Chapter 3
Still stunned and troubled by what Bob had said-about wishing he were a woman-Nola stood for nearly a minute, staring into the twilight at Terry Whitman. There was wariness in her because of their brief acquaintanceship. She had only been at the school since the term began and had had limited contact with members of the faculty.
"Well, neighbor?" Terry smiled. "Am I barging in? So silly-but I got lonesome and bored with schoolwork. Thank God today is Thursday."
"What's so good about it being Thursday?" Nola countered, spirits lifting slightly as she studied Terry's friendly face.
"Tomorrow is Friday-then school will be out for the entire weekend," Terry said blithely, nodding as Nola motioned her inside.
"Drink?" Nola asked. "I have bourbon and ginger ale or tap water."
"Tap water," Terry said easily. She noticed an open book turned pages down on a table, surmised that that was where Nola sat and took another chair.
"I guess I'm a little lonely and bored myself," Nola supplied, a little wistfully. "Bob was here for a little while, but had to get along."
"You two going to get married?" Terry asked, tone casual. "He's good-looking-as well as rich. And he's fun to be with. I dated him a couple of times. So did Corbie-before you came and corralled the eligible stallion."
Nola reddened instantly and she knew that Terry did not miss the pretty blushing that swept well down into the deep cleavage of her breasts revealed by the deep V cut of her white linen blouse.
"That is a question that hasn't been answered," Nola said candidly. "You know, Terry, I kind of doubt it." She suppressed an impulse to confess what Bob had said about wanting to be a woman-and get all the fucking possible from a lot of different men. Strangely, the idea of Bob undergoing surgery for sexual transformation and having man after man riding between his legs, shafting their rigid penises into his body aroused a lurid excitement in her.
He hadn't mentioned surgery-but how else could he take advantage of male sex partners? She just couldn't visualize the rather short man -just five feet, eight inches-bending over, presenting his behind to a man and taking seven or eight inches of cock up his butt hole and getting his jollies from being cornholed.
"Something wrong between you two?" Terry asked alertly.
"Not exactly," Nola replied, struggling with her frustration and the need to confide in someone. "It just doesn't seem likely marriage bells will toll for me-not with him."
"I can tell you're disappointed-almost depressed," Terry said, resenting Nola for exhibiting a morbid mood. Especially since she had other plans. Plans involving Corbie and the boys in the infirmary. "If you'd prefer to be alone with your misery," she said tartly, "I guess I can go back to my place or over to yak with Corbie."
Nola sat forward instantly in her chair. "Hey, sorry I'm putting out vibrations of the gloomies, Terry. No, don't feel that way. I don't want you to leave. I think what T need is company."
An instant warmth and sympathy flooded through Terry toward Nola. "Want to tell me about it, Honey?"
Nola's smile was tight, brief. "No, I don't think so. In fact, there's really nothing to tell. It's just a feeling I have. It's something Bob said-and didn't say. That's all."
Nola watched Terry shrug her huggable shoulders.
"Say, Nola, would you want to go along with me to visit Corbie? I know she's home and alone. I can see one of her living room windows from my place and I saw a light on."
Nola jousted with a feeling of doubt and wanting to go. "I don't know, Terry. I would like to go -really. Do you think it would be all right? Are you sure she wouldn't prefer to be alone?"
"Heck, I'll call her and ask," Terry said, a little jubilantly. "Corbie and I've been friends for three years. We both arrived on campus the same day. She came from Tulsa, Oklahoma, and I'm from National City, California. Say, I never did hear where you're from."
After Terry checked with Corbie by telephone, Nola said, "Where am I from. How recent or how far back?"
As they left Nola's apartment, Terry looped her arm through Nola's. "As far back or as recent as you like, Nola."
"I came to Utah from four years of school psychologist-counselor in Portland, Oregon. I received my degree from the University of Idaho at Moscow. The same little North Idaho town where I lost my cherry to a top student in the School of Mines."
They walked along in silence for a minute or two. "You don't have to tell me things like that," Terry remonstrated.
"I don't care," Nola said frankly, aware of Terry's hand high on her arm, fingers moving so they pressed against the warm, firm side of her left breast.
"Honey, he mined high-grade ore, I would say from looking at your yummy figure," Terry said with honesty. "I bet there are lots of guys who would like to dig it into your golden tunnel."
"Hah! The way you talk," Nola said, blushing with appreciation and glad it was dark so Terry couldn't see.
"You're blushing," Terry laughed gaily.
"Bah," Nola said in embarrassed protest.
"I can tell by the way the pulse jumped in your tittie," Terry jested, her hand jostling against Nola's boobie.
"Tease," Nola said weakly, feeling defenseless -surprised she didn't mind Terry's hand deliberately rubbing the side of her breast. She followed Terry through the infirmary to the stairs. The matter with me, she told herself, is that Bob didn't fully satisfy me-his not cumming.
Corbie met them as they emerged from the stairwell. "Welcome, oh beautiful captives of the School for Special Children," she greeted, hands on curvy hips, feet apart, slender legs bare below the loose legs of tennis shorts. "I'm glad you came. I just got out of the tub about an hour ago and was getting restless, sipping martinis by myself."
Nola and Terry stepped apart and let Corbie move in between them, loop her arms around their waists. Instantly, Nola recognized that Corbie wasn't wearing a bra under the floppy slipover blouse. She could tell by the way Corbie's full-blossomed boobies jounced enticingly as they walked.
No panties, either, her mind formed the thought. And Nola was silently embarrassed by the independent working of her brain.
Accepting a drink from Corbie, Nola said casually, "I like your apartment. You have a tremendous view."
