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Introduction:

The story continues.
Chapter Twelve

As Peter walked her home Jane told him the whole story of the Invisible Girl, and how she’d felt seen for the first time when he’d spotted her in the coatroom that night.  How, even though she’d been terrified when he’d come into the girls’ bathroom and made her his slave, she’d also been thrilled by it because he really seemed to see her.  How she’d been becoming more and more visible to other people.  How she’d been doing better when reading in front of a class.  “Though of course now I’m always going to imagine I’m in my underwear,” she’d added with a grin. How she’d started talking to some of her old friends.  How she’d been invited to a slumber party the coming weekend.

His grin got wider and wider as she talked.  “You’re telling me that you’re less shy with people because I make you take your clothes off?  That’s the craziest thing I ever heard.”

“But it’s true, Peter!  I don’t know why, exactly, but...” She thought for a while.  “You’ve seen me—you know who I really am better than anyone, and... and...you...”  She looked down, then back over at him.  “And you...still like me.”

He nodded, his face serious.  “You know I do.”  They walked on for a moment, and then he added,  “More than anyone I’ve ever known.”  More silence.  Then:  “Because you see me, too.  And you still like me.”

She nodded.  “But what I’m trying to say is that...because of you...I’m not as afraid of being seen by anybody else.”

He gave her a one-armed hug then, and kissed her.  Then he asked, “So...you gonna be okay with a bunch of girls, you think?”

She shrugged.  “I don’t know.  I guess so.  I don’t even know who else is coming.  But I guess it’ll be okay.  At least two of them are friends, so I’ll have people to talk to.”

“You gonna tell them about us?  I mean, you know they’re gonna spend a lot of time talking about boyfriends and stuff.”

She snorted, and said, as if speaking to someone else, “Oh, my boyfriend?  We met in the girls’ bathroom at school.  It was so romantic.”  

She grinned at him.  “I think we’ll just let that stay invisible for now...”

----------------------------------------------------

It was the wine that started it all.  

After Suzy’s parents had said good night and retreated upstairs, leaving the eight girls in command of the lower floor, Sarah had promptly unrolled her sleeping bag and brandished the bottle that had been smuggled in with it, smiling proudly.  

“My parents have cartons of it, they’ll never miss it.”  

Most of the girls started to cheer and reach for the paper cups Suzy’s parents had supplied to accompany the soda and snacks, but then there was an awkward moment when everyone glanced at the girl sitting on the couch, unsure of what to do.  

The girl’s name was Chrissy Hurlin, and Jane only knew two things about her: that she had graduated last year from the local Catholic high school, and that her father was the town police chief.  

She hadn’t exactly been invited to the party: it was one of those situations where Suzy’s parents knew Chrissy’s parents and they had decided it would be nice to include her.  Everyone had been at pains to include her in the general conversation, but no one really knew her.

She should have been popular on the basis of her looks alone; she was tall and slim, with long wavy brown hair, huge brown eyes and a sweet smile. 

But there was something off-putting about her as well.  She was always dressed, as one girl had described it, “Like she’s going to church instead of school.”  When she had first appeared many of the boys, attracted by her beauty, had tried to date her, without success.  

Suzy had whispered to Jane that some of the boys called her ‘Prissy Chrissy’ or ‘Chris the Priss’, because of the way she dressed, and because of the way she had looked at them when they asked her out, as if she’d had no idea what they were talking about.  She had always smiled, thanked them politely and changed the subject, or moved along.  

There was always an inward quality about her that suggested her mind was elsewhere, even when she was speaking directly to you.  Suzy had wondered if maybe she was planning to become a nun.

So she was an unknown factor, especially at a moment like this.  How would the churchy police chief’s daughter react to the contraband wine?  

To everyone’s relief she simply continued talking to the girl on her left about the choir group she sang with, as if she hadn’t noticed a thing.  Maybe she hadn’t, it was hard to tell.  But at any rate, the first round of wine was distributed to those who were interested.  Even the girl Chrissy was talking with, after a moment of hesitation, accepted a cup.  Chrissy herself, of course, showed no interest, or even awareness.

Jane also accepted a cup, more out of curiosity than any real desire.  There was no longer any liquor in her house, so this was simply an opportunity to experiment and be sociable.

