Date: Tue, 12 Apr 2005 19:51:56 -0700 (PDT)
From: Lisa Summers <uarkfan2001@yahoo.com>
Subject: Little Girl Lost (F/F, oral, romance, mast, supernatural)

This is a work of fiction. It portrays sexual situations between
females. If you aren't supposed to be reading it, then don't. Please
support the free board that posts this, because they're pretty nice to
bring you such high quality literature for nothing. So, send them a few
bucks, okay? And please let me know what you think of it, by dropping me a
note at uarkfan2001@yahoo.com. I love to hear from fans of my work!

Works to date from Lisa Summers: "A Kiss Before Dying," "Free Birds" (part
1-5), "Ugly Duckling" (parts 1-4), "The Seduction of Lisa Summers" (parts
1-4), "Lisa Spreads Her Wings" (parts 1-3), "Karen," "Snapshots" (parts
1-4), "Spring Break at South Padre" (parts 1 and 2), "Jill and Laura,"
"Bush Pilot," "Heart and Sole," "Late Night Coffee Break," "My Pocket
Rocket," and "Sherilynn's Final Stop," can be found at www.nifty.org, on
the "Prolific Internet Authors" link, and other fine free boards.

==========================

LITTLE GIRL LOST - Part 1

DISCLAIMER

There really IS a Premont, Texas, and you can find it if you follow the
directions in this story.  There is also an old, abandoned elementary
school in Premont, on Rte 281 that looks pretty much as I described it. To
my knowledge, however, the school is not haunted, nor was a young girl
murdered there. Any resemblance of actual businesses or persons to any
described in this story, are completely coincidental and
unintentional. This story is Copyright 2005, Lisa Summers. You can contact
me at uarkfan2001@yahoo.com.

PROLOGUE

If you drive south from San Antonio, Texas, about 70 miles or so, on
Highway 37, then exit to State Rte 281 and head south, you'll eventually
come to the town of Premont, a typical little sleepy Texas town, lying on
one of the popular `Winter Texan' driving routes to the Rio Grande
Valley. Its two main industries today appear to be convenience stores and
tire changing stations.

If you remember these directions, just when you reach the Premont town
limits, you'll see an abandoned elementary school on the right, right after
the abandoned gas station/shaded parking lot where the Premont town cop
waits for unwary speeders. It's a typical Texas elementary school built in
the early 1950's to handle the glut of children produced by families of
vets from World War II, laid out on one level, in a `C' shape, with a
playground lying in the embrace of the classroom arms of the `C.'

That playground must have been a very special, protected place for the
children who attended the school, but today the playground equipment, which
is still in place as though waiting for children to answer the recess bell,
is overgrown by 5' high weeds, the iron fittings on the swings and other
equipment now streaked with rust, the wood on the seesaw splitting and
cracking from years of uninterrupted south Texas sun. There are fire ant
mounds throughout the silent play area, and ticks wait fruitlessly on top
of weed stalks for unwary passers-by. But this story isn't about the speed
trap cop, nor fire ants, nor the little Texas town of Premont, and not
really even about the school. It's about something else altogether.

The school was purportedly abandoned when a regional elementary school was
built to consolidate the populations of Premont and several other smaller
towns, when their populations declined in the 1990's. But the real reason
the school was closed, as every person in Premont knew, was because of the
murder of little Izel Montemayor, her body found raped and strangled, and
draped lifeless across the red and blue-painted seesaw.

-----------------------

My name is Kendall Armstrong. I'm a Trooper (II) with the Texas Department
of Public Safety - or rather, I WAS a trooper. At the time this story
begins, I was out on short-term disability, recovering from a firearms
wound received while subduing a drug trafficking suspect in Marble Falls,
Texas, west of Austin. I had been assigned to a desk job in Austin, and to
tell the truth, I was bored to tears and considering my future with the
Department.

I was 27 years old, 5' 10" tall, 155 pounds, in very good physical shape
(other than the leg wound, from which I was recovering normally, and also
some residual exposure to chemicals used in the manufacture of crystal
meth), medium brown hair, blue-eyed, a typical Texas gal (and that does NOT
include `big hair,' loud abrasive voice, or any of the other stereotypes.)
I was attractive enough, as I had done a little modeling in high school
before I went to College Station to attend, and graduate from, Texas A & M
University. I had been with the Department of Public Safety for a little
more than six years.

I was seated at my battered, government-issue 30 year old desk, doing
address trace backs on a burglary suspect, when my boss's boss, Ed Bonillo,
the Director of the Criminal Law Division, called me into his office.

"Kendall, how's your rehab coming? Been doing your exercises?" he asked,
with a slight smile, his salt and pepper moustache twitching with
amusement. He knew me well enough to know that avoiding exercise, or
requirements set by a doctor, were never an issue. If anything, I usually
overdid things, just to `be sure.' "And your mom, how's she doing?"

Ed was a friend of our family, as he'd worked with my father when they were
both young DPS Troopers chasing speeders on IH-35. When my father had
passed on ten years and six months before, Ed had done what he could to
make sure our family was taken care of, so he'd always been special to my
mother, brother and me. Not that it gave me any advantages when I became a
Texas State Trooper. If anything, he was harder on me than the others, but
that was fine with me.  I figured it was the only way I'd get to be the
best, that maybe I'd even qualify someday as a Texas Ranger. Favoritism
wouldn't help me there, only how good I really was.

But my career was currently on hold with my disability, and as I've said, I
was up in the air on whether I'd continue on in the field.

"She's fine, sir, and sends her regards," I answered him, standing at
attention.

"You can stand at ease, Trooper," he said. I relaxed, as he leaned back in
his chair.

"Kendall, I was wondering if you'd be interested in assisting a researcher,
helping me out, and burning off some of that vacation leave you have yet to
start using."

"Sir?" I said.

"You see, I've got a, er, personal problem. I have a niece, Kesare Morales,
who's a researcher into, um, paranormal activities, and she'd like to do
some on-site research down in south Texas.  She needs a bodyguard and an
assistant. Interested?"

"Paranormal, sir?" I asked, staring at the golf posters on the wall behind
him. "Isn't that college talk for `ghosts?'"

"Umm, yes, I think so. But I can vouch for Kes, she's quite level-headed,
and normal, not a flake. And I'd consider it a personal favor," he said.

I sighed. I thought about my present situation, and it wasn't helping my
career attitude very much. Maybe a (hopefully) short term goof job like
this would help to clear my head, and if nothing else, I could continue on
down to South Padre Island for some beach time, which always helped me
think about things. I made my decision.

"Sir, okay sir. I'll do it - IF it's not a long-term thing," I said.

"Great," he said. "I don't think it's going to take more than a week, and
you'll make Kes' job a lot easier."

"Sir, may I ask a question?" I said.

"Sure," he said.

"Why does she need a bodyguard? Is it in one of the rough sections?" I
asked.

"Kendall, do you remember the Montemayor killing in Premont about 10 years
ago? Happened shortly before your father died?"

"Yes sir," I said. "It was a little girl, I think, wasn't it? Raped and
strangled?"

"Yes, in a school building, one night," he said. "The building was
abandoned shortly thereafter.  There's reputedly been, well, lights and
noises spotted there, and several local cops were assaulted under
suspicious circumstances while investigating the events."

"Wouldn't a local cop be a better choice to pull guard duty, sir?" I asked.

"Possibly, but none of them want to do it, besides, they've had cutbacks
due to declining population in the area, and frankly, they don't have the
time. Their hands are full with the illegals they're tasked to keep an eye
out for, as well as the random crystal meth labs that pop up on some of the
ranches. Speaking of which, any lasting effects from that meth bust?"
Director Bonilla asked.

"Occasional headaches, sir, and random flashes of light, but the doc says
it'll pass as the chemicals work out of my body," I replied.

"Well, take it easy Kendall, you're still not 100 percent, so there's no
point in acting as though you are," he said, frowning.

