When she arrived in the chairman’s office at the high school, Mara Blake was not sure of her boss’ sexual interest. Ruth Peter had smiled at her, had talked calmly and casually about the school. But even then, Mara recalled, there was a hint of the sexual attack to come. Even then Ruth had demonstrated a sign that she coveted the younger woman’s body. At first it was only in Ruth’s eyes. As she talked, her eyes were fixed on the thin cotton T-shirt that sheathed her full round breasts, on the large nipples that seemed ready to burst through.






A moment later as she asked her question, Ruth’s eyes fell to the Eurasian beauty’s long bare legs and the smooth coffee-colored thighs and lingered on Mara’s crotch. Mara was nervously aware that the skirt hugged her flesh too tightly, that her hips and breasts were too sexy for this kind of interview. But it was a hot day and she hated heat. For a second she thought she was wrong about Ruth Peter being a lesbian, but her next remark worried her even more than what seemed to be a frank look of open desire.

“Your skin is very lovely, Miss Blake,” Ruth Peter said, eyeing her carefully, “it looks like burnished gold. It’s so beautiful I want to touch it.”

Ruth laughed as Mara blushed. “Oh it’s just that I paint, my dear, and I am so sensitive to skin color. I do a good many nudes in fact.” Ruth’s eyes were riveted to the deft between Mara’s firm thighs. “The texture of skin does fascinate me.”

She leaned forward and rubbed her fingers lightly along the beautiful girl’s thighs. For a crazy moment, Mara was sure, they would plunge upward into her vagina, entwine themselves madly about her thick bush. It was not only that Ruth’s gesture was deeply sensual, she could see that the woman was seriously aroused. Ruth’s eyes were dilating as she stared at Mara’s legs and her voice was trembly. Or was all this just in her mind?

I shouldn’t have worn this damned dress, Mara thought irritably, but she wanted something cool and she had hardly expected a lesbian chairman of the English department. If she had she would not have perfumed her vagina with Chanel Number Five. That had been for Mike, whom she would be seeing in an hour. Mike had insisted. That would be his appetizer, he said jokingly.

“First I suck your perfumed pussy and then we have a French dinner. What could be a better way to start.” Mara had not objected. She loved the way Mike gave her head. It kept her tingling down there till they could make love later in his apartment.

“For dessert I’m going to let you eat my cock,” he went on teasingly, “and jam it up your lovely sweet smelling cunt.”

So Mara had doused her pubic area heavily with it. Rubbed it into the bush, along the sensitive lips of her vagina, even into the labia till they stung. Why not, the big bottle was Mike’s personal gift and it had cost him a fortune. But now she was sorry. She wore only the light fluffy red lace panties that Mike had brought at Les Prin-temps in Paris, ridiculously gossamer thin briefs that consider of a couple of strings, a flap in the back that just screened a few inches of her buttocks and that was shamelessly open in front. Mike had bought them because he enjoyed parking the car on a dark street, when they were going somewhere, lifting up her skirt and sucking her. It drove her crazy but he loved it.

But now she was aware that from her chair a few feet away Ruth must obviously be smelling the strong scent that came from her bush. And it was affecting her. She switched her own chair slightly so that Ruth could not stare between her thighs. Maybe she was just imagining things. Maybe Ruth Peter was just regarding her with the eye of an excited painter. It was important that she get this job. She loved teaching and this was one of the best high schools in Los Angeles. She did not just want a dun job modeling or being a receptionist, and acting bored her. Teaching young active, brilliant minds, excited her. If she could get the job then she would not have to return to Hong Kong.

“Please, Miss Peter,” she began now. “I really do think I could do a good job. I know I haven’t had experience here in LA but I’ve taught in New York and the Board of Education okayed me. If I can just get your okay for a trial period…”

Ruth Peter’s eyes stared at the girl’s nipples. “You know I would love to paint you in the nude,” she said, as if she had not heard Mara. “It would be like a Gauguin portrait. Very challenging. Maybe we can talk about that some time.” She rose and walked to her file cabinet. Mara sat there cursing herself for wearing the outfit she had. She knew now it had not just been the heat. When the name R. J. Peter had been listed as the chairman, she had assumed it was a man. She knew the chairman had to okay her or she could not work. Deep down, she realized, she had wanted the male chairman to stare at her thighs, even to get an erection, as men often did when they sat opposite her. It was her trump card with men, working them up.

She had even wanted him to look between her legs and probably would have made it easy for him to see her bush and to sniff the heady perfume mixed with her own fleshly scent. She could handle the man later, perhaps let him cop a feel now and then, but if he wanted more, she would hint that his wife would hear about it. But a lesbian boss always threw her off. She never knew what to do, how to avoid trouble, and God knew there would be trouble with this woman. She felt instinctively that if the door had been locked, as it had been in New York when she applied for a modeling job, Ruth would have kissed her.

Maybe she would not have done the grotesque thing the woman in New York had done. The plump, matronly woman, who had obviously had several drinks at lunch, actually got on her knees, spread Mara’s thighs and let her mouth slobber hungrily over Mara’s vagina, continuing to tongue her until Mara had gone out of her head. The idiotic woman kept saying constantly, “Oh baby I love your cunt… I love it… I love… Do you think you could suck mine? Nobody’ll bother us… They got instructions never to come in without me asking them to and the door’s locked.”

She had needed the job badly and had finally bent over the woman’s fat thighs as she lay sprawled over the desk and lapped at her already very wet bush. But she had fled the job a week later because the woman harassed her. Was Ruth Peter going to do this to her now? This job was far more important to her. She had trained hard for this job and she wanted it desperately. Could she put up with that kind of thing again, she wondered as Ruth peered at some files. Suddenly a thought hit her. A way out.

If she pleaded another important appointment, she might leave with her okay without inviting further trouble. Once she started teaching at Ames High, she could try to cope with Ruth’s demands. At least she was not as ugly and gross as the woman in New York.

“Excuse me Miss Peter but I have to go… You see I have a doctor’s appointment… I thought the interview would be over sooner and I’ve had to wait three months to see this man… Since you’ve studied my dossier and we have talked… could I… I mean, can I count on starting here next month?”

Ruth turned and smiled. “Let’s discuss that tonight. You’re having dinner with me at my place… I always do this with new teaching candidates, dear. I get to know them much better that way. You know, we’re out of the formal office atmosphere… no phone calls… interruptions.” As Mara looked doubtful, she went on in a tight, firm voice, “And I know I’m going to like you very much.”

Ruth smiled but Mara knew instinctively she was doing the wrong thing by pleading a dinner date even as she did it. The chairman sat back in her swivel chair and seemingly inadvertently moved her legs apart. Mara could see the strong white muscular thighs above the sticking tops. As she talked with her eyes fixed on the wall over Mara’s head, her thighs seemed to spread farther apart so that Mara could see the crotch of her panties.

