It was like an avalanche. Once it started coming at you, there was no pulling out. That's what Melanie thought as she was tightly blindfolded with Kate's silk scarf, cutting off her vision completely. The blackout was somewhat terrifying. Melanie began to realize what it was like to be blind, to be dependent upon others for guidance, to never know what was coming next.
Her mind was filled with misgivings as she was led out of the dormitory into the snow. It was a dry snow, but the blast of cool fresh air upon her face came unexpectedly. She had no idea where Kate Cartwright was leading her, only that they had left the day room and were walking down the path to the road.
"Stop here," Kate ordered.
Melanie sensed that she was now in the presence of some of the other girls, but which girls she had no idea because nobody spoke. She could hear them shuffling about in the snow. She stood frozen in her tracks, waiting to be guided and then she heard some whispering, but she could not make out what was said. Apparently several of the girls were not in agreement about something.
Eventually, one of the girls dropped all efforts of secrecy. "Sheila said they were to go alone in the first sleigh and we were to follow."
"Shut up," one of the other girls snapped.
"All right," Kate said, tugging at Melanie's arm. "Get in."
Several unseen hands helped Melanie into an open sleigh and a moment later the horse was pulling them down the road. Melanie knew it was Kate who sat beside her. She knew her roommate well, and she could identify the eau de cologne Kate wore. It was hers, but Kate was always using it.
"Where are you taking me," Melanie asked.
"You're not supposed to ask any questions," Kate informed her. "It's part of the rules."
"Why all the mystery, Kate? It's kind of childish, isn't it?"
"You'll find out." There was an indecisive pause. "Although I guess I can tell you that much. But only because you're my roommate and because I'm your sponsor. The coterie has it's own club and you aren't supposed to know where it is until you're a pledged member."
"What are they going to make me do, Kate?"
"I've told you more than I should already. You'll just have to wait and find out. Look, Melanie, you don't have to go through with it, if you want to change your mind. It's not too late to back out."
"No, I want to be a member."
"Then don't ask any more questions."
Melanie had nobody to blame but herself. Ever since she had arrived at Turbenthal Hall for her first semester two months ago, she had wanted to be a part of Turbenthal's inner circle, The Witchwags, a very exclusive clique in one of the Switzerland's most exclusive boarding schools for young ladies. The girls who went to Turbenthal were from rich families all over the world. The girls who belonged to The Witchwags had to be something more than special. They had to be attractive, mentally sharp and very talented in one capacity or another. Most of the members of the Witchwags were the richest, the best dressed and consequently the most popular girls at Turbenthal.
Since Melanie's enrollment at Turbenthal Hall, there had been a tremendous amount of speculation and chit chat among the other students about the activities of the Witchwags. They said the Witchwags drank and carried on with some of the boys up at the Ski Lodge and broke all the school rules. Melanie charged it off to envy, but it did appear as if the Witchwags always had the best times, although their meetings and parties remained a secret, even to the school's faculty.
Melanie ached to be in with the group, but it wasn't easy. Melanie did not come from a very wealthy family. She did not have as much money to spend as some of the other girls, but she did have extremely good looks and an outgoing personality. The new girls in their first year at Turbenthal looked unofficially to Melanie as their leader. There had even been some talk among the new students of forming a club of their own, separate and apart from the Witchwags, but it came to nothing. The Witchwags were too well organized and too powerful for any competition.
It had taken Melanie all of her two months at Turbenthal to get the members of the Witchwags, especially Sheila Winslow, the President, to consider her a--likely candidate. Now she was being taken blindfolded to an unknown initiation, a ceremony all the members seemed to take quite seriously. There was something ominous about the proceedings which led Melanie to wonder if it was so terribly important that she become a member of this exclusive coterie. She wasn't so sure now.
Melanie reasoned that it was for her family's sake that she wanted to make good socially. She was an only child. Her father, Samuel Stevens, was the author of a best selling novel in the States, but his success had been recent and not without years of struggle and rejection slips. Sam and Nora Stevens wanted their daughter to have all the good things in life that they had never had. They wanted Melanie to be accepted in the best social circles, to perhaps have a career of her own, or to marry into a prominent family. For those reasons, they decided to send Melanie abroad, to enroll her in an exclusive school for girls, to insure that she had every advantage.
The tuition alone at Turbenthal was exorbitant and Melanie was aware of the personal sacrifices her mother and father had to make to give her this opportunity. She could not let them down. She felt she owed it to them to make good at whatever she did.
The cold air began to penetrate through Melanie's fur-lined ski jacket. It seemed to her that the ride in the open sleigh would never end. She surmised that they were riding through curved mountain roads for almost a half hour.
"How much farther, Kate? I'm getting cold."
"Don't talk," Kate ordered. "We're almost there now. If you say any more, I'll have to report it to the committee."
A few minutes later Melanie sensed the horse slowing down. It suddenly occurred to Melanie as the sleigh came to a complete halt that she and Kate were not alone in the open conveyance. Somebody besides Kate had to be driving the sleigh.
"Here we are," Kate announced. "Be careful getting out."
Her roommate's hand firmly gripped Melanie's arm and eased her cautiously out of the sleigh. She was turned about quickly so that she could not determine which direction she was being led. Nervously Melanie bit at her lower lip as she walked hesitantly beside Kate, her guide, up what appeared to be a wooden ramp. She was startled by the rapping of a heavy knocker upon what must have been an enormous door. Almost immediately, the door was opened and Melanie was guided inside. As she was ushered across the room, the door closed behind her and was bolted. It was a terribly final sound, one that made Melanie feel increasingly nervous and help less.
She tried not to think about what might be in store for her, but instead she tried to determine what sort of place she was in. She could hear the crackling of a fire, and guessed that she was in a very large room of a Swiss chalet or a ski lodge. She was positive that there were others in the room and guessed them all to be girls by their feminine scents. She could hear the faint sound of their collective breathing, of the occasional shifting of weight in chairs, the rustling of a coat or a dress. She had the uneasy feeling that she was surrounded by the entire membership of the Witchwags. She felt strangely exposed and vulnerable.
Nobody was touching her now as she stood alone, her blindfold securely in place, her hands nervously at her sides. Nobody spoke, not even in whispers as the room settled down to a deadly silence. It was all Melanie could do to control her trembling body and maintain what she hoped would appear to be a calm, casual attitude. But the silence was agonizing. She suspected that all eyes were focused upon her, which only added to her self-consciousness. Melanie told herself, however, that this was probably part of the initiation, a way of establishing if a girl had poise or was a fidgety bundle of nerves.
Suddenly a hand tapped Melanie gently on the shoulder, and she felt like she would jump out of her ski boots. She realized then that her jitters were quite obvious to all those present in the room as her reaction produced a series of giggles.