She had actually been having a pretty good time, so far.  At first she had stuck close to Suzy and Lucia, her two friends from before, but everyone had seemed friendly enough.  And the conversation had so far stayed very light, if a little loud in order to be heard over the record-player: Teachers and classes, clothing and hair, TV and music and movies.  

She took a sip of her wine.  Wrinkled her nose.  Made herself drink a little more.

Lucia had casually gathered Jane’s hair into a loose braid as they talked, and now was wondering aloud how Jane would look with her hair, not shorter, exactly, but shaped a bit more around her face.  She pulled out a pile of Suzy’s fashion magazines and paged through a number of them until she saw a picture that showed more or less what she’d meant, and showed it to Jane.  

One of the other girls plucked it out of her hand, held it next to Jane’s face, and said, “Ooo, Jane—this would look great on you.  Two other girls sitting nearby interrupted their conversation long enough to glance over and nod agreement, one saying, “Yeah.  Do it, Jane.”

Jane took another gulp of wine. The hairstyle did look very nice on the model, and it was certainly much more sophisticated than what she had.  But it would mean giving up her bangs—she wasn’t sure she was ready to be that visible all the time.  She was suddenly overpowered by the memory of scissors, drunkenly wielded by her father.  Of walking through the school hallways trying to keep her head down so no one could see.  

But then she heard Lucia say,  “I've got an appointment on Tuesday after school.  I’ll call and see if they can take you at the same time, okay?  Hey Suzy, can I tear out this page?”  

Suzy said sure, and Lucia ripped it out.  “We’ll bring it along so you can show them what you want.”  Then she saw the doubt on Jane’s face and said, “Do you want to think about it?  You could take this picture home...”

Jane drained her cup, smiled bravely at Lucia and said, “No, let’s try it.  I mean, I can always grow it back, right?”

There was just the one bottle of wine but, truth be told, none of them were experienced drinkers, so even a couple of cups each among the five who were drinking was enough to loosen tongues and inhibitions somewhat.  Laughter became louder and secrets were shared.  Even the non-drinkers seemed to absorb the mood by osmosis. 

Except for Chrissy, of course, who seemed unchanged.  Pleasantly not quite there. When the conversation came around to boys she simply listened with the same quizzical look she must have had when she was being asked out.

Sarah was complaining about her boyfriend.  “Chuck is always trying to put his tongue in my ear.”  This was greeted by a general chorus of “Ewww…” and laughter.  “He must have read somewhere that it’s sexy, I guess.  Yuck!”

This led to a general discussion of boys as sex-crazed monsters.  One said that a boy had tried to feel her up on their first date.  Another complained that her boyfriend kept trying to put her hand on his you-know-what while they were kissing.  

The conversation grew in pitch and hilarity, each one trying to top the next, and Jane, thinking somewhat giddily that she should make a contribution, suddenly blurted out, “My boyfriend likes to spank me!”

Unfortunately this exclamation occurred at one of those unpredictable moments when everything has momentarily gone quiet.  And of course after that everything became extremely quiet. 

 Jane looked around at the startled faces and, thinking quickly despite her slightly addled state, manufactured a grin and said, “Ha! Gotcha, didn’t I?”  

The room erupted into howls of laughter.  Jane mentally wiped her brow, and glanced around the room.  She was pretty sure she had gotten away with it until her gaze fell on Chrissy, who was staring at her with an intensity that she had never shown before.  Jane quickly glanced away.

Sarah was saying, “Do you really have a boyfriend, or were you joking about that too?  I’ve never seen you with anyone.”

Jane had at least come prepared for that, and told her the story she’d invented about a boy from a nearby town—actually kind of a distant relative, met him at a family event, didn’t have a car, couldn’t get here too often, lots of phone calls, etc. 

 “…So I don’t know if he’s my boyfriend, exactly,” she concluded.

“Well, that doesn’t sound like much fun.  We ought to fix you up with somebody from around here.”

At this the subject quickly veered to which boys at school were both available and desirable, especially among the girls without boyfriends.  Names were brought up, good and bad qualities discussed.  

Jane listened with half an ear.  She could see, from the corner of her eye, that Chrissy was still looking at her, if not as deliberately as before, and it disturbed her.