"Thank you," Corbie curtsied. "Before you came, I was looking at the sky from the west window of the living room. I think I see clouds forming way, way beyond the lake. Maybe it will rain and everything won't be so dry."
Nola was slightly embarrassed when Corbie took a chair across the room from her, knees fanned lazily. Nola was able to peer up the loose legs of the tennis shorts-and see the entire area of Corbie's crotch where a black, crinkly hair forest grew profusely. Although Corbie seemed oblivious to her exposure, Nola had an eerie feeling it was all for her benefit.
"I saw a really amusing sight last night," Corbie laughed, black eyes twinkling. "I made the late rounds, checking on the patients. I wish both of you could have been here to watch with me."
Nola was keenly aware of Terry, sitting in a chair to her right, leaning forward, attention finely tuned. "Well, Corbie, what did you see? Tell us!"
"This boy-he returned to class today-had a touch of stomach flu or something," Corbie said slowly, tone tantalizing. "Well, apparently, he had gotten too warm and had kicked off the spread and sheet. When I entered the room, he was lying on his stomach. You know how these hospital gowns are split all the way down the back? He was bare-assed naked, of course. I went to the bed and was about to cover him up-again and . . ."
"What happened?" Terry pressed.
"I'm telling you-or trying to," Corbie frowned. "Just as I lifted and straightened the sheet and spread, he flopped over on his back. The gown-they're kind of short, any way-was up around his waist. Boy, was that boy naked. And, you know, some of these kids are pretty well hung-if I can employ some little crudities. He must have been having some sensational dreams. I really don't know how to tell you with nice, polite, mixed-society words."
"To heck with the nice words," Terry breathed heavily, quickly. "Go on, tell us."
Corbie sipped her drink, deliberately delaying her narrative, obviously teasing, Nola mused, puzzled by a kindling warmth in her loins.
"His legs were stretched out straight, knees apart, you know," Corbie winked. "His bag of jewels and swizzler were just dangling down against his young bottom. The light was pretty good-and I also turned my flashlight on his gadgetry. His things-" Corbie used a dainty hand to kind of cup, fingertips working.
"His balls?" Terry supplied. Nola glanced at her and was surprised by the wild glitter in her eyes.
"Yeah, his balls," Corbie said frankly, a slight frown creasing her brow, "began kind of rolling around in the scrotum."
"His bag," Terry giggled.
"If you like that word better," Corbie nodded. "His balls began rolling around in his bag, swelling up real plump."
"His peter?" Terry demanded.
Corbie laughed and Nola felt her face reddening, becoming hot and flushed.
"It started very slowly," Corbie said, tone clinical. "There was a very gradual thickening of his penis. All the time it was growing longer and longer. It was kind of fascinating, the way the glans expanded and seemed to crawl right out of the cocoon of the foreskin. But it did, believe me.
"His penis grew more and more rigid, thick and long, until it stood straight up in the air."
"Why don't you say 'cock' or 'prick'?" Terry wheedled, a little tone of annoyance in her voice.
"Oh, Terry," Corbie laughed chidingly. "Very well. The bulgy head of his prick was as slick-skinned as a ripe plum-one of the reddish varieties. And I could see the blood veins all the way down the top and along the sides of his cock. I was all the more fascinating because he doesn't have much pubic hair."
"Oh, fuck, I'd like to have watched that," Terry suddenly blurted lamentingly.
"Tish-your language," Corbie clucked her pink tongue. "Anyway, this kid was lying there on his back-with a huge hard-on-and I was standing there, just watching it flex and quiver. When it became completely full of starch, it flopped down on his flat little belly. It was trembling and twitching. His dreams must have been fantastic. His bottom end began to buck and hunch and gyrate-just like-this is your word, Honey-he was starting to fuck away. But his peter wasn't stuck into anything. I had the only pussy around for some distance and he sure didn't have his peter zipped into my purse."
"Gollleeeeee damn," Terry whined, her butt bouncing up and down slightly on the seat of the chair. "At a time like that, didn't you do anything about it? It was right there-his big, hard cock-all ready."
Nola watched Corbie's level, inscrutable gaze on Terry's excited face: "Sure I did something," she drawled, "I stood there and watched his young cock fuck the air."
"Darn you, Corbie," Terry whined.
"You'd like to have done something with it, wouldn't you, Honey?" Corbie taunted. And Terry grew silent, slouched back in the chair.
And Nola, uncomfortable from the sensual arousal in her own vagina, knew Terry probably would have pounced on the young boy with all the fury of a wanton alley cat. She was bewildered because she wasn't disgusted by the prospect. It was rather exciting-in an illicit, erotic way.
"To continue," Corbie said, triumphantly in command of the moment and the conversation, "I held the beam of the flashlight on his wriggling balls and trembling pecker. He groaned softly in his sleep and his butt began bucking faster, his prick flopping around on his tense belly. Then a convulsing began all along the length of the shaft of his cock, the skin of the head stretched even more and suddenly he shot a tremendous squirt of the thick, pearly stuff all over his belly and his chest. He made a helluva mess of his body and the bed."
"And what did you do then?" Terry demanded.
"I covered him up and left," Corbie laughed.
"I wouldn't have," Terry said softly, voice very low.
"I know you wouldn't have, Honey," Corbie smiled, a hand smoothing the black page boy cut.
Nola was uncomfortably aware of a hot, wet, stickiness in her panties. Corbie's story had turned her on-and she was ashamed and baffled.
And there was something else-it was almost humiliating-Corbie knew she had brought her out.
Before the conversation could pick up again, the telephone rang and Corbie answered it. Hanging up, she told Nola and Terry, "The night LVN is ready to go off shift and I have to make the rounds with her. Want to come along?"