Sandy
Copyright© 2021 by Bronte Follower
Chapter 1
Coming of Age Sex Story: Chapter 1 - Sandy's story, as imparted to her family. While reading Beth (which is not finished) first would be a bit helpful and provide context, it's not necessary, although the juxtaposition of past and present in Sandy will be more decipherable with at least some exposure to Beth. The Beth story will see references to Sandy's story.
Caution: This Coming of Age Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including ft/ft Consensual Lesbian Fiction Indian Female
“Okay, here’s my story. If you remember Carol’s story, you’ll notice that there are many similarities between hers and mine. In fact, they’re incredibly similar, although the mother in my story had a slightly different role.
“My best friend at the time in question was a girl named Bethany. As an aside, yes, Beth’s name came to her from both Charlie and me. Anyway, Bethany and I had met in fifth grade. Oh, at the time, elementary school, at least where I went, was grades one through six, with high school being grades seven through 12. Bethany was something of a savior for me. I had been burned badly more than once by using my family’s money for clout with my peers. Despite that I had stopped acting like money, that is, I didn’t wear expensive clothes or carry lots ... or any money with me, Bethany was nice to me from the moment I met her in class on the first day of fifth grade. We quickly became best friends. It took me until Christmas break to finally invite her to my house. She oohed and ahhed over the house and despite that the house screamed ‘rich as Croesus’, she didn’t change how she acted with me at all. I fell a bit in love with her that day because of her lack of a reaction, or a change in how she treated me. I still miss spending time with her, although we’ve stayed in touch and work out seeing each other somewhere nearly every year.
“We met Keya, an incredibly attractive girl, on the first day of 8th grade. I don’t know where I’d be or, even, who I’d be if Keya hadn’t come into my life. Despite that she was foreign and living in a country other than India for the first time, she taught me so much about how to be the person I wanted to be while not throwing away the advantages into which I was born. Bethany and Keya, together, made my life much better, which allowed me to ignore the shit that was slung at me by some of our classmates with whom I’d been in school since 1st grade. The happiness that those two girls engendered in me by their friendship also allowed me to moderate my rebellion against my parents. Well, mostly against my father. At the end, I had a better understanding of my father. I still object, strongly in some cases, to some of the things that he did or, more importantly to me, did not do that he could have, but we managed to bury the hatchet before I went to college.”
“Hey, Sandy. Sandy!”
The pretty blonde turned in the hallway amidst the students changing classes and looked for the friend that she heard but could not immediately find. She need not have worried, as her friend found her.
“Sorry, I was concentrating on remembering where Room 204 is.”
“No prob. I want to introduce you to a new girl this year. This is Keya Rom ... er ... Ramachandra. Keya, this is my best friend, Sandy Holm. Keya, if you couldn’t tell, is from India. Her father is in the Indian foreign service, like an ambassador, but, as Keya says, not that important. He’s stationed at the consulate in town.”
“Hi, Keya. Welcome to the armpit of...”
“Hey! It’s not that bad!”
“Perhaps, but it’s not that good, if you ask me.”
In a blatant aside to the new girl, Keya, Bethany said, “Don’t mind Sandy when she goes on about this city. She’s got ... family issues that make her think less of our fair city than many. Of course, it does have some issues, but few that Sandy’s father couldn’t solve if he had a mind to do so.”
“Which he doesn’t. Where would be the money-grubbing advantage in that?”
“Yes. Yes. Before we’re late to our next classes, just say ‘hi’ to Keya like a sane girl and meet us at lunch at the usual spot.”
“Sorry, Keya. My morning started with a ... disagreement with my ... father. It’s good to meet you and I look forward to seeing you at lunch and, hopefully, hearing about a cooler, more exotic place than this town.”
With a lovely Indian lilt, Keya said, “Hi, Sandy. I met Bethany in homeroom and was assigned the same classes as she has so that she could show me around. I look forward to ... lunch. I can tell you about a much warmer place than this, not cooler.”
Sandy let out a snicker and a glowing smile.
“Good. I’ll see you at lunch.”
