Contents

A note about the stories

Chastity's Map of Lust

The Frat Boys

The Costume Party

The Art Party

The Story

Some Characters In Search of a New Author

1964

A Collection of 6 Stories

by Bingo

Note: This is a story for adult readers.

Read other stories by Bingo at http://www.asstr.org/~Bingo/

My first stories centered around a character named Chastity (nicknamed Cee). Chastity is seventeen, an extremely intelligent woman, still in high school in midwest USA in 1964.

The stories in this collection are arranged in a chronological series, taking place between spring and autumn of 1964.

Chastity's Map of Lust

I was born in 1947 though for the life of me I can’t imagine the moment of my conception. I mean I’ve never, ever seen my parents touch. I figure either they accidentally bumped together once and I was the result or the stork really does exist. They certainly did not have any other children.

The best name they could come up for me was Chastity. This was in 1947, not 1747, and the best name they could think of was Chastity? Oh well. I’ve tried to live down the name ever since.

I had as normal an upbringing as one could expect living in a smallish midwestern college town. Life was a series of mishaps as a young child. I was caught playing jack in the box with a neighbor boy at six; we’d taken off all our clothes and popped up from behind a low hedge every time a car passed. My parents were aghast. I was already showing myself to be a Bad Seed. Then the bike accident when I got my scar. The scar was a visible sign of affliction in their eyes; I loved it. Who ever heard of a pirate queen without a scar?

I did have a normal childhood, though, which seemed terribly boring compared to my aspirations. I grew up loving books and was studious — school was easy for me — and my parents were relieved that I wasn’t a delinquent at ten, despite their fears about my friends.

I’m not going to go into a history of my first sexual fumblings, I imagine they are pretty much the same for everyone. What set me apart was that I really loved sex and was pretty aggressive getting it considering the times and my upbringing.

I think I would have liked high school except it was probably the biggest collection of the worst people around to have a sensible conversation with, much less screw. I bit the bullet though and made myself available to as many as possible. I had realized that having a reputation wasn’t worth anything except to have a good one for being a bad girl.

So I suffered. My lowest point being my hanging around Steve, a junior then who fancied himself a pimp. Not that I knew that was what he was thinking when I started with him as his other girlfriend. It was something I discovered as a sixteen-year-old sophomore in the men’s giving blowjobs to guys during Junior Prom. I was shocked to find out he’d been charging them. I would have done it for free. As a lark it was fun, much more fun than the pretended excitement on the dance floor.

Steve was a definite low point. It wasn’t until a year later that I’d run into Jim at the college library where I liked to hang out. Sometimes a good book is even better than sex with a bimbo. I was starting to grow up.

Jim was great from the first moment and he seemed to find me gorgeous, or so he said. He even liked me as much thirty minutes after sex as before, a welcome change. He also appreciated my love for drama and dressup.

I think he had already realized by then I wasn’t anywhere near your normal date when I stopped by his place to go with him to the campus theater where they were showing some short art films. I was wearing my regulation London Fog coat I’d found at the secondhand store, Andy’s, which I think is the best place in town next to the library.

I was a little breathless as I knocked at the door. I had to go home and change after school and of course mom was there and she was wondering when I was going to date boys like other girls. They had fallen in love with Steve when he came to pick me up for the dance last year. The fact that I came home with someone else and we screwed out front in his car never quite registered. Neither did the fact that Steve was a shit. Being around parents is difficult, especially when they . . . oh well, why go on about that? Before I left the dance I had yelled at Steve calling him a shit. And he yelled back calling me a whore. Everyone heard us. That’s life.

Anyway, Steve is definitely behind me, and has been since that time, except for a few moments of unthinking desperation. My parents don’t know about Jim, which is probably best for them. They think I study too much. So I found myself running late and had to dress quickly. I used colored Bic pens and those new felt tip things to draw a map of lust (as I though of it) on my body. Red and black thunderbolts and blazing suns on my thighs and belly surrounding my crotch. Blue and red swirls, like the Celtic patterns found on Bronze Age tombs, emerged from my nipples and engulfed my breasts. Lines and dots drawn by a green Bic, hatched on my arms and thighs as far down as my wrists and knees, finished the map. I looked like the Indian princess in that engraving of the sights in Virginia done by an early explorer.

As I said, I loved books. The college library was a haven. Finding Jim there was the best possible. I put on some lipstick, a scarf and my coat and rushed out in my Keds and bobby socks yelling “Bye” to mom. I’m sure that she was shaking her head.

Jim opened the door and we went in to the front room of his place. I drew off my scarf and stuffed it in a pocket. I didn’t have my room here yet and we were still pretty formal. He had some wine out and cheese and crackers and stuff. We try so hard to be grown up.

“Take your coat?” he asked.

“Sure,” I said, slipping it off. I gave him a grin. “I’d spin around but the back isn’t done yet.”

He was busy saying “whew“ again and again. He thought I was a bit intense at times. “There are markers and pens in the coat pocket if you’d like to finish me.” I was hoping he’d finish me in more ways than one.

“Ah.”

“If there’s time, I’ll just lie down here on the couch and you can start.” I grabbed some crackers and some cheese and moved over toward the couch. Jim’s cute when he stares so.

“Are you sure you’re just seventeen? At times you remind me of those women in the Bible I heard about in church when I was a kid, you know, those painted ones.” He knelt down on the floor after getting the pens from the coat pocket. He took a sip of wine, a big one, and said. “This isn’t going to be easy.” His hand started to stroke my flank.

“Why not? You can draw better than I can.” His hand felt good; it wasn’t going to be easy to stay still. The room at least seemed to be warm enough. I wasn’t going to catch a cold, thank god.

Jim was feeling the heat, too. He was awfully thirsty; his jelly glass was empty of wine. “You know why.” He started to draw, very intent on his work.

“You could hum something or put a record on. Your heavy breathing is distracting.” I was hoping he wasn’t noticing how my heart beat had become unnaturally loud. It felt as if my breast was being bounced from the cushion. “No, something romantic, not that chain gang thing you’re doing now.”

“OK.” He got up and put Grieg’s Peer Gynt Suite, you know, the one with “The Hall of the Mountain King,” on the hi-fi. What a weird choice I thought, but at least my heart doesn’t sound so loud anymore.

I nibbled my crackers and cheese and after a while he asked me to turn around so he could do the other side. I sat up, sipped some of my wine, his second glass was empty now, too. “Having problems?” I think he was getting dizzy, his eyes were following the maze of lines around my breasts. “Are you OK?” I started to turn around and lie down but he stopped me for a second and kissed me.

“Girl problems.”

I lay down again. “A college boy like you has girl problems? Tell me about them, maybe I can help.” His hands felt nice as they held the skin taut for the pens to draw on.

“You’re the problem, you minx.” He gave my butt a pat. “You are driving me to distraction.”

“You mean you’re not there yet?” I giggled. “How does that thing end, ‘Nude, lewd . . .’?”

“In your case tattooed, we go to the movies, rush back home, then screwed.”

“There are always the bushes if you can’t wait.”

“I’m past waiting. I doubt if I’ll ever be able to walk again, and if you don’t stop squirming —”

“Yes?”

“Screwing might have to be put off to tomorrow — hold still.”

“Tomorrow! I’ll die. I can’t wait till tomorrow.”

“Then hold still.”

Jim finally finished. I think he would have finished quicker if it were not for the wine. I was sitting up, sipping the last of mine. The couch cover felt especially expressive tonight, my skin was tingling all over. Jim sat on the other couch and was trying to compose himself.

“Is that a damp spot on your pants? Did you spill your wine?” I was determined to do my best to help him get settled, poor boy.

“There’s no damp spot.” He was growling and laughing at the same time. “If you’re not good I’ll give you a tongue lashing.”

“Before or after the screwing?” I put down my glass and twisted my head back so I could see what Jim had done. “I’m the worst girl around, I’m sure I deserve it and more.”

“Both.” He started to laugh. “Ready to go to the movies?”

“If you think you can walk with that beast stuck in your pants.”

“He’s not so bad.”

“Then I shouldn’t spank him?”

Jim did one of his famous blushes for the umpteenth time tonight and was starting to say something when Mark came in.

“Hi Mark,” I said. “We were discussing whether Jim’s beast needs to be spanked because it’s so bad.” I smiled and popped a cracker in my mouth.

“Ah.” Mark had stopped dead in his tracks. His eyes were starting to make him dizzy, too.

“Of course, Jim thinks I need a tongue lashing because I’m naughty. Even after I let him do the back, want to see?” Jim was grinning at Mark as I bounced up off the couch and spun around. “Nifty, hunh?”

“Ah.”

“You know, you boys are something else. I thought college was to help one become articulate. Yet you guys just stand around, grunt and mumble. I have to say I am not encouraged.”

“Ah.” Mark could blush, too.

“Could I borrow that book by Motley you just got from the library, the one on costume design?”

“Yes!” Mark turned and started to dart from the room.

“Tomorrow’s OK. Jim and I are going to some movies, when he can walk again. Then we’re coming back and hope to fuck like minks. Tomorrow would be perfect.”

