Chapter 1: None Must

It wasn’t very good. And Connie Steffano couldn’t show it to anybody to tell her how to make it better.

Comfort
Guidance
Care
Assurance
Passion
Comfort
Kristen.

She couldn’t show it to Kristen, however much she wanted to express those thoughts to her. She couldn’t show it to Kristen until it sang how she felt. She couldn’t show it to Andre and ask for his help. Andre could write one that sang;, but Andre would get all parental if he suspected that his daughter felt passion, let alone that she had shared passion with another girl.

Connie was a year younger than her classmates at St. Wigbert’s, a year younger than the other girls in her dorm room. In addition, she was a ‘late bloomer.’ That she, who had always been so precocious, should be slow in something so important to her peers was embarrassing. The girls didn’t tease her about it, though. They hardly noticed her.

Back in Hartford, the teachers -- at least -- noticed Connie, as the daughter of the-poet-Andre-Steffano -- said as if it were one word. The teachers at St. Wigbert’s hardly read Frost, let alone Steffano. They were more impressed by Milton and Donne. Connie was half pleased that, at St. Wigbert’s, she no longer lived in the reflection of her father’s reputation. She was half dismayed that she had no reputation of her own.

On the other hand, she thought the girls in her room, who clearly regarded her as too young to matter, were acting awfully immature themselves. Often, risking demerits -- even expulsion -- girls would sneak into the beds of other girls and lie there together, apparently playing some game. Connie knew what she would say if anybody tried to sneak into her bed, but nobody did.

Andre told her that they needed to send her to Saint Wigbert’s because she’d get a better education there. Helen told her that she needed to meet a better class of girls. These were transparent lies, but Connie didn’t point that out. She no more wanted to be in the middle of her parents’ quarrels than they wanted her to hear them. Probably she would actually get a better education, too.

She didn’t even mind the excuses for leaving her there over Christmas vacation, when almost all of the other girls went home. The librarian gave her special permission to take out five books -- two was the usual limit, but the library was closed for the week. She felt a little queasy, but that just made the idea of taking the train back to Hartford that much less attractive.

The only other girl in her room staying over was Kristen. Her parents were Episcopalian missionaries in Latin America. (St. Wigbert’s was an Episcopal boarding school.) She was no older than the other girls in Connie’s room, but she looked more mature. She spent most of her time in the lounge watching the TV. That pleased Connie, who didn’t want anything to do with her. Connie would gladly have had no contact with anybody -- until the night she woke up bloody and crying.

Fully awake, she realized what had happened. She was a modern girl; her mom was a modern woman. She was living in a dorm room with five girls who had periods. It had surprised her is all.

“What happened?” asked Kristen.

“Nothing,” Connie said. Now how was she going to clean up these sheets? She had a package of Tampax Juniors in her cabinet in anticipation of this.

“What happened?”

“Just my period. The sheets are all bloody.” Actually, there wasn’t all that much blood.

“I’ll help. Poor dear, I had my mom around when my first period happened – and I wanted her. Let’s get these to the bathroom and run cold water on them.”

Kristen, who had never taken the slightest notice of her up to then, organized the whole thing. She soaked the sheets and the nightgown, spread them over the backs of two chairs to dry, and told her about the Tampax again. She helped mop up the spot on the mattress with wet toilet paper. “You can’t sleep on that,” she said, “want to share my bed?”

There were four empty beds, although she’d hear about it if she used one. But somebody, somebody sympathetic, sharing a bed sounded attractive just then. “If I could.” She climbed in.

Kristen held her. “Poor girl. It’s nothing to feel bad about, but I cried my first time. And I had my mommy to cry to.” Connie didn’t cry, but Kristen’s arms, Kristen’s sympathy, Kristen’s attention, felt very good right then. She didn’t even comment on ‘mommy.’ The girls in the school had moms or mothers, not mommies. Connie called her own mom “Helen.”