"Yes sir," I said, not seeing any point to arguing with him over that. But
I really only had one speed, turbo, and I didn't think I could change
then. He gave me Miss, I mean `Doctor' Morales' phone number, and when I
returned to my desk I gave her a call. A pleasant-sounding voice answered
the phone, and turned out to belong to Dr. Morales. Her voice sounded very
young, maybe early twenties, which surprised me, as I had pictured her as
being in maybe her late thirties or early forties.

She asked me to meet her at her office on the University of Texas campus
later that afternoon. I was surprised at the urgency, but the Director had
assured me that leave would be no problem, so I notified my immediate
supervisor, and he gave me the nod to take the afternoon off. I drove out
in civilian clothes in my personal car, a white 1998 Mustang. It was
getting old, sure, but I took good care of it, and I loved it so much that
I couldn't bear to sell it.

Her office was located on the University of Texas campus in Austin, near
the intersection of Dean Keeton and San Jacinto Boulevard, in the basement
of Moore Hall, a short 3 mile trip from our DPS offices on Lamar. I parked
in a visitor's space and headed inside. Following the directions she'd
given me over the phone, I made my way to her small office in the basement.
Inside, behinds towering piles of paperwork, I found a beautiful Hispanic
woman looking as though she were no older than 20, wearing large
black-framed glasses. She had long, lustrous black hair, a small frame,
perhaps 5' tall, nice body and a pleasant smile, with beautiful, even white
teeth. And deep, deep brown eyes.

"Uh, Doctor Morales?" I asked, doubting that one so young could be a
Doctor.

"Yes. Trooper Kendall?" she responded. As I was in civilian clothes, and
not wearing my usual `cop' expression, I could pass for a grad student,
though academia is not my preference, at all!

"Um, that would be Trooper Armstrong, ma'am. Kendall's my first name. But
please, ma'am, call me Kendall, rather than `Trooper.'"

"Only if you'll call me Kes, rather than Doctor, or, worse, `ma'am.'"

"Yes, ma'am," I responded, then we both laughed. "Old habits die hard, ma-,
Kes," I said.

"Please, take a seat, Kendall. I guess Ed told you something of what I'm
trying to do?" she asked.  I sat down on a gray, dusty armless metal chair
that looked as though it had served Sam Houston when Texas was an
independent country. I noticed her perfume, Amarige D'Amour, if I wasn't
mistaken. It was very nice.

"Not much, Kes," I said. "He just said that you needed a bodyguard and
someone to help you in some investigation into an old murder site, in
Premont, I think."

"Yes, but this probably has nothing to do with that. It's research into
some paranormal activity at the same site at which the killing occurred,
but I have no idea at this point if it's related or not."  As Kes spoke, I
looked around, an old cop habit. At her workstation, where most people put
the things most intimate to them, there were pictures of Kes holding two or
three different cats or kittens, a picture of an older couple, perhaps her
parents, and a photograph of a little girl with features and coloring
similar to Kes', perhaps her at an earlier age. No picture of Kes with a
husband, boyfriend, or for that matter, girlfriend.

"Anyway," she continued, "I have a research grant, a very small research
grant, to investigate and take visual, audio and thermographic readings at
the site, and record my organoleptic impressions, that sort of thing." She
paused.

"Organoleptic?" I asked.

"It means, what you can perceive with the five senses, you know, hear,
smell, taste, feel and see.  In conjunction with the instruments such as
recorders, cameras and recording thermometers, it's been proven to be
valuable to have an individual around who's trained to be observant. That's
why I think that you'd be so helpful to me. Are you interested?" she asked,
looking intently at me. I wasn't sure if she had poor eyesight, or if she
was just that interested in my reaction..

I looked at her big brown eyes, and her black hair. She seemed to be a
pleasant enough person, not at all a dried up old academic, and I figured,
what the hell, if it didn't go longer than a week, it might be interesting,
and far enough removed from my day to day to nearly be considered
exotic. In other words, semi-vacationish.

"Okay," I said. "How much are you paying, and just how long will this
take?"

"Not very much," she said apologetically, "to answer your first question,
and probably 5 to 7 days, to answer the second. Of course, the grant covers
the lodging, travel and meal costs while we're down there. And we have a
choice of the Oasis Motel, or the Oasis Motel, so plush lodgings are
guaranteed!" We both giggled at that.

"Well, the last place I stayed, before the hospital, was in an abandoned
cow feed barn hard by a crystal meth lab run by two dirt bags near Marble
Falls, last winter, so I expect that either of those two motels will be
fine."

"Oh my!" she exclaimed. "I should think so." After a pause she said, "If
it's alright with you, I'd like to get started tomorrow, so if there's a
husband, or boyfriend or, anything like that, you'd better let them know."

"No, nothing like that," I responded, which seemed to please her,
undoubtedly because I'd eliminated one more reason for delay, "Just the
Director."

"Good, can you meet me here tomorrow at 7 AM?" she asked.

"Sure, anything special I need to bring?" I asked.

"Well, your police stuff, that is, your gun and badge, enough rough wear
clothes for a week, unless you like doing laundry, and a bedroll."

"A bedroll?" I asked. "I thought motels had started supplying beds in all
their rooms these days."

She laughed. "Some of the research may require overnighting, or at least a
fair amount of time overnight, inside the school. Better to be
comfortable. I've got lawn chairs for us both, but only my own sleeping
bag."

"Oh, okay, no problem," I responded. We said our goodbyes, and I walked
back to my car, thinking the matter over. She had seemed to be on the up
and up, and certainly Ed's endorsement carried an immense amount of weight
with me. I considered my observations of Dr. Kesare Morales as I drove back
to my apartment.

Besides being petite, about 5' tall, approximately 105 pounds, she had
even, white teeth, thick, dark eyebrows, brown eyes, long black hair held
in a ponytail with a silver and turquoise holder, like those popular in the
70's, long bangs, full, red lips, short, cute nose, high, almost Indian
cheekbones, a nicely balanced and eye-pleasing facial structure, prominent
34B breasts, a slim waist and full hips.

I thought that she'd make a good mother based on body type, but clearly
that wasn't likely to happen anytime soon, based on the photographs at her
desk, and the lack of rings on her fingers, plus her avoidance of much by
way of makeup. She wasn't the kind that needed much makeup anyway, a
thought that I found oddly, and irritatingly, pleasing.

As for me, I had a few relationships with boys in high school, and a
relationship at A & M, but really hadn't had much time for involvement
while working as a member of the Department of Public Safety. I didn't
think I was missing much, as those earlier relationships had never been
particularly satisfactory. So, for me it was work more than anything else,
that filled up my days. I had discussed the situation once or twice, over a
bottle of wine, with my brother Jeff, who was gay, and he always told me to
`let life come to you, be open to changes, and it will work out for the
best.' I never knew exactly what he was getting at with that, but as far as
not going out and getting into a relationship was concerned, I had it
covered, since I hardly ever went out or met anyone that I wasn't
arresting.

Crawling under the covers of my queen size bed, with its old, white-painted
iron headboard, I slept very well that night, and by 7 in the morning I
showed up at Kes' office with two steaming cups of Seattle's Best, and she
gratefully accepted one. Sipping it, she handed me a placard to put on the
dashboard of my car. "It'll keep campus security from ticketing or towing
you over the next week," she said. "We're taking a University-owned Chevy
Suburban down to Premont." I moved my gear over to the back of the dark
blue Suburban, then Kes and I moved a boatload of scientific looking
equipment from her office to the vehicle. After it was all stowed, Kes
said, "How about I drive the first leg of the trip?"

"Okay," I said. "Austin's the worst of it, anyway." I couldn't help but
admire her figure, her ass and slim legs in her khaki cargo shorts and
short-sleeve blue work shirt showing her full, round breasts off to good
advantage, as she turned and went around the rear to the driver's side. I
climbed in to the passenger's side, and buckled in, feeling over-dressed in
jeans and sweatshirt.