“Keya fell in with us immediately. That first lunch was a riot. Bethany and I had to explain to her that ‘cooler’ had a meaning that was not related to temperature. Despite that she spoke English very well, as for most people learning a new language, idioms tripped her up frequently. Fortunately, she never got embarrassed by her misunderstanding, but she never forgot those idioms and would use them correctly at the next opportunity. She was the epitome of decorum everywhere, except when the three of us were alone. At those times, she would release her natural personality and wicked wit. Bethany and I were a bit in awe of her. Despite that she was nearly a year younger than us, we willingly followed her direction in what we grandly thought of as nefarious deeds, but which were actually fairly benign, although I’d have been in trouble with my parents ... with my father ... if he’d heard of some of them.”
“Why do you antagonize him so much?”
“Because he’s such a ... a ... Arrgh. I can’t even think of a useful descriptor!”
“Your father is the head of your household. He is to be obeyed in anything like public.”
“He’s a Neanderthal about...”
“He is to be obeyed in anything like public!”
Sandy sat up on her bed after Keya stepped on her response. She stared daggers into the lovely girl’s deep brown eyes while thinking furiously.
Bethany, sitting at the foot of the same bed, watched the confrontation with trepidation. She knew all about Sandy’s problems with her father, although most of them were just the same problem in various guises. Bethany’s trepidation was due to her concern that Sandy’s temper would get the better of her and ruin the wonderful friendship that the three girls had developed over the past few months. The three of them were so very compatible and so very similar, despite coming from three vastly different families and financial situations. As seconds passed without Sandy blowing up, her concern waned bit by bit. Sandy was obviously thinking. That usually meant that she had hold of her temper, that she would not fly off the handle. When Sandy began speaking, calmly, Bethany mentally whispered “Hallelujah.”
“You’re saying...” Sandy quickly shook her head, then started with, “I’m trying to get to your underlying meaning of that sentence. You have one, right?”
Keya’s eyes and mouth grinned, and she said, “I do.”
“You’re trying to tell me that I can rebel in my head. I can rebel when it’s just us. Public rebellion, here and now, when there is no way to win the battle and with other lives on the line, is doing harm to my cause. I have very little power and no way to win.”
“Mostly right. What did we learn in math the other day about fulcrums and Archimedes?”
Sandy stared into those warm, walnut eyes – without the daggers, then said, “You’re saying that I have no leverage. But you’re also saying that if I find the right fulcrum, I will have leverage. Finally, you’re saying that by bashing everything, I may be breaking a useful fulcrum.”
Keya leaned toward Sandy and put her arms around her, whispering, “I’ll make a Buddhist of you, yet.” She then released Sandy, sat back, and said, “You Americans ... Well, that’s not right. I should not lump all Americans into the same category, when the individuals differ among each other at least as much as Indians do. You, like many Americans I have met, do not do subtle and devious well. I understand that this is 1992 and women have much more than they used to have. However, we still, even here in the Land of Freedom, lack the power that men hold, and I suspect that will still be true 25 years from now. If you are going to hold such strong beliefs and act on them, you must learn subtle and devious.
“You have seen me with my father. He is much as your father, though, with more care and concern for those below him. As I, you will have more freedom to be who you are and believe in what you believe, if you are not always antagonizing the Man. Learn either to work around him or make things appear to be something that they are not. There is a system, and there is always a System. If you tear it down, you will hurt not only yourself but all those around you if you cannot replace it immediately with something better. That is much harder than it might seem, because no one can think of everything that will fall when the System falls.
“You have two advantages. The first is one that you think you hate. You have, if not within your hands, access to money. Rebellions are much easier when they are well funded. The second is that you have strong beliefs. Hold those beliefs but bring them into the light every so often and examine them carefully. Perhaps, they are not what you thought they were. Too many rebels founder on ill-founded beliefs. The System is intricate, with nooks and connections unseen by most. Tear it down when you do not know it well, you make things worse.”
“Wow,” the sandy-haired girl said. “That’s pretty heavy. I’m not looking to alter the government, I just want more equality, more people to have a chance to make something of their lives.”
“Yes, you do. However, unless you go to battle against real problems, make known to the Man real iniquities – not phantasms – and can convince the Man, your father, of how he can better himself by enabling others to better themselves, you will be like that Spaniard.”
Bethany blurted out, “Spaniard? What Spaniard?”
“Don Quixote, of course.” When her statement was met by blank stares, Keya said, “Don’t you two read? I know that you can do it. I have seen you do it. How is it that I read Don Quixote – in English, in India –and you have not.”
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