Chapter 1: Monday

Monday

Lupe

If you want proof that school’s a joke, just look at the Naked In School Program. Eight kids have to spend a week in the buff, and they say it’s to help us to “explore our sexuality.” Exploit it, more like. And for ‘help,’ read ‘force.’ Then they expect us to take it all seriously. I tell ya, man, it bites.

I wasn’t looking forward to my time in the Program. I’m a loner. Program kids get more attention than I want. But I was resigned. It’s a graduation requirement, so I had to go through with it—there’s no way I’m getting stuck in this town like my mother, like the rest of my family. No effing way. School’s my best way out, joke that it is—and that’s the biggest joke of all. I knew it, and when my name came up, late junior year, I thought I was ready.

Ha. Shows what I know.

Dana

I am so not the morning person. Mondays are the worst, ‘cause I get even less sleep weekends, so I’m always like totally bleary, at least until my triple-shot mochaccino kicks in, some time first period. So when Principal Simmons picked me out of the crowd streaming through the front doors and told me to go directly to the auditorium, I didn’t realize why till I was halfway down the hall.

I’d been picked for the Program.

I stopped still, sloshing hot coffee on my hand. I barely noticed it. There are times I almost wish I cussed with words stronger than drat. This was one of them.

Somehow, I started walking before anyone noticed I was blocking traffic. My skin felt hollow, like I wasn’t inside it, and I couldn’t feel my feet or hands. Well, except for where the coffee stung me. It’s not like I hadn’t known I’d eventually go through it. The Program’s part of school. If you don’t do the Program, you don’t graduate, no exceptions. But a month from the end of eleventh grade, I still hadn’t been picked—and I almost believed maybe I was going to, yanno, make it through without exposing myself. Now everyone would see me, the real me.

There are times I want to dump this world in a bucket of pixie dust, yanno? Or paint it with glitter—that’d be cool.

I walked into the auditorium and down the aisle, still numb. Every Monday, after homeroom, we have an assembly where we “thank” last week’s Program participants and disrobe the next week’s—in front of the entire school. Half the seats on stage were already taken. I stopped at the stairs, and stared at a worn, wooden step.

Assistant Principal Jamison checked her clipboard and called out, “Come on up, Ms Partlow.”

I swallowed and forced myself up to the stage.

I found an empty seat and sat down. And, like, tuned out the world. Wasn’t hard—I just listened to the roaring in my ears. The bell rang, the auditorium filled, then Simmons talked, and congratulated last week’s kids, and reviewed the rules, and called up Participants, one name at time, to strip on stage. First the two seniors. I looked past them, at the molding below the balcony.

“Lupe de Vega.”

The other junior—my partner this week. This caught my attention. I was next. I forced myself to focus. I didn’t know Lupe very well, though we’re usually in a couple classes together. Partners? I guessed that would work, if one of us needed help. I looked at him undressing, as if I was watching, but I didn’t really see him. Except to notice that for a boy my age, he had like a lot of body hair. Looked odd in an interesting sort of way, on a short, wiry guy like him. Then he was done and sat down.

“Dana Partlow.”

My turn. I took a deep breath and stood up to cheering. A lot of people know me—I’m a friendly kind of girl. How many, I wondered, would still be friends a few minutes from now? The thought squeezed my heart tight.

I stepped forward to the clothes box and took off my skirt first, delaying the inevitable. On my left, down near the front row, Tats and Babs and Fritz gave me encouraging thumbs-up. I looked away, down at my hands.

I dropped my skirt and panties in the clothes box and faced the audience. I couldn’t see them—everything past the edge of the stage had gone dark. I took a deep breath, and pulled my sleeveless top over my head, and then dropped my arms to my side.

And felt my wings unfurl.

Lupe

I didn’t pay attention to the two kids undress before me—it wasn’t like they meant anything to me. Besides, I’d see them in the all all week. But after I sat down, when Dana undressed, right in front of me, her tension caught my eye—not embarrassed, or excited, or nervous. Scared. I could almost smell her fear. That was different. So I was watching her closely when she took her shirt off.

There were these green patches on her back, except they were her back as well. I don’t know how else to explain it. Both small and large at the same time, looking weird in that way that only comes from magic. Not that I’ve seen a lot. I don’t know about you, man, but magic freaks me. I stay the fuck away from that shit. But this time, magic was unfolding a couple feet in front of me.

