Chapter 6

Standing in her underwear, the dress shop change cubicle with the curtain open, a chill ran through her and it was quite confusing because she felt so hot. Her mother, standing with her back to the gigantic mirror across the narrow hallway at the back of the store, had her eyes all over her and it was making her skin tingle on top of it.

Maryann refused to believe the sensations she was feeling. Things were tightening up, nipples, vaginal walls, even her anus. Time seemed to be standing still.

Annie returned with a couple of bras in hand and stepped into the cubical.

"We'll be just a second" she smilingly informed the girl's mother and drew the drape.

Annie set the lingerie on the bench that lined the back of the change room and stepped behind her customer. Becky drew a deep breath as she felt the hooks release.

Annie felt that delightful warm rush in her pussy as she pushed the shoulder straps off. How many times had she and Melanie—her girlfriend—admired miz Spencer's bust under the school sweater while she encouraged her fellow students to support the school team. She could hardly believe her luck; she was about to see them—in the flesh. Back in front of her customer she gripped the shoulder straps and completed the removal. She only got a brief glimpse of the jutting firm cones before Becky crossed her arms over her chest in automatic modesty.

The girl, now wearing only the white cotton briefs saw the salesgirl's eyes focused on her breasts—well actually on her arms which were covering her breasts. Annie looked up and their eyes met again. Becky saw the undeniable twinkle.

"You don't need to be shy around me," the salesgirl assured her.

-'This is dumb!' Rebecca chided herself. 'I've been dying to show them off to Michelle ... Why not to Annie?'

The rush she felt when she lowered her arms was not embarrassment. She felt her nipples stiffening possibly from the cool air circulating over them but more probably from seeing the rapt expression on Annie's face.

"Doesn't it feel cool when they get all hard and stick out like that?" the redhead said making it obvious that she had noticed the transition.

"Uh some ... sometimes it's ... it's embarrassing" Becky countered, finding it a little difficult to speak.

"I know wha-cha mean" the salesgirl agreed and punctuated it by squeezing her own breasts. They both giggled.

On the other side of the curtain the girlish laughter penetrated Becky's mother like a hot knife through butter. She envisioned her daughter standing naked with the cute little redhead's hands all over her. It wasn't a maternal protective feeling she got—it was something else. And the something else was catching fire low in her abdomen.

Annie helped her customer on with the first bra and Becky was surprised by how much adjusting it needed. It was easy enough to understand the shoulder straps, but she couldn't get why the salesgirl had so much trouble getting the cups to sit properly. The redhead hands stroked and pushed and pulled, occasionally dipping inside, in an effort to get the garment the way she wanted it. The activity around her sensitive boobies made her nipples tingle, then ache. Her coochie felt like a guitar string while the tuning key was being relentlessly tightened.

Outside the cubicle time was dragging for her mother, who was experiencing similar sensations imagining what was going on behind that curtain. There were two chairs in the hallway and Maryann collapsed into one of them. She couldn't make out what the girls were saying but she caught the occasional giggle and it made her imagination run wild.

The curtain opened and Rebecca was wearing the dress. Her daughter did a pirouette and studied her reflection in the huge mirror that occupied the wall opposite the dressing cubicles. It was shorter than her mom would have preferred but reasonable and they all agreed that it was a 'keeper'.

The curtain closed and Annie got her customer undressed down to the cotton briefs again. While she did the unnecessarily extensive adjustment of the next bra she took a quick glance up at HD security camera—the one that couldn't legally be there. The redhead was already imagining showing the recorded footage to Melanie and Mandy. It didn't make the yearning in her crotch any more bearable but it did give her hope of relief.

'When Mel sees this we're gonna... '

She didn't want to take that thought too far in case she totally lost it and started really working on the pretty blonde instead of just teasing them both to fever pitch.

Annie opened the curtain once again to let Becky inspect her reflection and for the blonde's mother to see the first of the blouse and skirt ensembles. Again the selections won fairly quick approval.

When the last outfit was approved Annie stripped her customer down for the final time. Rebecca was getting rather accustomed to being almost naked in front of the cute redheaded salesgirl. Accustomed did not mean comfortable however. There was nothing comfortable about the insistent tingling in her breasts nor in the pressure in her cookie. She knew that when she moved, some of her juices were leaking. She'd tried to peek down to see if it showed and was relieved that it didn't seem to be too obvious.