She’s letting me blow she wants me to eat her pussy, Mara thought irritably. It was what Wendy used to do her when the British lesbian wanted to be sucked. She would open her legs wide till Mara understood and if Mara hesitated too long, she became as annoyed as Ruth was now. The chairman fingered the lapels of her dark suit jacket, closed her legs and suddenly looked forbidding as she scowled behind her dark frame glasses. If there had been a spark of sexual attractiveness about her for Mara it had vanished with her schoolmarm bun and her cold tight lips, she looked like a human iceberg.

“Perhaps you can try me again in a year or two,” Ruth snapped. “There are many candidates for this job who can take the time. And I like long intimate chats like these.”

She stared meaningfully at Mara, who winced inwardly. She’s telling me either I go down on her or I’m finished, the bitch. But she would have to play her little stupid game. Mara threw up her hands and said she would come by all means. Mike would be angry but the job came first.

“Fine,” Ruth smiled. Her muscular thighs opened wider. “And who knows. If you’re not too tired later and I ply you with enough brandy, you’ll pose for me in the nude.” As she talked Ruth seemed to lick her lips again and Mara winced inwardly. There was no doubt what kind of night this was going to be. It was going to be a repeat of the night her governess raped her in Rangoon.

That had been ten years ago, when her father, a Belgian diplomat, had been posted to the embassy there. She had loved Rangoon, and her mother, a lissome Chinese beauty whom her father had married years earlier in Shanghai, was delighted. They had taken a huge house, hired servants — her father had been independently wealthy then through his family’s textile factories — and they had lived like kings. She had been given her own private tutor, a prim, intelligent Englishwoman who had lived in the Far East a long while. Wendy Plimpton.

The **** had occurred a few weeks after Wendy was hired. They had been following their usual routine of strenuous English lessons in the morning, followed by history and economics. In the hot afternoons they would drive in Wendy’s MG to a pretty wooded area with an almost totally obscured pool and swim in the buff. Mara loved these swims and the warmth of the sun on her wet naked body as she and Wendy, their bodies glistening, lay on the grass. Wendy’s body was fuller than her own, melon-heavy breasts with large brown nipples and long legs. One afternoon as she lay spread-eagled in the sun, a buzzing insect made her open her eyes and she was surprised to see Wendy staring hungrily at her vagina. The Englishwoman’s face was just a few inches away.

At first Mara thought Wendy had seen an insect in her pelvic area and jumped up in fear.

“What is it, Wendy?”

Wendy blushed. “Nothing. I was just admiring you. My hair is a bit sparse down there and almost scraggly.” She pointed to the thin line of growth that framed the heavy brown lips of her vagina, then reached out and traced lightly with her forefinger the already luxuriant growth of hair that framed the thin pink lips of Mara’s vulva. Mara felt a delicious, tingling sensation as the English girl’s finger touched the labia but thought only that it reminded her of a medical examination.

She laughed. “I thought you were going to poke your finger inside like the doctor with his instrument and move it around to see if I’m healthy.”

Wendy’s eyes widened. “Wen, perhaps I should, Mara,” she said seriously. “Have you been examined very recently?”

Mara shook her head. “Four, five months at least.”

“Well, one should check more often,” Wendy said quickly. “My mother felt me in there regularly like this, just to be on the safe side.”

Without waiting for Mara’s response, she plunged her long forefinger into the sixteen-year-old girl’s vagina. It hurt at first because Mara was still a virgin then and the finger had to squeeze past the hymen. But once inside Wendy’s finger felt surprisingly good and very pleasurable and as the Englishwoman’s probing finger swished around inside her genitals, Mara felt very excited. She found herself panting as her pubic bush became very wet from the effusion caused by Wendy’s finger. Wendy’s face, when she looked at it, was red and her eyes were dilating.

“You’re beautifully made, Mara dear, and quite healthy inside there, thank goodness. Would you do that to me, please.”

Mara blushed. She had never touched a woman’s vagina before but before she could reply, they heard a truck coming on a road not far from where they lay. Wendy jumped up.

“We’d better leave… it sounds like an army truck… they occasionally play war games in this area.” As they threw on their togs, she smiled. “I know what. After dinner tonight, when I practice the English grammar with you, you can do me.”

Mara laughed. “You want me to do that in the library? I think Daddy or Mummy would find it very odd, don’t you?”

“We’ll do it in your bedroom dear,” Wendy said. “I’m a little worried about myself, you know.” She began to pout. “You don’t mind examining me too, do you?”

Mara shook her head. She knew now that, had she not been so terribly naive about sex, having had nothing remotely to do with boys because of her secluded existence, she might have realized trouble was ahead. But the whole idea of lesbianism at that time was as strange and unknown to her as television might be to a man who awoke after sleeping fifty years. But that night she discovered another Wendy. This fussy, prim British girl, who sounded like a character out of the English films her mother took her to, was a woman with an alarming sexual appetite.

They had been in Mara’s bedroom only a few minutes, when Wendy put aside their English grammar books, locked the door and stretched out on the bed. Lifting her skirt, she spread her legs. Mara was surprised to see she was wearing no underwear.

“You’ve got no panties on,” she said, smiling.

“All ready for your examination, my dear,” Wendy said. “And do be thorough. Move in and out at a vigorous pace so you can see if you feel anything. It’s terribly important to do it properly, you know!”

Mara got on the bed and did as Wendy requested, driving her finger in and out. The effect on Wendy astonished her. The older girl began to breathe at a faster pace and then to emit little groans. At first she thought she was hurting the girl and apologized. She pulled her finger away from Wendy’s slit.

“Oh no… no,” Wendy pleaded, “don’t stop… you must go on. Try to touch the little button at the top of my thing, dear, that is terribly, terribly important in checking.”

Mara obeyed and pressed Wendy’s prominent clitoris until the groans grew louder. “Oh my God,” Wendy said.

“I don’t feel anything inside, Wendy,” Mara said.

“How much more do you think I ought to try…”

She had no chance to finish her sentence. Wendy punctuated it by sitting bolt upright in the bed and embracing her…

“Oh darling…” Wendy said, “darling.” As the young Eurasian remained speechless, she was thrown back on the bed and her legs flung apart. A second later, Wendy’s hot tongue was probing her bush, looking for the labia, sucking them furiously.

“Don’t,” Mara pleaded, frightened by what was happening to her, “Let me go, Wendy…”

But the English tutor continued to suck her vagina as if she was fighting for life.

“You have such a divine little pussy, my darling,” she said, “so divine. I wanted to do this to you this afternoon and if all those horrid men had not driven up, I would have.”

“Let me go,” Mara wailed, “you’re crazy.”

“I love you, darling,” Wendy said. Opening Mara’s blouse, she pulled out the girl’s developing breasts and began to suck them. Mara’s sensations wavered between pleasure at the feel of Wendy’s hot, active tongue on her nipples and the fear that her teeth would bite into them as the girl became more and more impassioned.