“Ah,” Mark mumbled. “Sure.” He quickly edged out of the room. I think the poor boy was terrified. I was bad but I wasn’t vicious.

Jim laughed out loud and started to stand up. “You know you are driving Mark and Bill to distraction, too.”

“I am? I’m sorry.” I rose also and went to him. “I thought we passed distraction some time ago and were on the road to perdition now.” I gave him a hug and a kiss. “I’m sure you boys can work stuff out. I’d hate for any of you to explode or something.” I picked up my coat and went to the door. “Shall we go.”

“On air.” He helped it on, took my hand and down the steps we went into a cool dusk, with a bright shimmering sky overhead.

The Frat Boys

One of the things I hated about school was that I couldn’t dress up. I had to wear a certain kind of dress, wear a certain kind of shoes and I think if they could have gotten away with it, gloves and a hat, one of those stupid round white affairs. Anyway, I like to dress up, dress down or entirely do without. That’s one reason I like to spend time with Jim and his housemates. They liked a girl who had style. That I also liked sex didn’t diminish me in their minds.

Naked is one thing. It does seem to get things started, but what gets the boys really going is creative costuming and a bit of theater. For instance, wearing a man’s white shirt, one that is too big. It just gets everyone worked up knowing I have nothing on underneath, even if they are not seeing a lot.

I live in a small midwestern college town but there is a great second hand shop around here. So I keep my room at Jim’s filled with a generous array of accessories — a lace shawl, a nice old summer dress with a large floral print that looks great unbuttoned, scarves, shoes, gloves, you get the idea. Today I was decked out in a smashing combo — a burgundy smoking jacket and a pair of sixty-year-old black silk stockings, you know the ones with the interesting woven patterns certain ladies used to wear. They came from Andy’s; I can’t imagine anyone wearing them together, anyway not quite the way I do.

Jim’s house isn’t big — the largest room (we called it up front), some rooms used as bedrooms, a bathroom and kitchen. I was sitting up front with Jim, Bill and Mark lounging with my wine (in a fruit glass, wineglasses were frowned upon here). I was sitting as prim as I was able on one of the old couches, my knees slightly apart and my legs crossed, one propped on the other, as I thought Playboy Hugh would do it. We were talking about art and life and I was starting to think a little about the summer to come before my senior year of high school. My life was filled with great expectations now; just a few months ago, before meeting Jim, it had a quality of desperation about it. One’s view of one’s self isn’t too high when one finds one under the bleachers during a football game having sex with a horde of guys. I mean I absolutely loathe football and I never quite worked up to a horde. Unfortunately three or four at best, usually just one and none were exceptional, it was cold, and just at the worst moment someone above in the screaming mass in the stands would spill their drink. Imagine, getting that excited over football.

So anyway, I met Jim at the college library, we liked the same music and books, he enjoyed having me over. We were having a great time in bed. Things got even better when Mark and Bill were invited to join in. I have my own room here and a chance to play dress up.

Jim and his housemates had other college friends over now and again or a party and I got to meet more guys, some neat some not, and even nice girls like Jenny who were fun to be around. Pretty soon I was working up to a horde. Bit by bit I was getting there.

Which brings me to Mark. Mark was telling me about his friend Simon who had been over last weekend. “Was that the one with the dark, curly hair?” I asked.

“No, he’s blond, a frat boy — white pants, sports jacket, tie. He’s not bad, he was just brought up strange.”

I understood, being brought up strange myself. I mean whoever would name their daughter Chastity?

“Simon was taken by you,” Mark said.

“Taken? Funny, I don’t remember going anywhere. I believe I was flat on my back in my room with rheumatiz.”

Jim laughed and said, “Rheumatiz, pestilence, pox, disease, soreness, and, if I remember correctly, every other guy at the party, including Simon.”

I jumped up and stared at him in shock, my hands on my hips, the jacket falling open at the neck just a little bit. “You don’t mean that those boys were taking advantage of me while I was under the weather.”

“I forgot, and weather, too.”

Bill chuckled. “Weather was at least twice.”

“Gosh.” I slumped back down on the couch, letting the jacket ride up. “Double gosh.”

“I’d say Simon thought you were at least a triple wowie.”

“Well, that’s OK then.” I calmed down a bit and took another sip of wine. “How do you like these silk stockings I found at Andy’s Wednesday.” I thrust out my legs and wiggled my toes. “And Simon was saying?”

“Simon says,” Mark said and everyone started to laugh. “Simon was saying that his fraternity was having a party this weekend and wanted to know if you’d come over.”

“Me?” I said. “Does he know I don’t guzzle beer and I don’t like sports?”

“He was thinking, knowing all the time that he and his friends were under a heavy cloud of disfavor, that . . .”

I knew that Mark was beating about the bush. I mean fraternity guys, the lowest of the low. “That I like to screw.”

“Yes.”

“And that I was willing to screw just about anyone.”

“He was hoping so.”

Ye gods, maybe sweet Chastity the pirate queen would meet her horde at last. “I don’t know. The way they dress, I mean, my God.”

Mark said, “Simon knows about the heavy cloud of disfavor.”

“And.”

“He was hoping the brightness of your aspect would dispel all gloom from the event.”

“And?” I put down my glass.

Mark, Jim and Bill started to squirm a little. I knew them too well not to know there wasn’t another and in there.

Jim said, “Well to be honest, if you go to the party, they’ll bring over four cases of wine, something drinkable he said, not swill.”

“As if they’d know.” I was getting haughty and thrust my hands in my jacket and spread them a little. “How many are in this festive band of brothers, this glorious group of future CPA’s and bank presidents?” I gave the jacket a twist.

“Eight brothers, but they are expecting about twenty-five or thirty or so Saturday night.”

My eyes started to swim with tears. “The indignity of it.”

“About half will be girl friends,” Mark said.

“Oh.” Not quite the horde I’d thought. “And what will the dress code be?”

“Anything you want. They’re expecting something arty from this bunch. We listen to jazz and folk music, you know.”

“I imagine there will be something positively medieval like Glenn Miller tunes.”

“Sorry, no band.”

Double damn. Oh well. “OK, I guess I’ll go. I’ll think about something special to wear, an extra special get up for their do.” I slumped my shoulders. I just about had the jacket up above my crotch and my legs were open with the toes tapping. “OK. OK.”

“You’ll do it?” Mark was relieved. Jim and Bill were starting to sit back.

Four cases of wine. I’d show them how much I was worth. “How about you drop me off there Friday around five and pick me up Sunday at three — I’ll be on a Girl Scout campout. Yewwww, baked beans all weekend.” Maybe not a horde, but still there was potential here, I thought.

They blanched a little. This was going to hurt, but I knew a bit of austerity would be good for their souls.

I reached past Bill and grasped the empty wine bottle. “How about I show you boys how a girl finds a bit of solace in the bottle?”

* * *

They dropped me off on Friday — Simon was waiting outside the door of the fraternity house with a huge smile on his face. He was almost cute.

I left the guys with a wave, “Be back Sunday for me at three,” and walked up the steps in high heels and London Fog coat from my collection. Underneath I wore red stockings and garter belt along with a doctored pair of black panties and bra. I’d left the support materials but had trimmed away almost all of the lacy fabric. I’d painted my crotch area and breasts with brightly colored alchemical symbols. Jim, Bill and Mark had done my butt with more of the same. The paint was water-soluble and I was hoping for some interesting smears as the evening progressed. I had a small bag with things to perk up the party Saturday if it started to get slow, some cans of whipped cream and a camera with extra film and flash bulbs as well as an assortment of scarves, gloves and a fancy apron for breakfast.

Simon just about fell over when I gave him a wicked grin and opened my coat to give a quick flash. “Let’s go in. We won’t have to guzzle beer will we?”

Simon stammered no and flung open the door waving me inside, “Anything you want, we’ll get for you — anything.”

I had fun that weekend, though those fellows just didn’t eat right. They had no stamina. I mean they were into sports and everything, they should know better. It was only a mini horde at best but I’m not complaining. I got to know some guys that frankly otherwise I wouldn’t be caught dead with normally. Found them OK, generous, and almost sprightly except for their affliction of being brought up strange, which I’m coming to believe we all suffer. Jim, Mark and Bill picked me up a bit promptly (hoping for some reward no doubt) at fifteen to three Sunday, and those guys are never on time.

We made it back to Jim’s place. I think we almost ran all the way. “Gosh, I missed you guys,” I said.

“We surely missed you,” Jim said, wrapping his arm around my waist. I still had the London Fog on, but left the high heels, undergarments and gloves behind as momentoes for the frat boys to practice their strange rites over. Instead I was wearing a sensible pair of deck shoes.

We got to the house and I dropped my coat and bag off as Jim opened the door. We all rushed in but we didn’t make it all the way back to my room before our trauma of separation changed into something more joyful.

It wasn’t until later I saw the six cases of wine, six the dears, and a large bouquet of roses. Oh those dears.