"You're going to regret that sweatshirt in a couple of hours," she
remarked, turning the key in the ignition.

"Oh, no problem, I'm layered today. Tee shirt's my backup," I said. We got
onto IH-35 headed south, staring at the deadlocked traffic in the
northbound lanes. With `BOB-FM' providing background music, Kes and I
settled into getting to know each other. She told me that she'd gotten her
Bachelor's degree in abnormal psychology from the University of
Denver. When she decided to go after her Doctorate at New Mexico State,
she'd started off with a thesis on the psychology of mass hallucination,
but over time it had slid over into research into parapsychology. Then
she'd gotten a teaching and research position at UT for the last two years.
She had an interesting habit of looking at me and smiling, and then nodding
her head up and down slightly after each important point that she made. I
found it charming, but a little disconcerting, considering Austin traffic.

"The University isn't real thrilled that I'm spending more and more time on
Paranormal activities, but when I explained that it will give them some
cachet with schools like Cal-Berkeley, they relented, making up for their
largesse in allowing me my work by also cutting my budget and giving me an
old closet for an office. If it weren't for the federal grant, I'd be out
of luck," she said, her smile disappearing for a second.

"Wow, the academic world's a bit more `dog-eat-dog' than it looks to the
casual outsider," I said.

"And what about you?" Kes asked. "How did you get here?"

I looked out the window at the outlet centers of San Marcos, north of San
Antonio."Well, my dad was a cop, he was with the DPS, and when he got
killed on duty, it just seemed natural that I follow in his footsteps. My
mom adored him, as did my older brother and me. Since my brother's gay, it
didn't seem like he was going to be joining the Department, as he wouldn't
have felt comfortable with it years ago, nor they with him. It's better
these days."

"The way you say that, are you, uh, gay?" Kes asked, looking sidelong at
me, some unreadable emotion in her eyes. A stray current of air brought her
scent to me. It was still very nice.

"I'm sorry, I don't feel comfortable getting into that right now," I said,
hesitantly. "It's just that I don't know you well enough yet to talk about
any of that kind of stuff. I'm sorry-"

"No, please, I was thoughtless, asking you that. I was entirely out of
place," she said, her eyes returning to the road. An uneasy silence
descended over us both, and I considered the answer I'd almost given,
before my protective shields had gone up. The truth was, I had no idea of
my own sexuality, and I'd spent the last 7 years trying to bury the
questions in my own mind.

Up until senior year at Texas A & M, I'd been straight, or thought I
was. But one night after a few drinks, my roommate, an Agriculture major
and a fellow senior named Sandy and I had inadvertently gotten ourselves
into a `Truth or Dare' game alone in our room late one Friday night. We
had each confessed that we found the female form to be far more attractive
than the male, then a long discussion on lesbian and bi friends that we
knew, and their self-confessed `first times,' getting us both pretty
aroused, and wet. When the conversation was steered by each of us straight
into the subject of female masturbation, we'd been lost, and spent the rest
of the night, through to early afternoon in each other's arms, no body part
free from our curious explorations and orgasm piling on top of orgasm.

We had become a couple for the briefest of times, a week and a half, ending
when Sandy was killed by a drunk driver in a beat up old pickup truck. The
worst though, was the fact that the accident occurred shortly after she and
I had argued. I was concerned what other people might think if they found
out that I was a lesbian. Sandy had looked at me so sadly when I voiced my
juvenile, `me-based' arguments. It was incredibly immature of me, and a
weight I would always carry.

I mourned her loss, then worked my way out of depression, finishing up my
senior year, then joining the Department of Public Safety, like my father
before me. I moved up to Trooper II, and here at 27 years old, I found
myself going on this class trip.

I had buried any attraction I might feel for women in my work, and Kes'
question was uncomfortably close to the skeleton in my closet. To fill the
empty air around us, I thought I'd recall my dad, helping him to live if
only for a short time, in my account of his final heroism.

"My dad was riding patrol on Rte 83, in the Rio Grande Valley near the
Mexican border, between Mercedes and Weslaco early one morning, some ten
years ago. It was pitch black out, no moon to cast any light, and the area
was mainly cow pastures and aloe verde fields. He radioed in to his
dispatcher that there was a car broken down along the road, a 1988 Chevy
pickup, and that he was stopping to see if he could give assistance."

"He was always helping people, I guess that's why he became a cop in the
first place. Anyway, he was never heard from again. The rest of the story
was cobbled together from an account by a Mexican farmer who happened to
drive by. His account was garbled, but if you stripped out the
superstitious stuff, it was just basically some nut turning on a cop and
killing him, and himself too."

"Superstitious stuff?" Kes said.

"The farmer said that he saw the `policia' walking towards a guy who was
bent over, checking a tire. He said that the guy was all of a sudden `en
fuego,' and stood up, looking as though he were ten feet tall."

"`On fire'?" Kes said. "What could he have meant?"

"I don't know," I said. "At any rate, the farmer sped up, believing the man
to be `el diablo,' you know, the devil. He looked in his rearview mirror,
and said that he saw flashes of light coming from the policeman's hip,
which probably meant my father was firing his weapon. When my father didn't
respond to radio inquiries, they sent some of his fellow officers out, and
they found a scene straight out of hell, to use the farmer's reference."

"My father was torn to pieces, as though torn apart by wild dogs. A body
next to him was of a man who'd been missing for a month, with six bullets
from my father's weapon in him.  Apparently, he'd just been nuts, as he had
no criminal record, he'd just disappeared the month before. Maybe he'd just
snapped. One funny thing, though..."

"What was that?" Kes said, enthralled.

"The medical examiner said that the man's body was far more advanced into
decomposition than just a few hours, that he actually looked as though he'd
been dead for weeks. But all I knew was that my father was dead, and I
never got a chance to say goodbye to him."

"How awful," Kes said. We rode in silence for a while, then I decided that
I needed to find out more about my assigned duties.

"So, what will you have me doing? And, can you be more specific about the
`trouble' you mentioned at the site?" I asked.

"Well, there have been reports of strange physical occurrences at the old
school over the years, starting about 8 years ago, getting more frequent,
and reports of vagrants who broke in, never coming out again. The police
investigated, but were never able to find anything, so they'd just lock the
place up and nail another piece of plywood over whatever window might have
been broken out by the missing vagrants. A couple of cops claimed that they
were attacked by an animal inside the building, probably a dog that got
stuck inside," Kes said.

"I happened to hear about these events, and decided it would be the perfect
place for a Paranormal investigation." As she said this, we reached the
turnoff to IH-37 in the heart of San Antonio, and headed down it. By the
time we reached the south side of San Antonio, I offered to switch places,
so we stopped at a Burger King to gas up and fill up, and we lingered over
sandwiches and Cokes. I took off my beat up `DPS Softball' sweatshirt, and
as I lifted it over my head, showing off my 36C breasts in my tight tee
shirt, I briefly noticed Kes' eyes on my body, an approving look on her
face.

I decided to try to clear the air about my shutting her down earlier. "Kes,
I'm sorry about snapping at you about the gay thing. The truth is, I had
some experience in school, and it didn't turn out well, so I guess I was a
little sensitive. Funny thing is, I hadn't thought about it in seven
years." Which was a lie.

"I'm really sorry for bringing it up. It's just that I AM gay, and I
thought you needed to know, so I was trying to broach the subject," she
said. I wasn't ready for that, though.

"Oh," I responded. After a short silence I said, "Well, that's good to
know," and smiled, trying to be noncommittal. Kes looked at me, and didn't
say anything, but I thought I saw a little hurt in her eyes. Well, I
couldn't be responsible for her emotional life, I could barely manage my
own.  Inside, I was in turmoil. If I had been associating with any lesbians
in the safe confines of the Department over the last 6 years, it would have
been news to me, though I'm sure there were some, and the perps that we
arrested, well, their sexuality was the least of their problems.