'It's further back ... sort of underneath' she concluded.

The sales girl collected up all the purchases as Rebecca put her own clothes back on.

"You should stop by some Thursday after school. I'm usually here all by myself." Annie suggested to her tempting blonde customer.

Katy Perry's high sweet voice rang inside Annie's head 'Just wanna try you on... ' The shopkeeper knew the song too.

The verse that was playing in Becky's head as she buttoned her blouse watching the barely covered redhead was:

'Hard to resist so touchable ... too good to deny it ... ain't no big deal it's innocent.'

With the bill paid they were on their way back to the car, Rebecca carrying the thin disposable garment bag that contained her new wardrobe. Maryann checked her watch and was pleased to see that it was ten after three. She'd have time to go in the house and clean up before heading for the doctor's. She was pretty sure there was a mess in the panties.

Rebecca was on the phone when she finished in the washroom. The warm washcloth had felt so good on her aching vulva and it was permitted—it was cleansing. The fresh panties made her feel more comfortable. She was careful to choose one of her newer ones, not worn and over washed looking. As she fluffed her chin length dark blonde hair with the natural hints of red she realized that the condition of her panties probably didn't matter all that much,

'You won't have them on for long, ' the thought made her shudder.

She waved at her daughter on her way out. Becky was evidently talking to the girl next door. The tiny snippet of the conversation she caught in passing was Rebecca inviting her friend over to see her new clothes.

On the drive across town Maryann practiced her deep breathing relaxation techniques. She even tried reciting the rosary, but she could not stop the images of Bonnie and Vicki and Becky from swirling in her head. The scene that she was fighting to suppress was the breast exam by Doctor Garcia's nurse. It couldn't be called a memory because the face of the woman, in the crisp white dress, who'd performed the unconventional examination, kept changing.

The pious woman glanced at the digital clock on the dash of the Civic just before she turned it off next to the four story office building. It was four forty-five.

' If you can be here a couple of minutes before that would be good. It'll give Vicki time to get you ready, ' the doctor's words invaded her thoughts and the 'get you ready, ' part made her shiver.

"Hi missus Spencer," the redhead behind the counter called as soon as she was through the door. She saw the receptionist pick up her phone and press a couple of buttons. Linda spoke only a few words into the phone and then said to nervous woman standing at the door clutching her purse in front of her,

"If you'll just take a seat, Vicki should be with you very shortly."

Maryann nodded and it felt rude again. The receptionist smiled, in what the uptight patient thought was a most compassionate way,

"Just relax and it'll all be over before you know it," the redhead assured her.

Taking a seat in the same chair she'd chosen last time she wondered how much the receptionist knew about the reason for her visit and realized immediately that the waiting room was empty. She opened a magazine but it was only for show, a place to rest her eyes, rather than nervously scanning the medical suite.

The voice calling her name was slightly familiar, she'd heard I once before.

"Missus Spencer," there was the nurse standing at the head of the hallway.

Maryann had sort of imagined the first few moments. Her trepidation wouldn't let her go beyond that. The mental preparation was rendered useless immediately. In her 'rehearsal' the nurse was wearing scrubs, just like the one's she'd been wearing yesterday. The young woman who'd called her name was wearing a neatly pressed white dress. As a mater of fact, except for the color, it was remarkably similar to the one she'd just bought for Becky. The vision of her daughter when the curtain had been opened was so fresh in her mind, and their faces and hair were so similar, in that first instant it actually was Rebecca not Vicki that she saw standing in the hallway that lead to the examination rooms.

Maryann shook her head to reset the image.

"Come with me please" the too young to be a nurse woman said and waited until her patient had risen from the chair before turning on her heel and starting down the short hallway.

The nurse's dress was very traditional the only thing missing from Maryann's oldest memories was the silly little cap they used to wear. Vicki turned the door handle and pushed it open standing aside to let her patient enter the examination room. She collected the file folder that had been placed in the clear plastic holder on the wall beside the door.