Her attention was drawn back to the group when Peter’s name suddenly came up.  

There was general agreement that he was cute and nice, but something of a mystery: lots of friends, both male and female, but never a girlfriend.  Someone mentioned the girl he’d taken to the prom, and someone else said it had never gone anywhere, as far as she knew.  

Jane smiled to herself and said nothing.

After a while the conversation began to wind down, and pretty soon everyone had unrolled their blankets and sleeping bags and gotten ready to sleep.  After the lights were turned out there was still desultory conversation, punctuated by sleepy laughter and giggling.  

Jane drifted off to sleep, wondering what Chrissy had on her mind.

Chapter Thirteen

She found out on Monday.  As she got in line for lunch Chrissy came up behind her and greeted her.  Jane had a feeling that Chrissy had been waiting for her.  

Chrissy was dressed, as usual, in pretty but extremely conservative clothing.  Church clothes. She asked, a little too casually, if she could sit with Jane.  Then, after they’d gotten their food, led her to the remotest table and without seeming to do it deliberately made sure they were sitting with their backs to the room.  

Jane was now fully alert, if not yet alarmed.

At first, they just made stilted small talk: the party, who was friends with who, and so forth.  Chrissy barely ate.  Her beautiful face was tense, as if she was working up the nerve to discuss something, and her eyes were once again unnaturally focused on Jane, darting away sometimes when she realized she was staring, but always returning.  She looked fascinated and terrified at the same time, as if contemplating a jump from a cliff.  

And somehow Jane was the cliff; Jane was sure of it.

When what little conversation there was finally dried up completely, Chrissy looked down, seemingly at her hands, clasped tightly in her lap.  She glanced sideways at Jane, then back.  

Finally, in a strained undertone, as if simultaneously trying to say the words and hold them back, she asked,  “Does…he really spank you?”  

Then, glancing over at Jane again and away, she added, “I swear I won’t tell anyone.  Honest.” 

And with that she looked directly into Jane’s eyes, and waited.

Jane had figured this all had something to do with her thoughtless speech at the party, but was still taken unaware by the directness of the question.  At first she thought to just laugh it off as she had before, and began to work up a smiling face, but then she saw something in the intensity of Chrissy’s expression—a kind of desperation, almost—that made her hesitate.  

Finally, she decided to trust her intuition and replied, simply, “Sometimes.”

Chrissy’s eyes widened slightly, and she breathed an “Ohh.” as if she had just taken another step closer to the cliff’s edge.  She looked down, then back at Jane, and said,  “R-really spanks you?  Hard?”  

Jane had no idea where this was going, but she nodded, cautiously.  

Chrissy nodded back, as if in agreement.  She looked down again, and was silent for a moment.  She took a deep breath and let it out.  Another.  She toyed with the food on her plate.  She took a breath as if to say something, then stopped.  Took another breath, darted a quick sideways glance at her and began, “He doesn’t...” 

She stopped.  Jane saw that she was blushing furiously.  

Chrissy tried to continue,  “He doesn’t see...he doesn’t l-lift up your...”

Ah.  Jane was definitely curious now.  Why was Prissy Chrissy asking about this?  

She deliberately met Chrissy’s eyes and finished her sentence for her: “He pulls up my skirt, yes.”  

Chrissy gasped slightly and looked away again.  

Jane wondered how Chrissy would react if she went on to describe being spanked with a metal ruler while bent over a teacher’s desk in her bra and panties.  Faint, probably.  

Instead, she asked, “What’s this all about, Chrissy?  Why are you asking me about this?”

Chrissy just shook her head, not meeting her eye.  

Jane said, “You wanted me to trust you...”

Chrissy sat silently for almost a full minute.  Then, still not looking at her, she said, in a barely audible whisper,  “I need to be punished.”

Jane was glad Chrissy wasn’t looking at her just then.  She was in complete shock.  She blurted out, “For what?” 

But Chrissy shook her head violently and said, “It doesn’t matter.  He’s your boyfriend anyway.”  

Abruptly she rose, as if to leave.

“Wait a minute, wait a minute!”  Jane grabbed her hand and pulled her back to her seat.  Chrissy slumped, sullenly.  