But, here I was going to be spending the next week with an attractive woman
who'd just told me that she was lesbian, and I didn't know how to respond,
or if it was even appropriate to respond. I felt a curiosity, I
guess. Curious about the feelings that I'd felt for Sandy so long ago, and
still carried the residue of today. Were they the feelings of a lesbian, or
of a girl who'd just once given in to a bi-curiosity?

I decided that I needed to be an adult, and just forget about it, and get
on with the job. It had worked for me ever since school, and I'd might as
well ride the bronc I knew.

After we finished our lunch, I drove us further down IH-37, past huge
fields with dozens of rolled bales of hay geometrically spaced, looking
like marbles on a chinese checker board, pastures with hundreds of
incurious cattle grazing, their dappled brown and white sides adding a
touch of color to the green of the Texas countryside, and even a few random
oil wells, reminding us what state we were still in.

We reached the turnoff for Rte 281, passing through the little, typically
Texas towns of Three Rivers and George West, until late in the afternoon,
we pulled into the town of Premont, distinguished by the abrupt change of
speed limit from 70 to 35 mph, and by the modest cottages that represented
most of the houses along 281. "There's the school right there," Kes
pointed, before I even realized we were actually in the town limits. A few
blocks further on, we pulled into the dusty parking lot of the Oasis
Motel. It was a small, 15 unit, cinderblock construction out of the `50s,
centered on the parking lot. We entered the small lobby, decorated in a
surprisingly modern style, and were warmly greeted by the middle aged
clerk. "Hi, what can I do for you?" she asked, with a smile.

"We'd like two rooms for the week," Kes said.

The woman's expression fell. "I'm so sorry, but this is hunting season. We
don't have two rooms available."

Turning to me, Kes said, "Well, we'll have to bunk in Falfurrias-"

"Oh, you ladies look tired," the clerk piped up. "I'd hate to make you
drive another ten miles late in the day. We DO have one room, a single
queen, and I can give it to you at a slight discount, but that's all, if
you'd like-"

"We'll take it!" I said, though I don't know why I leaped in like that.

"Are you sure?" Kes said, looking into my blue eyes with her wide brown
eyes, deep and dark. I saw little flecks of green in them, and thought I'd
ask her about that some time, but for now I just nodded. She put her hand
on my shoulder to give emphasis to her question, and I nearly leaped out of
my shoes. I felt a static electricity shock like never before. She pulled
her hand away, and looked at it as though it had been loaded.

"Well, you said we'd be over at the school most of the time, so sleeping
arrangements don't really matter," I reminded her.

"Okay, like the lady said, `we'll take it,'" Kes said, and gave the clerk
her University credit card to seal the deal. After getting the room keys,
we drove the Suburban over in front of the room, then carried in our
personal gear.

"There's time to get over to the school before dark," Kes said. "Let's take
a look." We jumped back in the truck, and drove the couple of blocks back
up Broadway, as 281 was called in the Premont town limits. Turning left
onto NW 1st Street, we parked along the curb.

"It looks so....harmless," I said. It was just a nondescript 50's style,
block construction school, like thousands throughout the country. While the
block walls of the building were a yellow, fired vitreous glaze, the
windows of the classrooms looked crimson , as though they'd been painted
over with that reddish color. Several oak trees that had undoubtedly been
saplings when first planted, now towered next to, and over the single level
structure. The flat roof was no doubt awash in oak leaves. Their roots were
most likely doing damage to the foundation, no more than 3 or 4 feet away,
but I didn't suppose that anyone cared. Except perhaps, if Kes were right,
for a few ghosts. The grass along the strip from the building to the street
was mowed, though carelessly, with tufts of grass a foot or so high here
and there, so at least we didn't have to negotiate stray biting insects
there.

Reaching the nondescript main entrance, its glass panels not painted over,
but dark nonetheless, we tried the door, which of course was locked. "I've
got the key," Kes said, "but let's check out the outside tonight." We
walked back towards 281 along the front of the school, and down along the
ghostly glass block wall that probably represented the location of the
cafeteria, and I imagined that I could see movement within. We continued
down to the end of one of the arms of the`C'. We reached a rusted 4' high
chain link fence, past which we could see the sad little playground,
completely weed overgrown, with its dilapidated playground equipment.

"C'mon," Kes said, vaulting the fence handily. I was impressed, as I'd
thought that maybe she was just an academic, but she showed that she wasn't
afraid to get a little dirty, and that she was in fairly good shape. "Watch
for ticks, and the fire ant mounds," she said, but to a cop in Texas, those
warnings weren't really necessary.

Still, I was impressed with her enthusiasm, what with her only wearing
shorts on her lower half to protect against the inevitable insects and
burrs. I was a little slower, the bullet wound in my calf still troubling
me a little. She proceeded ahead of me, and I had to admire the way her
trim little ass moved and looked, then hustled up when I realized that I
was falling behind her.

We reached the center of the playground equipment, which was surrounded and
overgrown by grassy weeds. Along with a swing set, with one wooden seat
hanging by only one rusty chain, and another now consisting only of two
rusty chains, with the wooden seat laying on the ground and being busily
devoured by termites, there were a set of monkey bars, standing askew like
a drunk leaning on a light post, and looking like it would soon fall over,
with or without help, a merry go round that just looked like a rust pile,
and that shrieked in despair when I tried to turn it, and a lone, forlorn
looking wooden seesaw.

Kes was standing by the seesaw, looking down at it as it sat in the center
of the overgrown area.  "It was right here," she said.

I knew immediately what she meant. Little seven year-old Izel Montemayor,
shooed out to her family's back yard while their mother was busy preparing
dinner, disappeared one Saturday night, and although the Premont police
were quickly notified, and began a manhunt immediately, her body wasn't
found until the following Monday, when the school opened for the week's
classes.

She had been raped, then strangled, her body left half on, half off the see
saw. The DPS of course lent its expertise to the manhunt for the killer,
but had never found anyone who they could prove had committed the
crime. Those most under suspicion, employees at the school, and Izel's
relatives, were quickly cleared, so it was common wisdom among police that
a stranger, passing through, had committed the crime.  To lend some
substance to that theory, a neighbor claimed he'd seen a Chevy pickup in
front of the school at some point that weekend. No trace of any such
vehicle was found, though, and the witness's reputation as a lush made that
something of a dead end. That was about the end of it, except for the shock
waves of slow-motion destruction that passed through the town, and through
Izel's family. Every crime like that destroys far more than just the
immediate victim. In this case it also destroyed a town.

The town of Premont, already declining, had decayed even faster after that
awful event, and I could only imagine the effects on the family of Izel
Montemayor, having seen it in many similar, if less spectacular, events
over the years. I looked over at Kes, and she knelt down by the see saw,
tears running down her face. I was puzzled at the depth of her emotion,
although my own stomach hurt considering the savagery of the crime. As
moving as the death of a child is, this was supposed to be some sort of
quasi-scientific investigation. It didn't seem all that professional to get
emotional, at least this early into the fact finding. But, that was Kes'
decision, and I respected it.

"Um, the manifestations have been noted pretty much inside the building, so
that's where we'll do the bulk of the investigation, starting tomorrow,"
Kes said, as I helped her get back to her feet, south Texas clay on her
bare knees and shins. I was surprised again, at the second static
electricity spark that momentarily jumped between us. "Let's just take a
quick look along the immediate perimeter of the building itself," and she
headed toward the end of the `C' at the far side of the playground. I was
starting to get chills up and down my spine, I wasn't sure why, but then
I'd never been to such an unbearably gut-wrenching crime scene, even ten
years or so after the event, and it spooked me a little.

We walked in cool shadows along the back wall of the building, and when we
accidentally brushed against the yellow block, I suddenly had a flash of
how the playground had looked ten years before. I could see a neatly
trimmed and groomed dirt playground, Izel's small body crumpled over the
piece of playground equipment, a monstrous looking figure looming over her
The vision was so real, that I had to blink a few times before it would
fade out of my sight.