There was really no surprise as she entered the antiseptic smelling little space; brightly lit with a significant number of chrome surfaces gleaming, made the inside look hard and uninviting. In the center was the expected focal point—the examination table. To the nervous patient, the high platform with the black vinyl padded top covered by a sheet of paper that had been pulled from a roll attached to the head part, looked like a torture device.

Vicki followed her into the room, closing the door behind them and went over to the counter top with the stainless steel sink in the middle. There were white faced cupboards above and below the slightly darker sort of greenish Formica counter. The nurse set down her file and extracted a green examination gown from one of the drawers and turned back to the wide eyed woman clutching her purse like a security blanket.

"The doctor is going to do a very thorough exam so we'll need you to remove all of your clothing including any jewelry." The nurse instructed taking note that the patient wore a gold colored watch, wedding rings and a gold cross on a chain around her neck.

"The gown goes on with the tie at the front," the young woman in the crisp white dress informed her; carefully differentiating the way to wear the examination drape from the more familiar hospital gown.

Maryann took the very soft piece of faded cotton that looked as though it had been washed about a million times from the nurse and just stood there looking at her attire for this ordeal. The knotting in her stomach she believed was completely normal and to be expected. At that moment it was more prominent than the warm crampy feeling a little lower down, or the incessant tingling in her breasts.

Victoria's felt sympathy for the terrified looking older woman in front of her. Her extremely compassionate nature is what led her into nursing in the first place. She'd reviewed missus Spencer's file, along with all the other patients' for the day, when she'd arrived that morning. The last word the doctor had written had given her a start—Hysteria. The young nurse was familiar with the term although from a medical perspective its connotation had changed a lot over the years. She knew instinctively that Doctor Perez used the term in its archaic sense.

In her brief five year nursing career she had never seen it as a diagnosis before, but she also knew that Angelina Perez was not your ordinary doctor. The Latina who contrasted so dramatically in appearance from her tall, blonde very fair complexion tended to be a little retro in the way she viewed things. Vicki supposed it was a consequence of spending so much of her career in a third world country. Being retro is one thing; but to be resurrecting a term that hadn't been in medical vogue for over sixty years might be taking it a little too far.

When she'd read what her boss characterized as a working diagnosis she had cast her memory back to her first year of nursing college, and the medical history course part of the curriculum. It hadn't been only her that started squirming in her seat when the professor, missus Crawford, a somewhat grizzled twenty year veteran of the nursing profession, had described the very common diagnosis and treatment of the antiquated female ailment.

The first year course in medical history was not a part of her studies that came to mind very often. It was all very interesting and useful in putting some of the less intuitive medical conventions into perspective, but it wasn't something that popped up regularly. The overall impression that was left by that particular course was that medical science had really existed for barely seventy years. Prior to that there was very little science about the art.

She had been sitting in the file room at the back of the suite—where she had a desk—reviewing files while she ate her yogurt and fruit lunch, recalling the lecture and the complimentary reading assignment.

Professor Crawford had defined the myriad of symptoms that often lead to the diagnosis of Hysteria prior to the forties. When the experienced nurse, lecturing the next generation of Florence Nightingales, described the treatment for the extraordinarily common female malady the class had erupted in nervous school girl giggles. The thought of genital massage to the point of producing an orgasm by a doctor as a common and accepted medical procedure was incredible and extremely erotic to the class of young women. Many of them enjoyed the rest of the class with their hands not entirely idle in their laps—including Vicki.

When the instructor explained that the treatment wasn't viewed as sexual by the medical establishment many of the girls scoffed. They couldn't imagine a guy playing with a pussy and thinking it wasn't sexual, even if he was a doctor. Professor Crawford went on to say that doctors found the therapy tedious and tiring and often delegated the chore to midwives and other female assistants. There were several groans as some of the would be angels of mercy found the idea of a woman performing the genital massage particularly exciting—including Victoria.

Next came the description of some of the mechanical aids the overworked physicians had come up with to deliver the treatment. Finally with the advent of electricity one creative and enterprising man of medicine had invented the vibrator.

Out of the medical history review she had taken away two key points. The first was that the diagnosis of Hysteria was not necessarily wrong in its day. Since the medical community (all male at that time) had concluded that women had no sex drive and were incapable of real sexual pleasure they were forced to give the culmination of their efforts—the shaking shuddering finale to the genital massage a different name—they called it paroxysm. The second thing that she gleaned from her review was that: the reason Hysteria, with its original connotation, was no longer diagnosed was a societal change, not a physiological one.

