible as we both fell asleep.

The next day, we both got up pretty early, and headed out to our respective classes, a full day for both of us. I didn't get back to the room until 7, after a late class and dinner at the dining hall, salad and chicken fingers, with a glass of milk. I walked in, to find Kira at her study desk, wearing her usual animal panties (giraffes this time), white athletic socks, and a plain blue polyester blend collared blouse, nothing else. Her long, blonde hair tumbled over her shoulders fetchingly. She leaned her face up to me to be kissed, and after some small talk and catching up, I stripped down to panties and tee shirt, and headed over to the desk on the other side of the room to start my studies.

I had opened up my text, and was reading, for probably 15 minutes, when I heard a soft voice call, "Baby?"

I swiveled my arm chair around, to see Kira in her arm chair, facing me, a mysterious, faint smile on her face. Kira didn't say a word, but, looking at me through heavy-lidded eyes, slowly brought her right hand up to the top button on her blouse, fingering it open, then moving on to the next, and the next languidly, until her blouse hung open, and the inner swell of her full, creamy breasts was exposed, and I could see the little peaks her tiny, erect pink nipples made in the crisp fabric.

I was pleased to see that Kira wasn't wearing a bra, and had decided to share a view of her beautiful body with me, her beautiful breasts forcing the fabric apart, like a broad-shouldered football player crashing through a line of opponents. But Kira didn't stop there. She pulled the blouse off her shoulders, but left it still on, like a stole, so that my entire focus was on her lovely breasts, their full swell, and her sweet, oh so feminine pink nipples and areolas. She brought her hand up to her erect nipple on her right breast, and began circling it lightly with her finger.

I looked at Kira, and she was clearly excited, and caught up in her own seduction of me. She looked straight into my eyes, and licked her upper lip for me, then her lower lip, her upper torso moving faintly, sinuously and slowly. I licked my own lips, as my mouth had turned dry for some reason. Kira moved her hips forward on the chair a few inches, causing my eyes to focus there momentarily, and I could see a noticeable wet spot, glistening right where the slit of her pussy was hidden, her fluid in excess wetting the fabric there with her cream.

Kira continued stroking her breast, then went on to lightly pinching each of her nipples, the small, wet circle at her crotch getting larger. I found my own hand now, between my legs, absently stroking the outline of my pussy. I could feel my curly pubic hair compress, spring-like, under my fingers, as I strove to make more contact with the sensitive nerve endings there, in my clit and my labia, as they engorged with blood and my passion rose sharply. A faint whiff of my own musk rose up to tickle my nose, and inflame my lust further.

Soon, we were both engaged in a mutual exhibition, and a wonderful masturbatory seduction, Kira softly stroking her small, rough nipples, then bringing her other hand to the sweet area between her slim thighs, and tracing the outline of her labia, pausing to stroke her swollen pink clit, and, wetting her finger against the moist fabric, brought her finger delicately to her nose, and inhaled the sweet fragrance of her tight, little pussy, then taking the wet finger into her mouth and sucking it in between her soft lips.

I gave a little moan, and slipped my finger under the elastic legband of my own panties, in the crease of my pubic vee on the right side, my finger finding my own wet, open slit an inch away, and slipped inside my tight opening. My hips pushed forward at this stimulation, causing my finger to slip all the way inside, and I moaned again.

I took the finger out of my hot vagina, reluctantly, then echoed Kira's actions, bringing the wet digit up to my nose to smell, and become intoxicated by, the musky, fragrant aroma of my aroused pussy, and slipped the cream-coated finger into my mouth, to savor the flavor of a hot pussy.

Kira, on seeing that, cooed softly, then more blatantly pulled the front of her panties down, giving me an intoxicating view of her small blonde bush, her swollen, pink lips and reddish slit between, and, nestled just below her bush, the tiny, pink treasure of a pearl. She leaned back in her chair, exposing her sweet cunt to me, making herself sexually available to me, submitting to me, inviting me inside her.

That pink, wet pussy, pouting and plump, reeled me in, like a deep sea fisherwoman hauling in a sailfish. As though in a dream I rose up, pulled off my tee shirt to bare my breasts for her, my brown nipples stiffly erect for her mouth and fingers, and walked over to Kira, sprawled dreamily in her study chair, her blouse still on, but covering nothing, her pussy pushed forward, the panties covering her wet slit again. Kira looked up at me and smiled sexily, a woman in full sexual heat. Her hands went to my panties, one hand tugging at the waistband, the other closely cupping my cunt and bush. Kira tugged my panties off one hip, the bottoms uncovering one ass cheek, then, switching hands, so that her other hand now cupped and pressed my fabric-covered pussy, lowered my panties off the other hip, baring my other ass cheek, so that I essentially had nothing on, other than where her hand inexplicably still covered my hole with the fabric of my panties.

Then she pushed, and rotated the fabric against my mons and opening, until it was soaked with my own cream, and fragrant with my musk. Kira then lowered her hand from my pussy, taking away the last vestige of cloth covering me, and brought my wet panties down to the floor, where I stepped out of them. She then brought the moist panties up to her cute nose, and, covering her face with them, inhaled the scent of the most intimate parts of my body. After one deep breath, she gently took the panties off her face, then placed them aside on the desk, like a birthday present set aside while one thanks the gift-giver.

Kira looked up at me, her full pink lips whispering, "My beautiful lover," then put her hand on my bottom, and pulled me, willingly, toward her face. My hips on the same level as her mouth, her intentions were obvious, and I brought my legs astraddle the chair to make it easier for her. Kira's soft lips gently kissed my bush, the springy brown hair there, rebounding from her lips pressed against it, then ducked her head slightly to bring the tip of her pink tongue against the pink of my clit, her knowing tongue applying just the right amount of friction on that sensitive organ.