Chapter 9: Patti the Teacher

Wendy really was a brain. Although we had little homework at the end of each day, she breezed through it while other girls struggled to grasp the basic concepts. I was lucky that I had gone through it once before, so I was able to keep up to her. We got into the habit of doing our homework together after supper instead of going to one of the recreation rooms.

The first day we hit the track we started out at a semi quick walk. As I thought, Wendy might have some baby fat left on her, but she was quite fit and kept up with me easily. I did wonder, though, how a girl who had never participated in any sports could have such stamina. After an hour of steady walking, we were both working up a sweat in those ridiculous gym suits. I suggested we hit the showers before the volleyball court, but I couldn't persuade Wendy to disrobe in front of the other girls. So off to the volleyball court we went.

It was awkward at first since Wendy had no clue as to how to play the game. I had played quite a bit of it in my previous life both in school and on the beaches in my early twenties, but that game hadn't been invented yet - at least not as a sporting event. We spent the hour just passing the ball back and forth over the net while I explained the basic rules and patterns to her. She had strong fingers and could really drive the ball, and her height made her perfect for a set up man. I tried to explain all this to her, but she said it would take time for her to catch on, so we just worked on our passing, keeping the ball in the air.

When it was finally time to call it quits, both of us were covered in sweat.

Surprisingly, there were still a few girls in the shower, but I calmly sat down and waited. I didn't want Wendy to get spooked. The shower in the gym was easily big enough for 30 girls, but even though there was just a handful finishing up, we sat and waited on the wooden benches in the change room.

One of the advantages of a private school like St. Ursula's is that you don't have to haul your stuff all over the place. You stepped out of your clothes and dropped them into the laundry hamper. We each had three uniforms, and everything dropped off today would be returned, clean and wrapped, on our beds tomorrow. Fresh towels were there for the taking and always an abundant supply.

If only Father Bob knew what kind of punishment he had given me!

I sat on a bench facing into the showers and Wendy sat across from me. This was definitely hard! Having to look at the bodies of nubile young women in their prime!

"Pete!" Wendy whispered loudly, "You're staring!"

"So? Your point being?" I asked.

"Well... I don't think it's right," she said with a pout.

"I see nothing wrong with it," I said. "As a matter of fact, I'm rather enjoying myself!"

"Are you a..."

"A lesbian?" I finished for her. "I don't think so, but I can admire the human body, can't I?"

"But you're admiring the female form," she retorted.

"Yeah," I sighed. It's so much nicer looking than a man's."

She giggled. "You're awful!"

The last of the girls got out of the shower and it appeared one was going to make a comment to Wendy when I stood up. "Thank you," I said, "now we can have some privacy." That earned me a weird look.

"You are so wicked!" Wendy giggled. "Everybody will think you really are a lesbian."

"Maybe I am and I just can't remember," I teased her. "But since it's you and me, they'll think you're my lover."

"As if!"

"As if what?" I asked.

"Like you'd want somebody as frumpy as me when you're so gorgeous," she said.

"Hey now, I happen to think you're beautiful," I said to her. "You're sweet and cuddly and smart as well. You're the one who should be choosy."

"Ah, you're cracking me up," said Wendy.

"Come on, let's get this over with before we're late for supper," I said, and I pulled off my gym suit. Wendy hesitated a minute.

"Come on, Wendy," I said with a grin. "I'll show you mine if you show me yours!"

That brought on some real giggling and slowly she peeled off her suit. I had my bra undone and skimmed my panties off, then I turned to watch her. She had her back partially to me but I could see that she was looking at my body with something other than just curiosity.

"Come on, Wendy, show me what real tits look like. It might be years before I grow any!"

This only brought more laughter from her and she undid her bra and defiantly turned to face me. She hefted one in each hand, presenting them to my delighted gaze. "There," she said. "This is what real boobies look like."

