Chapter 1: Monday - Daybreak

Rebbecca

His lips were tracing sparks across mine. His hands were moving to my bodice. The cool wind was flowing over us and not cooling our passion. "Yes, kiss me. Take me." My bedroom door opened.

"Good morning sleepyhead, time to get up, school day." Mom retreated from my room and went down to make breakfast.

My dream slowly faded. The soft meadow of heather replaced by my covers. The haphazard collection of paintings, sketches, and charcoals that lined my walls replacing the mists on the hills in Scotland. My imaginary lover would have to wait until tonight to finish seducing me. I hopped out of bed, straightened my nightgown, and reached for my robe hanging on my easel. "Just a few more strokes and you're done," I decided as I studied the oil mounted in the easel. I needed the paints to settle a bit before adding the last few details. "Maybe tomorrow."

Just before opening my door I looked at my "Wall of Inspiration." Sketches that I had at one time thought might be hiding a painting and I wasn't in the right frame of mind to see it. No sudden inspiration from any of the sketches pinned to the wall. Yet, I decided they would all survive another day before taking the trip to the archive in the back of the closet.

I crossed the hall still wrapping my robe around me. My younger brother and I traded the bathroom and I made some noises. He mumbled something back. It was our private morning ritual and joke. Neither of us is a morning person. Yet, he'd already been out for a run. At least I'd gotten an extra hour of sleep.

In the shower I started a new short story, hearing the dialog in my head, seeing the scene, hearing the characters, and watching it unfold. I've learned to not force my dreams. A long, hot shower usually lets them come out in story form. I let the story wash over me as I finished rinsing off. This one was a keeper. I'd capture as much as I could on paper this morning. Kind of funny that it was about being naked in school and the Program would be starting up for the year today.

The Program. It was some silly thing that came from another school system a few years ago. We all got pamphlets about it each year. There were two naked teenagers on the front of it. Kids were "chosen" to go through school for a week naked. Something about discovery and becoming more comfortable with themselves. Blah, blah, blah. I could ignore it. No way I'd ever be in the Program.

After wrapping myself in my robe, towel on head, I headed for my room. Time to apply the camouflage. My wardrobe was mostly ankle length skirts, mostly vintage with some retro. Flowing and not at all revealing. My tops tended towards baggy, almost shapeless. I wanted to keep my body private. I used to dress like everyone else. Then my body started to change and I got boobs before anyone else my age. Girls can be so cruel and boys only want to stare or touch. Or worse.

Besides covering myself from ankle to neck I looked for the right scarf, shawl, hat, or other accessory to continue the illusion. Mixing colors, textures, and lines in a way that stood out yet was ignored. I got away with my eclectic attire by being the artist. My large bag of sketchbooks, pens, pencils, charcoals, journals, cameras, and such just made it obvious. I had perfected hiding in plain sight.

"Thanks for the wake up, Mom." I kissed her on the cheek as she cooked. I fixed my cereal, juice, and grabbed some toast. My brother was well into his 4 egg omelet as I sat down. We ceremonially grunted at eat other, a slight smile on our lips.

"Neandertal," I mumbled louder.

"Hippie," he retorted.

"Morning Daddy," I said to the Wall Street Journal at the head of the table. Home delivery no less.

"Morning Rebbecca," the paper said. I pulled out my journal and captured the gist of the new story while I ate.

"Want a ride today?" Jason was finishing his 20,000 calorie, cholesterol laden breakfast and getting ready to go. I don't have a car. I'm really not a good driver. I spend too much time in my head writing, thinking about my next painting, or just seeing the world my way. Not enough attention on the road, I'm afraid. On my 16th birthday I had traded the offered car for a nice camera, some lenses, a really good easel, and the tools to make my own paints. I had never regretted it. I'm sure the other drivers hadn't either.

"Sure, Jase, thanks." I finished up my notes, knowing I had a few more minutes while he gathered his books.

Mom and I did the kissy-cheek thing, the Paper wished us well in school, and Jason and I went out the door to his car.

"You know the Program starts today," Jason said as we settled into the car and he backed out the drive. "Who do you think they will pick?" The Big Secret we kept from our parents was we actually talked to each other, a lot. We got along really well. Far be it for us to burst their bubble about sibling rivalry and all. As a matter of fact, I considered Jason my best friend.

"Don't know. I only hope I can get some artistic inspiration from them." The Program. Damn. Is that going to be the only topic for conversation today? Being naked. Getting fondled under the guise of a request.

"The boy or the girl?"

"Both and maybe together!" I laughed. "It would be too much to think they'd be in my art class."

"Bec, what if our parents signed us for the Program?"

"No way. They really don't know we're around except as tax deductions." That's why I was so safe from it. Parents had to sign their kids up for it.

"Don't be so hard on them, Bec." Before I went off on my parents it hit me. Jason is everything they'd wanted. Six feet two, 240 pounds of solid muscle. A star running back as a Junior including All State and All American honorable mention. National Honor Society. Popular.

"Sorry Jase. I'm just not the daughter they wanted. I'm not the social princess, the cheerleader, or even the gymnast. I'm not all that popular. I don't want to be. I want my writing and my art. That's all."

"Oh Bec. Don't think they don't love you or really care about you. They really do. They also respect that you have something rare and special, your artistic talents."

"Yea, like they see that." I almost spat out these last words.

My dear brother, all big handsome hunk of him, able to find a hole in any defense and get five more yards, looked at me. His eyes were starting to tear. "We all see it, Bec. They just don't know how to relate to you."

What could I do. I broke and cried. I leaned on my "little" brother, my rock, my friend and bawled. He put his arm around me and hugged me. "We all see the magic you have with words and painting. We're all in awe, even a bit jealous. You make something we can't imagine doing look so easy. But we see it, we respect it. Mom, Dad, and me, we do love you."

Jason pulled into the parking lot, found a spot, and shut down the car. I was still leaking rivers. Sobbing. Almost heaving. He handed me a towel and helped me start to pull myself back together.

"I'm such an emotional time bomb, aren't I?"

"I guess it comes with the artistic vision, Sis." He gave me a gentle punch on the arm. Eventually I did get myself together. My rock helped by just being there and not judging me. I thought, 'how could someone so physical be so gentle'. I almost lost it again.

Composed again, the perfect picture of the eccentric artist, we walked up to the school together. As we got closer I let him go on. Part of me wanted to just see and feel the early fall changes happening around the school. The other part began the 'hide in plain sight' ploy.

I watched as Jason joined the other football players outside the office. In that crowd his size looked average. I'd never noticed that before. I just held back at the edge of the crowd. Happy to observe and not be seen. It took on the flavor of a hanging. Everyone wanting to be a part of it and at the same time not wanting to be the star. Except, this lynching, no one in this crowd knew who the stars were going to be. The rubberneckers and gawkers waiting for the car wreck packed around the door to the main office.

The PA system came to life and the crowd grew silent in anticipation. "Would the following students report to the main office: Rebbecca Davis..."

Luis

"Oh, God! Oh, Yes! You're a God! Harder!" This incredible blond was riding my cock and screaming while I fondled her nipples. Her face twisted with pleasure, her nipples rock hard, her fluids running down my balls. Then the alarm went off.