“You’re hurting me,” Mara yelled. “Stop it or I’ll call my father.”

“Don’t do that,” Wendy said quickly, her voice hardening. “If your father caught us in bed together, he’d **** you.”

“What… what are you talking about?”

“Darling, men don’t understand the love women have for one another. If he knew this was happening, you’d be sent to some horrible little convent in Bruges or Antwerp. Never see the outside world again… that’s what they do to women like us.”

“Us? But I did nothing at all,” Mara protested. “You made me do this. You made me…”

“It doesn’t matter,” Wendy snapped. “You wanted this as much as I. You enjoyed doing me this afternoon. I saw it in your eyes.”

“You just imagined it,” Wendy cried. “I was just trying to examine you like you asked me to.”

“No!” Wendy took the girl in her arms. As Wendy strove to free herself, she kissed her on her mouth. “You love me as I love you… This is better than any stupid man can give you, darling.”

“Let me go or I’ll scream for help,” Mara cried.

“You do that, my little minx, and I’ll tell your father that you locked us in and demanded that I make love with you. That you ****** me to lie on your bed, spread my thighs and let you lick my pussy or you’d have me sacked.” Her voice rose dangerously.

“You wouldn’t!” Mara said. She could not believe that all this was coming from a girl who had always acted so differently with her before. A girl who had always been so kind, so accommodating to her, so humble in her requests. She sounded like a tyrant. Wendy’s eyes blazed as she stroked Mara’s buttocks.

“Darling, I not only will, but I shall also tell them you’ve been doing it to me during our afternoon swims. And you know what would happen. You know how hot-tempered your father is when he really gets cross. It will not only horrify him and your dear mater, it will send you packing off to Belgium in a flash. And what’s more, I’ll see that the news gets there too. Because when I start something I finish it.”

“Why are you doing this to me?” Mara asked, trembling.

“Because you’ve hurt me,” Wendy said petulantly. “I don’t give myself to another woman easily. I’m very selective. I gave myself to you because I could see you wanted me. And because I’m head over heels in love with you.”

As Wendy spoke, her finger drifted back to Mara’s wet bush and began to poke between her pink labia.

“Let me make love to you, darling.”

Mara tried to push her away but the English girl’s superior weight and strength held her down to the bed. Tossing the girl down hard, she pulled back Mara’s skirt and then lifted her own. Before the teen-aged girl knew what was happening to her she felt Wendy’s bush against her own. She could feel the wetness and the hardness of Wendy’s pubic area against hers. The English tutor began to grind her vulva against Mara’s.

“Oh Lord this feels wonderful,” Wendy groaned aloud. “This is what I love most — the feeling of your delicious Mary Jane against mine, our wetness together. I adore the feel of your wet luxurious bush against mine. Oh dearest this is heaven.”

A moment later they heard footsteps outside and then Mara’s father’s voice.

“Are you all right dear?” he said unconcernedly, “I thought I heard you yell as I passed.”

“Tell him it’s all right,” Wendy whispered fiercely in Mara’s ear as their vaginas pressed hard against one another. “Unless you want to ruin us both. You love what we’re doing. I can feel your heart beating faster. Don’t try to lie to yourself.”

Mara hesitated. There was some truth in what Wendy said.

“Mara?” her father said. “Did you hear me?” Mara thought quickly of what Wendy had promised. She was upset by what was happening to her, but she could not overlook Wendy’s threats and what would probably follow. Banishment to a convent would be horrible.

“I’m all right Daddy,” She said as Wendy’s lips sucked at her breast. “Just a little drowsy.”

“Don’t stay up too long then,” her father said. “We’re going to the airport to meet your aunt very early.”

When he left Wendy kissed her even harder and began to grind her vagina relentlessly against Mara’s crotch until suddenly the Englishwoman let out a loud groan and then a sigh. Then she sank back.

“Wonderful… wonderful… did I pleasure you dear?”

“No,” Mara said. “And I want you to stay away from me. Don’t you dare touch me again.”

“Let’s not be so blustery, darling,” Wendy laughed. “We’ve only just begun.”

“What on earth are you talking about!”

“I’m coming to your room tomorrow and the day after that. And there’ll be marvelous lovemaking in the afternoons in our own little Eden.” Wendy’s voice grew tender. “You loved it, dear. I could feel your body trembling with pleasure… don’t deny it.” Her voice hardened. “And remember what I said. I start what I finish.”

Mara lay back against the pillows, her ears burning, her eyes welling up with tears. Tears because she knew she was trapped and because she realized that she herself was physically aroused. As angry as she was at the ****, she had felt pleasure, sexual pleasure. Wendy’s lips on her vagina had thrilled her exquisitely.

The next few weeks were the most difficult in her life. She feared the assaults that Wendy made on her in the forest and in her room and yet she wanted them. And the long visit of her Aunt Lianne, who was married to a pastor in Bruges and spoke incessantly about sin and the temptations of the flesh, did not help.

Once, sneaking into the embassy’s library, she looked up lesbianism in a work about psychiatry and her eyes burned. She was horrified. She did not feel that way. She liked men. And yet it was true that she had been pleasured by Wendy’s body against hers.

The thought that she was acting as a lesbian, coupled with her aunt’s diatribes against sexual sin and the fear that her father would learn of her lovemaking with Wendy, made her ill. She spent whole days in her room with the door locked so that Wendy could not get to her. When the embassy doctor recommended a short trip to Belgium, she accepted the idea with alacrity. Anything to get away. She did not want to be a lesbian; she wanted a husband…

Once in Bruges with her uncle, she felt better. Determined not to go back to Burma and Wendy, she begged her father to let her attend Barnard College in New York where a close friend was enrolled. Her father was pleased and assented. And two years later maneuvered for a post at the United Nations to be nearer to his only *****.

She had loved Barnard and New York and trained to be a teacher. But there were no permanent jobs available, only substitute jobs, and these in depressed area schools. She hated going to the dangerous neighborhoods and she hated the modeling jobs she used to filled in the time. And her occasional dates with men were not too satisfactory. She would meet a boy and then break with him a few weeks later. Finally, against her mother and father’s wishes she had decided to try Los Angeles. She loved the climate and she had friends there including a classmate at Barnard whose father was politically important. Her chances of getting a permanent job were much better than in New York.

At first she had been delighted. She loved the sunny California climate, the comparatively easy-going pace of living, and her tiny flat in a complex that included many young people. She met Mike, a bright, handsome accountant who loved theater, books and had traveled widely in Europe. And finally the chance for a job had come through with her the efforts of her classmate. But the final decision rested now with Ruth Peter. She had waited months for the chance, she thought sadly, and now again, her fate might depend on the way she satisfied a lesbian.