"No way, Wendy," I said, "those aren't boobies, they're real honest to God tits!" She wasn't that big, maybe the size of oranges, but that was a hell of a lot more than I had, and she had the darkest nipples and they were stiff. I knew what that meant! They had swollen to the size of grapes and at that moment, I was really in the mood for a taste from the vine!

Her bush was dark but not overly hairy, and I took a few minutes to just admire her nude body. What a rush! Here I was, a lecherous old man in the body of a 14 year old and getting to look at the 13 year old body of my new friend. This was way weird.

Wendy noticed my bush and scar and asked if it hurt, and wondered how long it would take before the hair grew back.

I spread my legs a bit and pretended to examine myself, using my hands to move my pussy around. I was sex wet.

"I don't know I said, "but I think I'll keep it trimmed anyway. Maybe on a quiet weekend you can give me a hand with the scissors."

Wendy was breathing a bit heavy and seemed to have a hard job tearing her eyes from my sparse bush.

"Wendy?"

Finally, she raised her eyes to mine, slightly flushed, and said "Sure."

It had to be getting close to six o'clock, so reluctantly I turned on the shower and grabbed a bar of soap. As much as I wanted to pull her tight to me, I knew that I had to take things slowly.

After washing my hair, I took the soap and lathered my body. Wendy was doing the same, but kept sneaking glances at my erect nipples and my pussy when she thought I couldn't see. I slowly washed my pussy, my arousal building up quickly, and I knew that I was very close to an orgasm. I turned away so that Wendy wouldn't see what I was doing and I used my entire hand to slide all around my labia, being careful not to press directly on my clit. I could feel the blood rushing down and could feel my clit start to protrude.

"What are you doing, Pete?" Wendy asked.

"Ah... I'm... itchy from the... hair growing back," I stammered out. I knew that I wasn't fooling her and knowing that she was watching me just turned me on even more and within a minute, I blew! My knees buckled as the waves of pleasure washed over me and I had to grasp for the shower pipes to remain standing.

"Wow," I heard her say from behind me. "You looked like you enjoyed that. Is it always that good?"

I willed my breathing to calm down and turned to face her. "I was just scratching an itch," I said.

"Yeah, right. You must have really scratched cause your nipples are totally puckered and your chest is bright red."

"Really Wendy, I was just scratching an itch."

"If you say so," she said. "Maybe I should shave a bit of my pubic hair off so I have something to scratch."

I smiled at her, knowing I hadn't fooled her one bit. "You don't need to shave to have an itch," I said playfully.

We finished showering off and had our civilian clothes on as we headed for supper. Quite a few people looked at us as we made our way down the food line. Once again, I pointed out what she should take. "Protein, Wendy," I said. "It won't go to your waist and will help build stronger muscles."

We sat with the other girls from our dorm, but were mostly ignored. As I explained to Wendy, one of the benefits of being a really good student was that while people might dislike you for one reason or another, they wouldn't say anything to jeopardize the chance of some remedial help as the semester drew to a close.

The week flew by and every day Wendy became a bit bolder in the shower. On the Friday of the first week, she finally gathered up the courage to ask how I had learned how to scratch my itch.

"I had some help from a caring nurse," I said truthfully.

"And is this something I can read in a textbook?" she asked hesitantly.

"Not yet it isn't," I said before I realized it.

"You know Pete, sometimes I get the feeling that you know a lot more than you're letting on. Other people don't catch it, but every now and then I hear you talk about the here and now like you've already read about it."

"Oh, Wendy," I said, "half the time I don't have a clue as to what I'm saying. Maybe I lost some of my speaking skills as well as my memory." But I could see she wasn't buying it. Time to distract her with something drastic.

"So," I said, "You want to learn how to scratch an itch? Let me show you how it's done."

The girls who came from moneyed families had privileges not allowed us plebs, and because it was Friday night they could go into town to eat, shop or catch a movie, instead of one of the 'optional' activities. We had the shower all to ourselves!

Wendy had grown pretty comfortable being nude around me, and though I didn't want to tell her yet, I could already see some of her remaining baby fat melting away. I figured in a month, following what would become known as the Atkins diet and with the two hours of physical exercise every afternoon after class, she would be totally toned and trim.

