Isobel Ford closed her eyes for a moment. The swaying of the old bus on its worn-out springs as it rumbled down the road was almost soporific. Only almost, because it wheezed and creaked and the engine knocked. Her eyes popped open seconds after they closed. In front of her, Mr. Stanton from the college's athletic trainers' office wrestled with the wheel, his eyes fixed on the dark road ahead. Good. He was awake and driving carefully. But then he generally slept in the bus, probably had the entire time the meet had been going on.

Damn it, the 35 year old sharp featured woman grumbled to herself, none of the boy's teams, except maybe the chess squad traveled like this. The football team was even flying to out of town games now. The baseball and basketball teams and yes, even the men's track team, went in the new air-conditioned Greyhound style buses, not this old rattle trap. It was 1966 for god's sake. When was the administration going to wake up about women's sports?

Of course those old fuddy-duddies in that ivory tower called the College President's Office hadn't realized that it was a new day and new ideas were sweeping the country. Even the demonstrations and the sit-ins hadn't alerted them to the idea of the equality and importance of women's athletics.

Her eyes traveled around the dark interior of the bus. She really couldn't make out much of anyone but she knew where all of her girls were piled up. She knew them and fussed over them. She knew who most of them were dating and how their grades were as well as subjects like which events they shone at and who ran the best relays together. She knew that at least one of them was having sex with one of those very higher up males she was silently complaining about. She smiled to herself. That was okay. Her eyes searched down to locate both girls who enjoyed certain games they played with her in her office with the doors locked.

She snorted. That was another thing. That not-to-be-named girl could discreetly spend the night at a certain male Professor's off campus apartment and no one would say a word. But let Rhonda or Daphne spend the night at her place and she would be out of a job the next day. Free love didn't extend to Lesbians even in this modern day.

The night clouds parted and the bus was illuminated by the half moon. Isobel could see clearly the members not only of her team but also the rather unfamiliar members of the cheerleading squad that had accompanied them to the meet. That was nice of them, she acknowledged. They weren't required to do that, even though most of the ones along were the back-ups. She strained her eyes towards the rear where two girls were sleeping on the same seat.

Pam Maguire was one of her girls. The slender, long legged brunette was good over the hurdles but even better for long distance. She wore her hair long for an athlete and loved to let it fall in soft curls around her shoulders. She was a theater arts student, a rather unusual field when most of her teammates were Physical Education majors. Isobel briefly enjoyed one of the fantasies that involved her; a fantasy involving her desk, her strapon and the young woman's long legs.

She really didn't know Pam's roommate, Kim McCall. The other girl was from somewhere up in Canada, living with American relatives to allow her to go to school here. She was, of all things, a math major. Not exactly what one thought of when the word "Cheerleader" came to mind. Isobel snorted again. What a silly thought. Sometimes the hardest things to spot were your own prejudices, even as you complained about other people's. She shifted to a more comfortable position and closed her eyes.

The two roommates in the far back were huddled together, but they weren't asleep. Pam had showered and changed clothes after the track meet, but the young brunette had donned her customary outfit of shorts and a loose sleeveless shirt to go with her white socks and running shoes. The slightly shorter, black haired Kim was still wearing her bright red and yellow cheerleader outfit. She leaned her head against her friend's shoulder and studied the coach at the front of the bus through the lashes of her seemingly closed eyes.

"Miss Ford was looking at you again," she whispered without moving her lips. She giggled softly. "She wants to throw you down on that leather couch in her office and fuck you."

"How do you know its me?" Pam replied, her lips resting against Kim's hair. "I saw her watching your legs while you were cheering. Every time your skirt went up she licked her lips. I've heard she has one of those harness type things that lets her fuck a girl like she's a man. I'll bet she's thinking of a sexy cheerleader stretched out on that couch with her skirt up and her legs spread wide."

"Really? She really has one of those whadda-call-its?"

"Strapons, I think they're called. I heard Rhonda Kelly talking about it with someone in the gym shower room one day. I wonder how many members of the team Miss Ford has had already?"

"Are you interested?" Kim inquired. The girls shared a laugh inaudible beyond their seat. The two of them had been friends before they became lovers. Neither of them had curbed a roving eye for either other girls or guys, although they turned down only one bed on the nights they were both in their room. "Variety is the spice of life, especially at college," was their motto. Neither of them were LUGS (Lesbians Until Graduation). They just wanted to have fun. Although they cared for each other deeply, they didn't have any real plans for life after graduation together. Of course, right now they didn't have plans for ANY life after graduation. "Right now", was their concern.

"Maybe so. But I think that blonde girl, Deborah, three doors down the hall might be a more interesting project. I've noticed she had like two dates in the Fall and since then nothing. I swear I've seen her turn her head when someone attractive goes past her."

"Really? She is cute. But speaking of girl-watching, I saw the dorm monitor Meredith the other day. You were coming back from practice and her eyes were so fixed on your legs I thought she was going to run into the wall."

"You're kidding. Wow. She's a senior. That's exciting."

Kim shifted around as though she was sleepily trying to get more comfortable against her roommate's shoulder. Her fingers touched the waistband of other girl's shorts. She grinned into the flowing hair and slipped her hand into the gap between the top of the shorts and the bottom of the shirt and onto the taut stomach.

"Kim," came a fierce whisper, "What are you doing?"

Kim didn't answer. Instead her hand took Pam's and drew it over to her. Parting her legs, she tucked the other girls hand under her skirt.

Pam's fingers touched Kim. "Good God," she muttered. "You don't have any panties on."

"Nope, I took them off before we got on the bus."

"One of these days you're going to forget and do that BEFORE you cheer," Pam hissed, even as her fingers toyed with the fine dark hair on Kim's pussy.

"Who's going to complain? You? I know you. You'd be grinning."

"That's because you're the sexiest girl on campus."

"Liar." Leaving Pam's hand between her legs, Kim's fingers crept back up under Pam's shirt. "Left your bra off again, I see." She stroked the small firm globe, her index finger brushing over the stiffening nipple.

"If you don't stop that, Lisette," Pam nodded slightly towards the girl sitting closest to them, "Is going to get suspicious."

"Why would you say that?" Kim suddenly smothered a gasp as two of Pam's fingers found her damp slit and gently eased it open. "And what do you believe she might think, as well as the whole bus, when I start screaming your name?"