The Costume Party

Davy and I had worked all week on Sam’s costume for the party. Davy’s was simple — he was going as a caveman artist. I didn’t know he had it in him. He’d found part of a fur coat at Andy’s. He had just wrapped it around his middle and held it in place with some safety pins. He was planning to wear a hat, a bowler, also from Andy’s, and use a stick as his cane. He looked dashing when he tried it out on us Tuesday.

Sam’s costume was harder. She had her cape, it was what was going to go with it that was the hard part. If it had been me that would have been enough. But no, Sam was being difficult, dear girl, and insisting on clothes. Paint, not modest enough. A tie, too daring. Jim finally suggested, and it was accepted with some reluctance, tights. Scarlet tights. We cut out a lightning bolt shape from a cereal box, covered it with tin foil, and pinned it to her tights across her breasts. She looked adorable.

It was getting closer to summer so Jim had put aside the band jacket he’d found and settled on something a bit simpler. He’d dug up an old World War I style helmet somewhere. He cut out wings from cardboard and attached them to the helmet. Another pair of smaller wings he attached to an old pair of sneakers. He went to the hardware store and bought two cans of silver spray paint that he used on the shoes, helmet, and a pair of shorts. He was Mercury.

Bill and Jenny made themselves up as Grant Woods’ American Gothic couple. Bill found a pitchfork and was practicing his dour face. Jenny was too happy to glower, she’d been by my room that day for more trojans. She shook her head, “I don’t know how you did it with all three. Bill is a handful all by himself.”

That left Julia who was spending more and more time here. I suggested with her blonde hair and build she could be Venus. She wasn’t sure she liked the idea until Jim came out with a sheet and showed how she could use it as a toga. Sam thought a simple costume underneath would be a little less daring. She and Julia went off talking about Vogue and architecture. Sam continuously surprises me. Julia came by Friday night with her costume to show Jim, and the rest of us, but mostly Jim. She had a halter-top of muslin which was attached to a short skirt with lots of pleats. The muslin top didn’t hide too much, so Jim wasn’t complaining. The sheet was thrown loosely on top and she looked great with her sandals. Mark walked in, stood for a second, turned around and left the room. He came back with a book. “You might want to do your eyes like this,” he said.

I was starting to get impatient. “What about my costume,” I said. “No one’s said anything about my costume.” I spun around.

Sam looked up from a book and said nonchalantly, “Dear, that’s been done before.”

“Old hat,” Jim said, nodding.

“Not up to par, old girl,” Mark said. He turned to Julia. “See what I mean?”

“Stop eyeing her boobs you pervert,” I said. “I can’t believe it, you don’t like my costume?” I spun around again.

“It’s OK,” Mark said, and turned back to Julia. “I think the black eye liner with the silver sparkle stuff on your cheeks would look perfect.”

“Didn’t you go as that at our last party?” Jim asked me. “I’m sure I’ve seen you like that before.” He turned to Julia, “You look great.”

“It’s become blasé, dear,” Sam said. She went back to her book.

“I can’t believe it,” I said falling into the chair. I pulled my legs up to my chest.” You guys seemed to like me at the last party.”

“Oh, it was wonderful when we saw it for the first time,” Bill said as he and Jenny left his room. “But each time it becomes a little less —”

“Stimulating.” Jenny finished. “Oops, maybe not that much less, come on back here.”

As the door closed behind them Jim said, “They’re not going to do it again, are they?”

“It’s obscene. Stop looking at Julia’s boobs Mark.” I dropped my knees down. “I can’t believe it. What does she have that I don’t?”

Sam looked up from her book, “Clothes?”

“Well besides clothes, what does she have?” I plopped my feet on the ground and twisted my ankles. “OK, besides great breasts. You’ve oggled enough Mark, give Jim a chance.” I jumped up and walked over to Jim. “Here.” I grabbed his arm and pulled him over to Julia. “See?” I pulled Julia close to me. “Get an eyeful, Mark has.” Julia was blushing, but not backing away. I went over to the couch opposite the one Sam was on and plopped down again.

“Your breasts look all right Chastity,” Sam said, then went back to her book.

“Thanks.” I fished in the pile of books and found something good to look at. “Thanks alot.”

“You’re welcome.” Sam smiled at me.

There was a knock at the door and Jim went to get it. He came back with Davy who stopped and stared.

“Hi Davy,” I said, patting the couch. “Sam looks great.”

“Ah.”

“Come on over and set awhile.”

Sam looked up. “I think Davy is beginning to get the idea he’s in way over his head.”

“He didn’t know I was part of his caveman artist thing?” I put the book aside. “Come on, don’t be shy,” and patted the couch again.

“I’ve been modeling for him with all my clothes on, that’s how he figured it’d be done,” Sam said.

“And me with a reputation to uphold. We’re talking around him again. Here.” I got up, took Davy’s hand and led him to the couch. “You can sit here and visit with us girls or wander over to the other boys and Julia and ogle her boobs.” I patted his leg. “Oh don’t worry, that awful racket in back is Jenny and Bill at it again.”

“Don’t tell me you’re jealous,” Sam said, putting her book aside. “Would you like something to drink, Davy?”

“A little. I have to admit, a little. Here, Davy,” I twisted around and faced him. “Aren’t my breasts at least passable.”

“Ah.”

“Not even passable?” I fell back into the couch. “What will I do tomorrow? No one likes my costume. My breasts are mediocre.” I wiggled my ankles, my legs straight out.

“Here’s some wine, Davy. It looks like you need it.” Sam sat down again. “Well Davy. Here’s your model, are you ready to draw her?”

“You did check with your parents, didn’t you?” I said. “I probably shouldn’t be sitting here with you unless you checked.”

Sam nodded. “It’s all right, your parents and I say it’s OK.” She bent over and slapped my leg. “Stop it, you’re getting the poor boy distracted.”

“Oh, sorry,” I sat up.

“Davy, this is the other side of Chastity,” Sam said. “Besides the good friend who is fun to talk with, spend time in the library with, is this other Chastity who likes to be dramatic and shocking.”

“Nude, lewd and . . .” I offered.

“I don’t think he’s quite ready for that yet,” Sam laughed.

“Screwed,” I said. “Might as well get it out.”

“You’d bust otherwise,” Sam laughed. “Davy, I can see your eyes blink now and again. You’re all right aren’t you.”

“Davy, everything you’ve heard about artists and their models is true.”

“You hope,” Sam said. “Davy is breathing a bit slower now, I think he’s all right.”

“Boy I’m glad he’s not ogling Julia’s boobs, he’d just keel over.”

“My paints,” Davy said. He blinked his eyes several times, picked up the glass of wine and took a sip. “I need to get my paints.”

“Oh no, I’m not letting you get away that easy. You’re the first live one I’ve had all evening.” I reached over and grabbed his hand. It was cold. “Goodness, the poor boy is freezing. I’ll have to warm him up.” I started to chafe his fingers. “If you pass out I’ll have to do mouth to mouth.”

“Watch out Davy, she’s been known to resuscitate men by doing mouth to, well you can guess,” Sam said. She took a sip of wine. “See?” She stuck her tongue out at me, “I’ve been learning.”

I sat open mouthed, “Sam.”

“Yep, watch out Davy, she’ll drag you down to her level.”

“It’s hard to do it otherwise.”

“It’s not a pretty sight Davy,” Sam laughed. “Poor Bill back there making all that noise.” She blinked, “Still making all that noise, wow. Poor Bill was once in her clutches. A good student. A promising career ahead of him. Now look. Wallowing in the gutter.” She laughed, “Jenny’s not complaining, is she?”

“Don’t listen to her Davy.” I put my hand on his knee. He took another drink of wine, his eyes still fluttering.

“And Mark and Jim.”

“Don’t even mention those perverts.” I squeezed Davy’s knee. “I think I have the art supplies you need back in my room.”

“While Davy is still hyperventilating, I think the modeling better be done out here, dear,” Sam said rising.

“Damn. Oh well.” I twisted around and leaned back against the arm of the couch. “Draw away Davy.” I leaned forward, “No, not that way, go sit in the chair and tell me how you want me to pose.”

Sam came back with some paper and pencils. “Here Davy.” His fingers reflexively grabbed them.

We spent a pleasant evening posing, drawing, chatting, had a nice dinner then more drawing. Davy at the end was able to string phrases together as he worked. Jim and the others would look over his shoulder from time to time, look up to me and mouth, “He’s good,” and walk quietly away. Davy left that evening telling me he’d bring his paints the next afternoon.

* * *

Saturday morning we worked on Mark’s costume. He had lots of ideas, but nothing jelled until I suggested he be one of those woad painted Britons Caesar saw. He liked it, I got to do the tattoos, then Mark bathed in a blue food coloring solution. I helped him get the corners he couldn’t reach and he looked smashing. He felt a wrap of some sort was in order and did a blue piece of muslin around his waist. I didn’t have the heart to tell him it wasn’t covering him much.

That afternoon was busy with preparations for the party. Jenny, the past few weeks, had found some plants here and there which she’d kept out on the porch for sunlight. She brought them in and they filled a corner. Another corner of the front room had a table covered with candles, the room’s only light. We’d all picked up our rooms since they would be used for overflow, though I expected Jenny and Bill had plans for theirs and I had hopes for mine. Davy had let me put some of his pictures of me on my wall last night. Another went into the bathroom.