I loved the way her butt was taking shape, and wanted more than anything to run my hands all over her body and hold her close to me, but I didn't think she was ready for that yet. Yet, here she was asking if I would show her how to scratch your itch.

I told her the worst thing she could do was to use a scented soap or a deodorant soap, but I had mentioned this to her for health reasons earlier on in the week. "It will burn and sting your pussy," I explained to her.

I was horny as all hell! Just the thought of seeing Wendy play with herself was getting me so fucking hot!

I leaned back against the wall and after lathering myself all up, I explained what Julie had told me. The only difference was that I was showing her at the same time.

Wendy's eyes got big and she bent down to watch as I let my fingers do the walking, gently stroking my labia, then sliding between the inner and outer lips and tracing the contours. I told her not to put pressure on her clit but to let the motion of the lips moving let the hood ride it up and down until the clit was engorged enough to make an appearance by itself.

I came so unexpectedly it caught me by surprise, but I was still hot and having Wendy watch just turned me on even more. I slipped two fingers inside my cunt and started to pump them in and out, as my thumb strummed a beautiful noise on my clit, and it was a loud and glorious noise as I crashed over the edge with a whopper!

I had tears in my eyes from the pleasure and was glad I was against the wall as I slowly slid down it, my legs shaking. Wendy must have started just after me because as I opened my eyes, I was looking directly at her crotch and her fingers twirling pubic hair and dancing over her puffy lips. Her breathing became irregular as she formed her fingers into a mini shovel and started digging away at her box until with a gasp and a moan, her legs clenched together and her knees gave out. Wendy literally fell on me as she sagged onto the wet tiles.

"Oh Fuck!" she said just as she passed out.

I held her with my arm around her shoulders, feeling closer to her than I had to anybody for a long, long while. Even unconscious, she had a little smile on her pouty lips, and I longed to kiss her but knew it was too soon. Her eyelids flickered, and then she looked up at me, startled to see me so close. I helped her sit up, and then sat back a little.

"Are you OK?" I asked.

"Ooh! That was so intense!" Wendy whispered.

"Was that your first?"

She blushed. "Well, no, but it's never been like that! What happened?"

I knew she was talking about me holding her, so I said, "I couldn't have you hitting your head, now could I?"

"I fainted?"

"Not really. More like a sensory overload."

She looked at me strangely for a moment and I knew I'd used the wrong words again.

"Does that happen to you, too?" she asked me.

"Well, not yet, but I'm hoping! Anyways," I said with a smile, "that's the basics. It only gets better from here."

"Better than this?" she asked incredulously.

"Well, first of all, my own personal record is three in a row... so far," I said with a lascivious grin, and then went on to explain there was still a lot more that could be done to enhance the experience.

"You mean with a boy?" she asked.

"Only if you find a really considerate one. Most guys only care about getting themselves off and don't take the time for us to enjoy it too." More memories from my past came back to taunt me.

"See, you're doing it again, Pete! You can't have had that much experience with boys, yet you talk like you know all about it. And the stupid thing is that I know you're sincere and telling me the truth."

I took a deep breath. "Finish up Wendy, and then we'll talk."

We quickly finished our showers in silence, and then dressed. Occasionally I saw her glancing my way as if wondering, and I realized that Wendy was too smart. Eventually she was going to trip me up on something important, and I really needed an ally. I probably wouldn't see Einstein again for a long time, maybe years. I would have to tell her at least part of the story.

With a lot of the girls finished eating, and the rich ones out on the town, the cafeteria was nearly empty. We sat at a table at the furthest corner away from any big ears.

"You ever have the feeling of Déjà vu, Wendy?" I asked her.

"Sure," she said. "It's a common thing, thinking or feeling that you've done something before when you really haven't."

Time to fib a bit.

"Well, since I woke up in hospital, that's the way I feel. But it's more than a feeling," I whispered, "I seem to know the way the world is headed."