"I'll take your jacket," an unidentified voice said, as hands tugged at the zipper on Melanie's jacket and helped her to remove it. A moment later she felt herself being guided backwards into a position in front of the crackling fire. The heat against her back felt good and reassuring, and gave her the sense of security she needed so desperately. Melanie decided to relax, to be as cooperative as she could and accept her fate good naturedly.
Sheila Winslow's voice suddenly projected above the incidental noises in the room. Melanie recognized it immediately. Sheila was the best known girl at Turbenthal.
"We have called a special meeting here this afternoon," Sheila declared, "to decide whether one Miss Melanie Stevens is worthy of the honor of being accepted as a member of the Witchwags. Miss Stevens, your sponsor Miss Katherine Cartwright has submitted your name to our committee for consideration. Are you aware of this?"
"Yes, I am," Melanie replied meekly.
"Are you then willing to submit to our interrogation of you, to accept whatever initiation is prescribed by the committee."
"I guess so."
"If you are not sure, Miss Stevens, you are free to leave our club and the matter will be dropped. If you stay, we expect you to follow the rules of our ceremonial rites and never reveal them to any outsider regardless of who or what that outsider might be. All Witchwaggers are pledged to complete secrecy."
"I understand."
"You understand, but do you agree-and agree willingly?"
"Yes, I do. I would like very much to become a Witchwagger."
"Every girl does, Miss Stevens, but very few are accepted. Is that clear?"
Melanie nodded, facing the direction of Sheila's authoritative voice. "Yes, very clear," she answered uneasily.
"Good, then let us proceed. To begin with we will ask you a series of questions regarding your character and background. We expect straight forward, honest answers. No hedging will be tolerated. Any evasiveness will automatically disqualify you from consideration."
Melanie did not like Sheila Winslow from the first day they met and she liked her even less now. It was her snobbish superior air that annoyed Melanie the most, but if Melanie wanted to be a member of the Witchwags, she would have to tolerate the organization's President.
"I understand," Melanie said. "And I will answer all questions directly. I realize there are no secrets among Witchwaggers."
"Very good. Please state your full name, age, hometown and country."
"Melanie Dee Stevens. I'm nineteen. My home is in New York."
"What does your father do?"
"He is a writer."
"What kind of a writer?"
"A novelist. A very good one. His latest novel, "Crime of Fools" has been number one and two on the best seller list for over nine months. Most of the girls at Turbenthal have borrowed my copy and read it."
"Are there any members here who have read this book," Sheila asked.
"I have," one voice offered. "It's pretty sensational. You know. Sexy." , Melanie felt somewhat relieved when she heard snickers from the group. It eased the tension to know that several of the girls were for her.
Sheila's voice, however, remained serious and impersonal. "And what are your ambitions, Miss Stevens?"
"I don't have any yet," Melanie replied.
"And what were your reasons for coming to Switzerland-to Turbenthal particularly."
"I thought it would broaden my horizons."
"It will, dear, if you become a Witchwagger," somebody offered and the entire room burst into laughter.
Sheila ignored the remark and went on with the questioning. "What about marriage and babies?"
"No plans," Melanie stated flatly.
A new and changed voice came from the other side of the room. "Do you have a boyfriend back home."
"No. At least nothing serious."
"Do you have one here."
"No," but give me time.
A third voice, syrupy sweet, faintly mocking, startled Melanie by coming in close, almost breathing in her ear. "What's wrong, dear. Don't you like boys?"
Flustered, Melanie turned in the direction of the voice. "Well, yes. It's just that I haven't been here very long. There's been no opportunity to meet anybody."
"We make our own opportunities," another voice reported.
"You don't sound very convincing, Miss Stevens," the girl with the syrupy sweet voice said.
Melanie could feel her pulse quickening. She drew a breath, hoping to steady herself before speaking. "I like boys as well as anybody. I just don't think they're the only thing a girl should have on her mind."
"Oh, the stuffy, old fashioned type," one of the members of the group remarked.
Hoping to undo the damage, Melanie quickly continued to explain herself. "I have many other interests. I like skiing and reading. I adore going to the theatre, designing clothes and sometimes just being with other girls. Boys aren't the answer to everything. At least not to me."
"Perhaps, you'd better explain yourself," Sheila injected pointedly. "Tell us the extent of your experiences with boys. To begin with, are you a virgin?"
Melanie felt her heart skip a beat. She expected laughter to accompany the intimate question, but the room remained silent. She could feel her palms perspiring as she braced herslf. "Yes, I am. I'm neither ashamed of it, nor proud of it."
"Do you consider yourself innocent?"
"I suppose so, but no more innocent than a lot of the other girls."
"Are you proud of your innocence?"
Melanie struggled to keep with the rapid pace of the probing questions. "Not especially."
"Are you saving yourself for your husband?"
Melanie sensed that it was a baited question. She paused for a second to formulate her words. "Since I have no immediate plans of getting married, I guess my answer is no. But I'd have to be very much in love with a person to ... well, to go all the way. And then it would be with the idea of marriage in mind."
There was a noticeable pause and Melanie wondered whether her answer to the last question had disqualified her. The Witchwags had a wild reputation. Melanie had heard some of the tales, most of which she didn't believe. It was just girl talk, but she knew that the coterie would not consider her if she was a little miss goody-two-shoes. She wished she could go back and alter her statement, even if it meant lying, but there was no time.
The syrupy voice floated toward her again. "Do you enjoy petting, dear?"
"What do you mean?"
Sheila's voice cut in: "The members will please be more specific in the questions asked. To rephrase the question for the applicant, a member wishes to know if you have ever allowed a boy to fondle you."
"Yes," Melanie said quickly. She was determined to blot out the impression of being innocent.
"How far did you allow him to go?" a totally new voice asked.
"As far as my breasts."
"No further than that?"
Melanie felt her knees weakening and her cheeks flushing. "No further."
"Did you enjoy it?"
"Yes," Melanie admitted hoarsely.
"Were you ever fully undressed in front of a boy," Sheila asked abruptly.
For the first time since the questioning began, Melanie was grateful for her blindfold. She doubted if she could answer such personal quetsions while looking somebody in the eyes. For some unexplainable reason she was not annoyed by the questions. She felt obliged to answer them truthfully and without shame.
"Yes, I was, on several occasions."
"Will you tell us the circumstances," Sheila requested.
Melanie was ready for them on this one. "It was my cousin, Roger, who came to stay with us for awhile when his mother died as the result of a car accident. He was a year older than I was, but I was only twelve at the time."
There was a mild stirring of amusement in the room until Sheila cut it off with her next statement. "I see. Well, I think we have sufficiently explored that particular aspect of the applicant's attitude toward sex." Her tone was one of disappointment. "I suggest we turn to another area."
Melanie's body began to release some of the rigid tension that had gripped her with uncertainties. It occurred to her that she had passed the first phase of the initiation, which generated a small measure of confidence. She began warming up to the situation.
