Chapter 13C

The problem was solved when Angie came over to join us. Polly lost her expression of uncontrollable lust, and when she looked away, I was able to snap out of it as well.

"Hey, you two," Angie said. "What's going on?" Her tone implied that if something WAS going on, she wanted to get in on it. She put an arm around my waist and gave me a friendly hug. I acknowledged it by giving her butt a quick squeeze and she grinned at the reminder that it wasn't the first time today I had had my hand on her rear end.

"I was just showing Polly my jewelry," I said, pulling my top completely off.

The room was by now full of half-naked girls so I figured this was the time to get the unveiling over with. I flipped the rings out so the bells would swing freely and announce their presence to one and all.

In no time at all, I was surrounded by girls eager to admire my jewelry. Questions flew and I tried to stick to Sara's highly spun version as closely as I could. The reactions were about what I expected. No one seemed overly horrified by what had happened. Many agreed that they looked good on me, that for someone with breasts as large as mine, large rings and dangling bells weren't too over-the-top. Most said it was just out of the question for them, that their parents would go ballistic if they even expressed an interest in piercing anything but their ears. Some said they would like to have their nipples pierced, but wanted something simpler than my bells.

A couple of girls had pierced nipples that they were happy to show off. One had horizontal bars through her areola with small colored beads that screwed onto the ends and the other had small horseshoes through the tips of her nipples. They both said they enjoyed having the piercings and were thinking about upgrading to larger gauges. They seemed impressed at how well I had healed and how my nipples must be very firm not to sag at all under the weight of the 8 gauge rings and the bells. One girl, whose name was Gaye, even suggested that since I didn't wear a bra, I should think about going even further and connect my rings with a chain.

The idea of adding even more jewelry was an idea that hadn't occurred to me. A connecting chain sounded impractical on a daily basis, but for a special occasion I could see how it could be a lot of fun. I started to think about my nipples being connected together and how it would feel with more weight on them or if they would feel like they were tied together.

The images were very vivid and my nipples began to swell and harden as I thought of more kinky things I could do or that might be done to me. Gaye certainly noticed this because she pointed out to the other girl that I obviously liked her suggestion. Neither seemed to mind my reaction and both openly admired how large my nipples were getting.

"Gee, Sam," Gaye said, "You really can get them out there. I wish mine would get that big. Those look like they must be very sensitive."

"See how her rings stick up when she gets them puffed-up?" the other girl said. "That's why I got mine in the tips, so they would stick out further when mine get hard."

I was about to give in to an urge to grab the rings and tug on them when Coach came in and told us to hurry up and dress-out, that we would be doing calisthenics on the field today. I ran for my locker and quickly changed to my Gym clothes with a sports bra underneath. The bra kept the rings and bells from hardening my nipples, making them even more prominent, but they still showed clearly, even through two layers of material. At least the bells were kept from ringing. That would have caused all kinds of trouble with all the jumping around Coach usually had us doing and I didn't want to go through all that again.

All through class, Coach kept glancing in my direction. I checked the first few times, thinking that maybe something was showing even more than it should, but I finally decided that she was just curious about my jewelry.

When class was over, I thought she might make some excuse to get me into her office, maybe to caution me about the health issues related to piercings, but she didn't. She went into her office and closed the door behind her, something she almost never did unless she was having a disciplinary discussion or a private talk with a parent, or both.

I suspected that Coach was struggling with more than a case of repressed sexual feelings. I wanted to help her, but I hadn't thought of anything I could do that would not make things worse for her, especially if, as I suspected, I was the one she was attracted to. I thought this was probably something she had been dealing with for some time. Being in close contact with hundreds of girls who were brimming over with hormonal enthusiasm must have been both heaven and hell for her.

Before meeting the man with the dungeon in his garage, I had been willing to leave some things alone, to respect people's privacy and to let them work out their problems on their own. Now, since I had seen the consequences of years of leaving issues unresolved, I thought it was probably better to poke my nose in and risk getting it bit.