Davy came early with his paints. “You’re going to be with me, right?” he said, clutching them. I wondered how those hands could produce such beauty.

“Yep, I’m going to be the caveman artist’s model,” I said. “That hat looks good on you.” The compliment just went by him.

“Then I’d like to paint you.”

“Sure,” I said. “But don’t you need art board and brushes?”

“Nope,” Davy said. “Here.” He took my hand and led me over by the window. He set down the paints on the sill. “Stand still please.”

“Normally I don’t go like this too close to the front window. Neighbors.”

He squirted some paint onto his hand and rubbed it around with the other hand. “Burnt Sienna.” He then pressed the hand on my side.

“Oh, that tickles.”

Some more paint, then another hand print. “Turn please.”

“For someone who was gasping yesterday at the sight of me you’ve become quite forward.”

Davy wiped the paint off his hands, then used some from another tube. “Ultramarine.”

“Oh. Do you think you should be doing this if Sam’s not here? What would your parents think?” The paint was cold and pulled slightly on the skin as it dried.

“Move closer to the window please.” He filled his hand again with paint. “Sam knows. We talked last night.”

“Uh oh.” I shut my eyes as he placed a hand on my buttocks. “And?”

“She warned me not to get my feelings hurt.” Davy filled his palm with more paint. “Turn please.”

“Oh. I wouldn’t ever want to hurt your feelings Davy.” His hand was now on one breast pressing. “That feels nice.”

He wiped the paint off his hands with a rag and added more from another tube, “Vermilion,” to just his fingertips, using his other palm as a palette.

“That tickles.”

“She wanted me to realize that maybe what I wanted and you wanted would be two separate things.”

“And?” I squirmed again. “If I didn’t know you better I’d say you were being deliberately fresh.”

“I think I’ll just draw you for awhile.”

“Oh phooey.”

“I’ll love drawing you for awhile.”

“That’s better. I love being drawn by you. Here, hold still.” I leaned over and gave his cheek a kiss. “I don’t think you’ll want for models.”

“Thanks. Maybe after we get to know one another better we can consider something different.” He started to run finger dots up and down my legs.

“If you’re a virgin, that’s not a problem with me.” The dots tickled.

“I’m not a virgin really, just never done it with a woman.”

“Oh.” I touched his head and fiddled with his curls.

“Oh?”

“Not bad oh. Just oh. I’d never considered that.”

“Sam thought you hadn’t.”

“It’s OK if you don’t find me attractive, I’ll still be your friend.”

“You’re beautiful, don’t worry about that. I just need to do things a step at a time.”

“And I’m all for galloping full speed ahead. OK. You let me know if and when you want to. I’ll let you know if I’m willing. How’s that?”

“Sam said it would be OK with you. But she said something about antics.”

“Antics are when you walk into a room and I fall onto my knees and beg to fellate you.”

“That would be something, yes.”

“Or flop on the couch after you’ve been drawing me, raise my butt in the air and tell you that you can fuck my ass if you want.”

“I can see why Sam wanted to warn me. Hold still a second and spread your legs a little more.”

“You’re putting paint there, too?”

“Yep.”

“Oh, OK.”

“Antics are OK. If I don’t rush forward drooling it’s not that I don’t find you attractive. And stimulating. And exciting.”

I gasped as he did it again. “It’s just that you’re mature.”

“It won’t be easy, but it will be for the best.”

“Any idea how long?” His fingers were spotting my butt and up my side.

“Sam suggested that if I survive tonight with my dignity intact, I should have hope for doing so the next week also.”

“I’m glad she didn’t suggest I’d be easy.”

“Sam said you were easy in some ways and, what’s the proper word, difficult in others.”

“Davy, you’ve been articulate for the past five minutes while dabbing your goo on my naked body, my writhing, tempting naked body. I’m not sure you’re college material after all. Maybe you should forget college, drop out of high school and head for New York right away.”

“I’ve considered it.” His dabs were moving across my front.

“I’d miss you.”

“Sam’s known for some time how hard school was.” His dabs were circling my breasts. “I think she threw you my way to make me stay.”

“And.”

Davy looked up to me, “I’m not making any plans until the end of summer.”

“Goody.” I leaned over and gave him another kiss on the cheek. “Feel free to paint, draw, or whatever, me all summer.” Another kiss. “And maybe beyond.”

“Maybe beyond.” He put some more paint in his palm. “Please turn.”

When I turned I saw Jenny, Bill, Mark, and Jim looking at us. “My god, you’re beautiful Chastity,” Jenny said. The boys mumbled their appreciation.

“And he can talk, too,” I said. “Who ever said boys were only good for one thing.”

Sam arrived around three. Davy had finished me a while earlier and we were sitting on the couch drinking wine and looking at books.

“Goodness, Chastity.”

“I know.” I looked up and smiled. “And I’ve been a lady for hours and hours.” I reached out a glass to her, “Here’s some wine for you.”

“Thanks. I think the cape is going to be too hot to wear.” Sam opened the clasp and let it fall onto the chair.

“Sam!”

“Isn’t it neat? Davy did me this morning. He shared some of his fur for my bikini.” Sam turned around.

“I’m envious,” I said. Davy leaned back and smiled.

“Don’t be, you look fantastic in the all together.” Sam picked up a book. “Davy has become quite the caveman, hasn’t he?”

“Unnnh,” he grunted.

“With his two cave brides,” Sam said.

“Artists have more fun.”

“I hope so,” Davy said, “it’s a lot of work.”

The party went well and I was able to lure a couple of the guys into my den of perdition, though things seemed quiet in there compared to Bill and Jenny next door. “Gives new meaning to American Gothic,” I told the first one as I led him in. I’d had fun showing people that Davy had painted me even there. Everyone was awed by his art and I always seemed to see a group around him and Sam.

Davy wasn’t the second guy, though it wasn’t for lack of trying on my part. He seemed happy sitting with Sam, she held his hand most of the evening. She whispered to me it was because he fidgeted if he wasn’t doing something. Julia was often standing at the periphery looking at him in a strange, concentrated way. He wasn’t oblivious to her either. I hope she won’t be a problem.

As people were starting to leave, I pulled Davy back into my room. “Just wanted you to see that it isn’t anything to be frightened of.”

“Nice art on the walls,” Davy said.

“A special friend did those of me.”

“It’s close but not quite right yet.”

“Oh, you artists.”

“Even if you fling yourself on the bed and throw your butt in the air, I’d better be going.”

“Not even a wee bit of fellatio?”

“Not even,” Davy laughed. “The flesh is willing Chastity, the mind is not.”

“Don’t you have that backwards?” I took Davy’s hand and placed it on my breast. “It felt really nice when you painted me, I hope we’ll do it again.”

“I loved every moment.” Davy leaned down and gave me a kiss, a good one, too. “Your neighbor across the street about cut off his foot several times when he was mowing.”

“He wasn’t peeking, was he?”

“You should stand in the window more often. He got all kinds of yard work done.”

Sam poked her head in, “Ready?”

“Ready.”

“I want to hear that that bikini stays on all the way home young girl,” I said, shaking my hand at her.

“Too late.” Sam flashed her cape open and closed.

“Oh my.” I looked to Davy. “You’d better watch out.”

“Maybe I should stay here for the night,” Davy said.

“Over my, not dead, what, palpitating body, you will.” Sam looked at me. “What am I getting myself into?”

I pushed them both out the room. “If you both hold hands then you’ll only have to worry what the other pair are doing.”

“That’s a relief. See you Monday, Chastity,” Davy said.

“Sorry, not like this in school.”

“Maybe in the woods behind school during lunch,” Sam said. “See you, Chastity.” She looked at Davy. “Stop that. Only if you’re good.”

The Art Party

Two blue robin eggs were lying on the ground. Both were broken, a smear of bright red filled the openings. For some reason they reminded me of my dream, the dream I had a few weeks before. I was running through dark woods, running hard and scared. I could hear the yammering of wolves behind me. I ran on and on through the night, but the wolves came closer and closer. I could hear them crash through the underbrush behind me. I saw a pale light, a clearing. I ran toward the light, entered the clearing and heard a voice above me, “Bathe in the mud and they won’t be able to hurt you.” I looked up and there were women on the branches in the trees. I looked around me and saw a damp spot on the ground. “Jump in,” the woman on the lowest branch said. I put my foot on the spot and my toes felt no bottom. The wolves were closer; I could see their eyes, sparkling amber in this gray landscape. I jumped into the spot and sank until just my head remained above the clearing’s surface. The wolves rushed in and darted about howling, snarling here and there. Finally they left and the woman in the lowest branch laughed. “You’re safe now. Once you’ve bathed in the mud they will never harm you.” The women looked kindly down on me and I woke up.

I wondered what had happened to the robins, what had made the eggs fall. I wiped my palms on my pants, picked up my contraption, and continued my way to the party.

