Chapter 5: Becky Wants to Play

Rosita and LaToya were examining new case files when I got into the office. “I thought we got everyone checked in,” I said, realizing in horror that I had put on Dr. Li’s panties by mistake.

“Two last minute additions,” Rosita groaned, holding up a folder. “Guess who?”

I looked at the folder and sighed. “The Ambrose twins?” I asked. “Again?”

“Says they were working in a strip club and got the cops called on them,” Latoya said.

“I should think so,” I said, unloading my things. “They’re fourteen years old.”

“Oh not like that,” Latoya said. “Apparently they were getting so nasty on stage that three of the other dancers called them in on obscenity charges. And two patrons.”

Rosita blushed. “Oh really?” She asked, flipping through the files. “What were they doing?”

Everyone at Lake Peace knew that Rosita was a lesbian, but I never gave it a second thought until now, because before I met Becky, I never before could’ve imagined that a grown woman could be attracted to a young girl. And the Ambrose twins were not your average girls. They had blossomed early, and as their bodies blossomed, so did their sexual appetites. When they first checked in to Lake Peace two years ago, they were twelve years old schoolgirls, but looked like twenty-year-old porn stars, and their curvaceous bodies and nymphomaniacal tendencies caused nothing but trouble. Three male counselors had to be let go for inappropriate contact with minors, when they had proven unable to resist the Ambrose twins’ aggressive sexual advances. And now Rosita was already blushing at the thought of them. What was worse, the Ambrose twins always liked to flirt with me. In the past it had been easy to coldly rebuke them as I would any other resident, but I was more sexually vulnerable now than I had ever been at any point in my life.

Just then a bus pulled up, and out stepped LaShonda and LaVonda Ambrose, sucking on lollipops with their braided hair up in buns. They were wearing glittery high heels, and cutoff jean shorts that exposed the smooth brown skin of their curvaceous legs from their bulbous buttocks to their sweeping thighs to their prominent calves to their perfect feet. They wore flimsy white tank tops cropped so high that the bottoms of their large, perky breasts could be seen bouncing freely with each step, hovering over impressively trim stomachs. They removed the lollipops from their mouths slowly, their full, pouty lips glistening as they began to strut toward the front door of the girls’ administrative offices.

I couldn’t take my eyes off of them. Neither could LaToya or Rosita. “Megan their tits are almost as big as yours,” LaToya said.

“No way, not even close,” Rosita said absentmindedly as she stared at the beautiful brown-skinned twins slinking toward the office. “Megan’s got to be at least a G cup.”

I blushed and crossed my arms out of self-consciousness just as LaShonda and LaVonda entered. “Hi Megan,” they sang in unison, smiling as they batted their eyelashes.

“Welcome back,” I said as my nipples began to stiffen. “LaToya will check you both in. Rosita and I have to check on the art supplies.”

Rosita was visibly relieved at not having to be trapped in a room with one of the libidinous young Nubians. “First thing to do is to get you two some clothes,” LaToya said.

“No way we’re wearing those sweats,” LaVonda said. “We need to show off.”

“I mean, have you seen these titties?” LaShonda asked.

“It’s hard to miss them,” LaToya grumbled.

But before she could finish speaking, the Ambrose girls had lifted up their shirts, allowing their huge, chocolate-colored breasts to spill out. They smiled with pride, glorying in breasts that were as big, as round, and as brown as coconuts. Rosita blushed and LaToya shook her head. I grabbed Rosita by the hand and led her out of the office. “To look like that at fourteen,” Rosita sighed. “It’s not fair.”

“To whom is it unfair?” I asked.

“It’s unfair to everyone,” Rosita said. “The boys they go to school with, the girls that have to compete with them. And to older dykes like me and you that have to resist them. Did you see those tits?”

I blushed. “I’m not a lesbian,” I said. “I’m a happily married woman.”

Rosita laughed. “I saw your thighs grinding just as hard as mine,” she smiled. “Either you’re horny for the Ambrose twins or you’re wearing panties that are about two sizes to small.”

My face burned with embarrassment as I thought about Jennifer Li’s tiny black panties hugging my crotch and hips. And then, without warning, my nipples erupted with desire. Rosita pretended not to notice as we did a quick and completely unnecessary inventory of the art supplies.

The rest of the day passed without incident, aside from Stephanie Lunderman getting sick in the cafeteria. I was packing up my things when Sean met me in my office. “Are you going to chaperone little what’s-her-name in the gym?” He asked.

I had made it almost four hours without thinking about Becky, and I tried my best to suppress my imagination. “Rosita is working tonight,” I said. “She can do it.”

On our way out to the car, I saw lights on in the big multipurpose building that we use for assemblies and dances. “I wonder what that is?” I said.

“Probably just the Rumble,” Sean said. “It normally happens the third or fourth day in.”

“What is ‘the Rumble’?” I asked.

Sean shrugged. “The boys get together and fight to see who gets to be King of the Jungle for the semester. It’s like a tournament. The King of the Jungle gets to take other kids’ desserts and stuff.”

I couldn’t believe my ears. I exploded with anger. “That is the most irresponsible thing that I’ve ever heard! How long has this been going on?” I cried. “Nonsense like this could get the camp shut down, Sean! And what about the kids? That’s the last thing that troubled boys need to be doing.”

I grabbed my things and stormed off to the office. “Where are you going?” Sean asked.

“I’m staying here tonight,” I declared. “But first I’m going to break up this little fight club.”

I got my keys from the office, and as I got close to the multipurpose building I could see a big group of kids milling around through the windows. I decided to go up the fire escape and enter onto the catwalk, where I would have access to the lights and the PA, to make sure I could get everyone’s attention. Once inside I moved around to get a better look a the scene below.

All the boys were gathered on floor below, and most of the girls, too. In the middle of the floor was a circle of duct tape that formed an impromptu ring. Three of the older boys, Jake Creasy, Mike Vincent, and Cedric Smitts, stood in the middle of the ring as lesser delinquents milled about shadowboxing and posturing. I cringed at the thought of what might happen down there. Jake, Mike, and Cedric had more violent crimes on their records than most convicted felons twice their age, and they were all hormonal freaks that packed more muscle than most convicted felons twice their age. If this was a tournament, it was a good bet that two of the three would wind up facing off in the championship. But they weren’t fighting, they were arguing with Becky Finklestein. She was still in her powder blue sweatsuit, but she didn’t have her glasses on, and her normally frizzy hair had been styled before being put up into pigtails. “I don’t care bout your wules!” She screamed. “I want to fight, too!”