Chapter 2
It was like an avalanche. Once it started coming at you, there was no pulling out. That's what Melanie thought as she was tightly blindfolded with Kate's silk scarf, cutting off her vision completely. The blackout was somewhat terrifying. Melanie began to realize what it was like to be blind, to be dependent upon others for guidance, to never know what was coming next.
Her mind was filled with misgivings as she was led out of the dormitory into the snow. It was a dry snow, but the blast of cool fresh air upon her face came unexpectedly. She had no idea where Kate Cartwright was leading her, only that they had left the day room and were walking down the path to the road.
"Stop here," Kate ordered.
Melanie sensed that she was now in the presence of some of the other girls, but which girls she had no idea because nobody spoke. She could hear them shuffling about in the snow. She stood frozen in her tracks, waiting to be guided and then she heard some whispering, but she could not make out what was said. Apparently several of the girls were not in agreement about something.
Eventually, one of the girls dropped all efforts of secrecy. "Sheila said they were to go alone in the first sleigh and we were to follow."
"Shut up," one of the other girls snapped.
"All right," Kate said, tugging at Melanie's arm. "Get in."
Several unseen hands helped Melanie into an open sleigh and a moment later the horse was pulling them down the road. Melanie knew it was Kate who sat beside her. She knew her roommate well, and she could identify the eau de cologne Kate wore. It was hers, but Kate was always using it.
"Where are you taking me," Melanie asked.
"You're not supposed to ask any questions," Kate informed her. "It's part of the rules."
"Why all the mystery, Kate? It's kind of childish, isn't it?"
"You'll find out." There was an indecisive pause. "Although I guess I can tell you that much. But only because you're my roommate and because I'm your sponsor. The coterie has it's own club and you aren't supposed to know where it is until you're a pl-edged member."
"What are they going to make me do, Kate?"
"I've told you more than I should already. You'll just have to wait and find out. Look, Melanie, you don't have to go through with it, if you want to change your mind. It's not too late to back out."
"No, I want to be a member."
"Then don't ask any more questions."
Melanie had nobody to blame but herself. Ever since she had arrived at Turbenthal Hall for her first semester two months ago, she had wanted to be a part of Turbenthal's inner circle, The Witchwags, a very exclusive clique in one of the Switzerland's most exclusive boarding schools for young ladies. The girls who went to Turbenthal were from rich families all over the world. The girls who belonged to The Witchwags had to be something more than special. They had to be attractive, mentally sharp and very talented in one capacity or another. Most of the members of the Witchwags were the richest, the best dressed and consequently the most popular girls at Turbenthal.
Since Melanie's enrollment at Turbenthal Hall, there had been a tremendous amount of speculation and chit chat among the other students about the activities of the Witchwags. They said the Witchwags drank and carried on with some of the boys up at the Ski Lodge and broke all the school rules. Melanie charged it off to envy, but it did appear as if the Witchwags always had the best times, although their meetings and parties remained a secret, even to the school's faculty.
Melanie ached to be in with the group, but it wasn't easy. Melanie did not come from a very wealthy family. She did not have as much money to spend as some of the other girls, but she did have extremely good looks and an outgoing personality. The new girls in their first year at Turbenthal looked unofficially to Melanie as their leader. There had even been some talk among the new students of forming a club of their own, separate and apart from the Witchwags, but it came to nothing. The Witchwags were too well organized and too powerful for any competition.
It had taken Melanie all of her two months at Turbenthal to get the members of the Witchwags, especially Sheila Winslow, the President, to consider her a- likely candidate. Now she was being taken blindfolded to an unknown initiation, a ceremony all the members seemed to take quite seriously. There was something ominous about the proceedings which led Melanie to wonder if it was so terribly important that she become a member of this exclusive coterie. She wasn't so sure now.