Jane said, “It’s okay, you don’t have to tell me.”  She thought for a moment, then continued,  “But...aren’t you Catholic?”

Chrissy nodded, dejectedly.

“Well, aren’t you supposed to go to confession if you’ve done something bad?  Don’t they give you, what’s it called?  Penance?”

Chrissy nodded again, her face hidden by her hair.  Then she suddenly straightened up, turned to Jane and said, almost fiercely,  “But that’s just Hail Marys and Our Fathers.  It’s just words!  It’s not enough!”  

She said this last sentence loud enough so that heads turned at nearby tables, and this time she really did jump to her feet and storm out of the room.  

But not before Jane had seen the tears in her eyes.  

She sat by herself for the remainder of the lunch period, thinking.

She was lost in thought for the rest of the day as, gradually, a plan began to take shape.  When it was fully formed, and she had examined it from every angle, she wanted to hug herself with delight.  

She had thought of a way to give Chrissy what she wanted, and at the same time give Peter a graduation present he would never forget.

The next day at school, she looked for Chrissy in the halls between classes.  

When Chrissy saw her coming towards her, she at first tried to walk past, pretending not to see her.  Jane understood her embarrassment, but caught her arm anyway and said her name, and when she turned, Jane handed her a note—a note she had written several versions of before deciding on this one—and continued on.

 “Dear Chrissy, I talked to my boyfriend about you last night.  Don’t worry, I didn’t use your name.  He lives in Haverson and wouldn’t know you anyway.  He’s Catholic too.  Well, his family is anyway, he doesn’t go to church much anymore.  Anyway, he told me there’s a priest named Father Brian, have you heard of him?   He travels around from place to place.  I guess he does Bible study workshops or something.  But my boyfriend heard that he also meets privately with people who need special penance. He’s supposed to be in Haverson next week.  Do you want me to see if I can find out more?  Maybe he can help you.  –Jane.

When Jane arrived at the lunchroom that day, she saw that Chrissy had been waiting for her.  

But Chrissy said nothing, just handed her back the note and moved on.  

When Jane unfolded it there were two words written at the bottom in green ink:  “Yes. Please.”  

Excellent, thought Jane. But she had other business to attend to before the next step was taken.

After school she met with Lucia, and together they walked downtown to the local hair salon, The Pink Poodle, to get their hair cut. 

Jane showed the magazine picture to the stylist, who looked back and forth between Jane’s face and the picture several times, then smiled broadly and said, “Darlin’, I think you’re gonna look prettier in this cut than she does!”

Jane didn’t dare look in the mirror while her hair was being cut and styled, convinced that she was making a huge mistake, and that she would have to wear a bag over her head until it grew back.  

But when it was done, Lucia looked over and exclaimed, “Ooo, Jane.  You look so pretty!” 

And when her chair was turned to the mirror Jane had to agree.  

It was as if she had suddenly gone from being an adolescent to being a young woman; her bangs were gone, but her face was beautifully framed with feathery combed-forward hair that curled under her chin before dropping gracefully to her shoulders.  

She wanted to squeal with delight…but that was something the beautiful young lady in the mirror wouldn’t do.  She thanked the stylist profusely and gave her a big tip.

She and Lucia went out and had root beer floats to celebrate.  Then Lucia walked her part-way home before turning off towards her own house--but not before giving Jane a hug. 

Jane thanked her for talking her into the idea.  She smiled all the way back to her house.

When she got home, her mother had just arrived.  She came hurrying out of the kitchen to greet Jane, but stopped dead in her tracks.  She stared at Jane for a moment as if she were a stranger.  

Then she said,  “Oh sweetie, you look...wonderful!  Let me look at you!”  She came and took Jane’s shoulders in her hands and looked at her with such warmth that Jane felt herself blushing.  

She’s looking at me, she thought.  She’s really looking at me.  And couldn’t understand why she suddenly felt tears in her eyes.  

She hugged her mother, unable to remember the last time she had done so.  

Her mother may have been puzzled by this sudden show of affection, but had the good sense not to show it, simply holding Jane for as long as she wanted to be held.  And when they finally pulled apart there were tears in her eyes as well.  

“Oh my”, she said.  “Your Dad and I have been so busy and you’ve been...growing up.  I’m so sorry, Jane.”  

