Chapter 5
Cheryl tried to immerse herself in her school-work more deeply than before. Whenever she let her mind wander, it wandered back to the night with Frank. Bnt, even though she tried to eradicate the memory, to proceed as if it had never happened, she felt that there had been a change in her. She became even more withdrawn than usual around the other students.
"Come off it," Annie told her. "Whatever happened can't be that bad. You're acting like some 'tainted woman' a hundred years ago. So, you got laid. What makes you think you're so special? What makes you think it's all that important? People get laid every day these days, and nobody locks them in a pillory."
But Cheryl felt tainted, polluted. If she had fought her hardest, then maybe she would feel different. But her body had responded to Frank, even while her mind was denying him. She couldn't forget that.
Then there was Bobby. She was afraid of seeing him-afraid that she would lose control of herself. But she was even more afraid of not seeing him. He was really the only person in the world that she felt completely close to, and she couldn't afford to lose him. She couldn't tell him what had happened that night with Frank. He might lose control of himself and go after Frank. She sensed about Frank that he would get the best of that kind of encounter, that Bobby would be lucky to come out of it alive.
When she finally saw him, it wasn't at all what she expected.
The call came at midnight, when Cheryl had been asleep for an hour.
"Get dressed," he said. His voice was terse.
"You've got a nerve," she said. "You think you can order me around, get me out of bed and tell me to get dressed."
"Meet me in front of the dorm in ten minutes. It's important."
"Important to whom?" she asked. But he had already hung up.
She sat on her bed, suddenly very wide awake. She was angry at his manner, but she was worried, too. It wasn't like him. It must have cost him something to admit to her that she was important to him. His style was cool and aloof, and he hadn't sounded very aloof on the phone. She dressed quickly. She felt that Frank had something to do with Bobby's call. Then it occurred to her that Frank might be with Bobby. She didn't like that idea at all, and she wished that she had thought to tell him to come alone.
It turned out that he was alone.
She was waiting in the lobby of the dorm. The sleepy counselor looked at her quizzically as she signed out, but she wasn't breaking any rules, and she didn't have to tell her anything. Ten minutes passed, then twenty, and there was no sign of Bobby. She was about to forget it and go back up to bed when his battered old Chevy turned into the parking lot and pulled to a stop in front of the building.
She got in and he pulled away without speaking. She turned and looked at him in the glitter of the passing street lights. He looked tense and nervous. He kept glancing into the rear-view mirror.
"Are you going to tell me what this is all about?" she asked after a long silence. "Not yet," he said.
Cheryl pouted and turned away. Still, she didn't push it. His tone of voice was final.
Bobby drove North, then East-toward downtown. Finally he turned into Grant Avenue in the heart of Chinatown. It was a week night, and it was very late. The street was deserted except for a few vegetable stands left open and a few restaurants.
Bobby spotted a parking place and pulled into the curb in front of a cheap chop suey joint that was still open, though empty.
"This is a funny time of night to get a craving for Chinese food," she remarked.
He turned off the key and turned to look at her. "This is where I live," he said.
She followed him down the length of the abandoned counter, past the curtained booths to a flight of stairs in the back. The upstairs of the building smelled like dirty diapers. He led her down a dingy corridor to a door. Inside, there was a mattress on the floor, a stereo with twin speakers on either side of the window. He turned a switch, and a naked bulb snapped into life on the ceiling. She looked around.
"You should have left the light off," she said. "The place looked better in the dark."
It was true. There were several ashtrays that had long before overflowed. There was a pile of dirty clothes in a corner. There was a hotplate and a pile of empty cans.
"I don't spend much time here," he said. He walked to a table that was cluttered with dirty dishes.
"Can I offer you a glass of wine, sis?" he asked. "To compensate you for your trouble in coming here?"
"You know I don't drink," she said.
"Well, if you don't mind. . . . " He twisted the cap and lifted the bottle directly to his mouth.
"Well, you're quite a drinker," Cheryl commented acidly. "You don't even use a glass, anymore."
He looked at her as if he had not heard her.
"You know," he said. "You're the only person who knows where I live."
"What about you friend Frank?" she asked softly.
He looked at her quickly. "He doesn't know," he said. "I brought you here because I have to have your trust. I thought if I trusted you, you might listen to me."