As she emerged from her Pinto and walked toward the trim white house set behind some hedges and a carefully manicured green lawn, she trembled. But what worried her even more was that she felt very wet between her legs. Even as she drove along the freeway to Ruth’s house in the gathering darkness, she could tell that the moisture from her vagina had drenched her pantyhose.

What a stupid ninny she was. She knew what would happen, and the awful thing was that somewhere deep down inside her she looked forward to it. Not so much out of sexual need but because the lovemaking of a woman was so fascinating to her. Had Wendy been right when she told her that Mara needed the lesbian sex as much as she did? It was a thought that had tormented her through the intervening years.

Several times in New York, she had been approached by women… at parties, teachers’ meetings. Women would look at her meaningfully, sometimes manage to touch her breasts or bottom “accidentally on purpose”. Once at a party a rich matron from the wealthiest part of Long Island had promised to get her a job at a posh private school, then had pushed her into a dark corridor and told her boldly that she loved her.

“Darling, I want to be in bed with you right now,” this incredible bitch with two enormous diamond rings and a dress from Dior had told her coolly. “I want to kiss those darling breasts of yours and nibble at your lovely crotch. Chinese girls work me up. Do you know my pussy’s wet for you right now?”

Mara had run away from her, not believing that a woman who looked like a high society dame in a Marx Brothers film could say things like that. Afterwards she gave women a wide berth if they showed any intimacies. And suddenly, after this encounter, she had wanted to assert her interest in men so much that a week later, when a forty-five year old lawyer she had met at a theater wanted to sleep with her, she made no objection. He had taken her home after the show, gave her a quick drink of Cutty Sark scotch and proceeded to run his fingers under her skirt. It was almost laughable, she remembered now, how much she wanted him to. And he was so astonished that she, a stunningly beautiful Eurasian girl, was not merely a virgin but had given her virginity to him.

He had lain her back an the couch and for fully ten minutes let his eyes roam hungrily aver her vagina, touching it tenderly, licking it greedily with his tongue, delving his noise into it, mouthing the pink vulva, swallowing it as if it were sheer nectar.

“I’m… I’m flabbergasted,” he finally said. “A virgin? And you’re giving your cherry to an old crock like me. Why?”

“Because you’re nice and because I feel like it. Don’t keep me waiting, dear.”

But he had. He was so nervous at the sight of the magnificent naked young girl with the slant eyes, the luxurious bush with its pink labia like a pretty rose-hued canal slicing through a deep dark forest, by the look of her superb thighs and breasts, that he could not get his penis hard enough to enter her. First he tried to arouse himself further by continuing to suck her vagina and her lovely round globes of breasts. Then he had turned her over and ran his tongue lovingly over the beautiful hillocks of her tawny buttocks. Finally sucking at her buttocks made him hard enough to mount her but he came almost at once.

Still, she had enjoyed it, psychologically more than physically maybe, because it had been her first heterosexual lovemaking and for weeks it sustained her. She had tried two other men but then stopped because she really did not enjoy their rough love play too much. Not until she had met Mike in Los Angeles had she met a man who could thrill her. Yes, Mike was special, she thought, as she prepared to ring Ruth’s bell, but he had not stopped her from being curious about making love to women. If he had, her crotch would not be soaking wet now, would it?

But perhaps it was just wet because she had fantasized that it would as exciting to be made love to by Ruth Peter as it had been during those guilt-filled afternoons in Burma when Wendy had lapped at her breasts, tongued her crotch and run her expert fingers over her flesh. Ruth Blake was a stick compared to Wendy. She looked, in her classical bun, mannish suit and dark bone frame glasses, like a ridiculous owl. It would probably be awful.

She would have to lie back on the bed with her eyes closed, fortified by several drinks, logy with the food, and accept the tiresome woman’s assaults. Maybe as the nitwit went down on her she could pretend it was Wendy back in Rangoon.

She snickered inwardly as she waited for a response to her ring. “I’ll imagine I’m on the noon balloon to Rangoon and that Wendy is eating my pussy and pretending it’s a savory she is having for dinner.” She felt a little lightheaded as she recalled Wendy saying that once in her delightful British drawl. “Dearest Mara, I do so fancy eating your lovely clitoris. It’s like having a savory at Churchill’s in London after a fine dinner…”

Her thoughts were jolted by the sudden opening of the heavy oaken door and what she saw framed in the doorway stunned her. It was a beautiful woman in her thirties. Ruth Peter had let her long brown hair down and it tumbled about her shoulders. She wore a blouse that showed a generous cleavage. A pair of blue satiny shorts hugged her hips tightly, revealing magnificent long thighs and curvaceous hips. As she followed Ruth into the spacious living room, Mara was aghast. Ruth’s legs were lovelier than she had imagined, long tapering stems that reminded her of the showgirls she had seen high kicking at New York nightclubs.

Her excitement continued as she saw Ruth bend over to pick up a plate of delicious hors d’oeuvres. Mara caught a tantalizing glimpse of full, round breasts with large brown nipples. Her bush felt wetter than ever and she felt her own nipples hardening.

“I-I’m a little surprised,” Mara said slowly, unable to tear her eyes away. “You looked so formal in the office and now…”

“And now I’m a lot sexier?” Ruth smiled. Her hand reached out and cupped Mara’s breast lovingly. “I’m going to surprise you a lot more later dear.”

CHAPTER TWO

Mara followed Ruth into the other rooms of the splendid house. Ruth had inherited it from her father, a wealthy physician, and had decorated it lavishly. Each room had its own decor, its own personality. But what intrigued the young Eurasian girl most was the erotic flavor of the decorations, the paintings, even the scents. It was as if Ruth had made her home a rich palace for a sensualist. A sensualist for whom men did not exist. Men had no place in this home except for a large picture of her mother and father in a small TV-viewing room far in the rear.

All of the front rooms had portraits of women. There were beautiful nudes by well-known American artists, a fine copy of Renoir’s bathing woman, statues of beautiful female Goddesses and nymphs. But the biggest surprise was in Ruth’s largest bedroom. Above her bed was a large canvas of a woman by a well-known woman painter of erotica. It depicted a beautiful, statuesque woman with magnificent, ballooning breasts lying down on a bed with her superb thighs outspread. Her large pink labia had been detailed with great care. They were not only very real looking, they were obviously ready for love because they were moist. The insides of the woman’s thighs were wet. On her face was a look of desire, of great expectancy.

At the foot of the bed stood a pretty young girl, also nude, her eyes filled with a passionate longing for the older, very lovely woman on the bed. It was clear that the two women were lovers. Indeed they seemed ready to have another go at each other. Their lust was unmistakable to the viewer.

“How do you like it?” Ruth asked casually. “It cost me a fortune. It’s by Renee d’Antoine, the French painter who lives in Tangiers. Her portraits of women are the rage in every top art gallery. Most of them are just of women in ordinary situations but she does a few erotic oils for special customers.”