That’s a joke, man. As in her wings unfolded. Ah, never mind.

Shocked as I was, I was still struck by how beautiful they were. Dana has giant luna moth wings, pale green and eye spots and all. They cover her back, with swallow-tail points sweeping down her thighs and framing her ass.

Fuck, I thought to myself, she’s a fairy. My Program partner was a freaking moth fairy.

And then, of course, the mierda hit the fans.

Total chaos in the auditorium. Tear-gassing the place couldn’t cause that much pandemonium. The principal shouted into the microphone, trying to calm things down—like that ever works. Everyone could see what she was. Me, I watched Dana. Talk about coming out with a vengeance. She had balls, I had to admit, standing there taking it. Didn’t move an inch, though her wings fluttered a little.

The assistant principal seemed to think the wings were a costume, like on a harness or something, and tried to take them off, but of course she couldn’t—any more than I can take off my ears. Dana yelped and collapsed when the woman grabbed them.

I sprang forward to catch Dana as she fell—trying not to touch them myself, if they were that sensitive.

“Hey!” I said, “don’t hurt her!”

“They have to come off—no covering up.”

“They’re not on!“ Dana protested. “They’re me.” I helped her stand.

More arguments. Eventually, the principal bundled us backstage while the assistant principal took over the rest of the undressing. Well, bundled Dana—I came with because ... well, because I was her partner. Don’t know what I was thinking, man—I mean really, me, helping someone?

Well, okay, it was because she’s cute.

Dana

Backstage, Principal Simmons crossed his arms and shook his head at me. “What are you?”

Lupe barked a laugh. “What does it look like? She’s a fairy, man.”

Simmons closed his eyes. “Let me put that another way. What are you doing here?“

“Going to school,” I said. “Like, duh.”

“But you’re...”

I rolled my eyes. “I live here in town, right? And I’m 16. So like I have to go to school.”

Simmons was getting that glazed look people sometimes get when they talk to me. “Do your parents know—uh, you...”

“Yes, they know.” As if they weren’t fairies themselves. Where did he think I got my wings—the magic section of WalMart? It was bad enough Simmons had forced me to expose them to everyone—did he have to be a stupidhead about it?

Simmons opened his mouth, then closed it. He ran his fingers through his silver hair.

Lupe was looking at me funny. Not at my wings, though, I realized—he was peering at my hair. What on Elfland for?

I glared back at him. “What?”

“Where’s your antennae?” he blurted.

“This is no time for jokes, young man,” Simmons told him.

I looked at Lupe for a moment, then reached up and undid my hair-clips. I sighed in relief as my antennae sprang free. I wriggled them to get the kinks out. I hate binding them under my hair, but it’s the only way to hide them. Well, that or big bunchy hats, and I’m too petite to pull that look off.

That’s when it first struck me—I’d never have to hide them again. Everyone knew. I no longer had to worry about being discovered. It felt like, well, like a shirt had been lifted from over my wings—I could taste the air again. I could have hugged Lupe for showing me that.

Simmons closed his open mouth. “Okay, I’m taking you down to my office and calling your parents.”

I sighed. What-ever.

Simmons led us out the stage wings and into the hallways. As we walked, Lupe kinda looked at me sideways.

I finally frowned up at him—well, a little up. He was only a couple inches taller than me. “What?”

“Can I ask you something?” I nodded. “How’d you get through P.E.?”

Meaning, how’d I change in the locker room without anyone noticing. “I didn’t. Doctor’s excuse. My heart runs fast and erratic, for a human.”

In front of us, Simmons sighed. Before he could tell me I’d have to take P.E. now, on the grounds of it being a fake excuse, I told him, “Which is true!”

“As may be,” Simmons said. He held the main office door open for us.

Inside, Ms Romanov smiled at us—until she noticed my wings. Her eyes widened and her jaw dropped.

I closed my eyes and sighed silently. I was going to get a lot of that today.

I wondered what my friends thought of me.

In his office, Simmons sat us down across from his desk and called my parents. Meaning my stepfather at work, of course—Mom flies off at dawn. It was a long conversation—I could imagine Jim’s answers from Simmons’s responses. Yes, she’s a fairy. No, it’s normal. Yes, she should be in school. No, there shouldn’t be any problems. And so on.

It took a while.