Mark had invited me. “It’s an art party,” he said.

I looked at him.

“An art party. Everyone is to bring something.” He smiled. “You know?”

I shook my head.

“Nothing static.” Mark laughed, “Or maybe static instead of capital A art. Art should be something made in the moment, something like a song rather than a dull, flat painting. We are going to do things with music. And a girl will let us drag her through paint on pieces of paper. Whatever you want to do, bring it along.”

So I’d come up with my contraption and found myself carrying it halfway across town to Mark’s. Mark had two roommates, Jim and Bill. Plus there was a girl who hung out with them. Nearly all my classmates had something to say about her, mostly not nice.

I made it to Mark’s and someone had strung blue and white Christmas lights on the porch. I lugged my contraption to the front door and knocked. Jenny opened it, smiled and drew me in. Flickering candles which gave a pale golden light covered a table. People were talking, moving about. Mark’s is a small place, some bedrooms, kitchen, and living room. He was sitting on the floor with Jim and Bill and they were using sticks to drum on blocks of wood. They were mostly in shadow. “Come on in,” Jenny said. “Wine is in the kitchen.” She shut the door. “Find a spot to set up your dohickey, wander around.” Julia came up with a glass of wine, stood between us facing Jenny and said something. Jenny laughed and they both ambled off.

I set up my contraption facing a wall. I wiped my palms against my jeans and walked towards the kitchen. Summer was near and evenings were warmer. The hallway was dark except for a red light down at the end; the kitchen to the right was bright by contrast. A few candles on the table in old Chianti bottles (in spite of the electric light), coffee cups over by the sink, glasses and some pretty good wine it looked like. Some people were in a corner near the rear porch door, a few more were outside in the back yard. I poured myself a jelly glass full of wine, took a sip. Turned around. Someone had taped up large sheets of paper on the wall. Some coffee cans with paint and brushes were on the floor.

I returned to the living room. Stood near Mark and his buddies busy banging away. I saw a light flash across us and looked up. A woman walked by. I had a quick vision of a good profile, silver flashes and lights pointing every which way. She stopped, knelt by Jim, placing one hand on his shoulder, her other hand put a glass of wine by him. She gave him a kiss and stood up. She looked at me, smiled, and went back toward the kitchen. She was wearing flashlights taped to her arms (pointing up to the ceiling) and legs (pointing down to the floor) and what looked like pie pans. It was hard to tell. I took a sip of wine and went over to my contraption, thinking how she did light and motion better.

I placed my glass down, held the thing steady with one hand, flipped a switch and started turning the crank. I looked ahead at the wall as lights and colors flickered. I could turn the handle slowly, or faster; I could stop it and start again. I felt something, looked up and saw some people standing near watching the wall. I kept turning the crank. I heard something, looked over, the woman with the flashlights was smiling, kneeling. “Are you OK for wine?” I nodded. She pointed to the contraption, “That’s neat.” She grinned, winked, stood up and went away. I turned back to the wall. They were pie pans. Pie pans, flashlights and nothing else.

I turned the crank for a little longer, but my knees were hurting. I stopped. Reached for my wine, took a sip and looked up. Mark was standing beside me. “Nice,” he said. I nodded and sipped some more wine. Put the glass down, wiped my hands, stood up and undid the buttons for my shirtsleeves. Mark had knelt down and was looking at it, he stood up again, “Nice. Bill will like looking at that.” He held out an empty glass, “Going for more wine. Have you met Chastity?” I shook my head. “She’s somewhere around here.” He headed off to the kitchen with me following.

Someone had started to paint on the paper. Most everyone was in the living room, the kitchen was empty. Mark filled his glass. “Maybe out here.” I followed him to the back yard. A few people were sitting on some chairs, it was nice and quiet and dark. Mark pointed to the ground. “Peter and his friends were doing things with sparklers out here earlier.” The steel rods were stuck in the dirt. “I have to go back in. We need my guitar.” Mark turned and went back to the house. “There she is, come on.” I followed Mark into the kitchen, it was awfully light inside. The woman with the flashlights was pouring a glass of wine.

“Chastity, this is Darcy.”

She turned, smiling. She’s beautiful, I thought.

“Darcy? Weren’t you the one with the light thing earlier?” I nodded.

“See you Chastity,” Mark said, leaning over to kiss her cheek.

“Oh, here, take this wine to Bill.” She reached out the full glass. “Thanks.” She turned back to me.

I took a sip a wine. She wasn’t wearing anything else and I was blushing.

“Can you imagine anyone naming their daughter Chastity?” She laughed, started to reach her hand out. Stopped.

I nodded. “I like old fashioned names.” I took another sip.

“Your light thing was neat. Darcy is it?”

I nodded.

“Burdened also.” She turned, then looked back, “Would you like to sit somewhere?”

I nodded and took another sip of wine.

“OK then, here’s some more wine for you, you look thirsty.” She took an empty glass and filled it. “My first and probably the last for the night.”

“Oh.”

“Don’t worry. Your secret is safe with me.” She bent to click on the flashlights on her legs, stood up and clicked on her arms. “Lead on MacDuff.” She leaned close, “Or we can be conspiratorial and sit outside.” Her hand touched my wrist. “In the dark.” I nodded. “Great.”

We left the kitchen, stepped off the porch and went to the back of the yard. Her bare feet moved comfortably through the grass wet with dew.

“It’s fantastic out here. Day or night.” She stopped, turned and laughed. “It’s OK, you know.” I looked at her. “How I’m dressed. Don’t let it bother you too much.” She tapped my wrist again. “A little bother is always OK.” She clattered across the yard. Stopped. “There’s another over there,” pointing to what looked like a fancy dining room chair. “Don’t look, this is the embarrassing part.” I heard a clatter, then a sound of a person sitting down. She laughed. “It’s OK. You could have looked, you know.”

I sat down. Took a sip of wine. I didn’t know whether to slump back or sit forward.

“When I made this;“ she lifted a pie pan, “thank god for pipe cleaners. When I made this I didn’t realize how much bother it would be sitting down.” She took a sip of wine. “Pie pans are not the best thing to be sitting on bare assed. Besides, if I sat on them I think the whole dress would tear apart.” She leaned back and patted a flashlight. “Do we need these on?” I looked at her. “OK.” She turned them off. “Now it’s your turn. Say anything. The first thing that comes to your mind. No. Better not do that.”

“Chastity.”

“Perfect.” It was pretty dark this far from the house. I could see the light reflect from her cheeks, the scar on one made a hollow spot, her nose, the pie plates, the chrome on the flashlight on her right arm. The wine glass had a dull red glow. I couldn’t remember at all how she looked, but the image of her was there, the way her face moved when she smiled made me want to see that again and again. I could smell the wine and green things around me.

“Yes?”

“I don’t know what to say.”

“Perfect. I don’t trust men who are practiced in the art of seduction. Their compliments are too easy.” Chastity took a sip of wine. “You’re a friend of Mark’s?”

“We have some classes together. Not music. History. Literature.”

“Literature? As in?”

“I really like Blake.”

“Blake, I’ve not read much of Blake.” She leaned forward. “Something about burning bright?”

“The Tyger. I don’t know the words, though.”

“That’s OK.” She smiled again. I could see the light reflected on her teeth. “Why Blake?”

“Because he says things. Important things to me.” I didn’t tell her about the bed back at my room, my bedsheet I’d covered with lines from Blake.

Chastity leaned down, placing her wine glass on the ground, then stood up. “No, stay there.” She walked toward me, then past me. “Here. How does that feel?”

“Ah, nice.”

“You jumped when I touched you. Don’t worry. I don’t bite.” Her fingers massaged my neck. “Do you have any books by Blake?”

“Some.” Her fingers were kneading my shoulders; her thumbs still pressing the back of my neck.

“Bring them by sometime. I’d enjoy learning more.” She patted my shoulder, went back to her chair. “It’s OK if you peek.” She lifted her pie pan dress to her waist and sat down. I couldn’t see a thing in the dark; light on skin, flashing pie plates. “I have a room here, my home away from home.” She let her dress drop. “I’ll show you in a bit.”

“Uh, Chastity. Where’s the bathroom?”

She laughed. “Ah necessity, the mother of conversation.” She bent over, clicked on the flashlights on her legs and picked up her wine glass, stood up and clicked on her arms. “Come on, I’ll show you.” She took my hand and led me to the house. “Your hand is cold. I guess that was a nod. It’s OK, past the kitchen.” Chastity led me past the kitchen, down the hall to the right. “Bathroom’s here.” She smiled again, “I’ll wait outside.”

When I came back out she was leaning against the walk talking to Jenny. “You know Darcy? Great. My room is this way.” At the end of the hall was a red light by the door. “Bill’s idea of a joke.” She nodded toward the light, opened the door and led me in. “Lights on or off?”

“On I guess.”

“Probably best. Here it is.” She clicked on the light, went in and sat on the bed. She clicked off her flashlights. “Make yourself comfortable.”

There was the bed, a table, some lamps, and paper grocery bags on the floor filled with cloth or clothes. Brightly colored stuff. Piles of books were on the table, by the bed, against the wall.