When the others came back, she and Kristen went their separate ways. Besides, Connie was turning into a freak. Her right breast grew, not much, but you could see the bulge. Where the left breast should be, it was still flat. Connie hid it as much as she could, showering at odd hours, facing the wall as she dressed. Connie didn’t want anybody to see.

Kristen went home for two weeks in the middle of the school year, when her parents came ‘home.’ But she was in school again Easter break. So was Connie, wondering what their relationship was.

For three days, it was as much a nonrelationship as ever. Connie read, Kristen watched TV, neither spoke. Monday evening, Connie went for a long walk around the grounds. Kristen was in bed when she got back. “No TV?” asked Connie.

“It was boring.” Connie was tempted to ask what made that different from all the other shows Kristen watched, but didn’t. She turned her back to change into her nightgown as always.

“You know,” Kristen said, “I think you’re developing more unbalanced than I did.”

“Huh?” Connie had to keep herself from turning around.

“First six months, I had a boob on my left side and a boobie on my right. ‘Acorn’ would be a generous description.”

“Do you mean... ?” Connie did turn around. Kristen had larger breasts than anybody else living in the room, as large as those of some seniors. “It’s not just me?”

“It’s not just you. Don’t you have anybody to talk to? I think my parents are depriving me, but when my mom’s there, she’s there. Come here.”

Wearing only panties and carrying her nightgown, Connie went over to Kristen’s bed. When Kristen pulled back the sheet, she slipped inside. Kristen took her in her arms, and Connie snuggled there. “Poor girl. Were you worried? Was that why you were hiding them? We thought you were just embarrassed; many girls are when they start to grow.”

“I’m not a freak?”

“I wouldn’t go that far.” Kristen kissed her forehead “Your mind scares me. You’re a year younger than the rest of us and get better grades than most, better than me, for sure. And then you act like you’ll pull further ahead. Your boobs aren’t freaks, though. They’re perfectly normal. Let’s see.”

The moon made the room bright. When Kristen pushed back the sheet, Connie wanted to turn over, but she stayed on her back. Kristen said, “See, this one is starting to grow too.” She kissed it.

That was embarrassing; it also gave rise to sensations, pleasant sensations, if embarrassing ones. And Kristen was the closest thing to a friend she had. She’d die rather than report any part of this to a teacher. So she closed her eyes and lay there. Kristen kissed the other breast -- the breast, her left one was still just a nipple whatever Kristen had said.

It certainly felt good. Connie relaxed. She was shocked, somehow, when Kristen kissed her on the mouth. She felt Kristen’s tongue on her lips for a moment, and then it was over. “Better get back to your own bed,” Kristen whispered. “You have nothing to worry about. Everything will be all right.”

And, picking up her nightgown, and scurrying over to her own bed, Connie believed her. She even removed her panties before putting on the nightgown, something that only a few of the girls ever did when undressing for bed. That was weird when you thought about it; everybody saw everybody else in the dorm and gym showers.

The school hadn’t turned off the timer which broadcast the wake- up call at six just because the dorms were nearly empty. Connie woke with her usual start. She grabbed her underwear to take with her to the bathroom. In the stall, however, she remembered. She was normal, Kristen had accepted her. She deliberately carried them back and changed in front of Kristen.

That night, Kristen came back to the room about nine-thirty. Neither girl said anything. Lights out was at ten, and the current would be shut off to the rooms then. When Saint Wigbert’s said “lights out,” they meant lights out. Connie got to a good stopping point in her book a few minutes before. She put the book down and started to change her clothes, deliberately allowing Kristen to see if she wanted.

“Come over here,” said Kristen when Connie was down to her skin. Connie grabbed her nightgown and went over to Kristen’s bed. “You have hair,” Kristen said, “not much now, but it’s coming in. See, you’re perfectly normal. Better get back, though.” The girls were each in their own beds at lights out. And they were lying flat with their eyes closed when the monitor stuck her head in.