She arched her eyebrows. What was he driving at?
"I know what Frank did to you," he said.
Her eyes widened in shock. "You do?"
He nodded, and-she noticed-he avoided her eyes. He seemed to be searching for words. She tried to digest the meaning of his remark. He knew. He knew what had happened.
"Sis, how much do I mean to you?" he asked.
She hesitated. He was really not himself. The Bobby she knew would not have asked a question like that in a million years. She realized, for the first time, that whatever had made him call her and bring her here, it was serious-very serious.
"How can I answer that?" she said softly.
He looked at her. "I want you to see Frank again."
"No." Her voice was like a pistol shot. She hadn't even had time to think of an answer; it had come out of her as if jerked by a string.
He looked at her without expression. "I know," he said softly. "It was bad. Maybe the worst thing that's ever happened to you. But you're going to have to do it again."
Cheryl was speechless with shock. What was he saying? What was he asking?
"But . . . but . . . why?" she stammered.
Bobby shook his head slowly. "I can't tell you," he said.
"What?" She stood on trembling legs. "What are you talking about? What kind of monster are you? Oh, my God, what have they done to you? What have you become?" Her voice was high and shrill. She was on the edge of hysteria.
He took her verbal barrage with his head lowered, his eyes averted, no visible emotion.
"I know what you must think," he said. "I know it sounds terrible, but I can't tell you how important it is."
She stopped. "But, Bobby, my God, what in the world could be that important to you? What could I mean to you for you to ask me to do such a vile thing? Your own sister-you ask your own sister to sleep with a man-a man she despises-and for what? So you can make more money? So you can buy some more stylish clothes?"
"No!" The edge in his voice was violent. Cheryl stopped speaking and watched her brother fearfully.
"It's not for me," he said, his voice soft again. "You've got to believe me, it's not for me."
"Then who is it for?"
He looked at her for a long time. "I can't tell you, damn it, I just can't tell you. If you knew, then you'd just be in danger-more danger than you are, anyway?"
"Danger? Bobby, what in the world."
"You've got to see Frank. You've got to do what he wants. Just one more time."
She lowered herself into a chair. "Bobby," she said. "I'm sorry if you've made a mess out of your life, but I'm afraid you're going to have to handle it by yourself.
He stood for a long time looking out the window.
"I'm sorry, sis," he said at last. "Come on, I'll drive you back to the dorm."
As he flicked out the light, she saw, to her amazement, that there were tears in his eyes. She had never known him to cry.
Back in the room, Cheryl slipped out of her clothes and into bed in the dark to avoid waking Annie. She lay for a long time, her body tense and still, her mind careening through a wild, stormy sea of thoughts and fears.
Then she started to cry.
She tried to muffle her sobbing in the pillow, but it was like some strong demon pushing up from inside her body, and the whole bed was shaking and creaking with her convulsing body.
The lights went on.
Annie was bending over her, touching her naked shoulder.
"What is it, Cheryl darling? Please, baby, don't cry."
The soft touch of the blonde girl's hand on her shoulder only seemed to bring out her grief, making her cry harder, making her lose control completely.
Annie sat on the edge of the bed and bent over Cheryl's slender, shaking form. Cheryl felt the warmth of Annie's big, milk-white breasts against her shoulder-she felt the soft cascade of Annie's long blonde hair over her back. She felt the protective warmth of the other girl's ripe young body.
Very slowly her crying subsided until she was finally limp and whimpering in the warm circle of Annie's cradling arms. She was suddenly very embarrassed at the intimacy of their two bodies. She tried to pull away, but Annie held her tight.
"It's okay," Annie murmured throatily. "You need to be held, I can tell-don't be embarrassed."
Cheryl sighed and let Annie pull her cheek up tight against the plump swell of her firm white breast. She was aware of the baby-smooth texture of Annie's milky skin, of the soft, fragrant scent of Annie's body.
Then, with slow, halting sentences, she told Annie about Bobby, about what had happened, about what he wanted her to do. When she had finished her story, she felt a strange, sad relief. She was such a closed-in person. It was a new experience sharing her problems with a friend.