“I like plays, mostly around 1600, though earlier, too. Have you ever read the Second Shepherd’s Play?” I shook my head. “Sit down, I’ll find it somewhere in one of these piles.” I sat down and looked at the drawings taped to the wall. They looked like they were of her.

“Oh those. Davy did those. He’s good, isn’t he?” She went over to the pile of books by the closet. “Here it is.” She handed it to me. “This is a translation, it’s a great medieval miracle play.” Chastity sat down again. “Still haven’t peeked, have you?” She leaned toward me, flipping the pages of the book, “Here. You don’t need to read it now. You can borrow it when you leave tonight or when ever.”

“May I?”

“Of course.” She leaned away. “Darcy, I guess I better explain things a bit so there are no misunderstandings. No, relax,” she had put her hand on my wrist again, leaving it there. “Jim’s my sweetie, I’m his girl friend. And Mark and Bill are somewhere in there, too. I find I don’t have words to describe it. Anyway, if I like someone and they like me, no one’s going to throw a fit. At the same time,” she gave my wrist a squeeze, “that’s how things are, I’m not leaving Jim.” She drew her hand away, “Isn’t it amazing how complex society makes things? Anyway, here, let me show you something.”

Chastity stood up and went to her closet. “Did you hear about the action painting tonight? Yes, well I’m the lucky girl.” She quickly raised her dress, held it there for a moment and then let it fall. “See, that didn’t hurt, did it? We are both the same people, nothing has changed.” I shook my head. “Well, maybe something has, but you will see it all anyway later tonight. So. The guys think they are going to drag me,” she sat down on the bed again, “through the paint and stuff and that’s going to be it.” Chastity placed her hand on my leg and leaned close. “Jenny, Julia and the other girls are going to do the same to Bill. Only he doesn’t know yet.” She laughed, squeezing my leg. “I bet he chickens out and doesn’t take his clothes off. Sheesh.” She leaned away, releasing my leg. “You know, Jim is going down to Mississippi this summer, working on voting rights. We’re all a little nervous. He says there’s nothing to worry about.”

I nodded.

“When you get a chance, talk to him about it if you feel like it. Well?”

I looked at her.

“Say my name again.”

“Chastity.”

“Perfect.” She stood up. “You can stay in here if you like or you can come out front with me.” She made a face. “As one of the hosts I’m supposed to mingle.” She bent down and clicked on the flashlights on her legs, then stood up and clicked on her arms. “Staying?” I shook my head and stood up. “Great. I’ll put the book on the table here. You can get it when you leave.” She took my hand and gave it a squeeze. “Knock first or there may be no end to embarrassment.” She laughed, leaned against me. “Kiss me you fool.” Laughed again. “It works in the movies. Maybe some other time, huh?” She squeezed my hand as she led me out, “Get the light. Thanks.” She stopped, turned to me and kissed me. “See, that wasn’t so bad. Here.” She pulled me close and kissed me again. I was dizzy. “That’s better.” Jim was at the end of the hall smiling. “Time?” Jim nodded. “OK. Darcy, you can help me get ready.” She grabbed my hand and pushed me back into the room. She shut the door, clicked on the light. “Good thing. The batteries are starting to go and these are heavier than they look.”

Chastity went to the closet, grabbed a folded sheet off the shelf, “Modesty.” She came back and stood before me. “I need help getting this stuff off.” She started on the tape on her left arm. “You can do my legs. No. Put your glass down first. Thanks.” She fiddled with her tape. “No, you better work from the back, I’d hate for something to fall and hit you. There.” She laid a flashlight down along with a ball of tape.

“I hope my legs are OK. I’m no way as pretty as Julia.”

“Prettier,” I mumbled.

“A compliment! Thanks, but I’m not.” She got her other flashlight off and put it beside the first. “The dress is coming off. Take a deep breath. There. That wasn’t so bad, was it?” Chastity laughed and reached back to tousle my hair. “You better move back to my front. Here.” Her fingers held my head a moment, “I’ll sit down first.” She sat down and bent over to work on the flashlight on her right leg. “You can do this one.” I nodded and kneeled to her left leg that she stretched before her.

“Julia is exceptionally beautiful, but I find blond a bit over done. There, you’re getting it.” Chastity laughed. “What do you call that thing you made, that does stuff with lights?”

“Contraption I guess.”

“Nothing romantic like Xerxes or Konstanze? Have you heard of her? No? She is this woman Chopin fell in love with. Mark was telling me how he went for weeks and weeks without talking to her in order not to destroy the ideal he had made of her. He was only nineteen and didn’t know any better. Anyway, she fell in love with someone else. Figures, doesn’t it?” The flashlight was finally off her left leg. “Thanks.” She stood up. “You, too, Darcy.” I looked at her. “Come on up here,” she laughed and raised me up. “You wouldn’t want to give a girl the impression you were only interested in one thing, would you?” She kissed me again. “You can hug me, quickly.” She pressed herself against me, kissed me, then pushed away. “See, it isn’t that hard.” She reached for the sheet. “My debut as a paintbrush awaits.” She spun around, stopped, opened the sheet and draped it over herself. “OK. We both will take deep breaths. One, two, three.” She smiled at me. “I don’t think you expected to spend the evening having a naked human paintbrush talk your head off, did you?” She went to the door, “I’m nervous, but here goes.” She went out, I got the light and followed. “Oh, my wine.” I went back in and got both of ours. “Thanks.”

She took my hand and led me down the hall.

“Burn brightly,” I told her.

Chastity looked at me, smiled, placed her hand up to my cheek, her fingers moving down my earlobe. She turned away and went into the living room.

She looked just like the woman in my dream, the one on the lowest branch who told me to jump in.

The Story

We were resting after making love in the late spring afternoon. The house was quiet; Bill and Jenny were off somewhere, Mark was on campus in the music building practicing. Jim had a window in his room, one that faced west, to the back yard. He disliked curtains, so we looked out on the lawn, a bit disorderly but not unkempt, and hedge that backed against an alley forty or so feet away. Jim’s bed was under the window; the sill was low so we both looked out at the birds.

“You know I wasn’t always a good girl,” I said. Story time, I thought.

“Good girl, bad girl?” Jim mumbled. He sometimes wanted to nap after sex. Other times he was filled with energy and just had to get up and do things.

“A very bad girl. A bad, bad girl.” I pressed my nose against his ear. “I did wicked things.”

“Ah. You have a history.” His eyes flickered.

“Sordid.”

“Sounds like fun.” He rolled over on his back. “I hope it was. Fun.” He traced a finger along my shank. “You’re determined to tell me it, aren’t you?”

“Some of it.” I sat up. “A day in the life of a very wicked, improper,” I spanked his tummy, “girl. Naughty naughty naughty.”

“OK. I’m all ears.” Jim smiled. “I hope this is a good story.”

“It’s a good bad story.” I lay back down, my head on Jim’s stomach, my left hand nuzzled Beast.

“You’re wicked doing that.”

“Doing what?” I nuzzled a little more. “This epic, a day in the life of fifteen-year-old Chastity. Are you sure you want to hear this? It was summer.”

“Ah summer, go on.”

“It was summer and I finally made my way outside. I was one to sleep late. Or at least pretended I slept late. I was finally outside and Jim was already there, in the alley by the big tree. He saw me and waved, not at me, down the alley and Jimbo, also no relation to you, walked into view. Both had grins on their faces. Jimbo was still a virgin and he hoped Jim would put in the good word for him.”

I sighed. “Well, to make a very long story short, we went over behind Mr. Dumbrowski’s car. I peeled off my clothes, lay on the ground and Jim screwed me. Jimbo wanted to know if he could do me, could he do me, you know going on and on. We were trying to keep him quiet. Old man Dumbrowski is hard of hearing but was not deaf. Not deaf at all.” I gave Beast a squeeze. “This was in the days before I got loud during sex thanks to you and Beast here, fine fellows both.”

“I’ve always thought of you as a connoisseur.”

“I wasn’t then. We finally got Jimbo calmed down, said he could play with my tits. We did that for a while, then Jim said, OK, Jimbo, you are going to screw her now, we’ll do something special. I told them how I always liked doing special things. Jimbo’s fingers felt good. OK Jimbo, Jim said, you lie down here, on your back. That’s right. Get your pecker out. You can’t screw unless your pecker is out. Jimbo isn’t dumb, he’s just a bit younger than us, I think he was thirteen then. OK, that’s great, Jim said. Chastity, do you think you can get him going? So I climbed onto Jimbo and started to kiss him and play with his pecker as Jim called it. Jimbo was nervous, he kept on giggling and saying it tickled. OK Jimbo, hold still, I told him and I slid down and took him in my mouth. He was still giggling but he got hard awfully quick, and I slid back up, and pulled him into me. Want to get me wet, Jim said? He knelt down and his dick was by our faces. Not you. Chastity. Thanks. Then Jim walked behind us and knelt down and entered my ass. Hey, what’s that? Jimbo said. I kissed him and told him not to worry, it was something special Jim was doing for us, it being Jimbo’s first time and all.”