A school setting would be the worst place to do anything. It would set off all kinds of bad reactions. I needed to get her away from her role as Coach Simpson and into a social setting where I could get her to relax. The problem was that I didn't think she had a social life into which I could intrude. I would have to take her some place for some intimate intervention. Someplace where I could control the environment. Someplace where I might have help in getting her to at least acknowledge her sexuality and maybe even release some of her pent-up desires. The more I thought about it, the more this sounded like something right up my alley.

Flush with confidence, I rapped on Coach's office door and stepped in without waiting for a response. What I saw failed to shock me in the slightest. I closed the door behind me quickly.

Coach had both hands under her sweatshirt and was passionately rubbing and squeezing her breasts. Her face was flushed and her mouth was hanging open. She had obviously gotten deeply into a fantasy in the few seconds that it took me to decide to intrude on her.

When she saw me she tried to yank her hands out from under her bulky shirt, but she got her watch caught in her bra and managed to yank the bra up over her breasts, ending up with both hands twisted in the straps and her full breasts swaying in full view.

Her nipples were still hardening from the stimulation and looked very inviting. I had a brief urge to kiss them, but I resisted it. I was surprised at how much larger her breasts looked. She had seemed almost flat-chested, but I could see now that she was at least a C-cup, maybe even larger. It was hard to tell with her squirming around like that, even if it did make her breasts bounce so nicely. I revised my estimate of her age. I had thought she was in her late twenties, but that must have been the lack of makeup and the weathering from being outdoors all the time. I decided she couldn't be any older than twenty-five.

"Here, let me help you," I said, stepping behind her and pulling up the back of her sweatshirt.

The bra seemed to be the whole of the problem, so I unhooked it and pulled it up over her head and off her hands. She immediately yanked her sweatshirt down to cover herself. I checked the tag on her bra before I handed it back over her shoulder. It was a 36B, way too small for her.

"You really need something in your size," I told her, pointedly ignoring what had been going on when I had walked in on her. "This is probably two sizes too small for you."

She took the bra and stuffed it into a drawer of her desk. She opened her mouth to say something, but nothing came out. She couldn't think of any way to explain her behavior that wouldn't be blatantly laughable and she knew it.

"Really, you're at least a C-cup, probably closer to a D. Don't you know wearing a bra too small will shut off the blood to your nipples and make them swell and itch like that?"

It was a totally bullshit explanation, but she was so grateful at being handed one on a plate like that that she instantly relaxed to the point of almost laughing out loud at how stupid it was.

Before she could stop me, I spun her around in the chair and yanked up her shirt over her head. She looked pretty funny with her arms wrapped up in the shirt and unable to stop me from taking liberties. If she thought about it, she might begin to question how strong I had to be to overpower her like this, but she was probably going to be too flustered to think clearly.

I reached down and cupped a breast in my hand, checking the shape and the heft as I gave it an appraisal. As soon as she felt the touch of my hand she quit struggling.

"You really need a D, you know," I told her, giving her a little extra squeeze. "Although you seem to be pretty firm to me. You could get away with going braless except when you're going to be exercising. You'd want to keep from rubbing your nipples raw on the inside of your shirt." I stroked her nipple to emphasize my point about how sensitive they could be and I heard a low moan from inside the balled-up shirt.

"You have nice soft nipples," I told her, holding the one in my hand between my fingers and gently rolling it around. "You don't want to make them raw. You need to put some cocoa butter on them if they get irritated. You just rub it all around until it's worked into the skin."

She whimpered inside her cloth sack. She had quit struggling and was letting me do whatever I wanted to her. I decided it was time to let her out, since it must be stuffy in there. I pulled her shirt down and covered her breasts again. She crossed her arms under them trapping them under the heavy cotton cloth.

I pulled up my own top and let my breasts dangle inches from her face. She almost went cross-eyed looking at them.

"Trust me," I said. A command that could have several meanings. "I know what it's like to wear a bra that's too small. Can you imagine what it was like for me to have these trapped in a cup three sizes too small?"

She froze in place, so I helped her. I took her hand and put it on one of my breasts.

"I mean, really. Try to squeeze that down to an F-cup. Go ahead, try."

She squeezed gently. When she saw that she wasn't hurting me she squeezed again until her fingers had pushed into my flesh a half-inch. She laughed at the idea that I could wear something that absurdly small and she quit squeezing, but she didn't take her hand away.