"I'm sure you are aware, Miss Stevens, of the high standards maintained by the Witchwags," Sheila resumed. "Our club is comprised of only the most attractive and popular girls at Turbenthal. Do you feel qualified in that respect?"
"How do you mean?"
"Do you consider yourself attractive?"
Melanie squared her shoulders against the pangs of self-consciousness. "I'm not sure. That depends on how other people see me, doesn't it?"
"We're glad you feel that way, Miss Stevens, because we are now going to play the Witchwag's game that will help us to decide just how attractive you are and at the same time the game will determine just how fast thinking you are."
"You mean it's a game of wits?"
"Yes, I think we might call it that."
"May I remove my blindfold now?"
"Not yet."
"How do you play the Witchwags game?"
"There are no rules for you to remember. It is a game that is played only once by every newcomer to our organization. All you have to do is fulfill a certain request."
"Just one?"
"That is correct, providing you guess what the request is."
"You mean I have to guess what you're thinking."
"Not exactly. I will ask for something. And you must guess what it is."
"May I ask questions?"
"No, you may not ask any questions. That is the only rule. Just obey."
Melanie took a deep sigh and braced herself for the next round, whatever it entailed. "All right, I'm ready."
"Will two members please step forward to assist the applicant," Sheila requested.
A tremor passed through Melanie's body as she felt the presence of two girls taking their respective positions on opposite sides of her. One of the girls wore an unusual smelling perfume that was overwhelming, a scent that Melanie could not identify, nor could she remember having smelled before. She could not for the life of her imagine who the girl could be.
"All right, settle down everybody," Sheila ordered. "The game will now begin and the majority opinion will be honored. Miss Stevens will be judged by all present as to whether or not she is worthy material for the Witchwags."
There was a pause in the proceeding that seemed interminable to Melanie. The girl on her right, the one wearing the strong scented perfume, took advantage of the moment to address her.
"Don't be nervous, dear," she whispered. "We all have to go through this." It was the syrupy sweet voice that had addressed Melanie previously during the interrogation.
"Well, what are we waiting for," Sheila asked briskly? "Will Miss Stevens' sponsor step forward and explain the situation?"
"Oh, that's me," Kate was heard saying. "I'm sorry. I forgot that part of it."
A moment later Kate stood before Melanie and addressed her in a phony theatrical voice that convinced everybody that Kate was a bad actress. "You are now the slave of the all powerful, all mighty high priestess in the kingdom of the Witchwags. Her wish is your command. Do you understand?"
When Melanie failed to answer, the syrupy sweet voice prompted her. "Say I do."
"Sorry!" Melanie repeated hesitantly, "I do."
"Oh, what is your wish, oh great and powerful high priestess," Kate intoned as she turned away from Melanie?
"I am looking at an article of clothing the slave is wearing ... a particular article of clothing. I wish to have it." Sheila made no pretense at disguising her voice, no attempt to give the illusion of a high priestess.
"Very well, oh mighty one," Kate said as she turned back to face Melanie. "Did the slave hear the request?"
"I heard, but I don't get it. What does she want?"
"That is for you to guess. Make an offer to the high priestess and it will be accepted or rejected."
"An article of clothing I am wearing," Melanie repeated to herself. She was at once confused. "Any article of clothing?"
"No," replied Sheila impatiently. "I said a particular article of clothing."
"That could be anything?"
"I suggest you make an offer to the high priestess," Kate said.
"My ski boots, maybe?"
"Make the offer and see," replied Kate.
Melanie bent over to remove her ski boots and was aided by the girl on her left, who took the boots away from her and handed them to Kate.
"The slave offers you a pair of ski boots, oh mighty one. Will you accept them?"
"No," the high priestess answered with an air of annoyance. "They are not what I desire to have."
Melanie heard her boots being dropped to the floor and began to wonder what was the point of the game.
"The high priestess does not wish your boots, slave," said Kate, still in character. "You will have to make another offer."
"What now," Melanie sighed. "My sweater?"
"That is not for us to say, slave. Make the offer and see."
As Melanie removed her sweater with the help of the sweet voiced highly perfumed aide on her right, she was suddenly struck with the realization that the game was forcing her to strip off her clothing. Dazed, unable to regain any sense of composure, she obeyed, pulling at her cashmere sweater up over the fullness of her breasts. She lifted her arms high over her head as the aide pulled off the sweater, and she was surprised to discover that she felt curiously excited by it.
"I hope you're not the shy type," the sweet voiced aide remarked to Melanie as the sweater was removed.
Once again the routine was repeated by Kate. "The slave offers you a blue cashmere sweater, oh mighty one. Will you accept it?"
"The blue cashmere sweater is not what I had in mind."
Now Melanie began to panic. She tried to collect her thoughts, but she was too nervous and confused. She knew there had to be a catch to the game. Sheila had agreed that it was a game of wits, of quick thinking. "An article of clothing that I am wearing," she thought to herself. "What can it be?" The list of items she was wearing was narrowed down to her socks, her slacks, her bra and panties. It occurred to Melanie to offer her wrist watch, but would it be considered an article of clothing?
She quickly found out that the wrist watch was not acceptable, nor were her socks or her slacks. Melanie now stood before the group stripped down to her bra and panties, shivering with humiliation, praying that Kate would not say what she expected her roommate to say.
"The high priestess does not desire your slacks, slave. You must make another offer."
Melanie suddenly felt herself being made a fool of and resented it. "Hasn't this game gone far enough."
"That is up to you," Sheila replied. Melanie had no choice but to go on with the game. She dared not to back out. The girls would make her life miserable at Turbenthal. She had heard stories about other girls who had not been good sports about the Witchwag initiation. They had not remained at Turbenthal for very long.
"Well, what is it to be," Sheila said impatiently? "We do not have all day."
Melanie jumped slightly as she felt tiny cold fingers working at the clasp of her brassiere.
"Don't be nervous, dear," the sweet voiced aide advised her. "There's nothing to be afraid of. There's nobody here but us girls. Take a chance."
"It had to be the brassiere," Melanie thought. She caught her breath as the bra sprung loose and it took every ounce of courage to suppress the urge to shield herself as the cups were plucked away from her. A wild tingling spread through her, accompanied by waves of goose-bumps, as she felt her nipples reacting to the exposure. She could almost feel a dozen or so pair of eyes feasting upon the fullness of her naked breasts and this awareness caused her breasts to grow larger and heavier than ever before.
Melanie trembled as she stood before the group, one stitch from being completely nude, locking her legs together in an effort to keep her knees from buckling. She tried to steel herself with the thought that the end could not be far off and that it would all be worth what she was enduring at the moment, but her mind refused to surrender the mental image of herself standing there in just her panties.
There was no stopping the tiny cry that escaped from her lips when she heard Kate again.
"The high priestess does not wish a brassiere. You will have to make another offer."
"The slave really isn't using her head, is she," Sheila added and the group burst into gales of laughter.