“Lucky guys.”

“I was a wickedly lucky gal. Mr. Dumbrowski was sleeping or watching TV or something. I wonder what would have happened if he’d heard us and come out to his back porch?

“I had a thing I did then. After sex with a guy I would squirrel away an article of clothing nearby. After a busy day it was quite an adventure to backtrack, find my clothes. So I left my panties, bra and my blouse in a bush there. I still had my sweater, skirt, shoes and socks so I was still decent to walk in public. It pays to overdress at times.”

“Amazing.” Jim was looking at me with a smile on his face.

“That was a particularly busy day. I was walking on the sidewalk toward downtown and a car pulled up with four high school kids. Everybody called them the four J’s. Oh boy, I thought. Want a ride, Jimmy called out. Sure I said. Just a second. I took off my shoes and socks and left them by the sidewalk there next to a tree. You’ll bring me back here, won’t you? Sure, hop on in. I knew these boys from before, and we had things pretty well worked out. I’d be in back with a guy, the others would ride in front. When he was done they’d stop and he’d switch places with someone up front. It was OK except at bumpy spots and there was one place everyone called thrill hill. You’d go over this short, high hill, does that make sense? It was high, but very small so you went up then came right back down again. It was quite a sensation even when you weren’t screwing. Boy, I got to know that hill intimately. Jimmy and his buddies were OK. Nothing was very serious, but they still treated me nicely. We’d drive around afterwards, I liked to let the wind coming through the car windows dry my skin; then I’d tell them to stop. I’d get dressed, and we’d go to a Dairy Queen or a soda place to get something cold.” I chuckled. “One time the guys just left me in the back, buck naked. They returned with fists full of ice cream cones and we drove quickly out to our secret spot. They held them or drew them across my skin. It was a cool, shivery thing for me, and then they licked the ice cream off. Everybody just about leaves this town after high school, three of the guys went off to college and Jimmy joined the army; I hope he’s OK.

“I dawdled the afternoon with the boys. Officially I’d lost all my clothes but it didn’t matter with them. They brought me back to where they picked me up, we kissed. I guess maybe I was a bit indecent leaning into the car like that. Mr. James, the guy who had that house there was home from work, puttering in his garden. Mr. James’s sure looking at you funny, Jimmy said. Golly, I said and reached back to pull my skirt down. Better go, thanks guys. Thank you, they all yelled and drove off, the radio was playing something but I couldn’t tell you what it was. Nothing memorable. I turned around and said, Hi Mr. James, and waved. Boy, he sure looked funny. Just then I realized that my sweater wasn’t buttoned right. Oh gosh I called out to him, I’d better explain. And started to go up to him. Shoot. I turned around and bent over and picked up my shoes and socks. Golly, I said. Sorry, Mr. James, let me explain. I don’t blush easily but I was blushing then.

“It wasn’t so easy to explain. I started to tell him and he was looking up at me, he was still on his hands and knees. I thought it would make things better if I rebuttoned my sweater. It didn’t. Poor Mr. James. His wife is one of the mean teachers, you know those mean ones everyone knows about in elementary school. She’d whack kids’ fingers with her ruler as she walked up and down the rows of desks. Poor Mr. James. He was someone who was happy puttering in his garden.”

“Reading a good book.”

“Yes, or futtering a fifteen-year-old girl.” I looked down at Jim. “It’s not even legal at that age.”

“Something made him do it.”

“He was driven to it. He had a garden shed at the back of the yard. It was pretty big, not at all what’d you expect. He was a neat man. It was tidy, the floor was clean with pillows and a rug. I guess I’d better tell you.” I looked at Jim seriously. “It wasn’t the first time.”

“So far, I think Jimbo was the only novice.”

“That, too. Well, Mr. James, Jimmy, too, but it’s starting to get confusing with so many Jims, all of the guys in the car were Jims, too; Jimmy, James, Jim and Jimmy Z. Anyway, Mr. J was part of the clothes game. It was a treasure hunt for him. He’d go off on his own looking for my things where I’d tell him they’d be. What the neighbors thought I can’t guess. You never saw adults in those places. Not unless they were doing something like mowing or pruning. Mrs. James was always off somewhere, Mr. J was terribly anxious to please, and he did read books. I was a pushover.” I looked at Jim again. “You don’t think I’m too fast or easy do you? No don’t tell me. Anyway we had our frolic in the shed. Mr. J scampered off and returned fifteen minutes later with my bra, panties and blouse. I had to buy them back from him, though not too dearly.”

“I can’t believe you did it with that old guy,” Jim said, trying to look serious.

“He did read and we did it only a couple hundred times, he died of a heart attack. No. Not me. Gosh, I’m not that kind of girl. He was out mowing the yard. Just toppled over. He used to get so red in the face when we did it, I hope that wasn’t a sign I missed. Oh well.” I leaned back, rubbing my head against Beast who was getting pretty perky. “You’ll forgive me for doing it with old guys, won’t you?”

Jim laughed. “I guess so.”

“Oh, that’s good then. I was so worried. The rest of my day was pretty ho-hum. Whoever I could find in the park. Sometimes I stood in the alley behind the beer joint hoping to nab one of the guys peeing in the bushes. I wasn’t indiscriminate; I never hung out at the Elks Lodge. I stayed away from sports events and that type of person until I became much older. I only flashed the guys sitting on the porch at the old folks home, nothing more. Mr. Beast seems ready for a frolic. If you do me from behind we can both watch the birds out in the garden. Ah, yes, here, let me get my hand under, OK, oh you want to go there do you? Better dip a little lower first, yes, OK, oh yes, that feels, oh, stay still, what kind of bird was that? Stay still. Oh. Oh I’m so glad I don’t have to work so hard anymore. Now move.

“Oh.”

Some Characters In Search of a New Author

There was a knock at the door. Julia looked up, smiled. She put down her coffee. “Visitors?” She hopped up off the couch and went to see who it was. In front of the door she checked her short white miniskirt and brief white top showing her large breasts to their best advantage. She patted her hair and, once sure that everything was just right, she smiled and opened the door.

“Oh.” Julia backed away from the young model at the entry. “You.”

“Hi, may I come in?” Jacqueline asked.

“Oh, of course.”

“Don’t worry, Jacqueline, she was just hoping it would be her dream guy,” Jenny said, her hand patting the couch. “Come on over and visit with us.” Sitting beside Jenny was Sam, reading as usual. Sam looked up and smiled, and then returned to her book.

Jacqueline smiled at Julia, walked toward the couch. “Her dream guy?”

“Oh, not him. Not our guy. You know, the man she was destined to meet.” Jenny laughed.

“We’re pissed at our guy,” Sam said.

Jacqueline sat down and took a Danish from the dish. She took a bite and smiled, “These are good.”

“Thank Mrs. D.” Jenny pointed to the dining room where a short, plump woman was putting a plate of fresh Danish in front of Davy.

“Mrs. D? Isn’t that . . .” Jacqueline started.

“Her change came,” Julia sat down across from Jacqueline and stretched out her long legs. “She’s having more fun now in the kitchen, she says, than at Vicky’s coronation.”

“But isn’t that . . .” Jacqueline started.

“Eveline.” Jenny whispered. “It’s shocking I know. Now all she wants to do is cook. Pastries. Confections.”

“But, Eveline?” Jacqueline said, taking another bite.

“We just hope our guy doesn’t start putting her recipes in his stories. I mean, my god.” Julia started to shudder, “They’re bad enough already with those stupid jokes of his.”

Jenny laughed. “Julia is a bit upset with our guy.”

“I mean, here I am,” Julia said. “Just about the perfect woman, every man’s dream . . .”

“Go on, tell us dear.”

“Tall, silver blonde hair, tawny gold eyes, blonde everywhere,” Julia smiled, “not like some who call themselves blonde.”

Jenny leaned over to Jacqueline, “I don’t think it’s just our guy who is socially clumsy.”

“A real blonde with a figure to match.” Julia sat upright, her hands spread across her diaphragm. “37-23-34. A real woman. I should get all the best parts, but no, Knock Shop Nelly over there, Cee gets them,” Julia waved her arm back over her head.

Jacqueline saw where she was pointing, the dimly lit bedroom was filled with guys. “Renè? Is that Renè?”

“I mean your person at least has interesting guys,” Julia said.

Jenny said, “Yes, that’s Renè.”

Julia went on. “Who do we get? College dweebs, instead of some gorgeous hunk like Renè. Oh, he makes me tingle all over when he smiles.”

“You know about our guy.” Sam looked up from her book, returned reading.

There was a knock on the door. Julia looked up, her eyes gleaming, “Visitors?” Jenny, Sam and Jacqueline exchanged looks. Julia hopped off the couch and went to the door, checking herself to make sure she looked just right.

She opened the door and said, “Gosh.” A group of large men in football uniforms filled the yard. “Oh gee.” She started to wiggle, flinging her breasts up and down, up and down. “Oh my.”

One of the men looked at Julia, frowned, and said, “Is Cee in?” The other men shifted their weight from one foot to the other and back again.