They hugged again and both of them cried for a while.  

Then her mother straightened up and looked at her again, and said, “I have an idea.”

She walked over to the small table where the phone was kept, looked up a number in the phone book, and dialed.  

After a moment, Jane heard her say, “Phil?  It’s Connie Harkin…  Oh, just fine, thank you.  Look, I’m sorry to bother you at home, but I was wondering, is there any chance you could make some time for Jane early tomorrow?  It’s really high time she got her braces off. I know this is kind of sudden, but...”

Jane didn’t hear the rest of the conversation.  She wanted to jump up and down with excitement.  Her braces...off!  Oh god, that would be perfect!”

Her mother hung up the phone and turned to her, smiling.  “You may have to miss a little school but he thinks he can squeeze you in.  I’ll take some time off tomorrow so I can give you a ride.  Oh honey, you’re so pretty!”

Even her father seemed startled out of his usual preoccupied state when he came home and saw her.  He actually became kind of shy and awkward, practically waiting on her at dinner as if she were a guest he wanted to impress.  

She wanted to say, Dad, relax, it’s just me.  But she didn’t.  She just enjoyed the attention.  Her mother, noticing, winked at her.  She winked back.

The next morning, her mother drove her to the orthodontist.  

They had to wait a little while, but soon enough the job was done, well before lunchtime.  They went out to celebrate and over their meal her mother asked Jane all kinds of things about her life.  It was as if her mother had been away for a long time and was trying to catch up, which was, in a large sense, true.  

Jane answered as best she could, although she was deliberately vague on the subject of boys.  

Her mother told her stories of her high school days: what she’d loved, what she’d hated, what she’d feared, what she’d believed.  

By the end of the meal they were better friends than they had ever been.

Her mother dropped Jane off at school just in time for her first afternoon class.  As Jane was about to get out of the car her mother said, “I’ll probably have to work a little late tonight to get caught up, so you and your father will have to fend for yourselves for dinner, alright?  There’s lots of stuff in the freezer.  Oh, that reminds me!  I’m afraid we’re leaving you on your own this weekend.  It’s the Retreat.”  

Jane had forgotten about this event, a semi-annual get-away weekend for A.A. members and their spouses to help them strengthen their relationship.  She wanted to ask her mother how she and Dad were doing, but there wasn’t time now.  So she just said, “Okay, Mom.  And thanks for doing this.  It feels really great to have all that metal out of my mouth.”  

Her mother gave her a one-armed hug and a kiss on the cheek and said, “You’re welcome, darling.  I’ll see you tonight.”

Jane waved as her mother drove away, then turned and entered the school.  It felt strange to be arriving so late.  

As she walked in the door she was practically jumped on by Chrissy, who said nothing but looked her question anxiously at Jane.  

Startled, Jane said, “Oh!  Oh...nothing yet.  He’s still checking.  Maybe tonight.  Do you want me to call you at home?”

Chrissy’s eyes widened in panic at the thought.  “No!  I’ll—I’ll see you tomorrow.”  And she rushed off.

Well, thought Jane, there’s one person who’s not impressed with my new haircut.  

But she knew someone who would be.  

She tore a corner of a sheet of paper out of her notebook, scribbled Girls’ bathroom 3:20 on it and then folded it as small as she could, took it to Peter’s locker and wedged it into the door so that it was nearly invisible.  If he didn’t see it, he’d notice it when it fell out.

The rest of the afternoon went by slowly, except for the periods between classes, when she would anxiously scan the hallways to make sure he didn’t see her before the appointed time.  

She couldn’t help but notice that other people were seeing her, though.  

Especially boys.  

As she walked through the halls she would notice from the corner of her eye that some boys’ heads were turning to follow her as she passed, and it seemed that more of them were saying hi to her than before.  

Girls, too, seemed to be checking out her looks, and giving her points.  At one point Suzy rushed up to her and said, “Jane!  Lucia told me how great you look.  She was right. Wow!”  

All of this was thrilling to Jane, but there was only one person whose opinion really mattered to her.

When the school day finally ended she hurried to the bathroom to be sure of arriving first.  

There was no one there when she entered and she went to wait in the same stall Peter had taken her into that first time, shutting the door behind her and sitting down on the toilet lid.