It’s not like I don’t love my mother. I adore my little half-brother. I even get along with my stepfather. But there are times I really wish she hadn’t fallen in love with a human and moved us to Earth. Times like these.

Finally Simmons hung up. He looked at me for a couple seconds and sighed.

Lupe

The whole time we sat in Simmons’s office, I watched Dana. Okay, stared at her. There aren’t many girls shorter than me, though her antennae made her taller. Didn’t count that, though—no more than I would big hair.

But more, there was this girl here, and she was naked like me, and she was as cute as a pixie. Not that I knew if I could say that—were pixies real too? Maybe the comparison was an insult to a fairy. Not that I’d know—I hadn’t known there were fairies in the first place. Whatever, here she was. Curly golden hair the color of her feathery feelers, a sprinkle of light freckles across her cheeks, and gray-green eyes the color of her wings. Short, as I said, and not so much skinny as slender, with strong back and shoulder muscles for flying. Small breasts, but present and round, and enough curve at the hip to show she was a grown-up girl. Not a hottie, but way cute.

I almost had to wipe the drool off my chin. If I were drawn by Tex Avery, my tongue would’ve hung to the floor, eyes popping halfway across the room and steam whistling out my ears.

And then there was those wings. The span at her shoulder was a little less than her armspan, maybe to her wrists—call it four feet across. When she sat down, the swallowtails spread to the sides of the seat. I didn’t think she could sit in an armchair with those. Or lean back.

Somehow, she’d managed to pass for human for years.

Finally, the principal hung up and looked at Dana. She looked back at him, chin up.

After a minute, I couldn’t take it any more. “Well?”

The principal looked at me, as if finally noticing me. “What are you doing here, Mr. de Vega?”

“Helping my Program partner.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose, as if he had a headache. After a moment, the bell rang, ending the assembly.

“Go to class,” he finally said, not moving. “Just—get out of here and go to class.”

Dana and I looked at each other, then stood up, hoisting our bookbags. And that’s when she saw my boner, bouncing in front of me.

She giggled, looking at it. As we left the principal’s office, she said with a smile, “Is that for me?”

“What does it look like?”

She might have said more, but then she saw the people in the front office staring at her, and her face closed up. Bite me, I thought at them. Or better yet, let me bite you.

As I hoisted my backpack on, I looked at hers—a messenger bag. Slung over just one shoulder, now, and carried on one hip. Should have thought of that. A backpack couldn’t have been comfortable on top of her wings, however they’d been concealed.

I held the door open for her. She folded her wings to walk through, then spread them out again. And we were naked and in public.

I stuck close to Dana. Turned out to be a good move. Everyone gave her a wide birth, avoiding those wings. Usually, the first couple days, Program kids get felt up a lot. No one knew what to make of Dana’s wings and things. So we actually got to class on time.

She looked at me with a frown. “You don’t have to—oh, that’s right, you’re in English with me.”

I nodded. “English, U.S. history, and Spanish.”

She gave me a little smile, as if she was trying to be brave. Her cheeks dimpled. Muy linda. I tried to smile encouragingly as I held the door for her.

I headed for the back of the room, as usual, but the teacher called out, “Mr. de Vega—if you please?”

I looked at the teacher—she was gesturing to the front row. Oh, right. She liked to have her Program students front and center, where she could keep an eye on them. I sighed and turned back to join Dana.

I watched her carefully, as she turned to sit down. She saw me looking at her, and stopped.

“What?”

“It’s just,” I said, “are those going to fit, with the arm of the chair?”

“Oh, yeah—they go over the back, like this.” She had to slide into the seat, from the side, because the desk-arm got in the way of sliding down from the top, but it worked fine—wings behind the backrest. The tips of her swallowtails almost brushed the floor.

The bell rang.

“Dana, Lupe,” the teacher said, “would either of you like relief?”

Was she crazy? Damn straight I did. I’d been with cutest naked fairy in school for the better part of an hour. I was hornier than a dog sniffing a bitch in heat. I stood up and grabbed some tissues from the teacher’s desk.

“Dana, you?”

I saw Dana shake her head as I turned to face the class.

“Lupe, would you like assistance?”

Yeah, right. I made a sort of snarly snort and shut my eyes to start stroking. Then I opened them.