Just then, Kes and I reached a breezeway between two wings of the building,
and walked under it to get to the front of the building. I heard a loud
scream, as though by a small girl in infinite pain, and saw a blinding
flash of light. I turned to Kes in slow motion, and found her lying on the
ground, apparently unconscious. Her right arm and leg were bloody, 4 or 5
inch long cuts on each. It looked as though she might have cut them on
several sharp looking rocks next to her on the ground. They both contained
spots of what looked like blood.

"Kes, are you okay?" I said, patting her face, and checking her breathing
and pulse. Both seemed okay. I looked around, and seeing no help, nor
immediate source of the scream or flash of light, I pulled out my cell
phone, and dialed 911, reaching the Jim Wells County Sheriff's office, and
had them patch me through to the Premont police department. When the
dispatcher answered, I told her of what had happened.

About 5 minutes later, a Premont cop, siren and lights going, followed by a
paramedic vehicle pulled up by the breezeway, and the cop and paramedics
came running through. By this time, Kes was recovering consciousness, and
was fairly lucid, but still seated on the ground. The paramedics fussed
over her, and patched up her arm and leg, which fortunately weren't
seriously cut, while I answered the Premont cop's questions. He was none
too happy that we hadn't let them know we were in town, but I assured him
that we'd just gotten into town a few minutes before, and that we had just
been reconnoitering briefly. I knew if he really cared, he'd confirm it
with the motel desk clerk, but I didn't really care if he did or not. I was
more concerned about my failure to protect my client.

He finished up with me, checking doors and telling me that loud noises and
bright flashes weren't all that odd an occurrence at the school, `probably
just electrical circuits shorting out, or something.' I thanked him, and
turned back to Kes. She was telling the paramedics that she was fine, so I
took her hand in mine and steered her back to the truck, taking the
breezeway so that we wouldn't have to leap any more fences. As we headed
back to the motel and the restaurant nearby, Kes asked to stop at a package
store. She came out with a bottle of Raspberry flavored vodka, saying,
"This stuff would be better chilled, and neat, but what the hell."

We went into the room, and Kes asked if it would be okay if we had dinner
delivered. I said, "Sure." I looked up restaurants that delivered, and
finding one (literally), made the call, ordering us both fried chicken,
french fries, side salads and bottled water, while Kes got a bucket full of
ice from the motel's ice machine. Unfortunately, the sous chef at the Oasis
Restaurant was off that night, so that was about the best we could do for
eats. I'd had worse, including unheated MREs, and to be truthful, the food
was actually pretty good. We chowed down, sitting on the bed, and then Kes
poured us each a triple shot on the rocks, in our little plastic motel
tumblers.

"Here's to a successful scientific investigation," she said, draining the
glass. I was a good ways behind her, wondering what had changed her from a
scientific researcher into a frightened little girl. It was pretty clear
that something at that school had scared her, maybe even terrified her. I
figured I didn't have long to wait to hear what it was. Two drinks later,
her story came out.

"I heard her, as clear as a bell," Kes said.

"Heard who?" I said.

"Izel. The murdered girl. She said, `Please, help me, it's trying to take
us down there with it.'" I thought this over.

"When did you hear her?" I asked.

"Right after that flash. I heard her voice, a little girl's voice just as I
remember it, then you were patting my face and I was lying on the ground,"
she said.

"You just said, `Just as I remember it.' What did you mean?" I asked Kes.

"Umm, I guess you should know. Izel's last name wasn't always
Montemayor. When her parents were killed in an auto accident, she and her
siblings were separated, and raised by different families." Kes paused, but
I waited before saying anything, so she continued. "Her older brother and
sister. Andrew, my brother and me. Izel was our sister."

"Do you remember the turquoise and silver hair comb I wore yesterday?" Kes
asked.

"Yes, I think it's beautiful," I said. "Where did you get it?"

"I got it the same time I bought a small turquoise and silver cross, for
Izel. The cross was supposed to be a First Communion present. Instead, she
was buried with it in her hands, that sad day..." Kes said, her voice
trailing off.

"Oh my God," I said. "No wonder this case is so important to you!" I
said. "I guess I don't blame you for wanting to follow up."

"It WAS her voice, I know it was. She sounded .... weary. As though she'd
been fighting something for a long time, and was nearly defeated. Oh
Kendall, I don't know what to do!" I sat down next to Kes, and hugged her.

"It's okay, Kes, wouldn't you say you need more information before you can
respond rationally to this? Looking at it as a police officer, I'd be
looking for more information..." Her body was warm and firm in my arms, but
I could feel her shaking, and held her closer. She smelled nice, feminine,
at least underneath her overlay of day sweat, Texas dirt and a large dollop
of fear. She hugged me back, and I could feel that we were giving each
other reassurance and strength. It felt almost electrical again, a current
flowing between us where we touched instead of a shock this time, though.

"You know, strangely enough, it was because of Izel's death, or I should
say, my grief over her death, that made me aware that I was a lesbian," Kes
said, thoughtfully.

"Really? How did that happen?" I said. I found myself intensely interested
in how Kes had found that she was a lesbian.

"I was going to group grief counseling sessions at our community church,
after Izel passed, and I got to know another girl, the same age as me -
she'd be 26 now, as I'm 26. Her name was Cynthia Delgado. Cindy, she liked
to be called," Kes said. "But you don't want to hear about this."

"Oh Kes, I do," I said. "I'd like to know more about your past, and why
you're, um, why you've made the choices you have."

"Well, we became friends, Cindy and I, and we started to have sleep overs,
since we lived within blocks of each other. One night Cindy was over at our
house, and we were reading photonovelas to each other in my bed. You know
what photonovelas are, right?"

"Yeah, they're Spanish language `photo stories,' almost like comic books,
usually romances."

"Yeah. Well, this one night Cindy began pretending that the two young
lovers in the photonovela were two girls, changing the name of the guy,
Pablo, I think, to Pabla, a girl's name. I thought it was pretty funny at
first, then Cindy said that we should act it out, you know, kissing and
hugging like they were doing in the photonovela. Well, it sounded kind of
harmless to me, plus I was interested in Cindy, and it sounded attractive
to me to be kissing and touching her."

"Now, you're SURE I'm not offending you with this story, Kendall?" Kes
asked.

"I'm sure, I'm sure! So, then what happened?" I said, anxious to hear the
rest of the story.

"Well, Cindy slid over to my pillow (we were both under the covers, in our
nightgowns) and put her arms around me as I lay on my side, and then
brought her face close to mine, and we both closed our eyes, and our lips
met. It was like fireworks for me, and apparently it was very nice for
Cindy, too, because our first kiss went on for like five minutes. Heck, it
was my first romantic kiss, ever!" Kes said. "I thought that kissing would
be something I'd want to do a lot, if it would be like that."

"Then what?" I urged her. I was feeling some heat at my crotch, at this
romantic retelling of young love.

"Um, then, we did some stuff. But look, Kendall, I REALLY don't want to
offend you...."

"I INSIST Kes, I won't be offended, you can be as graphic as you
like. It'll, uh, help me relate better to you." I didn't know if that was
exactly true, but I wanted to hear about Kes' first lesbian encounter, and
wild dogs couldn't carry me away from this story!

"Okay," Kes said, shrugging her shoulders. "Well, both of us were feeling a
terrible longing for `stimulation' at our clits, as we both knew all about
masturbation, but we didn't know each other well enough to talk about that,
even though we were both as hot as habaneros. So, Cindy and I just kissed
and hugged, and I think we were both intensely aware of the sensations that
the other's body was causing, wherever we touched. I could feel her small,
warm breasts against mine, the fragrance of her sweet breath on my face,
the warmth of her breath, the feel of her tongue on my lips, and
occasionally on my own tongue, and I found myself imagining what Cindy
looked like under her nightgown. She was a slim, black-haired Latina, so I
guess you can imagine for yourself." Kes paused, and I felt a little
uncomfortable, but increasingly excited, at imagining a slim, naked,
teenaged Latina.