Melanie took a step backwards, closer to the fireplace, her head reeling, her dizziness intensified by the strange inner excitement and the heady scent of the girl's perfume on her right.
"Are you going to make another offer or not," another voice asked from a far corner of the room.
"Must I?" Melanie pleaded.
"Would you rather eliminate yourself from consideration?"
"No, but. ... I really don't see the point of all this."
"You will very soon, so please proceed."
Melanie wished her heart would stop pounding long enough for her to catch her breath. Gritting her teeth and trying not to think of what she was doing, she quickly peeled the tight sheer panties down her slender hips and thighs. She stepped out of them and straightened up awkwardly, suffering agonies of self-consciousness. She felt somebody picking up the panties off the floor near her feet.
"You're a knock-out, dear," the syrupy-smooth voice drawled in the softest of whispers.
Melanie felt that she would sink to the floor in a flood of embarrassed sobs any moment. Every inch of naked flesh tingled with awareness, every tiny current of warm air made itself felt against her awakened and extended nipples. Her thighs and buttocks were so rigidly tensed that the muscles in them ached in protest. She turned suddenly toward the fireplace, presenting her back to the group audience, waiting for a verdict, when she felt unknown, unfamiliar fingers tapping her on the shoulder.
She turned about sharply to hear Kate saying, "You will have to make another offer."
She could not believe her ears. What did they want? They had stripped her naked, left her humiliated and chagrinned. An article of clothing she was wearing. She had offered everything except ... suddenly it came to her in a flash. How could she have been so stupid not to have guessed it?
Melanie removed the silk scarf she had been wearing as a blindfold and a rousing cheer exploded from the group. It was the blindfold they had wanted all the time and Melanie had just not considered it. She had to agree the joke was on her.
Melanie found herself laughing good naturedly along with the others as she blinked her long lashes and focused her eyes against the brightness of the large room she found herself in. It was a beautifully furnished room in a lodge that she discovered she had not been in before, and she wondered who owned it.
"Miss Stevens, you're not very fast thinking," Sheila, the attractive blonde president, was saying, "but I do feel you have quite a few other assets working in your favor."
"Thank you," Melanie said meekly.
"The members will now express their approval in a show of hands," Sheila ordered. "All those who feel the applicant qualifies for membership both in personality and in physical appearance, please raise their hands."
The voting was unanimous in Melanie's favor.
Sheila turned back to Melanie, as articles of her clothing were being handed back to her. "You have been found worthy of further consideration," Sheila announced with a charming smile that was too forced to be genuine. "This does not mean that you have been accepted as a full fledged Witchwagger. You have only passed the first two phases of the initiation. The third phase is a test of courage and loyalty. Preparations for that test have already been made and you will take it tonight. Is that clear?"
"Yes," Melanie responded, knowing that she should be dismayed by the news of further challenges but feeling only relieved and faintly exhilarated that she had endured all that had already taken place.
"Let the girl get dressed, for Heaven's sake," Kate said, "before she catches her death of cold." She took Melanie by the arm and led her off to a small bedroom to the right of the fireplace.
A flash of embarrassment made Melanie's steps awkward and she wished her breasts would not sway so weightily with every step she took.
Once they were in the bedroom Kate said lightly, "You can relax now, but hurry and get dressed. There's still more to go."
"Nothing could be as bad as that game," Melanie remarked. "Tell me the truth, Kate, did you have to go through all that?"
"I certainly did, right down to my wrist watch. I didn't think about the blindfold either. Most of the girls don't. You're too nervous to think."
"Why didn't you warn me?"
"I couldn't. It's against the rules. But if I had, I bet you wouldn't have gone through the initiation and I want my beautiful red-headed roommate to be one of the group."
"I know I wouldn't have gone through with it, but now that I have, do you think I'll make it?"
"I'm sure you will, Melanie. All the girls want you." 'Kate checked herself and stammered for a second. "I mean they think you're a good sport and they like you. I was watching how they reacted."
Melanie blinked and blushed, realizing that she was still naked. She began to dress hurriedly, setting the pile of clothes on the foot of the canopied bed and beginning with the brief panties. She felt better the moment they were on and even more at ease once her breasts were tightly encased in the brassiere.
At that moment, a sleek-looking brunette charged into the room gracefully, closing the door behind her. It was Ursula Pavio, a striking Italian beauty, who Melanie had met but had not really had an opportunity to get to know.
"How do you feel," Ursula asked in a husky voice that had a slight Italian accent.
Melanie blew out her breath and smiled. "Shattered."
The brunette girl gazed at Melanie in a somewhat amused manner. "It is a little frightening at first, but we all know how you feel. Only thing is, that figure of yours puts all of us to shame."
Melanie smiled gratefully as she slipped into her slacks and zipped them up on the side. She wiggled her head into her sweater and pulled it down, before starting to brush her rumpled head of red hair. "I suppose I don't dare ask what happens now."
"We join the others," Kate answered. "You can relax over a drink and have something to eat. They're going to serve Swiss Fondu."
"Marvelous," said Melanie. "After that ordeal, I'm starved. By the way, whose place is this?'
"It belongs to my father," Ursula answered. "But he found himself a new lady friend in San Francisco and never comes up here any more. So I stay here and we use the place as a clubhouse for the Witchwags."
"How convenient," was all that Melanie could think to say. She had admired Ursula's beauty and had wanted to get on friendly terms with her, but Ursula, who was in her second year at Turbenthal Hall, had been rather aloof and distant toward her up until this point. Melanie was convinced it made a lot of difference being in with the in-group.
"I'll be with you tonight," Ursula offered as she lighted a cigarette.
"What do you mean?"
"When they send you out on your last assignment."
"Oh, yes. I almost forgot about that."
Melanie didn't feel she should ask about the mysterious assignment. After she finished brushing her hair and touching up her lips, she indicated she was ready to join the others. Ursula blew out a cloud of smoke, smiled knowingly and followed Melanie and Kate out into the other room.
Melanie felt strange walking back into the room where she had to face all the girls who had just seen her naked, but she shrugged it off and decided to put it out of her mind.
"You don't have to worry" Ursula assured her, "about the girls making any bad jokes about what you've just gone through. You're popularity stock has shot way up after this afternoon. You would be surprised how much we all admire you now-including me." Ursula stared at Melanie as she spoke. There was a strange look in her eyes.
Melanie found herself puzzled by the statement, but more and more intrigued by Ursula with every passing minute.
CHAPTER TWO
The moment Melanie reached her room in the dormitory-the room she shared with Kate Cartwright-she threw herself on her bed completely exhausted. It had been a strange and trying day, a day that wasn't over yet. There was more to come. Ursula had said that she would telephone about eight that evening which gave Melanie several hours to relax, to turn herself off and store up all the energy she could for the third and final stage of her initiation. She recalled Sheila's words-"a test in courage and loyalty." Whatever they had cooked up, Melanie told herself, it was going to be a whopper.