Usually I jack off with my eyes closed. But Dana was right in front of me, naked—I could see her pink little pussy under her desk-arm. So I did it looking at her, thinking about ... well, I don’t know. No coherent fantasy. Just her and me naked together. Not touching—I don’t like touching—but...

Ah, hell, I don’t know. But she looked tasty enough to eat up. I quickly came in my wad of tissues.

Dana

There was something disturbing about the way Lupe watched me as he masturbated. Almost feral. Not like an owl or anything, but, like, creepy.

I made myself watch him back. Never take your eyes off predators. Not that my partner was one. He’d done good for me so far. Very good. I was sticking with him, if I could.

When he was done, Ms Emerson looked at me and tried to hide a smirk. What in the Spirit’s name was so funny?

“Class, today we start our next unit. Does everyone have their copy of A Midsummer Night’s Dream?”

Oh. Right. I facepalmed. Of all weeks to reveal my species...

“Dana,” Emerson went on, “I must say it’s particularly fortunate to have you with us. Had you read it before?”

I sighed. “Yes.” And then, because my hand had muffled it, I looked up at her. “I had.” When I was younger, my stepfather teased me with being Titania’s attendant, until I finally read the dratted thing and set the record straight.

“Then you’ll be able to tell us how much Shakespeare got right.”

“Um, nothing,” I said. Then more firmly, “It’s, like, total fantasy.”

“Well, he got right that fairies exist,” Tatja said. Some kids tittered.

I winced and looked at her over my shoulder, back where she and I usually sit. But she wasn’t sneering. More, smiling like you do when you’re teasing hard—a sharp smile. “Okay,” I admitted, “but aside from that, it’s all wrong.”

“Are you sure about that, good Monsieur Mustardseed?” a boy in the back said. More titters and laughs.

Lupe scowled and turned around in his seat. “She oughta know, shouldn’t she?”

Still more laughter. I tried to shush him. Though actually, it was kinda sweet of him.

“Anyway,” Emerson said, taking back control of the class, “it’s something we should explore as we read the play. Today, we’ll talk about act one.”

So we introduced Hermia and Lysander and Demitrius and Helena, those fools these mortals be as Puck says later. That part, at least, Shakespeare got right. Talk about problem relationships. Hermia’s bad enough, but Demitrius, switching from Helena to her, just because she’s rich? I want to just swat the guy.

Then Emerson had some of us read part of the opening scene aloud, with the four. Because we’re in the Program, she picked Lupe and me as readers—teachers are supposed to use Participants in class as much as they can. Because I’m small, she made me Hermia, the little wench. Lupe, he was Lysander. Her royal tallness Selina was Helena. “Tall and willowy and full of hiccup,” Emerson put it, which isn’t Selina at all—the hiccup part, I mean. As a basketball player, Selina definitely has the tall part down—though Tatja’s taller.

Lupe’s got a good voice, nicely deep, but I didn’t think much of his acting: he read his lines flatly, without emotion. But then, I could taste the discomfort rolling off him. I decided to have a little fun with my role, fluttering up to him whenever possible. Not literal fluttering—I can’t fly indoors—but I did flitter my wings whenever I addressed him, kinda like flirting. It was fun, actually.

Emerson stopped us just before the end of class. “Think about these four, and where their loyalties lie.” Then the bell rang, and as people got up to go, she called out, “Tonight, read act two.”

As he packed his books, Lupe looked at me. “You’ll be okay? Getting to class, I mean.” Asking as my partner.

“I got her covered,” Tatja said behind me. “So to speak.”

Lupe looked at her, and nodded once. Almost like consigning me to her protection. I twiddled my fingers to him as he left, then turned to face my friend. I hoped, still my friend.

“I gotta say, Danes,” she said, “you look really cool—when I think of it as a Halloween costume.”

I smiled weakly. “It’s not, though. This is the real me, Tats.”

“Revealed in all your glory,” Tatja said, nodding. “They’re beautiful.”

After a moment, I nodded back. “Thanks.”

She bit her lower lip, then softly said, “Give people a little time, eh? To get used to it.”

I smiled. That, I could do. It took me time to get used to my half-brother, didn’t it?

We left for biology. Partway down the hall, a boy stopped us—with a request.

“Could I—get a look at your—you know—” he gestured towards me.

“What,” Tatja said. “Her breasts?”

I blushed. He had sorta waved at my chest.

“Her wings.”