Mara gazed fixedly at the picture. “It’s exquisite. It’s so real you want to-to reach out and touch… to… to…” She flushed deeply as she cut herself short. The words would have been too embarrassing for her. But Ruth finished her sentence for her.

“Real enough to eat those magnificent breasts, to lick that superb vulva. Isn’t that what you wanted to say, dear?”

Mara blushed but remained silent.

“Don’t be shy about such things, my dear. That’s why its hanging there. To arouse my friends. Somehow lovemaking between women gains, I think, by little helps like that picture, don’t you? Men are different. I was told by one of my gay men friends that with them it’s a more routine thing. They meet a boy they like and almost at once they’re in bed together. I can’t do things like that, can you? I feel that there must be something leading up to the sex part.”

She looked questioningly at Mara, who gulped and nodded. She was still not sure of what was going to happen, still not sure she wanted it to happen. And yet Ruth Peter suddenly seemed so attractive now that she felt a tremor when the woman looked into her face. Despite her cautiousness, she could barely suppress a feeling of excitement. She was drawn to Ruth. There was no sense in denying it. The physical pull was strong.

“You haven’t answered my question, darling.” Ruth whispered. “Can you just hop into bed with a woman you’ve just met unless…?”

“No,” Mara said hoarsely. Oh God, she thought, what am I doing here? I don’t really want to get involved with a woman again. “I agree with you,” Mara said finally.

“Yes, I rather thought you would,” Ruth said. “Let’s have an aperitif and then dinner. It’s nearly ready to eat.” She put her arm affectionately around Mara’s waist as she led her into the living room. As they moved, Ruth’s finger slid slowly over the outside of Mara’s shapely buttocks.

“You know,” she said as she served the Eurasian girl a glass of chilled French vermouth spiked with cassis, a strawberry flavoring from the south of France, “I had a daydream about you.”

“I dreamt you and I were swimming nude on some white beach in the Fiji Islands — I love that place — and that you had laid down to nap and that I had the oddest desire to go down on you. And in fact I did. I licked your lovely little pussy. You don’t mind my telling you this? Using frank Anglo-Saxon sex words?”

Mara shook her head. Ruth’s candor made her a little dizzy.

“Good,” Ruth cried, “because I am going to tell you a little secret about myself. I arouse myself that way. I love to talk that way to people I really want. Do you know what I mean?”

Mara nodded nervously. She was afraid to say any thing. There was a strange quality in Ruth Peter’s eyes, a kind of wildness that seemed barely under control. It was as if the Dr. Jekyll she had seen in the school office had turned into a Miss Hyde. Except that Miss Hyde was infinitely more attractive sexually than the prim schoolteacher with glasses and hair done in a bun.

The dinner was exquisite, as Ruth had promised it would be, and true to her word, she continued to talk erotically all through it, telling Mara amusing stories about famous lesbians on the Hollywood scene.

“Take X,” she said giving the name of a woman who had come very close to winning an award for her films. “X has a body that makes men drool. She is in fact a nationally known sex symbol. But I happen to know that she cannot do a major scene unless her hairdresser licks her cunt in her trailer before the cameras roll.” Ruth laughed. “I’ll tell you even something funnier than that. Once the regular girl was off for some reason so they had a substitute, some little nitwit fresh from the farm.”

“X was about to follow through with a big love scene — some handsome detective etc. etc. was going to bed her down in the film. As usually happened, X was nervous as hell. She hated sex scenes with men, loathed them. But she was a sex symbol, had her image to think of. So in every film she has at least one torrid bedroom scene. She has to roll around the bed sheets with some grimy, sweating man and it’s a terrible ordeal.”

“The cunt licking acts as a pacifier, yon see. X never formerly asks for a blowjob. The hairdresser gets down on her knees as X picks at her hair or eyebrows and opens her thighs — she never wears underwear — and the hairdresser buries her lips and nose in X’s bush.”

Ruth laughed as she paused to put a mouthful of the tasty food in her mouth. “Now comes the funny part. X is used to this routine. She is all ready for her big male love scene outside, she has thoughtfully sprayed her pussy with a mist of Chanel No. 5, which she knows her hairdresser dotes on, and waits.”

“She waits and waits and nothing happens. This twenty-year-old ninny simply pats her face with cosmetics, snips a few hairs here and there, does her eyebrows and puts in the right eye shade just as her training had taught her, and X is panting to get sucked. Finally in desperation she whispers, ‘Jennifer, you’d better do me. I have to go on.'”

“‘But I’m nearly finished,’ the girl smiles. ‘Just look at yourself in the glass. You look terrific.'”

“X winced. ‘I mean do me like I always am done before a love scene. Didn’t Harriet tell you, for heaven’s sake?'”

“The girl shook her head. ‘I never saw Harriet. All she said on the phone was to make your hair look great, to study the pictures the publicity photographer took for the picture.'”

“‘Yes but I want you to…’ As X fumbled, being unable to make the request a blunt order, there was a knock on the door. A deep male voice belonging to an assistant director told her the crew was ready to go now.”

“‘In a minute, Joe,’ X yelled out. To the girl she said. ‘Look honey, Harriet should have explained. You have to! Do me… er…'”

“‘Do you how?’ the girl asked nervously. ‘What else can I do before you go on, ma’am?'”

“Frantic by this time and still unable to articulate the words, X turned around and spread her superb thighs, showing the astonished girl her voluminous bush.”

“‘Do me down there honey and hurry. They’re waiting for me.'”

“Jennifer blushed. ‘You mean you want me to comb your hair down there? You mean they’re doing a shot of you with your legs open and no pants on?'”

“X, tongue-tied, shook her head. ‘I thought they did that only in hard core porno films,’ Jennifer said. ‘Nobody told me to fix your hair down there!’ she added in amazement. ‘Nobody said this was an X rated film or anything.’ ‘Hey come on X,’ the director’s basso profound voice barked through the trailer door. ‘I’ve had everything ready ten minutes ago. This is a big scene and we may need several retakes. Are you coming?'”

“‘Just a goddamned minute Al,’ X roared. To the hairdresser she rasped. ‘Get on with it, will you. If I have to go roll on that bed with hot homey bastard without it, I’ll go crazy. It’s all done between the sheets so the damned film will get an R rating instead of X. But every time the son-of-a-bitch plays a bedroom scene, he tries to put his finger up my pussy or my ass, any damned hole he can get into. Do me!'”

“‘You mean trim your, er, pubic hair so it will look better or…'” Jennifer began, puzzled.

“‘I MEAN SUCK IT, YOU DUM DUM,’ X screamed.”

“With that she opened her thighs wider. Jennifer stared. ‘Oh no… I can’t. I’ve never done it to a girl.'”

“‘You’ve done it to a man haven’t you?’ X barked.”