Melanie reasoned that it was for her family's sake that she wanted to make good socially. She was an only child. Her father, Samuel Stevens, was the author of a best selling novel in the States, but his success had been recent and not without years of struggle and rejection slips. Sam and Nora Stevens wanted their daughter to have all the good things in life that they had never had. They wanted Melanie to be accepted in the best social circles, to perhaps have a career of her own, or to marry into a prominent family. For those reasons, they decided to send Melanie abroad, to enroll her in an exclusive school for girls, to insure that she had every advantage.
The tuition alone at Turbenthal was exorbitant and Melanie was aware of the personal sacrifices her mother and father had to make to give her this opportunity. She could not let them down. She felt she owed it to them to make good at whatever she did.
The cold air began to penetrate through Melanie's fur-lined ski jacket. It seemed to her that the ride in the open sleigh would never end. She surmised that they were riding through curved mountain roads for almost a half hour.
"How much farther, Kate? I'm getting cold."
"Don't talk," Kate ordered. "We're almost there now. If you say any more, I'll have to report it to the committee."
A few minutes later Melanie sensed the horse slowing down. It suddenly occurred to Melanie as the sleigh came to a complete halt that she and Kate were not alone in the open conveyance. Somebody besides Kate had to be driving the sleigh.
"Here we are," Kate announced. "Be careful getting out."
Her roommate's hand firmly gripped Melanie's arm and eased her cautiously out of the sleigh. She was turned about quickly so that she could not determine which direction she was being led. Nervously Melanie bit at her lower lip as she walked hesitantly beside Kate, her guide, up what appeared to be a wooden ramp. She was startled by the rapping of a heavy knocker upon what must have been an enormous door. Almost immediately, the door was opened and Melanie was guided inside. As she was ushered across the room, the door closed behind her and was bolted. It was a terribly final sound, one that made Melanie feel increasingly nervous and help less.
She tried not to think about what might be in store for her, but instead she tried to determine what sort of place she was in. She could hear the crackling of a fire, and guessed that she was in a very large room of a Swiss chalet or a ski lodge. She was positive that there were others in the room and guessed them all to be girls by their feminine scents. She could hear the faint sound of their collective breathing, of the occasional shifting of weight in chairs, the rustling of a coat or a dress. She had the uneasy feeling that she was surrounded by the entire membership of the Witchwags. She felt strangely exposed and vulnerable.
Nobody was touching her now as she stood alone, her blindfold securely in place, her hands nervously at her sides. Nobody spoke, not even in whispers as the room settled down to a deadly silence. It was all Melanie could do to control her trembling body and maintain what she hoped would appear to be a calm, casual attitude. But the silence was agonizing. She suspected that all eyes were focused upon her, which only added to her self-consciousness. Melanie told herself, however, that this was probably part of the initiation, a way of establishing if a girl had poise or was a fidgety bundle of nerves.
Suddenly a hand tapped Melanie gently on the shoulder, and she felt like she would jump out of her ski boots. She realized then that her jitters were quite obvious to all those present in the room as her reaction produced a series of giggles.
"I'll take your jacket," an unidentified voice said, as hands tugged at the zipper on Melanie's jacket and helped her to remove it. A moment later she felt herself being guided backwards into a position in front of the crackling fire. The heat against her back felt good and reassuring, and gave her the sense of security she needed so desperately. Melanie decided to relax, to be as cooperative as she could and accept her fate good naturedly.
Sheila Winslow's voice suddenly projected above the incidental noises in the room. Melanie recognized it immediately. Sheila was the best known girl at Turbenthal.
"We have called a special meeting here this afternoon," Sheila declared, "to decide whether one Miss Melanie Stevens is worthy of the honor of being accepted as a member of the Witchwags. Miss Stevens, your sponsor Miss Katherine Cartwright has submitted your name to our committee for consideration. Are you aware of this?"
"Yes, I am," Melanie replied meekly.
"Are you then willing to submit to our interrogation of you, to accept whatever initiation is prescribed by the committee."
"I guess so."