"But sadly, we didn't have the nerve to take it any further, good Catholic
girls that we were," Kes said. I felt deflated, and found myself hoping for
a graphic description of two teenage girls making love.

"So, that was it?" I said.

"Not exactly," Kes said.

"Quit teasing!" I said, and mock slapped Kes' firm shoulder.

She grinned, and said, "Okay, then. We fell asleep, both of us horribly
frustrated. I woke up about two AM or so, and I could hear Cindy softly
snoring, her back to mine, about a foot away from me. I thought about all
our kissing and hugging, and I couldn't take any more frustration.  My
pussy was already wet from our touching, and had stayed that way. So, I
slowly inched up my nightgown until it was about at the tops of my thighs,
and pulled my little cotton panties down just enough that my bottom was
exposed, and I could easily get at my pussy, then slowly slipped my hand
between my legs, and started stroking my pussy lips and clit with my finger
tips, using my other hand to squeeze my breasts and erect nipples through
my nightgown. I could smell the moisture between my legs - I'd never, ever
been that hot and bothered before! Almost immediately, I could feel sparks
shooting through my crotch, and I could tell that I was headed for my best
orgasm ever, sneaking in this pussy play while Cindy slept, though I was
thinking of her naked body the whole time I did it." Kes paused in her
story then, and looked at me, her eyes resting on my breasts.

"I was building to a muted explosion, until I suddenly felt a pair of soft
hands on my bare buttocks! I froze in shock, my fingers between my legs
stopped diddling my clit, then Cindy's face appeared over my shoulder, and
she said, `I know what you're doing. It's a lot more fun when you have
some help.' With that, her hand slipped around my waist, and she began
stroking my pussy, and her naked crotch rubbed up against my nude
bottom. She wet her fingers in my swampy pussy, then began caressing my
thin labia and my clit."

"'Mmm, your warm little ass feels so nice against my wet pussy,' Cindy
said.'And my fingers LOVE the feel of your wet pussy!' I thought that was
hot, but I exploded when she took my hand and brought it back behind me and
between our bodies to her own, sopping wet pussy. For the first time in my
life, my fingers were on, and soon inside, another girl's excited, slick
pussy, feeling her dew collect on my fingers simply because I was inside
her! The feeling of my power, in my ability to make her cum, and the
feeling of closeness and intimacy with another female, were overwhelming. I
came several times, as did Cindy, my fingers luxuriating in her slippery
wetness, and Cindy's slim fingers playing with, and teasing, and attacking
my own defenseless clit and pussy. I was in heaven!"

"Kendall, that was when I knew, for a fact, that I loved having a woman's
love, and giving her my own. Cindy and I made love all that night, using
our fingers on each other's tight little pussies, and we even graduated to
kissing, then sucking on, each other's erect brown nipples, cumming from
the feel of a girl's lips and tongue on those sensitive parts, too."

I was feeling overwhelmed myself by Kes' story. It was so lovely, and
touching, and I must admit, so hot. I'd never heard anything like it
before.

"Cindy and I were girlfriends for a year after that, but we eventually went
in different directions.  I'll still hold a special place in my heart for
her, because she showed me some of the ways that women can love each
other."

"Umm, some of the ways?" I asked, although I was wondering if I really
should be asking.

"Oh yes, there are an infinite number of ways to love a woman. Perhaps I'll
get the chance to tell you about some," Kes said, with a small
smile. "Uggh, I must stink!" Kes said, changing the subject now.

"No, not at all," I murmured.

"Well, I need a shower in any case," she said. Kes getting naked began to
sound like a good idea to me.

"Okay, after you take yours, then I'm taking one too. We both wandered
around in that old playground, and God knows what's on us," I said. Kes
went into the bathroom, and I heard the squeak of the faucet being
adjusted, the water splashing into the old tub, then the soft sounds of
Kes' top and bra hitting the floor, followed by her shorts and panties. I
just began to form an image of a nude Kes poised to enter the shower, her
sylph-like form slim and beautiful, perhaps her nipples stiff with a brief
chill, goose bumps on her full, round bottom. Expecting to hear the shower
curtain being pulled back, I was surprised when her head poked around the
corner, looking at me as I sat on the bed. I felt slightly dirty, as though
I'D been caught playing with myself.

"I promise, I'll try to save you some hot water," she said, smiling, then
disappeared, the expected scrape of the curtain rings heard now. I felt
slightly disappointed that I hadn't gotten to see more of her body, other
than her face and upper chest, as the mental picture of her nude returned
to me. The thought was pleasant. After about ten minutes, I heard the water
being turned off, and she stepped out. A minute later, she padded into the
bedroom, looking marvelous in a too-small white motel towel, wrapped around
her top and covering most of her upper body, though only to about mid
thigh, and a towel wrapped around her hair. The cuts on her arm and leg
were a deep red, and I thought that we'd better stop and get her some
antibiotic gel soon.

"It's all yours," she said. I brushed by her warm, slim body on my way into
the bathroom, her breasts perky, with erect and uplifted brown nipples,
long and firm, rubbing against me in my tee shirt. "Sorry," I said,
embarrassedly.

I looked down by the toilet, and noticed the pile of Kes-wear on the
1950's-era green tile of the bathroom. Her panties and bra were white lace,
and I found myself wondering how they'd look against her olive skin, and I
found the thought intriguing. I quickly stripped off my own tee shirt,
jeans and panties, and tossed them on top of hers, then turned on the
water, as hot as I could stand it. Then it came to me that Kes had been
looking at my erect nipples through my tee shirt as she told her story,
since I had gone braless, and I blushed, a rosy red suffusing through my
upper chest and face, even though I was alone in the bathroom.

I stepped under the hot stream of water, and the pressure and heat of the
water felt great on my sore skin and muscles, even where I still had the
deep scar in my calf, from where I'd been shot weeks before. I let myself
luxuriate under the flow, shampooing with the small container of motel
shampoo, and soaping myself all over, using the bar of soap, cleaning
myself thoroughly all over, especially under my arms, and particularly
between my legs and butt cheeks, then rinsing thoroughly. After turning off
the water, I partially dried off, then wrapped myself in a towel, too,
tying it in a knot between my breasts. I ignored my hair, which had a
tendency to dry on its own with a little brushing, as it was cut so short.

I stepped out onto the thin carpet of the bedroom, and to my surprise, Kes,
seated on the bed, asked, with a shy smile, "Kendall, could I impose on
you? Could you check me for ticks? They give me the willies."

"Uh, yeah, that's a good idea, I hadn't thought of that," I said, feeling a
funny tingle in the pit of my stomach. Or maybe it was just somewhere near
the pit of my stomach. Kes had freshened our drinks, and I was pretty sure
that I was going to sleep well tonight, as would Kes.

"Okay, how about if you stand here by the side of the bed, and I'll check
you from head to toe, then you do me," I said, immediately wanting to clap
my hands over my big mouth. With the sound of those last two words ringing
in my ears, I blushed at their alternative meaning, and I hoped that she
didn't notice. I sat down on the side of the bed, the mattress firm and
springy under me, and the cheap wooden headboard squeaking just a little.

She didn't seem to notice my faux pas, and stood obediently in front of me
by the side of the bed, her back to me as I sat on the edge of the
mattress. I reached up and unfolded the towel covering her hair, and her
long, lustrous locks fell down across her shoulders, her hair damp and
clean-smelling. I stood behind her, and gently began inspecting her scalp
with my fingertips, looking as closely as I could along her scalp for any
seed ticks that might be trying to root there.  Her hair was warm and soft
under my fingers, shiny and already looked near-brushed.