"Did you get to see my jewelry?" I asked. She could hardly miss it; it was almost banging into her nose. She played with the bells for a bit and she ran her fingers around the rings and felt where they disappeared into my skin. She looked like a kid in a toy store, not knowing what to touch next. I waited patiently while she enjoyed an opportunity that she had never expected to have.

When she took her hands off me and looked up into my face, she seemed to be a different person. I pulled down my top and my bra and made a big deal out of getting adjusted. She took the hint and helped smooth the chains and bells down so they weren't bunched up and biting into me.

"Thanks," I said. "Now, don't you feel much more comfortable?"

"Um?" she mumbled, momentarily confused. "Oh, yes! Thanks. I guess I do need to get a bigger bra. I just didn't want to look too... big, you know?"

I realized that she'd been trying to make herself stay the size she was when she was a high school girl. She was trying to identify with us, to be like us. I represented the transformation into womanhood that she had been denying herself, so she had been attracted to me. That's why she had only put up a token struggle, she had wanted to be freed from her self-imposed prison, to be told she could allow herself to blossom as she saw us blossoming.

My insight seemed unusually keen and I wondered if this wasn't another sign of new ability. If my eyesight was sharper, why not my empathic sense as well?

"You know, I don't know your first name," I said, knowing that if she answered me, it meant she was willing to let us go beyond our student-teacher roles.

"It's Sue," she said, smiling. And just like that, I had a new friend.

"Sue, are you busy this afternoon? I thought we could run downtown and see about getting you some underwear that fits."

"That would be very nice, Sam. I'd love too."

"Great! And I have some other friends I'd like you to meet. You'll like them. They're all just kids like us. Just like us."

Tears welled up in her eyes at being told that I understood her heart's desire and being reassured that she could have what she wanted — to be just a kid again and have girlfriends and go shopping and stuff. I wiped the tears away, which only made things worse, of course.

"So, I'll see you after school? Good."

I slipped out of Sue's office and shut the door behind me. I wished I could solve every problem I ran into by making friends. It would sure make the world a much better place.

I was the last girl in the showers, but Polly and Angie had both waited for me. For the second time that day, I got thoroughly washed and loved it. I tried to wash them back, but apparently they had taken care of each other before I arrived. Between the two of them, they discovered that I was ticklish in one small spot under each breast and we made the shower room ring with shrieks and giggles as they chased me from one end to another trying to get to those spots.

Everyone else had fled, so we were the last girls still in the showers when Coach came along to shoo us out. He eyes were red, but she was smiling, and she even flicked a towel at my butt as I ran for my locker. When she moved, I could tell that she still hadn't but her bra back on, which I took as a very good sign. I grinned as I backed away from her rolled up towel, holding my rear protectively. She was starting to act just like a kid. I wondered if she had ever had a chance to be a teen at all. Her whole problem might be more due to repressed childhood than repressed sexuality. Play might be all she needed. Then I remembered how she had moaned when I touched her, and I thought she probably needed a good climax or three as well, but maybe I was just projecting my own feelings. I enjoyed having her in a helpless position where I could do anything I wanted to her. What I wanted most was to hear her scream in ecstasy as I applied the BumbleBee to her quivering clit. For my money, one good hard cum was worth more than a month on an analyst's couch.

My last class of the day crawled by as Miss Albert patiently explained for the third time the difference between a sequence and a series and vainly tried to move us closer to the next section in the book before we all died of old age. I had gotten curious and skipped ahead a couple of chapters so I was impatient for us to get to linear equations, about which I had a few questions that I wanted to ask, mainly about how to determine when a system has no solution without working on the problem all day. I thought the book sort of skipped over this point.

I spent the time finding out that, while I couldn't change the color of my nails directly, I could change enough of the pigment in the skin underneath to make them look almost any color I wanted except blue. For some reason I couldn't do blue very well. It just made my fingernails look like someone had smacked them with a hammer.

When I finally escaped from Math I, I dumped all the books I wouldn't need into my locker and ran out to the parking lot to meet Neeka. I beat her there and had to wait for her.

"Get away from my car!" She called as she walked over.

"What?"