"You mean like what happened in the showers a little while ago," she giggled.

I laughed as well. "No, not stuff like that, more like major events. I have absolutely no idea what will happen to me," I said looking into her eyes, "but I know what will shape our world when I grow up."

She looked seriously at me. "So, you're not a fortune teller, you can't actually see the future, but you know what it will look like."

I nodded my head. "Like records. By 1990, they will become obsolete. They'll be replaced by disks that are read by a laser light."

Wendy snorted. "Duh, yeah! Like I could predict that as well," she said, but she didn't say it meanly or with spite. "Technology is bound to move on," she said.

"It's more than that, though," I said. "For instance, I know we will have two new Popes in the next three years. And the second one will come from Poland."

"Shit," said Wendy. She bent her head low to whisper more quietly. "Are you serious, Pete?"

"Dead serious," I said looking into her eyes. "I seem to know all the major events that are going to happen in the future." What I didn't tell her was that my knowledge of these events only went up to September of 2003.

"Do you think this happened when you lost your memory?" she asked. "Like maybe you lost your memory because it got filled with all this other stuff? You know, Carl Jung had theories about the collective unconsciousness. Maybe you're living proof."

"That might be, Wendy, but you see I can't tell this to anybody. You're the only person who knows."

She looked around the room slowly then turned back to me and said, "Don't worry Pete, I won't breathe a word. And I won't push you to tell me anything. I'm not sure I could handle knowing what's coming."

I sat back relieved. Not just because she believed me and accepted what I said as the truth, but that she seemed to have an understanding of what it was like for me.

"So there you have it, Wendy. You were right; I haven't had any experience with boys or men. Hell, I'm still a virgin! But I do know what feels good and how it can feel even better!"

"Oh, that you have got to tell me!" she said gleefully.

"How about we take it one step at a time," I suggested. "I'll tell you how you can do it at night in bed for starters but for the seriously intense stuff, maybe you should wait."

"Now, that I will pressure you about," she retorted. "If anything can top that experience, I want to know how!"

"Soon, Wendy... soon enough."

We spent Saturday morning in the gym working on our volleyball techniques when Sister Gabriella, the nun who coordinated organized sports, happened to walk in.

Wendy and I had long passed the point of keeping the ball aloft, and were working off a wall on which we had taped some newspaper sheets. We would bounce the ball back and forth a few times and then she would set me up and I would drive the ball at one of our targets. It was as close to a target range for blind spots as we could devise, and the sound of the ball hammering the paper gave a satisfying smack.

Wendy would spin to face me and give just enough lift to the ball to clear the net and I would jump up and spike it. With my height and slender frame, I was easily jumping over two feet up from a standing position and Wendy had shown an uncanny knack for placing the ball wherever I was standing, and I made sure never to be in the same place twice. I moved every time I was preparing to spike and Wendy would have to find me after she turned to set me up.

Sister Gabriella watched for a while, till we became a bit uncomfortable under her stare and we stopped. She walked over to talk to us.

Unlike public schools where sports coaches had to be regular teachers as well to earn a living, all Sister Gabe did (she insisted that we call her that) was help organize sports and teams. She dressed in the newer more modern nun's habit and it was easy to see that at one time she had been very athletic. Her skirt ended just below her knees showing off a set of muscled calves and strong ankles. Her white blouse was short sleeved and though she carried the standard blue school sweater over one arm, the other looked like she was a contender in the arm wrestling department. This was all offset however by a pretty face and a beautiful smile. Her small headpiece showed she had nice brown hair.

"How did I miss you girls before?" she asked. "I'm usually told about any new girls who have some athletic ability. You know with a school this small it's hard to find enough participants to form a team much less a decent one fit for competition."

I explained that I had started two weeks late in the semester because of my surgery, and hadn't fully recovered enough to consider trying out for any team sports. I didn't want to tell her that as long as Wendy was uncomfortable showering with the other girls that I would not subject her or pressure her to join anything.