"If you are not sure, Miss Stevens, you are free to leave our club and the matter will be dropped. If you stay, we expect you to follow the rules of our ceremonial rites and never reveal them to any outsider regardless of who or what that outsider might be. All Witchwaggers are pl-edged to complete secrecy."
"I understand."
"You understand, but do you agree-and agree willingly?"
"Yes, I do. I would like very much to become a Witchwagger."
"Every girl does, Miss Stevens, but very few are accepted. Is that clear?"
Melanie nodded, facing the direction of Sheila's authoritative voice. "Yes, very clear," she answered uneasily.
"Good, then let us proceed. To begin with we will ask you a series of questions regarding your character and background. We expect straight forward, honest answers. No hedging will be tolerated. Any evasiveness will automatically disqualify you from consideration."
Melanie did not like Sheila Winslow from the first day they met and she liked her even less now. It was her snobbish superior air that annoyed Melanie the most, but if Melanie wanted to be a member of the Witchwags, she would have to tolerate the organization's President.
"I understand," Melanie said. "And I will answer all questions directly. I realize there are no secrets among Witchwaggers."
"Very good. Please state your full name, age, hometown and country."
"Melanie Dee Stevens. I'm nineteen. My home is in New York."
"What does your father do?"
"He is a writer."
"What kind of a writer?"
"A novelist. A very good one. His latest novel, "Crime of Fools" has been number one and two on the best seller list for over nine months. Most of the girls at Turbenthal have borrowed my copy and read it."
"Are there any members here who have read this book," Sheila asked.
"I have," one voice offered. "It's pretty sensational. You know. Sexy." , Melanie felt somewhat relieved when she heard snickers from the group. It eased the tension to know that several of the girls were for her.
Sheila's voice, however, remained serious and impersonal. "And what are your ambitions, Miss Stevens?"
"I don't have any yet," Melanie replied.
"And what were your reasons for coming to Switzerland-to Turbenthal particularly."
"I thought it would broaden my horizons."
"It will, dear, if you become a Witchwagger," somebody offered and the entire room burst into laughter.
Sheila ignored the remark and went on with the questioning. "What about marriage and babies?"
"No plans," Melanie stated flatly.
A new and changed voice came from the other side of the room. "Do you have a boyfriend back home."
"No. At least nothing serious."
"Do you have one here."
"No," but give me time.
A third voice, syrupy sweet, faintly mocking, startled Melanie by coming in close, almost breathing in her ear. "What's wrong, dear. Don't you like boys?"
Flustered, Melanie turned in the direction of the voice. "Well, yes. It's just that I haven't been here very long. There's been no opportunity to meet anybody."
"We make our own opportunities," another voice reported.
"You don't sound very convincing, Miss Stevens," the girl with the syrupy sweet voice said.
Melanie could feel her pulse quickening. She drew a breath, hoping to steady herself before speaking. "I like boys as well as anybody. I just don't think they're the only thing a girl should have on her mind."
"Oh, the stuffy, old fashioned type," one of the members of the group remarked.
Hoping to undo the damage, Melanie quickly continued to explain herself. "I have many other interests. I like skiing and reading. I adore going to the theatre, designing clothes and sometimes just being with other girls. Boys aren't the answer to everything. At least not to me."
"Perhaps, you'd better explain yourself," Sheila injected pointedly. "Tell us the extent of your experiences with boys. To begin with, are you a virgin?"
Melanie felt her heart skip a beat. She expected laughter to accompany the intimate question, but the room remained silent. She could feel her palms perspiring as she braced herself. "Yes, I am. I'm neither ashamed of it, nor proud of it."
"Do you consider yourself innocent?"
"I suppose so, but no more innocent than a lot of the other girls."
"Are you proud of your innocence?"
Melanie struggled to keep with the rapid pace of the probing questions. "Not especially."
"Are you saving yourself for your husband?"