Shortly after she entered another girl came in to use the facilities, and another one shortly after that.  Apparently they knew each other, because they fell into conversation by the sinks.  

At first, Jane didn’t mind eavesdropping on them, but then they got into a discussion of some third party, and who she was dating, and whether he was going out with somebody else, and whether she knew about it, that sounded as though it could go on for hours, if not days.  She wished there was a fire alarm nearby that she could set off.  But at least Peter would hear them—he could hardly avoid it—and not come charging in.

After about ten minutes the girls had settled the issue to their satisfaction and made their way out.  After a pause of about half a minute she heard the door pushed partly open and heard Peter’s voice calling softly, “Jane?”

“In here,” she called.  

When she heard his footsteps inside she said,  “Stay there.  Close your eyes.”  

She waited a moment, then opened the stall door and stepped out. 

 She knew he was expecting her to be in her underwear or less, given the location, but he was going to be disappointed.  

She had dressed with great care that day in a black knit dress that showed off her slim figure, with matching sandals and a red belt and earrings.  She had refined her make-up somewhat.  She knew she looked good, but was still a little nervous.  What if he liked her schoolgirl look better?  Well, too late now.  

She composed her face into a smile that allowed her to keep her mouth closed.  One shock at a time, she thought.  She didn’t know what to do with her hands, either, and finally just let them hang loosely at her sides.

“All right, open them,” she said, unable to keep a slight quaver out of her voice.

She watched him open his eyes.  Watched his glance rest briefly on her face, move down to see what she was or wasn’t wearing, move back to her face...and freeze.  

She saw, first, his eyes go wide and second, his mouth dropping open.  

She watched him as he stepped toward her, as if in a trance, reached out to take her hands...and dropped to one knee looking up at her.

“My god, look at you.  You’re beautiful.  I mean, I’ve always thought you were beautiful, but now you’re...you’ve…  Oh my god.”

She couldn’t help herself: she allowed her lips to part into a huge smile.  

At first he just smiled back at her, then he did a double-take and shot to his feet.

“Your braces too!  My god, Jane, what happened?  Did you run into your fairy godmother?  Jane, you look so...so…  Oh, man...”

 He hugged her tightly for a moment and then pulled back as if to make sure he had seen correctly.  

“Tell me what happened.  No, wait...can I kiss you first?”  

Jane just smiled and pulled him to her, and they kissed.  It went on for a long time.  It wasn’t a sexy kiss.  Not even a romantic kiss.  Just a kiss that celebrated the very idea of kissing, the purely physical pleasure of someone else’s lips touching yours, and taking pleasure from yours.

When they finally and reluctantly ended it, he said, “Wow.  That’s so nice.  I was always afraid that I might hurt you before.  You know, if I kissed you too hard.  I was afraid your braces might cut your lip or something.”

She smiled and said, “I know.”  Then her smile widened into a grin.  “Actually, I was more afraid of hurting you.  You know, when I...” She sank to her knees and began to unfasten his pants.  

She had just started to pull on the zipper when he took her hands and pulled her to her feet, saying, “Wait.  Let’s...let’s go to your house.  Can we?”

“Let’s run.”

It was of course much too far to run, but they held hands and walked as fast as they could, too breathless to speak but looking at each other a lot and laughing for no reason.

When they reached her house, however, they did run: up the stairs and into her room. There they immediately wrapped their arms around each other and began to kiss with as much intensity as their shortage of breath would allow; tongues probing, bodies pressed together as hard as they could manage.  Breaking off sometimes just to look at each other, smile, and begin again.

After a while Peter took her by the shoulders and turned her around so that they could both see themselves in the mirror above her bureau.  He put his arms around her waist, and his eyes met hers in the mirror as he said, “Look at how beautiful you are.”  His hands began to slowly caress her belly.

Jane said, “Wait.”

She took his hand and led him out of her room, down the hall and into her parent’s bedroom.  She went to stand in front of the full-length mirror, pulled his arms around her waist again, then smiled at his reflection and said, “Better?”

“Much.”