Following the first two stages of her initiation, Melanie had enjoyed herself enormously. She had accepted two cocktails and had dipped into the delicious Swiss Fondu along with the others and had almost forgotten about her humiliating ordeal. None of the girls stared at her, except Ursula, who was the most cordial. No one smirked or giggled in her direction. It was as if she had been one of them for years instead of being a new recruit they had just put through the wringer.
The girls who were members of the Witchwags were all so poised, so attractive, so very sure of themselves. Melanie wanted so much to be considered one of them, wanted to like them in every respect. All at once she was very glad, very glad indeed, that she had not weakened during the interrogation. She was determined to pass whatever silly test they put her to.
Being a Witchwagger, Melanie concluded, made all the difference in the world, if you went to Turbenthal.
Some of the girls were naturally more attractive than the others. Some were more out going and friendly, while others appeared to be cool and aloof and sophisticated ... yet there was a sameness to the group, a subtle uniformity, a stamp of breeding that set them apart from any group of girls Melanie had ever known. She wanted to be like them more than anything else in the world.
For some unfathomable reason, Melanie could not forget the girl with the heavy perfume and the syrupy, sweet voice that had sought to reassure her and had ventured to whisper the startling bit of flattery when she stood naked and blindfolded. Melanie had expected the girl to come up and identify herself the moment she had reentered the room, but for some reason the girl apparently preferred to remain anonymous.
She had not found Sheila Winslow any easier to like than before. There was something about the slender and aristocratically lovely English girl that annoyed her and yet she could not find a basis for her feelings. Cold almost to the point of being insufferable, the President of the Witchwags certainly seemed to command a lot of respect and admiration from the other members. Next to Sheila, Ursula seemed to be the second in command and in popularity. Melanie wondered if it was due to her father's wealth and the fact that she used her father's ski lodge for the clubs meeting and parties.
Melanie's thoughts came to an abrupt end when she heard the doorknob turning. She glanced up as Kate waltzed into the room. Her cutely curved roommate was humming softly and it was obvious that she had enjoyed one too many cocktails.
"Melanie, you were marvelous. All the girls have been talking about you. I'm so proud that you're my roommate."
"Thanks, Kate. I'm really indebted to you for sponsoring me."
"Forget it. I'm sure you're going to make it. I just hope you aren't angry at me for not having warned you about what was going to happen. I had to keep it a secret."
"I understand. It would have been unbearable if I had known."
"You're the first girl I've sponsored-and everyone says you're a marvelous candidate-even Sheila."
Melanie tried to keep her voice casual as she voiced the question that kept nagging at her mind. "Kate, who was the girl who helped me undress-the one on my right. The one with the soft sweet voice?"
Kate's face grew visibly sullen. "Oh, her! That's Olivia Lucas. Do you like her?"
"I don't even know her. I haven't the faintest idea who she is. I was blindfolded, remember."
"That's right. You don't know Olivia, do you? She was here last year and had to drop out in the middle of the semester. Her mother died. She just returned to Turbenthal this week."
"What's she look like?"
Kate softened somewhat. "Well, Olivia's sort of pretty, if you like that type. Long hair, angelic, frail. I've never cared much for her myself. She's too vain and too much of a will-o-the-wisp type."
Melanie let the remark pass unchallenged but she repeated the girl's name over and over again to herself. Olivia Lucas. Olivia. It fit the syrupy voice and the tiny fingers.
"Oh, I almost forgot," Kate remembered. "Ursula is picking you up at eight-out in front of our dorm."
"I don't suppose you can give me a hint as to what I'm in for?"
"I wouldn't think of it," Kate stressed. "You might not go through with it. Anyway it won't be long. Ursula will explain everything to you when you meet at eight o'clock. Good luck."
Melanie nodded and settled back on her bed.
"We're having a get together tonight at the club house," Kate informed Melanie. "We'll all be there waiting for the results."
Melanie sighed. "Heaven help me."
Ursula was waiting in front of the dormitory at eight o'clock when Melanie came out. She was seated behind the wheel of a sleek looking white Ferrari, gunning the motor. She wore a stunning leopard skin jacket with a wide spread collar that was pulled up to frame her glossy black hair and her olive complexion.
"I congratulate you," Ursula said as a greeting.
"Why?"
"Some of the girls-Olivia Lucas for one-thought you might chicken out."
"Not me, Ursula. Once I start something I go all the way."
"Good!" Ursula possessed a mature sophistication that made her appear to be older than she was. She could have easily passed for 24 or 25.
Melanie climbed into the front seat beside Ursula and closed the car door. The Ferrari made a U-turn and a moment later was roaring down the school driveway to the outer road. Melanie gazed at Ursula and marveled at how easily and casually she handled the powerful car. She sighed enviously as she thought about girls like Ursula, who could afford all of life's luxuries and yet seemed to accept them in such a matter-of-fact fashion.
Melanie drew a breath, enjoying the flow of cool evening air against her face. She felt refreshed and experienced a new tingle of anticipation as they sped toward her unknown assignment.
Ursula turned to smile at her, the close cropped black hair fluttering attractively in the wind. "Before I break the bad news to you, may I ask you a personal question?"
Melanie laughed wryly. "Are there any questions left to ask?" Ursula chuckled appreciatively. "Fire away. Ask whatever you like."
"You room with Kate Cartwright?"
"Yes, why?"
"Do you like her? I mean are you two very close?"
"Of course I like her," Melanie answered slightly bewildered. "I don't know what you mean exactly by 'very close,' but we are good friends. We met at the beginning of the term when I came to Turbenthal and was assigned to room with her. When I found out Kate was a member of the Witchwags, I asked her to sponsor me. That's about it."
The brunette gave Melanie a searching look as she took her eyes momentarily off the road. "You haven't the slightest idea what I am trying to find out, do you?"
Melanie shook her head honestly. "No, I don't."
Ursula laughed huskily. "Oh, baby, are you in for a shock."
"About Kate?"
"About everything," Ursula replied. "When you said this afternoon you were innocent, you were not joking, were you?"
Melanie watched Ursula manage to light a cigarette while steering the Ferrari with one hand. She pondered over Ursula's remarks and tried to make some sense out of them. The only thing she could be certain about was that she was rooming with the rather frivolous and scatterbrained Kate Cartwright.
"We're almost there so perhaps I had better start to brief you," Ursula announced flatly, without looking in Melanie's direction. "Don't bother to ask any questions when I am finished. I will tell you all I am supposed to, and that is as far as I can go. I am a very loyal Witch-wagger."
Melanie suddenly felt tense again. "I understand."
The glowing cigarette bobbed in the darkness as Ursula spoke without removing it from her lips. "About three weeks ago we had a little party. Unfortunately, it got a little out of control. A member of our esteemed faculty, Mrs. Briar, happened to be in the immediate area and ... well, most of us got away in time, but one of our members was caught in the act ... and I do mean, caught in the act without being fully dressed."