Melanie sensed that it was a baited question. She paused for a second to formulate her words. "Since I have no immediate plans of getting married, I guess my answer is no. But I'd have to be very much in love with a person to ... well, to go all the way. And then it would be with the idea of marriage in mind."
There was a noticeable pause and Melanie wondered whether her answer to the last question had disqualified her. The Witchwags had a wild reputation. Melanie had heard some of the tales, most of which she didn't believe. It was just girl talk, but she knew that the coterie would not consider her if she was a little miss goody-two-shoes. She wished she could go back and alter her statement, even if it meant lying, but there was no time.
The syrupy voice floated toward her again. "Do you enjoy petting, dear?"
"What do you mean?"
Sheila's voice cut in: "The members will please be more specific in the questions asked. To rephrase the question for the applicant, a member wishes to know if you have ever allowed a boy to fondle you."
"Yes," Melanie said quickly. She was determined to blot out the impression of being innocent.
"How far did you allow him to go?" a totally new voice asked.
"As far as my breasts."
"No further than that?"
Melanie felt her knees weakening and her cheeks flushing. "No further."
"Did you enjoy it?"
"Yes," Melanie admitted hoarsely.
"Were you ever fully undressed in front of a boy," Sheila asked abruptly.
For the first time since the questioning began, Melanie was grateful for her blindfold. She doubted if she could answer such personal questions while looking somebody in the eyes. For some unexplainable reason she was not annoyed by the questions. She felt obliged to answer them truthfully and without shame.
"Yes, I was, on several occasions."
"Will you tell us the circumstances," Sheila requested.
Melanie was ready for them on this one. "It was my cousin, Roger, who came to stay with us for awhile when his mother died as the result of a car accident. He was a year older than I was, but I was only twelve at the time."
There was a mild stirring of amusement in the room until Sheila cut it off with her next statement. "I see. Well, I think we have sufficiently explored that particular aspect of the applicant's attitude toward sex." Her tone was one of disappointment. "I suggest we turn to another area."
Melanie's body began to release some of the rigid tension that had gripped her with uncertainties. It occurred to her that she had passed the first phase of the initiation, which generated a small measure of confidence. She began warming up to the situation.
"I'm sure you are aware, Miss Stevens, of the high standards maintained by the Witchwags," Sheila resumed. "Our club is comprised of only the most attractive and popular girls at Turbenthal. Do you feel qualified in that respect?"
"How do you mean?"
"Do you consider yourself attractive?"
Melanie squared her shoulders against the pangs of self-consciousness. "I'm not sure. That depends on how other people see me, doesn't it?"
"We're glad you feel that way, Miss Stevens, because we are now going to play the Witchwag's game that will help us to decide just how attractive you are and at the same time the game will determine just how fast thinking you are."
"You mean it's a game of wits?"
"Yes, I think we might call it that."
"May I remove my blindfold now?"
"Not yet."
"How do you play the Witchwags game?"
"There are no rules for you to remember. It is a game that is played only once by every newcomer to our organization. All you have to do is fulfill a certain request."
"Just one?"
"That is correct, providing you guess what the request is."
"You mean I have to guess what you're thinking."
"Not exactly. I will ask for something. And you must guess what it is."
"May I ask questions?"
"No, you may not ask any questions. That is the only rule. Just obey."
Melanie took a deep sigh and braced herself for the next round, whatever it entailed. "All right, I'm ready."
"Will two members please step forward to assist the applicant," Sheila requested.
A tremor passed through Melanie's body as she felt the presence of two girls taking their respective positions on opposite sides of her. One of the girls wore an unusual smelling perfume that was overwhelming, a scent that Melanie could not identify, nor could she remember having smelled before. She could not for the life of her imagine who the girl could be.
"All right, settle down everybody," Sheila ordered. "The game will now begin and the majority opinion will be honored. Miss Stevens will be judged by all present as to whether or not she is worthy material for the Witchwags."