She felt wonderful, and it was so exciting to see, as well as feel, his hands caressing her.  To watch the lovely girl in the mirror as the boy behind her gently pulled her hair back and kissed her behind her ear, then took her ear gently between his teeth as his hands covered her small breasts and began to mold and tease them.  She wondered if the other girl was getting as excited as she was.  She wanted to watch the boy in the mirror take the other girl’s clothes off and do things to her.

She was soon to get her wish.  

He undid her red belt and let it slide to the floor.  Then he brushed the hair away from the back of her neck and kissed her there as he slowly unzipped the back of her dress.  

She watched the girl in the mirror as the boy slid the dress off her shoulders, then knelt to grasp the hemline and tug it so that it fell around her ankles, revealing the lacy black bra and panties beneath.  

The boy in the mirror breathed, “Oh,” and stared out of the mirror at her, captivated.  

She stepped out of her dress, and he recovered long enough to slide her sandals off before standing again.  

For a long moment he simply stood there behind her, silently looking over her shoulder at the beautiful girl in the mirror, who was now wearing nothing but sexy underwear.  

She reached one hand behind her to find and caress his erection as he looked.  

She felt her bra being unhooked and watched the girl in the mirror as her bra fell away from her breasts and fell to the floor.  The girl’s nipples were pink and erect, and she seemed to be breathing heavily.  

She hooked her thumbs into the elastic of her panties and pulled them to the floor.  Now naked, she looked into the boy’s eyes and slowly began to raise her arms behind her head...

But Peter caught her wrists in his hands and said, “I’m your slave today.  Tell me what you want.”

She held his gaze for a moment and then said,  “Very well, slave.  Stand right here.”  

She stepped aside and placed him where she’d been standing.  Then she said, ”Take off your clothes, slave,” and he replied, smiling,  “Yes, Mistress.”

When he was naked, she said, “Stand with your hands behind your head, slave.”

“Yes, Mistress.”

When he had done so she stood behind him and wrapped her arms around him, pressing her breasts against his back and her loins against his buttocks.  

Then she watched over his shoulder as the girl in the mirror reached forward and delicately began to stroke the length of the boy’s cock with just the pad of her index finger, drawing long lines and tiny circles up and down, barely touching him.  She looked up and saw that the boy’s gaze was glued to what she was doing with her hand, and that he was breathing very heavily.  

She caught his eye and said,  “You like what I’m doing, don’t you, slave?”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“You want me to do it some more, don’t you, slave?”  

She curled her hand around it, deliberately pumped it once, then stopped.  He groaned.  

She continued, “You want me to let you put your cock in my mouth, don’t you, slave?”  

She pumped him again, once.  He groaned again.  

“You want me to bend over and let you put your cock up my ass, don’t you, slave?” 

 She didn’t even pump him this time, as he was already moaning and saying, “Oh god...oh god...please...”

 Instead, she took her hand off his cock and turned him around to face her.  Then she looked into his face, and said, deliberately, “Well, I’m not going to.  Pick up all those clothes and follow me.”

“Yes...oh god...yes, Mistress.”

She waited until he had gathered up all their clothing, then turned and led him back to her room.  

She closed the door after them.  

Then she came and pushed all the clothing out of Peter’s hands and put her arms around him.  

She hugged him tightly, enjoying the feel of his erection against her belly and the way his chest hair felt against her breasts.  She stood up on her toes and kissed him, sweetly.  

Then she looked deeply into his eyes and said,  “Make love to me, Peter.”

When he started to protest, as she had known he would, she put her hand over his mouth and said.  “Yes.  It’s time.”  

Then she smiled at him and added,  “And anyway, you have to do what I tell you, don’t you...slave?”

She saw the acceptance in his eyes and released him.  

Together they pulled off the spread, then the blanket and top sheet from her bed.  

They lay down on it together, lying on their sides, nose to nose, hip to hip and knee to knee.  

They lay there unmoving, looking into each other’s eyes, breathing each other in.  Losing the boundaries between them.

At last they began to kiss again—tenderly, passionately—as if declaring their love without words.  

He gently eased her onto her back.  He kissed her neck, the hollow of her shoulder.  He kissed the skin above her heart.  He kissed, first one nipple, then the other.  With the tip of his tongue he traced a path that followed the circumference of one breast and wound slowly upward until it reached the nipple again, while the fingers and palm of his hand made smooth warm circles on the slight curve of her belly.