Melanie could not restrain the giggle that came from her throat. "Who were you initiating then?"
"Never mind. That's not the point. Mrs. Briar reported the matter to the Dean of Discipline who telephoned the girl's father and gave him a vivid account of the incident. Fortunately, the father of this particular girl happens to be a substantial contributor to Turbenthal Hall, so the matter was dropped. Money always talks, even in academic circles."
"I'm beginning to believe it," Melanie said appreciatively.
"The point of all this is that the Witchwags have decided to even the score with that bitch Mrs. Briar, who informed on one of our members. And that is where you come in, my dear Miss Stevens."
"Oh." Melanie's mind was beginning to conjure all sorts of terrible prospects and it took all her determination to sit quietly without asking questions, waiting for Ursula to go on.
The Ferrari made a sharp turn, throwing Melanie over against Ursula. As Melanie straightened up in her seat, she noticed that they were driving through Faculty Circle, a group of small but attractive houses lining both sides of the curved road that were occupied almost without exception by members of the faculty at Turbenthal.
Ursula slowed down the Ferrari and pulled off to the side of the road. She switched off the headlights and the motor and leaned back in her seat to light another cigarette. "Do you know who lives in the end house?"
"I can guess. Mrs. Briar?"
"Very good. As a matter-of-fact, that is why you were picked for this mission. We knew you weren't in any of her classes." Ursula glanced at her diamond wrist watch and leaned forward to open the glove compartment, taking out a metallic flask. "Would you care for a little blast before going into battle?"
"No, thank you," Melanie trembled, gazing at the house on the corner.
Ursula tilted the flask and then licked her lips before screwing the top back into place. "We've waited for just the right moment to get even with the bitch. The faculty is having a progressive dinner tonight."
"A progressive dinner?"
"That's when a group of people get together and plan a seven course dinner, going from house to house for a different course." Ursula nodded her head, indicating the house across the street that was all lighted up.
"They're all over at Miss Krauss' house right now for the meat course. The little dears are probably stuffing themselves. They're all due at Mrs. Briar's house for coffee and cake in about another hour, so there's plenty of time."
"Time for what?" Melanie gulped, almost afraid to ask.
Ursula slumped back in her seat and gazed at Melanie. "All right, here's your instructions."
Melanie turned stiffly in her seat, her stomach fluttering, her palms perspiring. All at once, the night air was cold and it made her shiver. From what Ursula had told her, it was obvious that she was merely a pawn in a game of revenge, but she knew that if she refused to carry out her mission, she'd be ostracized by the Witchwags.
"You're to go around to the back of the house and enter through the kitchen door," Ursula resumed, her voice soft and yet crisp. "It will be unlocked. It has all been arranged. Once you are inside the house, go into the study-it's to the right of the hall in the front-and leave these." Ursula reached under the seat and produced two books and a dozen or more postcard size pictures neatly tied together.
Ursula paused long enough for Melanie to accept the packet and inspect it. The pictures were all lurid Parisian postcards of nude models, both men and women, posed in obscene positions. By the titles on the side of the books, Melanie surmised they were just as shocking. One was a book on sadism; the other was a novel titled "Love is a Four Letter Word."
"They're all vividly illustrated," Ursula informed her. "Leave the books on the coffee table and place the pictures all around the frame of the mirror over the mantle. Are you still with me?"
Melanie stared at the beautiful Italian girl in disbelief. "Yes," she sighed nervously. "I think so."
"Next you go up the stairs to the second floor. There are two bedrooms. Mrs. Briar's bedroom is to the left. Once inside the bedroom, muss up the bed-climb into it and roll around a lot. Oh, and this is important. Be sure and get lipstick smears on the pillow." Ursula reached into her purse at this point and produced a small bottle of perfume. "Here, take this; and sprinkle a little bit around."
Melanie looked at the small bottle of perfume. It was called "Passionata."
"Now once you have mussed up the bed and left it looking as though an orgy has taken place, you are to slip out of your panties and leave them behind on the floor near the bed."
"Ursula, I don't think. I mean, I never expected anything like this."
"Please, let me finish." Ursula reached into the back seat of the car and produced a small cosmetic size kit. "Here, take this also, and leave what's inside it on the night table."
"May I ask what's in it?"
"A few priceless little props. The things men and women use to protect themselves when they do things they should not be doing together."
Melanie took a deep breath, trying to calm her fears, trying to draw confidence from Ursula's lack of concern. "What do I do then?"
"That's all. Then you just sneak out of the house the way you went in."
"Will you be here waiting for me?"
"I'll be here waiting, with the motor running." Ursula smiled and gave Melanie a reassuring pat of confidence on the knee. "Don't worry baby. There's nothing to worry about. If anybody approaches the house, I'll honk the horn and give you a warning to get out fast. Now, have you got it all straight?"
"There's only one thing. I mean I just don't see the point with the bedroom. What if some of the members of the faculty don't go into Mrs. Briar's bedroom?"
"It doesn't matter. Mrs. Briar will be going into the bedroom to take off her coat and hat. And Mrs. Briar has a husband who is quite a chaser. He's tried to get friendly with several of the girls."
"Oh, I'm beginning to see. You want Mrs. Briar to think that her husband has been cheating on her."
"That's the idea. And if some of the faculty members should venture up to Mrs. Briar's bedroom, all the better."
"Are you sure nobody's in the house now."
"Positive. You can see for yourself. All the lights are out." Ursula glanced down at her wrist watch. "It's getting late. You better go right now."
Melanie knew if she stopped to analyze all the ramifications, she would never be able to go through with such a daring mission. She checked to make sure she had everything-the books, the small kit and the bottle of perfume-and then started to hop out of the car, looking about cautiously.
Ursula's voice halted her movements. "One thing more, Melanie. If anything goes wrong, well, that is where the test of loyalty comes in. You're on your own, understand? You're not to say anything to involve the Witchwags. Make up whatever story or excuse you like, but leave the club out of it."
Melanie nodded determinedly. "I understand."
"Good luck."
Melanie moistened her lips as she stepped out onto the quiet road and gave Ursula one final look before starting toward the house on the corner. The only sound of life came from the house across the road, where the faculty was enjoying the main course of their progressive dinner.
While the greatest part of Melanie's mind suffered with thoughts of what could go wrong, and what could happen to her as a result of her actions, a small part was amused by the ingenious plot devised by The Witchwags for harassing Mrs. Briar for being an informer.
She crossed the yard and circled the quiet house toward the rear, straining her eyes against the darkness in search of the back door. She found it without any difficulty and slowly, ever so cautiously, turned the knob. She prayed with all her heart that the door was locked, that something had gone wrong with the arrangements, but unfortunately, the door swung inward under her touch.