Kes moaned as my fingers traveled along her scalp. "Oh girl, that feels
good! I would pay somebody to do that. I've had my scalp rubbed before, but
it never felt so....electric." I noticed it, too. It was almost as though
energy were running through my fingertips, into her skin, and tingling my
fingers. Just as I thought this, Kes said, "It tingles! What ARE you
doing?" I pulled my fingers back in surprise, and the slight tingling
sensation disappeared.

"Oh, don't," Kes pleaded. "Please don't stop," she said, turning her head
to smile up at me, her eyes sparkling with some inner happiness, and
smiling the loveliest smile I'd ever seen. I applied my fingers to her
scalp, and the tingle resumed, though muted now. It almost felt again as
though we were completing a gentle electrical circuit by touching. I'd
never experienced such a thing before, nor ever heard of anyone else
experiencing anything like it. In any case, it was invigorating, and I
returned to my tick hunt.

I finished with her scalp, then checked her shoulders and upper back. "Umm,
that's it unless you want the rest checked...."

"Oh, yes, please," Kes said, loosening the towel where it was tied between
her breasts, and the towel covering her began slipping to the floor. "I
hope that female nudity doesn't bother you," she said offhandedly, not
looking back at me.

"Um, no, of course not, after all, I'm female," I said, though I was
blushing, but eagerly looking at her rapidly revealed nudity
nonetheless. As though in slow motion, the white terrycloth sheet slipped
to the floor, revealing her smooth, unblemished body, her olive skin quite
beautiful and nearly taking my breath away. Her body was like that of a
Grecian goddess, crafted by a genius, smooth and perfectly crafted, and not
at all afraid to have curves. Her hips took my breath away, so full and
womanly. Her ass was perfect, full and round, the globes of her bottom
perfectly smooth and without imperfection, nor even the downiest of hairs.

I shakily brought my fingertips to Kes' shoulder blades, running my finger
tips over her warm body, and Kes cooed with pleasure.

I slipped my fingers from side to side, feeling nothing but the electric
tingle, and luxuriant woman flesh, warm and supple, then was disappointed
when too soon I reached the top of her buttocks. She felt me hesitate
there, and said, "I really hate to ask you, it's so embarrassing, but could
you please check my rear end? I'm deathly afraid something might get in
there, and I'd hate to see something as gross as a tick grow there..."

Sighing softly, I sat down on the bed, inhaling Kes' feminine fragrance, an
erotic shock to me, my clit, labia and nipples swelling at the aphrodisiac
smell of her. Then I tentatively separated her full, round, warm ass cheeks
so that I could at least see if there might be anything there.  "You'd
better touch inside there, you can't see a baby tick against the skin
there, I don't think," she said over her shoulder. I ran my fingertips down
the furrow of her bottom, then around the puckered skin of her anus, and
across the roundness of each globe. I was experiencing a full range of
feelings, from excitement, to trepidation, to desire, and still feeling
that strange electricity.

Then I slipped my fingers under each globe, sort of hefting each in my
hand, feeling in the warm, crevice where her ass cheeks met her upper
thighs. The weight of her butt cheeks in my hands felt so erotic, and
intimate. I could feel my own pussy involuntarily wetting. From there, I
slipped my hands down the back and the sides of her thighs, her
surprisingly muscled legs pleasant to my touch, the heat of her body a
thrill. I couldn't resist pressing the tendons in the back of her thighs to
see how athletic she might be.

"Ooh, THAT feels good," Kes said. "Ever since I started running some, it
feels good to stretch that part."

"It feels like you're in good shape, judging by your thighs," I said,
companionably. I slipped my hands all the way down until I reached her
feet. "Okay, I'm done," I said.

"Okay, now do my front," Kes said, turning, with a big grin on her
face. "They could be anywhere," she said, now putting on a straight face. I
groaned inside. Kes' allure was becoming clear to me, particularly her
beauty and femininity, and after my unconsidered (til now) prior lesbian
experiences, I was experiencing overload and confusion.

Was Kes putting the moves on me? I had no experience in this area to guide
me, and I wasn't sure what would happen if I ignored her (the safe route)
or returned what I only thought was her flirting, but might not be in
reality (the driving off a cliff and crashing in flames route). So, I
decided to pretend that there was nothing going on, and began checking her
again, lovely, naked front side now, for ticks. But I was SO afraid to look
down....

I ran my fingers lightly over her upper chest, just below her shoulders,
and underneath the warm swell of her breasts, taking care to avoid most of
her breasts and nipples. Then it occurred to me that she might have taken
that as teasing, which I really wasn't trying to do. So, to make up for
that possible faux pas, I decided to just quickly, and lightly run my
fingertips across the swell of her full breasts, her round silver
dollar-sized areolae, and the wrinkled brown nubs of her nipples, but that
may have made things even worse. As I did that, I could see Kes shifting
her weight from one foot to another, and back again, causing her delicious
hips to shift up and down, and I noticed her pussy lips rubbing together
too.

I ran my fingers across Kes' midriff, side and hips, making her
giggle. Then she said, "Don't forget to check here, too," and raised her
hands over her head, and I was delighted to see a small patch of
sweet-smelling black hair under each arm. I found it to be a highly erotic
sight, and that was when I had to admit to myself that her body was really
driving me crazy, and that I wanted her, though I didn't dare make a
move. I did run my fingertips through her twin thatches, and the feel of
the slightly damp hair there was fascinating to me.

"That's good," Kes said noncommitally, then first brought her hands down to
her sides, then pulled them behind her back, which I noticed made her full
breasts stick out even further, her brown nipples and areolae prominent.

I sat back down in front of the still standing Kes, which was a major
mistake, and I found my face only inches away from her pouting pink
pussy. The fragrance of Kes' sweet, womanly musk was very apparent to me
now, but I didn't know if that was normal, or if she was secreting her
feminine lubricant because she desired me. She had two, thick outer labia,
and thinner inner labia, with a thin pink slit in between, a proud pearl of
a clitoris, already emerging from under its protective hood, and then I
immediately recalled spending hours worshiping Sandy's clit at college, a
memory I'd long suppressed. Finally, Kes had a neatly trimmed and thinned
mohawk strip of hair directly above her clit, like a hairy extension of
that attractive pink peach below it. It was all I could do to keep from
kissing her beautiful mons. Kes had a perfume which could never be bottled
- though if it were, no one anywhere would ever get any work done!

Getting back to work, I slipped my fingers over her cute navel, skipped
over her crotch, then caressed (in the name of science only, of course),
her thighs, avoiding her laceration, which already seemed to be healing,
then her knees and shins, then her feet. I knew with a woman's certainty,
that Kes would say something about me checking her pussy, and I needed that
permission.

"You'd better check here, too," she said, as though reading my mind,
pointing at the lovely center of her sex. "Just in case."

"Just in case," I repeated, slowly bringing my hands straight ahead to Kes'
clearly wet pussy, running my fingers through her pubic mohawk, then down
her full, hot and swollen outer lips, gently pulling them back to inspect
inside her slit, bringing my finger up to circle her clit, which was fully
awake and covered in her slippery dew, then running my wet fingers below
her pussy, to caress that sensitive area of skin between her pussy and
anus. I pretended not to notice her stifled half gasps, and the slight
vibration of her hips as I touched her heartbreakingly beautiful sex. I
knew that I was making her cum, and she was doing her best to hide it, and
I was trying not to acknowledge it.

I sighed loudly, then stood up, saying, "All done!" having avoided at least
some the pitfalls of touching a willing woman in her most sensitive
area. Kes looked questioningly into my eyes. I felt myself falling into the
depths of those pools, then she brought her warm, full pink lips to mine,
lingering there, teasing me with the tip of her tongue for a millisecond
that seemed like years, and with a smile she said, "Your turn."