In most cases, the twentieth century (and certainly the twenty-first century) woman took charge of her own sexuality without relying on anyone to tell them what they did and did not need sexually. That was in most cases. She was beginning to understand that Maryann Spencer was not most cases.

"I'll be back in a couple of minutes" the nurse excused herself, giving her patient privacy to change.

As she stepped out of the room the thought that Doctor Perez might be administering the archaic Hysteria therapy to the busty blonde that she'd just met made her pussy twitch.

Michelle flew across the side yard. As she'd bounded down the stairs she'd called out to her mother that she was going next door. She considered it reasonable execution of her responsibility even if her mother hadn't heard her. She'd seen Becky's mom drive away so there was no ceremony, she simply burst through the door on arrival. After all they were friends weren't they? Close enough friends to have shared a kiss—or at least part of one. It was a kiss that Michelle couldn't get off her mind, or her lips.

Despite the life altering connection she'd made with her mother it was Rebecca's kiss that had been on her mind when she'd finally been able to get to sleep last night.

'I kissed a girl and I liked it ... I liked it'

They met in the front hall.

"Lemme show ya" Becky said grabbing the younger girl's hand, dragging her towards her bedroom.

She didn't intend the double entendre and Michelle didn't get it.

The clothes were all neatly laid out on the bed and the younger girl made sincerely appreciative remarks about the skirts and blouses while Rebecca held each of the garments in front of her. She picked up one of her new bras and showed it to her neighbor with obvious pride.

"I never thought I'd get my mom to buy anything like this for me," she said. Michelle took it from her friend and marveled at how big the cups looked. Rumbling started in her pussy, and the urge to touch the conical wonders resurfaced.

Becky was very pleased with the girl's apparent reaction to holding her underwear, and her tits were tingling recalling how Annie had adjusted it so thoroughly. They fell silent for a moment, each lost in their own erotic world. Without looking up from the white straps and lace she was holding Michelle blurted out what was on her mind.

"Could we try kissing again? We didn't get to finish 'cause ... you know ... y'er mom came home."

"You really want to?" Becky responded very enthusiastically.

Michelle raised her head to look at the older girl and nodded; her eyes wide with anticipation.

The younger girl had to tip her head back, since her girlfriend was half a head taller. She closed her eyes and felt the first soft sensual contact on her lips. The scene from the movie flickered in her head providing a thrilling visual that matched the tactile very well. She was floating off the ground and at that moment the only thing in the world was the kiss.

Rebecca's limbic system had not really settled after Annie had ramped it up to a fever pitch in the boutique dressing room but her mind hadn't been on the state of her erogenous zones. Now it was. She felt her nipples tighten and the heat between her legs began to rise until it consumed her lower belly completely. Their tongues were caressing each other very slowly, just like in the movie when the moaning started. Although it wasn't intentional, they each found the vocal appreciation of their partner added an extra dimension to the sensuality of the moment.

This time it was Michelle who escalated the proceedings. When her hands made the long awaited contact with her girlfriend's boobies they both moaned much louder it harmony. Michelle actually had something to compare the firmness of Becky's breasts too, other than her own of course. Although she hadn't really played with her mom's breasts yesterday the feel of her mature tits when they'd hugged naked was fresh in her mind. Becky's were so much firmer and denser feeling even though they were close to the same size.

Rebecca began to return the favor, cupping Michelle's emerging boobs, and once again marveling at how hard the little nipples were. The older girl had an advantage since her neighbor was not wearing a bra. The very conservative lined boobie support that Becky was wearing muted the feel of her taut strawberries.

Yesterday, when they'd kissed during the movie, Michelle was nervous and shy about touching her friend's chest—even if her friend seemed very comfortable touching hers. Obviously the experience with her mom changed everything. Boldly she began to pull up on the older girl's blouse. Becky suspended their lip contact long enough to help pull her white cotton top up over her head without unbuttoning it. The adolescent Maidenform was in stark contrast to the much sexier underwear that she'd just bought. Michelle gasped as the jutting cones in their double thick cotton cover came into view.