Oh. I flexed, spreading out fully.

“Whoa.” He sounded almost impressed. “They’re real.”

I rolled my eyes. “Like—yah.” I flapped once.

“Can I look at your back? Where they’re attached?”

“Sure,” I said, shrugging.

He hesitated a moment, then went around me. It’s not like it’s easy to move around in a crowded hallway, with my wings spread. To Tatja, I mouthed, “Watch him.”

She looked at me puzzled. But then, a couple moments later, she said, “Eh eh eh! You have to ask before touching—Program rules.”

I almost shivered. I’d been afraid of that. My wings are sensitive.

“May I?” he asked.

“Only if you’re gentle,” I said sternly.

He touched the base of my right upper wing—lightly, I admit, but it was still uncomfortable. Like halfway between a tickle and beetles crawling through my bones. It made me want to twitch. I shuddered but stood still.

Through the crowd watching us, I saw Fritz walk toward us. He’s also in bio with us.

The boy felt me again, and I flinched.

Fritz shouldered through the kids, shouting, “Hey, no hurting her!”

“But I barely touched her!”

“They’re very sensitive!” Tatja said. “That’s enough touching.”

The bell rang, giving me the excuse to leave. Without looking back at the boy, I walked away, Fritz on my right, Tatja on my left—two tall friends looming over me like bodyguards. It was comforting. Especially knowing that they were on my side. That left only Babs to worry about.

Our biology classroom tasted even more than usual of formaldehyde and corpses, to my newly freed antennae, and I stopped still to get used to it. Ms Leyden looked up from her desk. She was naked, as usual—she’s one of the teachers who dresses down for the Program. It’s supposedly voluntary, but since she did units on Health and Human Sexuality, it’s probably like required for her. I sometimes suspect she doesn’t mind.

“Ah, Dana—if you could come up front, please.”

Oh no. Surely not more sexuality demonstrations—we’d already done a couple weeks of them! My stomach felt like I’d swallowed a will-o-the-wisp, all cold and twitchy. I share a look with Tatja and Fritz as they split off back to our usual lab benches. I marched to the stool Leyden had left out beside her desk.

“Do you need relief?” she asked me.

I shook my head. Touching my wings did not leave me in an erotic mood.

“In that case, we can get started. Class, it’s not every day a biologist gets to investigate a new species, previously unknown to science. This week we’re very lucky—we get to make a field study of one.”

And she gestured at me.

I swallowed. Everyone stared at me. Well, I’d known they would—Program and all that. But now they weren’t looking at me like a naked girl, or even a freaky person in their midst, but as if I were a bug or something. I tried to shake off the discomfort. These were my classmates.

So why did I feel like I’d been pinned to a board?

Lupe

On the way to second period, two chicas stopped me with a reasonable request. They asked to feel me up—there’s always kids who want to, early in the week, even though we’ve had the Program for a couple years. Like I said, I’m not into being touched, but hey, if a couple cuties wanted to stroke my piston, that was okay by me, man. So when I got to calc, I was hard again. Not raging, but horny, if ya know what I mean.

When the teacher asked if I wanted relief, I almost said no, but this was calculus. I need all my attention for this stuff. So I took it, quickly jacking off in front of the class. Again, I thought about Dana. That cute, sexy little fairy. I wanted to nibble her up. Mmm.

The relief didn’t work as well as I wanted: I spent the period trying to chase flashes of Dana out of my head so I could concentrate. Just goes to show ya.

Heading to third period, I got hit by a metric tonne of reasonable requests—mostly from girls. The usual packs of teases, getting their jollies with the new victims I’m sorry I mean Program boys. It wouldn’t have been so bad if they’d just stuck to touching my cock. Which startled me—I don’t touch people often, and hadn’t realized just how much I dislike it. Especially having my ass and belly fondled. Gnah.

Despite this, I got to the gym hard as the proverbial rock. It was distracting enough, though, I almost forgot and went into the boys’ locker room.

That’s one of the sillier parts of the Program, if you ask me—making you “change” and shower with the other sex, and use the other bathrooms. Why not go unisex and be done with it? Except, of course, that’d be logical.

Phys. Ed. isn’t a class I’d take, except I run track to make my college applications look better. That, and it’s an easy A. Fortunately, track isn’t a team sport, not in my events—the longer distances.