He brought his mouth back to hers and began to kiss her with greater intensity, sliding his tongue in and out of her mouth, as his hand slid downward through the curly thatch of hair and began to stroke and tease between her legs.  

She spread them wider to allow him access and began to moan under his kisses.  His strokes began to match themselves to the slow acceleration of her breathing, and soon she began arching her back to meet his strokes, urging him deeper, until finally she could wait no longer.  She tore her mouth away from his.

“Peter!  Ohhh…! Peter!”  

She grabbed his arm and tried to pull him over on top of her, spreading her legs as far apart as she could.  

He quickly positioned himself, supporting his weight on his elbows, and she felt the tip of his cock gently parting her lips as it slid slowly into her, only a little way at first, then withdrawing.  She could feel her lips there, sliding lusciously over the head of his cock as it withdrew, and remembered how it felt to have him in her mouth that way.  

Then he was pressing forward again, and she felt herself stretching a little more to receive him, and she wanted to weep with the pleasure of it.  Everything else they had done was wonderful, exciting and sexy, but this was...exquisite.

Again, a slow, sensuous withdrawal.  Oh god, she wanted all of him inside her, now!

When he began to press forward again, she arched her back and thrust her hips up to meet him.  There was a sudden sharp pain that made her cry out, and she heard him cry, “Oh!” as the full length of him slid inside her.

Everything stopped.

“Jane!  Are you all right?  Did I hurt you?”

She opened her eyes and found herself looking directly into his.  She smiled, raised her head to kiss him and let it fall back to the pillow.  “I’m all right,” she said softly.  “It just hurt for a second.”

She felt her love for him pouring out of her eyes and into his.  “You’re inside me, Peter,” she whispered.  “You’re inside me.”

He lowered his face to hers and kissed her, and they lay like that for a long time, not moving, just experiencing the sweetness of their joining.  

Then, slowly, she began to move her hips under him.  The receding movement of his cock was slightly painful, but not terribly so.  And to feel its return, to feel herself being filled up with him again was so blissful as to make any slight discomfort insignificant.  

Oh god, she couldn’t believe how good it was to feel herself opening to him, to feel his maleness pushing into her, filling her, over and over.  She wanted it to go on forever.  

Having his cock in her ass had been excitingly naughty, but here, she knew, was where it really belonged.

Slowly, they began to find a rhythm.  They kept it as slow as they could, for as long as they could, but the need for release became stronger with every passing second.  Soon they were both babbling and moaning and whimpering, and though they tried to hold back, they were now at the mercy of an impulse as old as life.

In the place where they were joined, she felt a growing lava-like heat that seemed to suddenly overflow and rush up her spine.  

“Oh!  Oh, Peter!  Oh god, I’m going to…  Peter!  Oh, PETER!  OH...GOD!”

 And she suddenly felt as if the lava had burst out through every pore in her body.  She was filled with fire and, oh god, such unbearable sweetness...

A few seconds later she realized that Peter had been answering her cries with his own, and now she felt him coming inside her.  This triggered her again, and she hugged him tightly to her, crying, “Yes!  Oh yes, Peter!  Oh god, I love you...” 

She could feel his cock throbbing as he came inside her, and she felt herself throbbing there in response, as if trying to squeeze every last drop out of him. She looked into his eyes, and it was as if a kind of sweet electricity was flowing between them, joining them in a way that seemed almost spiritual, and yet just as intense as their physical joining.  

Eventually there was silence.  And a deep peace.

Her heart felt open and airy, as if a warm breeze was blowing through it.  She wanted to pull the rest of him inside her, to feel him as sweetly in every part of her body as she felt him now where they were joined.  She almost felt that she could sense the beating of his heart there, as well as where his chest lay against hers.

Then after a while it was as if they had drifted, unknowing, back into their separate bodies. It was not a sudden thing; more like a gradual awakening from a shared dream.  They stared wonderingly at each other–and a little sadly, as if searching for that lost piece of themselves in each other’s eyes.

His hands were under her shoulders, and he continued to hold her as he slowly rolled to the side so that they both were resting their heads on the pillow.  He was still inside her, but she could tell that it would not be for long.  They said nothing, just continued to hold each other and look into each other’s eyes.
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