“‘Well yes… but…’ the girl backed away, then stared as X began to move her finger in and out of her pussy. The expectation of getting sucked off by the girl was so great, she could not hold back again.”

“‘You’re through after today, you little bitch,’ X snapped. ‘I haven’t had to do that to myself for years. Get out… out of here. And don’t let me see you around this lot again.'”

“For a second the girl stared at X with terror, then seeing her dream of working in a studio with glamorous stars, go down the drain, she acted with such alacrity that she nearly knocked X off of her chair.”

“Jennifer got on her knees and dug her mouth, nose and tongue into the film star’s pussy with a pretended hunger that was unbelievable. Grasping X’s big thighs firmly, she kept running her tongue in and out of the older woman’s vulva, then all over her inner thighs, then on her clit until X nearly went out of her mind. But she loved it, loved every second of it. So much in fact that when the director, in a towering fury, clobbered the door with his fist ten minutes later, all that X could do was groan with pleasure.”

“The director, hearing the star’s moans, began to get worried. ‘You sick baby?'”

“‘Yeah, no… I’ll be all right,’ X said as Jennifer’s hot tongue whizzed in and out of her vagina.”

“‘You sure you can do the scene?’ the director asked anxiously. There was a lot riding on the film for him.”

“‘Oh yes… oh yes, Al,’ X said as she began to have a series of never-ending orgasms. ‘I’ll do the best scene you ever saw. Just give me five minutes to pull myself together. I-I’ve just had a bad night.'”

“The director hastily withdrew, not wishing any further complications, and after a minute so did Jennifer’s hyperactive tongue. Whereupon our lovely, glamorous star,” Ruth chuckled, “dried the young girl’s saliva from her sopping bush as well as the effusion of vaginal juice that had flowed down her own meaty thighs and walked into the sound stage like some noble queen.” Ruth’s eyes crinkled with amusement. “And that, dear little Mara, is the real reason she’s always late on the set. She needs the time for her hairdresser to do her.”

The story was so amusing and Ruth Peter’s retelling of it so masterful that Mara could not help laughing.

“You’re making it all up.” Mara chided.

“No. Word of honor I’m not,” Ruth protested. “As a matter of fact, when another star, a British girl, came up from London to do a scene in the film a week later, she had to borrow the same girl, Jennifer, to set her hair.” Ruth mentioned the name of a young actress who was already a household name among movie fans.

“This English girl smiled at Jennifer and simply said, ‘Can you do me fast? I’m supposed to get out there half an hour ago.’ Before she could get the words out, young Jennifer fell to her knees, spread the astonished star’s legs and began to suck her pussy. The Englishwoman wore panties, but that did not deter our girl. She simply swept aside the crotch piece with an impatient forefinger and slipped her tongue into the English hush. The whole thing happened so fast, the British actress could not so much as say boo. But she obviously loved it.”

“When she got back to London she told every actress she knew about it and told them to ask for Jennifer, the girl with the magic tongue. She’s still at the studio. If you ever get called on to play Tondelayo or some Malayan beauty, I’ll get you her studio extension.”

“You’re wonderful as a storyteller,” Mara said sincerely. She felt good. Not just good, wonderful. She was full of a feeling of something approaching nirvana or what her Zen Buddhist acquaintances in the east called satori. The excellent food, the wine, above all the charm of this strange woman opposite her, had brought it about.

“You feel okay?” Ruth asked tenderly, touching Mara’s full breasts.

“I feel great.”

“Great enough,” Ruth’s lips wet each other as she stared at the girl, “to do me?”

Mara hesitated a moment and then nodded.

She got down on her knees. But Ruth pulled her up. “No darling, I’m not X. Let’s go to my bedroom. We’ll be more comfortable there.”

A few minutes later she was undressing Mara slowly, enjoying the pleasure of pulling the dress over the girl’s head, of rolling down her pantyhose. When Mara was completely naked, Ruth posed her on the bed with her thighs spread open. The sight of the Eurasian beauty’s breathtaking coral-hued slit, already milky with Mara’s sexual desire, and the whole framed by curling black hair, made Ruth Peter shiver.

“Your bush is just as I pictured it,” Ruth said. “It makes me feel faint just to look at. I want to eat it.”

Mara smiled understandingly. It was the same reaction that Wendy had had in Rangoon. She knew the effect she would have on Ruth. She could not explain why. But the combination of high cheekbones, slanted eyes and a cafeau-lait smooth skin combined with her thick black bush and the long slit drove women who went for her wild. It drove the men who saw her pussy wild too, but not in quite the same way.

“You’ve had the same reaction from women before darling, haven’t you?” said Ruth reading her thoughts.

Mara nodded. “Yes and I don’t understand why. I mean I don’t think I’m especially beautiful down there, am I. It’s the same as everyone else. I mean,” she blushed. “I don’t mean that I am an expert or anything but the few women or girls I’ve seen in showers and all that… they all seem alike.”

“Oh no… oh no,” Ruth protested. “Not in a thousand ears. You are very different. For one thing, your cunt lips are so wonderfully thin. You must have had a French ancestor somewhere because most of the beautiful French girls I’ve had as lovers, when I was in Paris, had the same immeasurably thin cunt lips. ‘Fines attaches’, the French call them. They have an old wives’ tale that if a girl has thin wrists and small feet, she will have thin cunt lips and a very tight pussy. Is yours tight?”

Mara flushed and nodded. “Terribly. My boyfriend has awful trouble putting his thing in… I need a lot of butter.”

“Don’t talk about him,” Ruth snapped irritably. And then she smiled, as she put a finger tenderly into Mara’s vagina.

“Don’t mind me, dearest. It’s just that I’m terribly jealous and I’m put out if anyone talks about a bloody man when I’m hot and wet for her myself.”

“I’m sorry,” Mara said. “Do you, er, want me to kiss you down there.”

“Not quite yet, dear.” Ruth stood up from the bed. “I want to do a couple of things first. Spray myself with a new rich cologne you’ll just adore. And I would love to spray your pussy with Ma Reve. It means ‘my dream’ in French… I just go out of my gourd when I smell that on a woman’s cunt. The combination of her natural cunt odors and the perfume… wow. Do you mind?”

“No but do it lightly or it will hurt. I’m quite tender own there and perfume stings if it is too strongly rubbed m… my boyfriend…” She stopped quickly. Ruth smiled approvingly.

“Just a fine mist on your pussy lips and then we can have a kind of second dessert,” she said.

“I don’t understand what you mean?” Then she flushed. “Oh, you mean like soixante neuf, sixty-nine.”

“Exactly my darling. I see you’re not all that naive about sex, are you?”

A few minutes later she brought a spray bottle over to the Eurasian girl’s pussy and spread it about so that it covered most of her thighs. Then she took another scent bottle and did it to herself. After that she sighed and got into bed beside the younger girl. Slowly she raised herself on one elbow and gazed lovingly on Mara’s reading slit.