A few minutes later, Connie was over by Kristen’s bed. Kristen drew the corner of the sheet over, and Connie took that invitation to climb in. “You’re all right,” Kristen said. “You’re normal. You’re just like I was. You’re becoming like we all are.” She kissed her on the mouth. “Don’t worry.”

Connie wasn’t going to worry. Kristen had given her all the comfort she could need. When Kristen pulled the hem of her nightgown up, Connie raised herself to make it easier. When Kristen stroked up Connie’s thighs, Connie shivered but said absolutely nothing.

Kristen pushed the nightgown up higher. She kissed first one nipple and then the other -- back and forth, making no distinction between the growing one and the dwarf. When Connie felt Kristen’s hand at her groin, she nearly panicked. Then she remembered that she wasn’t going to worry.

After the initial tickles, it felt nice. Then it felt very nice. The kisses on her nipples made the strokes at her groin feel nicer, and the strokes made the kisses feel even better than they had. The spiraling climax took Connie utterly by surprise. She gasped out loud.

Kristen kissed her. “You shouldn’t make a noise,” she whispered. “What if a hall monitor had been going past?” The teachers treated hall monitoring duties very lightly during Easter break, but Kristen had a point. After a few minutes of lying in Kristen’s arms, Connie got up and went to her own bed.

Wednesday, the girls followed their established patterns. They hardly spoke to each other during the day. After the hall monitor had checked, though, Connie was in Kristen’s bed. This time, she left her nightgown behind. Kristen hiked her own nightgown up so that her breasts pressed against Connie’s chest. Kristen lavished Connie with care, kissing her nipples, stroking her groin. She kissed Connie on the mouth all through her climax. She hugged her while she relaxed.

When Connie started to get up, Kristen held her. “Do you want to help me, now?” Kristen whispered. Connie couldn’t figure out what help Kristen wanted, but the answer was going to be ‘yes.’ On Connie’s nod, Kristen took her hand. She pulled it to her groin.

“What should I do?” Connie whispered.

“Just what you’d do to yourself. Only kiss my boobs, too.”

The second direction, Connie could figure out. She kissed Kristen’s breasts and ended up sucking her nipples the way Kristen had sucked Connie’s. She wasn’t surprised that Kristen felt pleasure at that, she had. She was surprised at how much pleasure she herself got from kissing Kristen.

“Now what?” she asked. They ended up with Kristen taking Connie’s index finger and using it to rub herself. She moved the finger all over her labia minora with excursions to her clitoris. When Connie figured out what was needed, she took over the action. She kissed Kristen’s breasts and sucked her nipples while she was rubbing.

Kristen finally stiffened and pushed the hand away. She had been absolutely silent, but Connie could feel her chest heave with her breathing.

“I’m sorry,” Connie whispered. She’d tried to do what Kristen wanted.

“No reason,” Kristen whispered back. “You are already better than I would have been. You’ll get better with practice. But I think you should be in your own bed in case the monitor comes by.”

Connie returned to her bed. She had a lot to think about. “What you’d do to yourself,” Kristen had said. And “better than I would have been.” You could do this for yourself, give yourself the pleasure that Kristen had given her. She touched herself down there, but she was a little tender and her touch was a little tentative. It was pleasant, but she decided she didn’t want to renew the intense pleasure that Kristen had brought her.

“Do you want to walk together to services tonight?” Kristen asked the next day at lunch. It was Maundy Thursday. Connie hadn’t been planning to attend services, but walking with Kristen would be a privilege. They sat together until Kristen went down for communion. “You didn’t go down,” Kristen commented as they walked back.

“I haven’t been confirmed.”

“You really shine in religion class, though.”

“I know the answers, I just don’t...” She had been about to say ‘believe,’ but she wasn’t sure that this was correct. Andre and Helen were atheists, one of the few things they agreed on. They hadn’t made a point of it with her, though. And the religion teacher, Miss Camden, made more sense than Mrs. Oliver, who taught them American History. Anyway, she didn’t have real opinions on the subject. “I just don’t participate,” she finished.