"The next thing I know, you'll be perched on the hood ornament, humping the chrome off it!"

"Hey, you started it! Can I help it if your car is a good fuck? Angie certainly thought so."

"She sure did, didn't she? Well if anybody is going to be screwing this vehicle from now on, it's going to be me!"

"You've been thinking about it, haven't you?"

"I sure have. After watching the two of you, and especially after your little adventure at lunch, I'm up for it."

"Well, I wish we could go to some nice out of the way garage, so you and your date could have a torrid afternoon of depraved auto-eroticism..."

"Oh, you didn't say that! My God, what a horrible pun!"

"Jealous! By the way, we need to take a new friend shopping."

"Oooo, shopping! OK, whose credit card do we use?"

"Hers, I guess." I pulled my flat and mostly empty wallet out of my bag. I hadn't looked in it for days. There hadn't been any need and I didn't expect the measly few dollars I carried in it to reproduce or anything. As I opened it a bright flash of gold caught my eye. I didn't have five dollars in there, there certainly wouldn't be anything... I snatched it out of the sleeve and held it up to the sky so it could shine in the sun. I held in my hand a gold credit card with my name on it. I didn't need three guesses to know who was responsible for this.

"Are you just now finding that? Do you know how long ago she got that for you and stuck it in there?"

I was speechless. If someone had handed me a check for a million dollars I could not have been more stunned. With everything Bambi had done for me, giving me a credit card must have seemed to her the most trivial of details, not really worth mentioning. But I had never had one before. Yvette had one, but after Dad left she used it only on special occasions. She could never be sure we would have enough money to pay the bill when it came.

I certainly never thought I would have a Gold Card. I didn't even know what the credit line had to be before they issued them in that color. It must be... thousands!

"At least," Neeka said. "I think it's $5000 and goes up from there. Platinum starts at $10,000 and goes up you don't want to know how high."

"Five thousand dollars! I'm holding five-thousand dollars? Holy moly!"

"Watch your language!"

"Hunh?"

"You never had one before? You know how to use it, don't you?"

"Sure! You just swipe and..." I wasn't real sure about the rest. I'd seen it but I'd never done it.

"Unhunh. You know it's not money. It's just a promise to pay the money when the bill comes in. And Bambi will be the one getting the bill, which will itemize everything you charge on that card in neat little categories with store names and dates and everything."

"Oh. Sure. I knew that." I didn't. And she knew I didn't. But she was my best friend and wouldn't rub my nose in it. Not too awful much. Five Thousand Dollars. She trusted me with a credit card good for Five Thousand Dollars.

"You're hopeless," Neeka said. She got right in my face and put her hands on my cheeks. "She knows she can trust you," she told me in slow measured words, "with the lives... of her children. You proved yourself worthy of that trust. This..." she tapped the card in my hand, "... is just plastic."

"Gee, you sure know how to fuck up a good time!" But I took her point. The card was beneath mentioning as far as Mom was concerned. She trusted me with far more important things than her money. That's why she had never bothered to tell me when she slipped it into my wallet. She just assumed that I would find it when I needed it.

"So OK, we can go shopping," I said. "I can buy a few things that I need that don't cost a lot."

"And?"

"And? And... and I can buy something for Mom while we're out, too!"

"There you go! You'll catch onto this 'daughter' business yet."

She was right. It was still very new to me. I never would have thought of buying something for Yvette. She would have grilled me about where I got the money and implied that I had whored myself for it, even outright accused me of it. I shuddered. Those memories would take a while to fade.

"I'm sorry, Sam! I shouldn't have said anything."

"No, it's OK. I forgave her. I can't forget, but I can make better memories to put on top of those, until the good ones hide the bad."

"Good plan. Who's this coming? Is that Coach Simpson?"

I followed her gaze toward the Gym. There was a girl walking toward us across the parking lot. Her short auburn hair looked like it had just lost a battle to a brush. She wore a white cotton blouse that could have used some starch and the touch of a hot iron, and a khaki skirt that was just a little too long for current fashion or the great set of legs she had. She was carrying a ratty canvas bag that had probably held liniment or something until a half hour ago. She was smiling. It was the smile that made her look so different.