“Forgive me… I have to look on it for a minute or two. It’s not just a sexual pleasure. It’s an aesthetic pleasure. I think I would like to paint your lovely cunt.” She laughed. “Maybe finger painting it would be better. Then I could enjoy both pleasures. Now let’s get cozy with one another and enjoy.”

Carefully placing her naked form close to Mara’s, Ruth arched herself so that she could bury her head between the Eurasian girl’s beautiful thighs. Then she flipped over so that her buttocks faced the girl, moving slowly so that her own pubic area was directly over the younger woman’s face.

For a moment Mara stared at Ruth’s voluminous light brown bush. It was so thick and luxuriant in its dense growth that for a moment she could not see where the slit was. It was almost as if someone had tumbled a full head of hair on her own face. Then applying her lips to the mass, she began to try to ferret out the opening of Ruth’s vagina. She was overwhelmed by the heavy, sweetish scent Ruth used on her pubic area. She had to cough and then catch her breath as she inhaled the alcoholic content of the rich cologne.

“Are you all right, darling?” Ruth inquired solicitously, hearing Mara cough. “Did I drench my pussy too much with that thing? It’s a bad habit of mine. I do want my lovers to enjoy the sucking and the scent is important.”

“I’m all right,” Mara said. “But don’t let any Alcoholics Anonymous member go down on you,” she added jokingly, “or she won’t be able to drive home.”

For the next half hour the two women thrilled each other with their tongues. Mara found herself gasping for breath as Ruth Peter played with her vaginal lips the way a frisky puppy might play with a rubber ball. She would take the lips of Mara’s sweet smelling vulva in her mouth, then let go in playful fashion. A moment later she would repeat the maneuver.

Alternately she would slip her pointed tongue in and out of Mara’s slit, driving the girl to the point where she wanted to flee, then she would stop. If Mara had any hesitation herself, it soon vanished under the overwhelming flood of sensations she was experiencing. This was nothing like what happened when Mike went down on her. True, she enjoyed her boyfriend’s passionate sucking of her pussy. But this thing that was going on now was so much richer that it was like the difference between night and day.

She found herself wanting to scream as Ruth focused on her clitoris, nipping at the little pink bud, lapping it from all angles. It was a scream she suppressed and then, finally, could no longer hold in. As Ruth pressed in on her most sensitive area, she let a wild howl escape from her lips.

“OH-OH-OH MY… OR… MY… AAAAMAAH… AAAH… AAAH… AAH… OH… I CAN’T STAND THIS… I CANNOT STAND THIS RUTH… YOU’RE DRIVING ME OUT OF MY MIND… OH AAAH… OOOOH… AAHHHH… I’M COMING… OR… I’M COMING! …”

And in another moment she did, feeling as if her vagina had exploded and with it her entire nervous system. Hardly pausing for breath, Ruth continued to lap away until Mara experienced a renewed series of fantastic orgasms that seemed to go on forever. She found herself almost unable to breathe as they continued to detonate in a flow that astonished her. Ruth Peter was the most fantastic lover she had ever known. Wendy had been marvelous but nothing like this, she told herself. Or was she simply not remembering correctly.

She tried to give Ruth equal pleasure, tried her damndest… but it was no use. She was nowhere on Ruth’s level when it came to reaching the top layer of her sensitivity. No matter how hard her tongue worked to lave the older woman’s slit and bush, she could not achieve the same results.

“Oh dear, I am so sorry,” Mara apologized. “You were so terrific with me… and I’ve… I’ve failed you.”

“Don’t fret love,” Ruth said soothingly. “I’ve had a lot more experience than you.” She described how when she had attended the Sorbonne during her junior year at Vassar, she had become acquainted with a dress designer from one of Paris’ best haute couture houses. The woman had taken her to her apartment high above the Rand Point of the Champs Elysees and between sips of champagne had taught her how to use her mouth to give a woman the fullest, most exciting sexual satisfaction.

“It took us months of practice,” Ruth said with a broad smile, “but it was delightful educational practice and the tuition couldn’t be beat. We’ll do the same with you my pet. You’re coming to work with me starting two weeks from now and we can have our little sessions here several times a week. By the time I’m finished, you will be an artist of the highest rank in the practice of cunnilingus.”

Later, as they took a shower together, Ruth thrilled her again by sucking her nipples. Over the noise of the cascading water, Ruth told her they would be having a faculty picnic a week later and that she was invited.

“You’ll have a chance to meet the staff and department heads of the school,” Ruth said, as she dried Mara’s body with a rough Turkish towel that soon buffed the Eurasian’s skin to a healthy pink color.

“It is a bit of at bore, Mara,” she went on, “but it’s good politics for a new teacher to mix early in the game. For one thing it gets you in solidly at the beginning with the people who matter. You know, you have a drink, talk, joke with them and it eases things later when you need favors.”

“What sort of favors?” Mara wanted to know.

“Well, suppose you need help from one of the other teachers to cover your absences,” Ruth grinned. “I want us to duck out here for some lovemaking whenever we can. I don’t have a terrible lot of free time during the weekdays, but occasionally time does turn up. If you can come here too I’d be delighted, naturally.”

But in addition there were other things to keep account of. The faculty, meeting as a group, okayed requests for passing on such matters as field trips, special equipment that Mara wanted or might want later. It was good to have friends in the faculty.

And there were all sorts of things that came up during the school year that often required cooperation from other teachers or departments. Supposing a *** in one of Mara’s classes was under great pressure because of term paper deadlines or tests from other teachers. Mara could help the boy by asking another teacher to give him more time. Mara might want to take a few days longer at Christmas or Easter to travel. She could ask another teacher or several other teachers to take over during the time period. Mara explained that new teachers also had to teach in summer session the first few semesters. There was no option. But the faculty could excuse her for good and sufficient reasons during one of their association meetings.

“Sounds like a good idea. Plenty of fringe benefits in being nice to your fellow workers,” Mara smiled. “Why not?”

Ruth Peter’s eyes changed and her voice became a little ominous. “I’d better warn you that there are also some fringe penalties involved when you mix with faculty.”

Mara laughed. “Really? Like what?”

“Like having some male bastard of a teacher go after you and pawing you at faculty parties or picnics. Or calling you at night, trying to date you.”

“Oh I can handle that,” Mara said quickly.

“I hope you can,” Ruth said evenly, “because as you must know by now I am quite possessive and the mere thought of some man pawing you gives me the willies. So be careful at the picnic next week. Don’t come on too strong with the men. Just give them a big smile, a firm handshake and make a little small talk. You know about Burma and London and European life-styles. Then move on to another person.”

Ruth warned her that there were several swingers in the faculty. “They’ll try to get you to bed in every cliche maneuver you ever dreamed of or saw on the silver screen. Ask you to come up to their apartments to dine, to discuss pupils — too busy to do it at school, don’t you know — and even pretend to be ill so you can come up and cook for them. One girl did just that and got raped an hour after she arrived.”

