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.