Then Annie did a strange thing-she bent over and kissed Cheryl on the mouth. Cheryl felt a tremor of shock ripple through her tawny body. At first the kiss was chaste and soft. Annie's mouth was moist and warm. Then she parted her lips, and Cheryl felt her little seashell tongue swiped back and forth against Cheryl's cool, dry lips.
Cheryl opened her eyes wide. She found herself looking into Annie's clear blue eyes. Cheryl pulled her face back with a breathless little jerk.
"Annie, what?"
Annie licked her lips slowly. Her eyes were wild and hot-looking. She seemed a little flushed.
"It's okay," she whispered. "I won't hurt you . . . I'll love you softly . . . I won't be like a man."
Cheryl was flat on her back. Annie was leaning over her so that one pendulous breast was brushing lightly across Cheryl's naked shoulder.
Cheryl felt a chill course through her body. She felt funny sick sweetness in the pit of her belly. Annie's skin was so milky-white next to her own dusky flesh. Her skin was so white, and so smooth-so incredibly smooth. It was an almost unbearable feeling to be forced into such intimacy with another girl. But she wasn't sure whether she loved it or hated it.
"Please, Annie," she heard herself whisper. "I'm not a . . . a Lesbian."
Annie reached out and slipped a slim white finger across Cheryl's lips. "Shhh . . . I know you're not . . . and I'm not, either. But there's nothing wrong with love . . . there can't be anything wrong with love."
Cheryl felt tears in her eyes. Somehow, she couldn't believe that it was wrong. How could such a sharing be wrong.
Annie kissed her again.
This time the kiss was less chaste, less restrained. Cheryl didn't resist this time, but gave her mouth willingly to the passion of Annie's kiss. Again her tongue fenced its way between Cheryl's parted lips and into the cavern of her hot mouth. Cheryl felt the sweetness of Annie's slippery little tongue; she tasted Annie's soft, warm breath, and she almost fainted with the heady thrill that she felt.
Annie's body was pushing more insistently against Cheryl's body now. The blonde girl slipped one of her long legs onto the bed and pressed it down across Cheryl's smooth, brown belly. The heat from Annie's firm thigh made Cheryl whimper and moan.
Annie pulled her ripe, moist mouth away from Cheryl's full wet lips. Her silky hair fell in a curtain across Cheryl's face, engulfing her in its shimmering softness.
Then Annie reached down and drew the bedclothes all the way down, exposing the full length of Cheryl's hot, squirming young body.
Cheryl made a soft, cooing sound deep in her throat. She was wearing a thin, tight pair of bikini panties that made her feel deliciously naked.
Annie trailed soft fingertips down the front of Cheryl's body, through the warm, scented valley between her pert brown breasts, then down over the trembling plain of her belly to the edge of her panties. Her clear blue eyes fixed intently on Cheryl's face. Then she slipped her fingers under Cheryl's panties.
"Ooooohhhh, Annie," Cheryl whispered hotly. "Please, don't." It was one thing for girls to hold hands, or even to kiss. But Annie was doing something perverted. The idea of another girl touching her between her legs made her feel sick with embarrassment. But somehow her body wouldn't respond to the commands of her conscience. She felt Annie slip her warm, white hand all the way under her panties; she felt Annie's palm cupped over the little wiry tuft of dark hair that covered her soft, moist vagina.
"It's all right," Annie breathed. "I'm going to make you feel good. You're going to love what I'm going to do to you . . . it's nothing like anything you've ever felt before. Trust me."
Annie reached down with her other hand and skinned the panties over the sleek fullness of Cheryl's lithe brown hips. Cheryl moaned aloud as she felt her vulnerable center exposed in complete nakedness to Annie's cool blue eyes.
Then Annie was feeling her legs, opening them up gently but firmly. Cheryl cried out and trailed her fingers through Annie's fine blonde hair as the white girl leaned over and planted her open mouth squarely on Cheryl's hot, squirming tummy. She didn't know what was going to happen, but she felt her body surrender to the delightful, delicious things that Annie was doing to it with her soft, shameless fingers. She knew that she was going to let Annie carry it through to the conclusion.