There was a pause in the proceeding that seemed interminable to Melanie. The girl on her right, the one wearing the strong scented perfume, took advantage of the moment to address her.
"Don't be nervous, dear," she whispered. "We all have to go through this." It was the syrupy sweet voice that had addressed Melanie previously during the interrogation.
"Well, what are we waiting for," Sheila asked briskly? "Will Miss Stevens' sponsor step forward and explain the situation?"
"Oh, that's me," Kate was heard saying. "I'm sorry. I forgot that part of it."
A moment later Kate stood before Melanie and addressed her in a phony theatrical voice that convinced everybody that Kate was a bad actress. "You are now the slave of the all powerful, all mighty high priestess in the kingdom of the Witchwags. Her wish is your command. Do you understand?"
When Melanie failed to answer, the syrupy sweet voice prompted her. "Say I do."
"Sorry!" Melanie repeated hesitantly, "I do."
"Oh, what is your wish, oh great and powerful high priestess," Kate intoned as she turned away from Melanie?
"I am looking at an article of clothing the slave is wearing ... a particular article of clothing. I wish to have it." Sheila made no pretense at disguising her voice, no attempt to give the illusion of a high priestess.
"Very well, oh mighty one," Kate said as she turned back to face Melanie. "Did the slave hear the request?"
"I heard, but I don't get it. What does she want?"
"That is for you to guess. Make an offer to the high priestess and it will be accepted or rejected."
"An article of clothing I am wearing," Melanie repeated to herself. She was at once confused. "Any article of clothing?"
"No," replied Sheila impatiently. "I said a particular article of clothing."
"That could be anything?"
"I suggest you make an offer to the high priestess," Kate said.
"My ski boots, maybe?"
"Make the offer and see," replied Kate.
Melanie bent over to remove her ski boots and was aided by the girl on her left, who took the boots away from her and handed them to Kate.
"The slave offers you a pair of ski boots, oh mighty one. Will you accept them?"
"No," the high priestess answered with an air of annoyance. "They are not what I desire to have."
Melanie heard her boots being dropped to the floor and began to wonder what was the point of the game.
"The high priestess does not wish your boots, slave," said Kate, still in character. "You will have to make another offer."
"What now," Melanie sighed. "My sweater?"
"That is not for us to say, slave. Make the offer and see."
As Melanie removed her sweater with the help of the sweet voiced highly perfumed aide on her right, she was suddenly struck with the realization that the game was forcing her to strip off her clothing. Dazed, unable to regain any sense of composure, she obeyed, pulling at her cashmere sweater up over the fullness of her breasts. She lifted her arms high over her head as the aide pulled off the sweater, and she was surprised to discover that she felt curiously excited by it.
"I hope you're not the shy type," the sweet voiced aide remarked to Melanie as the sweater was removed.
Once again the routine was repeated by Kate. "The slave offers you a blue cashmere sweater, oh mighty one. Will you accept it?"
"The blue cashmere sweater is not what I had in mind."
Now Melanie began to panic. She tried to collect her thoughts, but she was too nervous and confused. She knew there had to be a catch to the game. Sheila had agreed that it was a game of wits, of quick thinking. "An article of clothing that I am wearing," she thought to herself. "What can it be?" The list of items she was wearing was narrowed down to her socks, her slacks, her bra and panties. It occurred to Melanie to offer her wrist watch, but would it be considered an article of clothing?
She quickly found out that the wrist watch was not acceptable, nor were her socks or her slacks. Melanie now stood before the group stripped down to her bra and panties, shivering with humiliation, praying that Kate would not say what she expected her roommate to say.
"The high priestess does not desire your slacks, slave. You must make another offer."
Melanie suddenly felt herself being made a fool of and resented it. "Hasn't this game gone far enough."
"That is up to you," Sheila replied. Melanie had no choice but to go on with the game. She dared not to back out. The girls would make her life miserable at Turbenthal. She had heard stories about other girls who had not been good sports about the Witchwag initiation. They had not remained at Turbenthal for very long.