The worst offenders, Ruth informed her, were Joe Mills, a paunchy middle-aged type, who was in the English department and went after everything in skirts or pantyhose, and Tom Leonard, a young history instructor who thought of himself as God’s gift to woman because of his striking resemblance to Paul Newman.

Mills was by far the most odious type, Ruth said with a scowl. He liked to get into crowded elevators when the cafeteria on the top floor emptied and press his member against a girl’s bottom.

“One day he just got behind me and pressed! Hard against my backside,” Ruth recalled with a wince. “I could feel his damned cock growing against my bottom but he had a perfect excuse. The elevator was heavily crowded. Then to my horror, he began to move his cock. At first I thought I was imagining things. But no, the bastard had an enormous hard-on and was pressing it between the cheeks of my behind. If he could have he would lifted my skirt and tried to plunge into my bare ass. I could even hear the rat breathing hard as he got worked up, dry screwing that way. I wanted to tell him to stop, complain, but then I realized how embarrassing it would all be. There would have to be an official hearing, like the time a physical ed instructor was found in the cubicle of the ladies room after hours, going down on a teen-aged pupil, some dumb little girl who wanted solid A’s for a scholarship. The hearing was noised all over town, in the papers.”

“Which reminds me,” Ruth said. “You may run into trouble from boys in your class, too. Some of these kids are eighteen and they get a lech for a beautiful young teacher and try to make her. Best thing is to be on your guard against anyone who has a glint in his eye. It means he’s trying to get into your panties. And I’m the only one who will be doing that from now on. Right?”

“Right,” Mara smiled and then remembered Mike.

“But this man I’m seeing, we’re already…” she began.

“I don’t want to hear about it,” Ruth said quickly, “just cut him off. Cut him off and don’t let anyone make passes at you. This school will give you problems enough in that area, you don’t need a stupid stud of a boyfriend complicating things too. Oh and be careful of Leonard. He’s a sneaky type, he’ll try to take advantage of you in every way he can. Even brutally.”

Ruth explained. Leonard was always offering female teachers or female students free rides. He managed to combine them with efforts to get sex and often succeeded.

“Last year he took a delightful girl, a big beautiful black senior, home. On the way he pretended he had car trouble just as they reached a heavily wooded area, far from a phone or much traffic.”

“By the oddest of coincidences, he also had an unopened fifth of Scotch in his trunk. He offered the girl a drink, just to keep warm, as he put it. Well, the inevitable happened. After they had had three drinks and the girl was woozy, he made her have sex with him.”

Mara snorted. “He’d better not try anything so idiotic with me or I’ll use my fists on him.”

“Well Lucy wasn’t able to cope with it. She told me the whole sordid tale later in my office and let me tell you it was ghastly. First he made her get into the back seat. It was dark by then. He took out his damned cock and made her swallow it. The girl told me it was so huge it made her gag when he rammed it into her mouth. He kept telling her she’d like it once she got used to it and when she refused to suck him, he just pumped away at her until he came in her mouth.”

“Oh no,” Mara said astonished. “That must have been awful.”

“Not as awful as what came later,” Ruth retorted. “He told her to take some more liquor to get rid of the taste and the silly girl complied. Well by that time she didn’t know or care what would happen to her. So he ****** her to lie on her stomach, lifted her leg over the back seat and…” Ruth paused and shook her head. “He ripped the poor girl’s panties off and ****** his damned cock into her anus. Can you imagine what that must have felt like to the poor girl. This big bastard pushing his rod into her. Not bothering to lubricate it even with his saliva.”

“He just shoved it into her backside and she could hear him grunting like a wild buffalo as he got his stupid, selfish pleasure. When he finally came he lay back and fell asleep. She didn’t get home till after midnight. After he ****** her to have intercourse one more time.”

“Did she file a complaint against him?” Mara asked.

“She wanted to but he had warned her that he would accuse her of turning him on, of playing with his cock as they drove. And since she was no virgin and had been caught necking in the yard with one of the basketball players, she already had a history of fooling around. There were some things like that and also using foul language to a teacher in her personal file. Who would have believed her story? I told her to forget it and just be on her guard against him.”

Mara shivered inside as Ruth finished. She would have to be on her guard too, she realized. Against Leonard and Mills and maybe a lot of others.

She was not looking forward to next week’s picnic. Nor to the prospect of telling Mike she could not go out with him any longer. Mike bothered her most. He had at fierce temper. She would have to come up with an excuse that at least let him save face.

CHAPTER THREE

The picnic was being held in a beautiful wooded area in the foothills of some mountains close to Los Angeles. After an hour of easy driving over the speedy freeway, Mara arrived at a lake which was the most beautiful she had ever seen. Above the shoreline on one side was a thick forest which reminded her of the forests in Malaya. Mara loved it the moment she saw it.

She had come alone at Ruth Peter’s insistence.

“We have to be careful not to start rumors about us,” Ruth explained. “And I’m such a bad actor when I’m with someone I adore. They would see my eyes hungering for those gorgeous breasts of yours, they’d notice me staring at your lovely legs and hips when you walked around in your short shorts or swim suit. And they might easily realize,” Ruth laughed mischievously, “that I want to rip the shorts off and nuzzle that delicious little cunt of yours.” Ruth’s tongue flipped in and out of her mouth.

Mara laughed at Ruth’s expression. She looked as if she were about to go down on her right then and there.

“And above all don’t let me drink too much,” Ruth pleaded. “I lose all sense of perspective of what I’m doing. And besides, it’s such a long drive home. I don’t want to wind up in a drunk tank downtown.”

“You mean people really get crocked on these picnics?” Mara smiled. “I thought teachers were very formal, sedate types. At least that’s how they were in Europe. Over there you have a Christmas eggnog drink with your fellow teachers or a New Year’s Day drop in to say hello and you vanish. I never saw anybody get smashed there.”

“You’ll see.” Ruth chuckled. “Teachers in Los Angeles are a very different breed. My motto at these picnics is keep one eye on your breasts and the other on your crotch because before the afternoon’s half over, somebody’s going to reach for other. Oh there are all sorts of excuses later. Sweet apologetic telephone messages.” She mimicked the teachers who made such calls to her last year: “‘Oh dear, Ruth, did I make a boo boo and poke my fingers under your shorts yesterday? Forgive me… I was smashed.'”

Ruth laughed. “Ralph Mason was the funniest. He got so smashed that he got me in the water while we were swimming. He’d already had two or three martinis before I got there. He pulled down my bikini bottom and under the pretense that he was trying to find it, kept coming up between my legs and nipping at my pussy. Ordinarily the thought of it man trying to go down on me gives me the shudders. But Ralph was smashed and I was rather too. He kept running his