Annie was breathing warmly, dipping her hot tongue in and out of Cheryl's navel. Her hands were stroking the silken brown flesh of Cheryl's slender inner thighs, lighting little fires of excitement that made Cheryl whimper and bite her lips. It was such a different feeling from Frank. Frank had been so brutally demanding, so crudely direct. Annie seemed to know exactly what buttons to push, what places to finger and suck to drive Cheryl half-wild with fever. Annie was so soft and knowing, so unabashedly sensual.
Annie slipped one hand up and parted the musky, oozing lips of Cheryl's sticky cunt with her fingers. Cheryl made a funny gurgling sound and spread her legs as far as she could, bracing her heels on the mattress. She couldn't seem to keep her hips from rolling slightly up and down, pushing her firm belly up against Annie's hungry mouth, rubbing her hot, naked ass deliciously against the cool crumple of the bedsheets.
Annie slipped her fingers up and down the gooey gash between Cheryl's legs; then she jammed her finger all the way up inside.
Cheryl sobbed and brought her legs tightly together, locking her thighs around Annie's hand, trapping it in place. Then she relaxed and let
Annie push her thighs apart again, dipping her face even lower on Cheryl's berry-brown body.
Cheryl began to realize, with a hot, thrilling ache of anticipation, what Annie was going to do to her. Dear God, she was going to put her mouth there, she was going to kiss Cheryl's hot, sticky, pussy. Annie blew hotly on Cheryl's soft, fragrant bush, then she dipped her sleek, blonde face all the way down to the base of Cheryl's body and pushed her open mouth right up against the soft, spongy mouth of Cheryl's eager cunt.
Cheryl groaned deeply, as if wounded, when she felt the fluttering lance of Annie's tongue probe thrillingly up into her hot, hairy gash. Annie worked her way down until she was lying all the way across Cheryl's body, moaning and sucking on Cheryl's pussy as if her life depended on it.
Cheryl lifted her slim legs reflexively and brought them down across Annie's warm, white shoulders. She had the blonde girl's face trapped securely between her legs now. She was rocking the bed with the rhythm of her body as she ground and shimmied herself against Annie's burrowing face with growing excitement. She had never dreamed it could be like this. Annie was licking and sucking at her puckered little clit-driving her up the wall with the knowing pressure of her soft lips, the expert probing of her hot, sticky tongue. Annie's hands, meanwhile, reached up to cup the taut little melons of Cheryl's breasts. Cheryl arched her back and squealed with the hot thrill of having her nipples pinched and teased, plucked and twisted. The two sensations-the feel of Annie's mouth and the stimulation of her soft fingers-was quickly bringing the pitch of Cheryl's delirium to the edge of mindless hysteria.
Annie was soft, but she was relentless. She fucked her tongue so quickly in and out of Cheryl's aching, hair-fringed cuntal opening that Cheryl was having difficulty keeping herself from screaming with the guilty thrill of it.
Cheryl was carried higher and higher on the bone-grinding waves of her ecstasy. Annie was firm, rhythmic, but unhurried. She seemed to delight in building Cheryl's excitement up to a point, then slacking off to let Cheryl whimper and beg with her eager straining body, for more.
The room was filled with the sound of Cheryl's muted whining and feverish simpering, combined with the wet, nasty, sucking sounds of Annie's mouth between her legs. Cheryl reached down and tangled her fingers in Annie's long hair, pushed her face even more firmly up against her hotly throbbing, hungry blossoming pussy.
Annie's tongue was stuffed obscenely up inside her sticky cunt, thrusting in and out like a little penis. She pushed her hips hard against Annie's face and locked her slim, firm thighs tightly around the blonde girl's smooth warm cheeks. It was delicious; Cheryl was losing her mind.
Then Cheryl reached a frantic peak of excitement. This time, Annie didn't back off, didn't withhold the darting, slippery kiss of her scalding tongue. She groaned into Cheryl's dewy muff and sucked hard, as Cheryl arched her hips off the bed and let herself be carried over the edge of bliss into the throes of a sobbing, clutching, bone-dissolving climax that left her weak and whimpering for breath when it had passed.
In the morning, the two girls dressed for school without looking at each other. There was no reference to what had happened in Cheryl's bed, but Cheryl knew that both of them were thinking about it. It had been wrong, Cheryl knew that. But it had happened, and nothing could change that.