“It wouldn’t be hard for you to be confirmed,” Kristen said. “Religion class goes into much more detail than confirmation classes usually do, even in this country, I think. I got confirmed easy enough, and I’m not the star in class you are.”

“I’ll think about it.” And she would. She didn’t want to stand out.

“Stay in your bed tonight,” Kristen said as they were changing into their nightgowns that night. Connie wondered what she had done wrong. But, once the hall monitor had stuck her head in the door, Kristen came to her bed.

This time, they spent much longer just kissing. Kristen tickled her nipples through the nightie, and Connie reciprocated. When Kristen sat up to remove her nightie, Connie did the same. Kristen lay down flat on her back. Connie suddenly realized that it was her turn to take the action, and she really had only one night’s experience.

She must have done something right, though. As she was stroking Kristen’s clitoris and sucking on her nipples, Kristen stiffened. When she pushed Connie’s hand away, Connie knew that this meant her part had been done, not that Kristen was rejecting her. She lay down beside Kristen just touching side to side.

The next motion beside her woke her from a doze. Kristen kissed her again, her mouth and then down to her breasts. Kristen’s mouth brought her comfort; then her hand brought her excitement. As soon as that excitement peaked, Kristen kissed her one more time, a peck on the mouth like Helen gave her sometimes. Then she got back into her nightie and left Connie’s bed in absolute silence. Connie never did put on her own nightie; when the wake-up call came over the loudspeaker, she woke naked.

As usual, they each went their own way until evening. Again, she accompanied Kristen to services. This was Good Friday, and there was no communion. After waiting for Kristen to come to her bed, Connie crept over to Kristen’s. “We can’t,” Kristen whispered, “It’s Good Friday.”

What that had to do with it, Connie couldn’t figure. But it wasn’t something you could argue about, and she didn’t want an argument with Kristen. As she was composing herself for sleep. she felt her hand cup her mound. “Just what you’d do to yourself,” Kristen had said once. She trailed her finger between her labia. It felt good. Too bad Kristen wasn’t there to kiss her nipples. She turned on her back so both hands were free. Her left just brushed her nipples through the nightie; the middle finger of her right stroked industriously between her labia.

The excitement came faster than Kristen had brought it. Somehow, though, the peak was less satisfying. She turned over and went to sleep.

Saturday night, she waited in her bed for Kristen to fall asleep. She had some plans for the night to come. Instead, Kristen came over to her bed as soon as the hall monitor was safely away. Kristen pulled aside the sheet and light blanket, then sat on the edge of the bed near the head. After she had swung her feet under the sheet and blanket, she slid down in the bed. This left her nightie all up around her shoulders. Connie knew what was expected of her. She kissed Kristen’s breasts under the sheet while stroking her labia and clitoris.

When Kristen had stiffened and lain there for a minute or two, she reciprocated. This took Connie to an unexpected height.

Sunday was Easter. Connie would probably have gone to services on Easter, anyway. Going with Kristen was a special treat. Again, they sat together until Kristen went down for communion. Again, they walked home together. “Some of the girls will get back tonight,” Kristen said. Connie knew that. “Whatever happens, stay in your own bed. I know the risks; I know the best ways to avoid them.”

Connie would do what she was told. Kristen had been such a great help anyway. “Do you think I should talk to Father Alfred about being confirmed?” she asked.

“Oh, yes! Give him a week. Easter is always such a busy time.”

Connie stayed in her own bed Sunday night. Her sleep was a little disturbed by the entry of some latecomers with the hall monitor and her flashlight.

She stayed in her own bed Monday night, as well. Several of the girls didn’t exercise the same caution. The hall monitor came back a second time and looked in much more thoroughly than usual. She discovered Julie in Cherie’s bed. There was an uproar. Names were taken; threats were made. As soon as she was out the door with her two captives, there was a scurry. Denise ran from Karen’s bed to her own. A few minutes later, the hall monitor was back for a third time. Connie lay silent until the flashlight shone on her bed and the monitor grabbed her shoulder.