Whatever. I stashed my bag in a free locker and changed into my track shoes—and tried not to watch the half-naked girls around me. Didn’t work: Luisa Mendoliza and her cronies wanted a little fun, feeling me up—not just my cock, but the rest of me. Even more uncomfortable than what I got in the halls, the way they stroked my arm and chest hair, but I had to put up with it. By the time they were done, I wanted both relief and to scrape off my skin in the showers.

Out in the gym, Coach Suarez took one look at me and rolled his eyes. “De Vega, where’s your jock?”

“There aren’t any in there,” and I jerked my thumb back towards the girls’ room. Suarez shook his head and got an athletic supporter my size from the boys’ side. You’d think by now they’d stash some with the girls, for all the Program boys. Then he sent me out to run laps.

Just for the record, I hate having an erection in a jock-strap. Grrr.

At least my boner didn’t last—it may have been May, but it was still chilly enough that you were fine in a gym uniform but nippy in just your skin. I asked Coach Dean to let me run a practice 5km, so I’d stay moving for a while. She shook her head and said, “We’re doing sprints today.”

Did I mention how school’s a joke? Coach knows I sprint for crap. Too short. Took her two races of me coming in dead last—and looking at my goosebumps as I cooled off—before Coach finally let me stretch out at what I’m good at.

I like laps, all alone out on the track, pacing that lope I can keep up for miles. I want to run a marathon sometime—I think I’d be pretty good.

I called out when I started my last lap, but Coach was too busy trying to get relay runners to make a clean baton pass, and she didn’t get my final time. Feh. I almost snarled at her. My body felt good enough to do it again, but we didn’t have enough time for another 5km, so I did a 2500m instead. This time, I finished a minute after everyone else went in to change, so Coach did get my time. Not my best ever, but pretty good for a back-to-back.

When I got inside, most girls were out of the showers—except Luisa’s gang. They’d waited for me. They wanted to help me clean up. Rubbing me all over again, this time without the protection of an audience. Glarg.

I considered turning them down—for maybe half a millisecond. Luisa’d make a reasonable request issue of it, I was sure. And besides, I was pretty sure they’d get me off in the end. For that, I could put up with having my body hair rubbed the wrong way, as they soaped me up. I thought. I said a silent Hail Mary as I joined them.

Soap me up they did—four girls getting my arms and legs and back and chest. Luisa was in front, and she spent a lot of time making sure my cock was clean. Her slick hands almost made up for having three naked girls rubbing their bodies against me. Almost.

I wasn’t sure who was jacking me when my tingling balls finally erupted, Luisa or Katarina. Hard to tell, when you’re doing everything you can to not flinch—not to mention getting shampoo in your eyes. I fingered Luisa till she came, just to stay on her good side. Not that I’d usually care what she thought of me, but there was no point ticking off an alpha girl who could make my week difficult. Besides, I kinda felt I owed her one. Yeah, despite the touchy-feely thing.

At least they didn’t want to cuddle.

We got out of the locker room late, after lunch had started—the halls were nearly empty. At my locker, I grabbed lunch and my physics textbook—I had a test next period. I found an empty table in the unfashionable end of the western spiral arm of the Student Commons, where only the uncharted loners and losers hang out, opened my book, and started reviewing.

Dana

My first day of bio specimenhood was less humiliating than I feared. A little less, anyway. Mostly it was just people asking about being a fairy. Yes, the wings are real—see, I can flap them. No, the antennae aren’t just decorative—I use them to smell and taste. Yes, I can fly—really. No, I’m not too heavy—my wings are just the right size for my weight. Yes, larger fairies have bigger wings than I do. No, I can’t fly in here—not enough room. Yes, I do need a lot of airspace. No, I can’t hover, no more than luna moths can. Yes, hawk moths like my teacher can. No, I’m not immortal—I’m 16, just the way I look. Yes, fairies reproduce sexually—my mother and father had sex, just like humans. No, they’re not married—not any more. Yes, I do go out at night.

That last got a lot of snickers for some reason. I mean, hello—moth fairy.

Mostly it was questions. Ms Leyden did, however, “investigate” my anatomy by touch—including my genitals. It was odd, being that close to another naked woman. “The subject appears to have typical human female external sexual organs,” she told the class. She rubbed my clitoris with fingers slick with my secretions, and I spread my legs involuntarily. “With typical sexual response.”