"Well, what is it to be," Sheila said impatiently? "We do not have all day."
Melanie jumped slightly as she felt tiny cold fingers working at the clasp of her brassiere.
"Don't be nervous, dear," the sweet voiced aide advised her. "There's nothing to be afraid of. There's nobody here but us girls. Take a chance."
"It had to be the brassiere," Melanie thought. She caught her breath as the bra sprung loose and it took every ounce of courage to suppress the urge to shield herself as the cups were plucked away from her. A wild tingling spread through her, accompanied by waves of goose-bumps, as she felt her nipples reacting to the exposure. She could almost feel a dozen or so pair of eyes feasting upon the fullness of her naked breasts and this awareness caused her breasts to grow larger and heavier than ever before.
Melanie trembled as she stood before the group, one stitch from being completely nude, locking her legs together in an effort to keep her knees from buckling. She tried to steel herself with the thought that the end could not be far off and that it would all be worth what she was enduring at the moment, but her mind refused to surrender the mental image of herself standing there in just her panties.
There was no stopping the tiny cry that escaped from her lips when she heard Kate again.
"The high priestess does not wish a brassiere. You will have to make another offer."
"The slave really isn't using her head, is she," Sheila added and the group burst into gales of laughter.
Melanie took a step backwards, closer to the fireplace, her head reeling, her dizziness intensified by the strange inner excitement and the heady scent of the girl's perfume on her right.
"Are you going to make another offer or not," another voice asked from a far corner of the room.
"Must I?" Melanie pleaded.
"Would you rather eliminate yourself from consideration?"
"No, but....I really don't see the point of all this."
"You will very soon, so please proceed."
Melanie wished her heart would stop pounding long enough for her to catch her breath. Gritting her teeth and trying not to think of what she was doing, she quickly peeled the tight sheer panties down her slender hips and thighs. She stepped out of them and straightened up awkwardly, suffering agonies of self-consciousness. She felt somebody picking up the panties off the floor near her feet.
"You're a knock-out, dear," the syrupy-smooth voice drawled in the softest of whispers.
Melanie felt that she would sink to the floor in a flood of embarrassed sobs any moment. Every inch of naked flesh tingled with awareness, every tiny current of warm air made itself felt against her awakened and extended nipples. Her thighs and buttocks were so rigidly tensed that the muscles in them ached in protest. She turned suddenly toward the fireplace, presenting her back to the group audience, waiting for a verdict, when she felt unknown, unfamiliar fingers tapping her on the shoulder.
She turned about sharply to hear Kate saying, "You will have to make another offer."
She could not believe her ears. What did they want? They had stripped her naked, left her humiliated and chagrinned. An article of clothing she was wearing. She had offered everything except ... suddenly it came to her in a flash. How could she have been so stupid not to have guessed it?
Melanie removed the silk scarf she had been wearing as a blindfold and a rousing cheer exploded from the group. It was the blindfold they had wanted all the time and Melanie had just not considered it. She had to agree the joke was on her.
Melanie found herself laughing good naturedly along with the others as she blinked her long lashes and focused her eyes against the brightness of the large room she found herself in. It was a beautifully furnished room in a lodge that she discovered she had not been in before, and she wondered who owned it.
"Miss Stevens, you're not very fast thinking," Sheila, the attractive blonde president, was saying, "but I do feel you have quite a few other assets working in your favor."
"Thank you," Melanie said meekly.
"The members will now express their approval in a show of hands," Sheila ordered. "All those who feel the applicant qualifies for membership both in personality and in physical appearance, please raise their hands."
The voting was unanimous in Melanie's favor.
Sheila turned back to Melanie, as articles of her clothing were being handed back to her. "You have been found worthy of further consideration," Sheila announced with a charming smile that was too forced to be genuine. "This does not mean that you have been accepted as a full fl-edged Witchwagger. You have only passed the first two phases of the initiation. The third phase is a test of courage and loyalty. Preparations for that test have already been made and you will take it tonight. Is that clear?"