Hesitating, her heart pounding wildly, Melanie took a deep breath and stepped inside, slowly closing the door behind her.
CHAPTER THREE
She could not resist the temptation of glancing at several of the illustrations in the two books before placing them on the table. They were graphic and detailed. One could not possibly look at them without being aroused to a physical state of excitement. It was a new sensation for Melanie, one that surprised her more than the luridness of the illustrations. It was the same with the shocking postcard photographs that she took the time to carefully place around the framed mirror over the mantle, which gave her the opportunity to study each one individually. She could not for the life of her imagine how the girls had procured such lurid material while at Turbenthal Hall, which was situated in a very small ski resort community, almost forty miles away from any sizable town. Melanie had to give them credit for their efforts.
Melanie bit hard on her lip, wishing for an end to the wild pounding of her heart, searching for the needed courage to proceed onward with her dangerous mission. For a moment, she considered leaving the house immediately ... but then, the thought of Ursula Pavio and the other members of The Witchwags cancelled the temptation.
She peeked out of the study and saw the stairway that led to the upper floor and Mrs. Briar's bedroom. She tiptoed stealthily into the hall and around the banister of the stairway. Fearful chills coursed up and down her spine as she started to ascend the stairs. It wasn't until she had reached the top of the stairs that she allowed herself to draw a breath. There were two doors at opposite ends of the hall and Melanie had to rack her brain to recall which one Ursula had said belonged to Mrs. Briar. Finally she convinced herself that it was the door on the left. She wondered about the occupant of the other bedroom? Suppose Mrs. Briar had a visiting relative that the girls were not aware of and suppose the relative had not gone to the progressive dinner?
Melanie told herself to do what she had to do as quickly as possible and get the hell out of there. She bent over to remove her heels, her hands trembling so that she feared dropping them in her nervousness. She saw the opened bedroom door to the left and moved toward it. As she did so, a floorboard squeaked beneath her weight and she froze, her heart skipping a beat. She turned her head sharply and stared at the unopened door at the opposite end of the hall. She waited, dreading the worst, but when the door did not open, she convinced herself that she was alone in the house and gradually relaxed.
The bedroom was shrouded in darkness, the shadows lessened somewhat by rays of moonlight that slipped through the windows. Melanie stood just inside the door to Mrs. Briar's bedroom, letting her eyes accustom themselves to the limited light as she reviewed in her mind all the things that she had been instructed to do.
At that moment, everything seemed impossible and nightmarish.
Remembering Ursula's warning that her time was limited, Melanie forced herself into action. She moved to the bed quickly and pulled down the blanket and the top sheet. Then she jumped upon the bed and rolled around on it. It all seemed so ridiculous, so insane, for her to be doing what she was doing.
Next, she smeared some of her lipstick off on one of the pillow cases and then leaped off the bed, opened the small kit and dumped all the items on the night table. She was not even sure she knew what some of the items were, but she dared not take the time to find out. She could only guess that they were the sort of things her mother had described to her when she got her first lecture on the facts of life.
Melanie paused long enough to recall what else she had to do and for a moment her mind went blank. Not until she saw the small bottle of perfume she had clutched in the palm of her hand did she remember.
As she uncapped the small bottle and sprinkled the liquid on the bed sheets, she was given another jolt. The heavy scented perfume was the same that Olivia Lucas had worn that afternoon. There was no mistaking that heavy sweet odor. It was like no other perfume she had smelled before, one that quickly circulated and permeated the room.
A suspicion that Olivia was somehow involved in this game of revenge raced through Melanie's thoughts. Perhaps Olivia Lucas was the girl who had been caught in the act by Mrs. Briar. Melanie put her curiosity aside and tried to concentrate on what had to be done. There was still the matter of removing her panties. As she leaned over to peel down her panties, she turned slightly and in the process, a shock of fright raced through her entire body as she caught a flash of movement across the room. A scream of terror escaped from her throat before she realized she was looking at herself in a mirror attached to an opened closet door on the other side of the bed. The fleeting scare left her limp and trembling and she closed her eyes, trying to calm herself.
When she opened them again, her reflection in the mirror served to remind her of the insanity of the moment. A strange excitement began to ripple through her brain, one she had trouble understanding or explaining, and for the moment, she continued to stare through the shadows at her mirrored image.
Is this really me, she thought, unable to accept the fact. Is it possible that I'm actually doing this crazy thing?
Melanie shook her head and bent over to remove her panties quickly. She tossed them aside carelessly, telling herself that she had had enough of this wild adventure. Time was running short and she felt she could not bear to spend another minute in this house.
She made her way through the opened door and was about to descend the stairs when she remembered that she had left her shoes, the small zipper kit and the perfume bottle back in the bedroom. She returned to the bedroom, gathered up the forgotten articles quickly and dashed back out into the hallway, turning back to partially close the bedroom door.
As she made another half turn back toward the head of the stairs, she glanced up and froze in her tracks with a gasp. Standing before her in the hallway was a middle-aged man she had never seen before, an overweight man with a protruding paunch, who wore nothing but his ill-fitting long underwear.
"Well, now," the man said leering at Melanie, "what have we here?"
He took several steps forward and as he did so, all the blood seemed to drain out of Melanie's body. She could riot for the life of her scream. She could not move. She just stood there staring at this stranger, paralyzed with fear.
"What's your name, sweetheart?" As the man started coming toward her, she made a sudden jerk backwards. The movement momentarily startled him. "Don't be afraid of me, little lady. I won't tell on you, if you'll be nice."
Melanie's paralysis was destroyed by a burst of cold panic. "Don't come near me," she screamed. "Just don't touch me. I ... I didn't take anything, as you can see." She could feel herself teetering on the brink of hysterical tears as she looked around, seeking some avenue of escape.
The man gave her a sickening smile, releasing an odor of bad breath. "I also see something I'd like to take, sweetheart. You bet I would," he chuckled and then added, "You be nice to me and I'll be nice to you. What do you say?"
Another choked sob broke from Melanie's lips. Shaking from head to toe, she couldn't seem to make herself move in any direction. It wasn't until the half naked, round-faced man made another move toward her, that she erupted into frenzied motion. In a state of complete panic, her fist plunged into his pudgy chest, knocking the man slightly off balance, but enough to allow Melanie to sweep past him and race down the stairs.
"Come back here, you little thief."
The shout spurred Melanie to greater speed, and she literally sailed out of the back kitchen door into the yard. She ran on through the darkness, stumbled and falling, dropping the things she carried. She retrieved them quickly and staggered on. She prayed desperately that Ursula Pavio would still be in her car waiting at the side of the deserted road.