I stood up, and Kes duplicated my initial actions, caressing and
manipulating my scalp, which did feel terrific, and oddly again, as
electric as when I'd first touched her. It was heavenly, and Kes wasn't at
all as hesitant as I'd been, touching every part of my upper body. Her
fingers running between the sheaves of my corn shuck hair reminded me of
little children running between rows of corn in a farmer's field, laughing
and playing.

Shudders ran through my scalp from the pleasure she bestowed on me. Kes
gently stroked down my neck, from my scalp line to my shoulders, and I
thought I'd cum from the sheer pleasure of having another woman's light,
gentle touch on me there. Oh God, if only I could describe to you how close
I was to crying with joy to be touched by this awesome woman! Written words
fail me. If you're a woman who has known the perfect love, then you'll
know. To this day, I recall that feeling...

Then Kes ran her fingers across my upper back, gently pressing the muscles
there as she stroked me. I groaned involuntarily, and Kes lightly pressed
her lips on my upper back. "No problems yet," she breathed, and I shivered
under her warm breath and touch. She removed my towel, letting it fall to
the floor, leaving me completely nude, and completely under her control,
then she continued her sweet ministrations, making me hotter and hotter for
her as her soft touch swept over me in waves. Her fingers worked all over
my back, pressing my hard muscles, erasing tensions that had been with me
for maybe my whole life. Her fingers slipped down my back, to the sensitive
area just above the swell of my ass, and she stroked me there, electricity
flowing from each of us to the other.

Then she lightly clawed at that part of my back, catching me by surprise,
the pain of her sharp nails drawing thin trails of my blood, quickly
overcome by the pleasure of being at this beautiful woman's mercy. I felt a
million sharp jolts, infinitesimally tiny orgasms blending with the strange
electrical shocks we were experiencing together in that strange town. I
don't know how I was able to stand, but it was the most intensely erotic
moment of my life up until then.

Thankfully, before I passed out with pleasure, Kes returned to the `tick
hunt,' stroking me again with the flat tips of her fingers. I don't know if
I could have survived any more of her blood letting, though I would have
let her do it to me, and happily, to my death. Her fingers avoided my
bottom, to my vast disappointment, caressing and stroking across the backs
of my thighs in delightfully diagonal strokes, continuing down past the
back of my knees, which made me giggle, then over my calves to my
feet. "Okey dokey, so far," she said.

Didn't she realize what she was doing to me?

I expected her to tell me to turn around, and I certainly didn't have the
courage to ask her to look at, and examine my ass, though I longed for
it. To my great happiness, Kes returned her heavenly touch to my ass, my
bottom, my rear end, my butt. I love those words for what I now know to be
one of my most intense pleasure centers, thanks to Kes. She gently pinched
the bottoms of my full ass cheeks, squeezing them with her strong fingers,
as she kissed my shoulders. I so wanted to whirl around and take her in my
arms and be one with her, but then, the illusion of being two solitary
people that we had created up to this point would be shattered, and I
wasn't sure if it was time for that yet. So, I stood there motionless, the
involuntary rotation of my hips in orgasm my only movement.

Kes slid her fingers into the warm, dark, moist furrow between the globes
of my bottom, sliding from below my anus up and over my sensitive puckered
ring of flesh, then up again, out of my humid valley, to my sensitive,
violated back. Down the furrow again, her nail slightly pressing into my
skin, but not scratching me, pausing on my eager anus now, circling the
puckered ring, making it flutter open with anticipation, then closed again
in spastic reflex, but to my disappointment, not violating my willing,
cherry ass hole. She circled my round butt cheeks with her fingertips,
circling around the most prominent part of my full bottom in circles of
varying sizes. I sighed when she stopped, expecting that she'd finished.

Suddenly, her slim forefinger slid inside my anus up to her first knuckle,
which felt so, so wonderful, though I wouldn't have admitted it. I would
have granted her permission to any part of me, but she took it anyway,
without asking. I hoped that she would penetrate me all the way, but she
chose to tease me instead. I was disappointed when she told me to turn
around, though you would think that my thousands of orgasms, small or not,
would have engendered some gratitude in me. It did, but it bordered more on
total, slavish devotion to Kes than anything else. Sometimes, the worshiper
has unreasonable expectations of her goddess.

Kes gazed on my now dripping pussy as I turned for her. I could feel the
excess lubrication my hot slit was producing, dripping down the insides of
my thighs, one particularly enthusiastic flow of my clear feminine fluid
coursing all the way down to my right knee, my inner thigh burning where
the fluid touched. I was so afraid, but so hopeful, that Kes could smell my
own womanly perfume. I wanted to attract her, to pull her in with my own
feminine wiles, but I lacked the courage to pray that it was so. Her eyes
favoring my own trimmed bush and wet, dripping pussy, Kes traced her
fingers over my purplish, swollen labia, and around my peekaboo clit, now
proudly standing at the apex of my cunt, then suddenly scratched over it
with her sharp nail, deliberately making me cum in several crashing
orgasms. As my hips shook and I gasped in pleasure, Kes looked up at me,
seeking an answer to the question I saw in her eyes. I put my hands on her
shoulders, and whispered, "Yes, yes. Please. Oh, please."

Kes smiled at my acquiescence to her, and brought her lips to my hole then,
and gently licked the liquid seeping out of me, my cream, my gift to her,
her tongue teasing my labia, and clit, my fingers wrapped in her luscious
long black hair, more shudders as I came again and again, her tongue
stabbing inside me, her lips sucking on my swollen clitoris, her mouth
fucking me savagely, and being unable to stand it anymore, I pulled Kes to
her feet and brought my lips to hers, kissing her with a force and fury I
never knew I had inside me.

The taste of my wet pussy on her lips brought back to me the full and
complete consciousness of the pleasure I'd only last felt in another girl's
arms, so long ago. We fell to the bed, grunting with the total pleasure of
feeling another woman's warm, naked body against our own. Her tongue
cleaning out the inside of my mouth, her hands now exploring me in an
entirely erotic and aroused way - no intent of gentleness, just rough
stimulation of delicate feminine tissues.

Kes' fingers pinching my nipples, my howling in pain and pleasure. My
fingers thrusting inside the wet, tight tunnel of Kes' pussy, rolling over
and over, both of us christening our little bed with our seeping juices,
shiver after shiver of orgasm, starting with one, then being transmitted
through the skin to the other. The small electrical tingles we'd each felt
before, now magnified, a voltage that almost made us each jump. Kes flipped
me onto my stomach, her pussy slamming into my round butt, her mohawk
scratching into the furrow of my ass, her clit rubbing against me, bringing
herself pleasure, and her hand snaking around my hips to pinch and tease my
own clit, and her fingers thrusting inside my eager and willing pussy.

We came simultaneously and joined as nearly into one as two people
can. Later, the taste of Kes' pussy, clean and fresh, making solid the
awesome beauty of her fragrance that had teased me so earlier. The night
whirled about me, as it did about Kes, constant orgasmic pleasures, our
mouths and fingers pleasuring every part of the other, until we both passed
out from ecstasy.

I awoke about 3 AM, the room dark around us, early morning clamminess
seeping under the door. Kes in my arms, her beautiful Latina body fragrant
and delicious in my grasp. I felt an itching at the scar in my calf, and
looked at it by the light of the hastily turned on bedside lamp.

"What is it?" Kes saying sleepily, her face adorable to me in the dim
light...."Kes, Kes! Look!"

Kes, a little more awake now, "What is it darling?" Not wanting to leave my
arms....."My leg, look at it..."

"It looks okay, what.....oh, my God!"

"That's just it, it looks....normal...as though I'd never been wounded!" I
exclaimed.

"And my cuts from the playground...they're gone?" Kes said, as she looked
wonderingly at the places on her arm and thigh where she'd suffered her
bloody cuts. There weren't any marks there. None at all.

"What the hell is going on?" I said. Kes moved back over to me and lay warm
in my arms.

============================

Please let me know what you thought of this, and my other stories, okay?
You can write me at uarkfan2001@yahoo.com. Thanks! Love, Lisa.