"Yes," Melanie responded, knowing that she should be dismayed by the news of further challenges but feeling only relieved and faintly exhilarated that she had endured all that had already taken place.
"Let the girl get dressed, for Heaven's sake," Kate said, "before she catches her death of cold." She took Melanie by the arm and led her off to a small bedroom to the right of the fireplace.
A flash of embarrassment made Melanie's steps awkward and she wished her breasts would not sway so weightily with every step she took.
Once they were in the bedroom Kate said lightly, "You can relax now, but hurry and get dressed. There's still more to go."
"Nothing could be as bad as that game," Melanie remarked. "Tell me the truth, Kate, did you have to go through all that?"
"I certainly did, right down to my wrist watch. I didn't think about the blindfold either. Most of the girls don't. You're too nervous to think."
"Why didn't you warn me?"
"I couldn't. It's against the rules. But if I had, I bet you wouldn't have gone through the initiation and I want my beautiful redheaded roommate to be one of the group."
"I know I wouldn't have gone through with it, but now that I have, do you think I'll make it?"
"I'm sure you will, Melanie. All the girls want you." 'Kate checked herself and stammered for a second. "I mean they think you're a good sport and they like you. I was watching how they reacted."
Melanie blinked and blushed, realizing that she was still naked. She began to dress hurriedly, setting the pile of clothes on the foot of the canopied bed and beginning with the brief panties. She felt better the moment they were on and even more at ease once her breasts were tightly encased in the brassiere.
At that moment, a sleek-looking brunette charged into the room gracefully, closing the door behind her. It was Ursula Pavio, a striking Italian beauty, who Melanie had met but had not really had an opportunity to get to know.
"How do you feel," Ursula asked in a husky voice that had a slight Italian accent.
Melanie blew out her breath and smiled. "Shattered."
The brunette girl gazed at Melanie in a somewhat amused manner. "It is a little frightening at first, but we all know how you feel. Only thing is, that figure of yours puts all of us to shame."
Melanie smiled gratefully as she slipped into her slacks and zipped them up on the side. She wiggled her head into her sweater and pulled it down, before starting to brush her rumpled head of red hair. "I suppose I don't dare ask what happens now."
"We join the others," Kate answered. "You can relax over a drink and have something to eat. They're going to serve Swiss Fondu."
"Marvelous," said Melanie. "After that ordeal, I'm starved. By the way, whose place is this?'
"It belongs to my father," Ursula answered. "But he found himself a new lady friend in San Francisco and never comes up here any more. So I stay here and we use the place as a clubhouse for the Witchwags."
"How convenient," was all that Melanie could think to say. She had admired Ursula's beauty and had wanted to get on friendly terms with her, but Ursula, who was in her second year at Turbenthal Hall, had been rather aloof and distant toward her up until this point. Melanie was convinced it made a lot of difference being in with the in-group.
"I'll be with you tonight," Ursula offered as she lighted a cigarette.
"What do you mean?"
"When they send you out on your last assignment."
"Oh, yes. I almost forgot about that."
Melanie didn't feel she should ask about the mysterious assignment. After she finished brushing her hair and touching up her lips, she indicated she was ready to join the others. Ursula blew out a cloud of smoke, smiled knowingly and followed Melanie and Kate out into the other room.
Melanie felt strange walking back into the room where she had to face all the girls who had just seen her naked, but she shrugged it off and decided to put it out of her mind.
"You don't have to worry" Ursula assured her, "about the girls making any bad jokes about what you've just gone through. You're popularity stock has shot way up after this afternoon. You would be surprised how much we all admire you now-including me." Ursula stared at Melanie as she spoke. There was a strange look in her eyes.
Melanie found herself puzzled by the statement, but more and more intrigued by Ursula with every passing minute.