“She’s pretty busy right now but I . . .”

“Oh, we don’t mind waiting.” He turned back to his fellows, “She’s here, come on.”

Julia danced to the side, still jiggling, “But I . . .”

Jacqueline noticed the men’s eyes seemed to glaze over the closer they got to Cee’s room. They each picked a Danish from the large plate full Mrs. D. held for them by Cee’s door. Mrs. D. smiled and said “enjoy your stay” to each man as he went through the door, absentmindedly clutching his pastry. The young model looked over to Jenny. “How big is Cee’s room?”

“Pretty big. We do the biggest scenes in there. Right now there are several groups — fraternities, football teams, a biker bar from the Jersey shore, plus the guys who show up alone or with their buddies.”

Julia sat back down in her seat. “What about Davy over there?” She lowered her voice, “You won’t believe it, Jacqueline, but Davy is, well he’s magnificent down there.”

“Doesn’t count,” Jenny said. “He’s gay.”

“Haven’t you noticed?” Julia sighed. “All the best men are gay.”

“So that’s why he’s not,” Jacqueline waved toward Cee’s room.

“All they’re interested in is that and eating,” Jenny laughed. Her red hair danced. “Thank god for Cee sometimes.”

“But she gets all the best parts,” Julia said.

“Not all the best parts. You remember Dustbowl Dames? Where Dolly and Daisy have that scene in the bedroom?”

Julia smiled. “I was good as Daisy, wasn’t I?”

“Dolly had just come back from the carnival smiling with a fist full of helium balloons floating over her head.”

Julia leaned forward and put her hand on Jacqueline’s knee. “I call that my Gone with the Wind scene. Our husbands were off in town trying to talk the bank out of foreclosing. Dolly walked through the door. She looked at me in that certain way of hers. She led me into the bedroom, left me to disrobe and came back with an electric fan. She set up the fan on a bureau near the foot of the bed. After tying the balloon strings to my erect nipples (I was already stretched out on the bed), her hand flicked the switch for the fan, and then she . . . Oh, it was wonderful. Simply wonderful. Of course, Cee hogged the rest of the story. I’m glad she’s not a screamer.”

“There’d never be a moment of rest here,” Jenny said. She grinned. “I like to watch her toes. There, see. When they do that. I bet they could crack walnuts.”

“It’s not all bad here,” Sam said.

“No, I guess not. It could be worse,” Julia said, looking down at her immobile toes. “If only our guy’s stories had a bit more . . .”

“Panache?” Jenny said.

“I was thinking of zoom. A bit more zoom, go somewhere. Do something.”

“With a gorgeous true blonde in the lead role,” Sam laughed.

“Maybe then Renè would do more than smile at me when he comes over. I mean I have potential. And our guy squanders his best parts for Cee.”

“She does seem to be enjoying herself, doesn’t she?” Jacqueline said, watching in rapt fascination.

“But I could do that and more,” Julia said.

“We know dear, have a Danish,” Jenny said.

“Anybody ever keep count?” Jacqueline said. “Does this go on all the time or is today special.”

“Actually, it’s kind of slow today,” Jenny said.

“And your guy?”

“Well, other than his stupid, lame sense of humor,” Jenny started.

“And utter lack of any social skills whatsoever,” Sam said. She turned the page in her book and went back to reading.

“We wish we were doing more. More of Julia’s zoom for want of another word. It is entirely possible he might start sticking some of Mrs. D’s recipes smack dab in the middle of some juicy part.” Jenny sat back. “The past few months haven’t been easy, he naps a lot.”

“I mean, here I am, young, vibrant, ready to go, to do things, and our guy is napping.” Julia slumped in her seat. “I feel as if the best moments in life are passing me by. And equipping a gay kid like that, our guy is just perverse. It’s beyond wicked.”

Jenny picked up another Danish and waved it in the air, “There’s something special about Danish hot from the oven.”

“You see,” Julia said. “We’re getting twisted. This is not how it’s supposed to be for me. I was made for handsome hard-bodied guys in fast cars. I was made to walk into a bar and have everything go quiet as everyone turns to look at me. As I head for the pool tables you’d hear drops of horny man drool splash on the floor. Instead, look at me, sitting around with a bunch of women eating Danish. I mean, how degenerate.”

“Maybe it’s our guy’s social problem,” Jenny said. “He does have a problem you know.”

“Here’s a story and you’ll see what we’re up against,” Julia said. “Our guy is at a party and this beautiful redhead comes up to him. He’s sitting in the corner as usual.” Everyone laughed. “She smiles at him, winks and takes off all her clothes.”

“He had never met her before; he was flustered a bit, of course,” Jenny said.

“She’s down on her hands and knees, bucking her rear up at him. He just looks and wonders what he’s supposed to do. Wonders? I mean, my god.”

“By then the redhead is on her back doing things,” Jenny said.

“And he still couldn’t figure it out,” Julia said.

“Wires crossed somewhere up there,” Sam snickered.

“His excuse, now get this, his excuse for not getting it, was. Are you ready?” Julia said. She leaned toward Jacqueline. “He though it was some strange dance she was doing. He was trying to interpret it.” Jenny laughed.

“And he did?” Jacqueline started.

“Nothing.” Julia laughed, she was beginning to become hysterical. “Nothing at all.”

“Except wonder why he wasn’t getting any.” Jenny smiled. It was good Danish.

“Like most guys. O well.” Jacqueline sat back in her seat.

“He would have made a good kindergarten teacher, maybe?” Sam said. She looked at Julia.

“He’d screw that up, too,” Julia said. “Can you imagine the scenes he writes? What he has us doing? I mean, my god. You know he’s going to start sticking in recipes. Oh thanks, Mrs. D, these are great.” Julia took the new plate filled with Danish and passed the old, empty plate back. “Really great.”

“You were great as Daisy, Julia,” Sam said.

Julia blushed.” And you as Dolly. The balloons bouncing overhead in the breeze tugging at me . . .” Julia looked thoughtful. “You, Sam, were great. I’m glad that I had a chance to do a Gone with the Wind scene with you. At least he gave me that.”

“Don’t they ever get tired?” Jacqueline asked looking at Cee’s room. She would have to talk to her person about doing a Gone with the Wind scene. It sounded like fun. Maybe on a motorcycle, or . . . well, anyway, they’d talk about it. At least her person wasn’t a total idiot.

“All day, every day. I think our guy writes stories to give Cee a respite,” Jenny said. Then, to shift the subject just a little she bent to the center of the group. The other women and the young model followed suit. “You know, there is something we could do rather than just sit around.” She put her hand on Jacqueline’s knee. “Your company is welcome.”

Julia looked up. “What?”

“Remember the Martians in the Harem thing our guy did?”

“That old story. It’s ancient, almost as old as Mrs. D.”

“But we still have the stuff. Costumes.” Jenny laughed. “Remember those costumes. The harem pants and mirrored bodices?”

“Gosh,” Sam said, closing her book. “Do we still have everything? Even the set?”

“Everything,” Jenny said. “You know how our guy is a pack rat.” She leaned to Jacqueline again. “Our back rooms are pure clutter.”

“So,” Julia said, “we have everything but a Martian or two. It’d be fun, the first part with just us girls, but the best part is with the Martians.”

“Well, if Jacqueline will agree,” Jenny said. They all looked at Jacqueline. “She can be our Martian. Remember that double dildo harness left over from Slaves of Serendipity? How about that on Jacqueline?” Jenny smiled at Jacqueline. “You’d make a fine Martian. You’re just the right size.”

“Jenny’s right. You’d make a great Martian.” Julia thought for a second. Julia looked back to Jenny, “Except for her color.”

“Don’t you remember that bar thing we did recently? Cee was Tantaliza the Tattooed Tart and I was Lira the Lizard Girl. You remember? The Carnival Comes to Town.”

“Remember it? How could I forget.” Julia looked at Jacqueline. “That’s another time Cee stole the scene. All those guys in that bar and just her. Her with her, ‘Please . . . please fuck me.’ I can do that. And my body isn’t straight as a board. I have curves. I’m every man’s dream. But no, our guy had me dressed in black with a hood over my head, holding the light on little Miss Gosh I Lost My Panties so everyone could see better. And then . . .”

Jenny laughed. “Remember how Lira was made green.” She smiled at Jacqueline. “I was Lira, doing her lizard dance, shimmying on a table while Cee cavorted on another. Koolaid. Lime Koolaid. That’s what made me green.”

“That’s right,” Sam said. She put her book aside. “And we have lots of extra Koolaid because our guy never got around to any rewrites.” She stood up. “I’m ready.”

“Me, too,” Jenny said, rising. “Coming along Mr. Martian?”

“I’m coming also,” Julia said. “Do you think Davy could be an eunuch? Maybe this is what the poor boy needs. An opportunity to save a roomful of screaming girls from a rapacious Martian.” She headed toward the dining room.

“Rapacious Martian sounds like fun,” Jacqueline said. “Count on me.” She stood and followed the Jenny and Sam down the hall. I’ve never been green before, she thought.