Her lungs bursting, panting heavily, she emerged from Mrs. Briar's yard and stopped for a second to catch her breath. As she brushed back her loose red hair, the Ferrari headlights went on and the motor turned over. Melanie whimpered her relief and continued on to meet the white sports car that was approaching her. A door swung open and she jumped into the red leather seat even as the car continued rolling on down the road. The moment she closed the door, Ursula gunned the motor and the sleek car roared away from Faculty Circle. Melanie slumped low in her seat, still gasping for breath but limp with the realization that she was safe.
Ursula slowed down after they were back on the highway and turned to glance at Melanie. "What happened, baby? Anything serious?"
Melanie related what had happened, not overlooking a single detail and once she had finished Ursula burst into raucous laughter. "Do you have any idea who it could be?"
"It could only be one person," Ursula choked out from her laughter. "Mr. Briar, the old bastard himself. Who would have thought that he would be home and in bed at this hour?"
"He might have been drunk or sick or something. He looked terrible."
"That's it," Ursula concluded. "He was probably sick in bed."
"What am I going to do now," Melanie moaned.
"You look as though you need a drink, baby. Here."
"I certainly do." Melanie took the flask gratefully and uncapped it.
The whisky seared her throat and made tears spring to her eyes, but she forced herself to swallow a second time. The heat was already spreading through her chilled and trembling body and her nerves were becoming calmer as a result. She coughed, lowering the flask momentarily, and noticed that Ursula was cruising into the dormitory driveway.
Ursula glanced at her. "Take it easy with that stuff. It's dynamite, especially if you're not used to it."
Melanie sighed wearily, lifting the flask again. "I, don't care what it is. I was never so scared in my whole life." She took another swallow and realized that she was becoming a bit dizzy. "Oh, Ursula, what am I going to do if Mr. Briar tries to identify me?"
"He wouldn't dare, not after trying to make a play for you. He'd have more to lose than you would."
"I hope he looks at it that way."
"Who the hell cares," Ursula shrugged. "What can he do?"
"I don't know. That's just it."
Ursula laughed wryly as she swung the sports car to the curb and into the thicket of trees just beyond the dormitory building. After cutting the motor and lights, she leaned back and looked at Melanie. "All in all, I would say you had yourself quite an evening, Miss Stevens."
"An evening I'll never forget." Melanie felt the need for another drink, as the thought of what she had just been through still gave her the shivers. This time the whisky did not seem as strong as it had earlier. In fact, as it slid down her throat, it seemed smooth and wonderfully warm. When she finished she handed the flask back to Ursula and leaned back contentedly. "I hope I never have to go through anything like that again." She rolled her head on the red leather seat to look at Ursula. "Do you think I've passed all my tests, Ursula?"
"With the flags waving, baby."
"Really?"
The slender Italian brunette flipped her cigarette butt into the darkness amid a shower of sparks. "You are now a member of the notorious Witchwags," she announced. "And this will make it official," she added, cupping her hand around Melanie's neck, drawing the girl forward.
There was a strange light in Ursula's eyes and Melanie had only a flicker of time to sense what was about to happen. She felt herself being pulled forward and saw Ursula's ruby red lips descending toward her own. The strange lips fused and a sudden tremor of excitement coursed through Melanie's body as a warm and seductive tongue caressed and probed the roof of her mouth with startling artistry.
Melanie remained motionless, neither helping nor resisting, her eyes wide and her senses reeling as the kiss grew more intimate and possessive. She felt weak and dizzy and her brain refused to function. She wasn't sure if it was really happening or whether she was just so drunk that she was imagining it.
Before she was fully aware of the beginning of the caress, Ursula's hands had slid beneath her blouse and the gentle fingers were fondling her bare breasts. Melanie felt as though she were drowning in a sea of sensation and a new heat, stronger than that of the whisky, began to suffuse her. She could feel herself sliding lower in the seat beneath the forcefulness of the kiss. Her body began to quiver as the fingertips tested and kneaded the soft fullness of her breasts. She moaned helplessly as they centered their manipulations on her sensitive nipples and the sea of sensation commenced to swirl like a great whirlpool.
"Ursula...." she gasped, sliding her mouth free for the necessary intake of air.
"Hush, baby," the girl whispered, continuing the fondling and kissing.
"Ursula, don't ... don't..." she whimpered, her head rolling from side to side on the leather seat, her body on fire as the hands brought her virginal nipples to a state of complete and throbbing erectness.
"Let me make love to you, baby," Ursula murmured huskily, her rich black hair tickling Melanie's cheek as her lips trailed down in hungry wanderings. "Don't be afraid."
Melanie couldn't seem to think clearly and then, suddenly, she couldn't seem to think at all. She jerked uncontrollably, crying out, her senses rocked by a piercing pleasure as her blouse was ripped open and Ursula's soft lips captured the tip of her exposed breast. "Ursula, don't..." she gasped, her fingers tugging weakly at the closely cropped hair.
The kiss continued, devouringly, and Melanie felt herself sinking under the spell as the spiraling circles of sensation robbed her of all resistance. She moaned helplessly as Ursula tore the blouse further away from her, completely freeing both her bare breasts. Melanie had not bothered to wear a bra that evening underneath her loose fitting blouse and the kisses roamed with new freedom, bringing her stiff nipples to unbearable sensitivity and her swollen breasts to a state of constant tingling.
"Ursula, please...." Melanie whimpered, frightened by what was happening and by what she was feeling. "Oh, please ... stop. Stop it."
The weakness evaporated with heart-stopping quickness the moment Melanie felt Ursula's hand sliding beneath her skirt. She cried out and shoved the girl away from her and twisted frantically in the leather seat to fumble with the catch of the car door. It sprung open and Melanie all but fell out, her red hair swinging loosely over her eyes, her bare breasts swaying and heaving as she stumbled and then regained her balance.
Melanie tugged at her blouse and her jacket, pulling them about her with trembling hands as she blinked in astonishment and confusion at the girls who remained seated in the white sports car. "Ursula, what on earth ... how could you? I don't understand ... I just can't..." Melanie stopped stammering, her brain not functioning adequately.
Ursula returned the stare, her olive complexion very pale in the moonlight. "Welcome to the club, little virgin," she stated softly, somewhat cynically. "Welcome to The Witchwags. Now you know what it is to be a full fledged Witchwagger."
Utterly bewildered and still shaken by her own response to Ursula's kisses, Melanie could do nothing more than stand there in silence and watch the girl start up the car and drive off into the night. As she watched the flickering lights of the Ferrari disappear into the darkness, the cryptic words kept echoing in her head and although she didn't fully understand their meaning, they frightened her.
Welcome to the club. Welcome to the Witchwags. Now you know what it is to be a full fledged Witchwagger.
CHAPTER FOUR
The wild adventure at the Briar house, the initiation ceremony, the interrogation-the embarrassing questions, the ordeal of stripping off her clothing in front of an entire group-all seemed mild and pale in comparison with what had just followed in Ursula Pavio's car. The episode with Ursula had left Melanie completely unnerved and yet curiously alive. Her body was exhausted from the long and eventful night, but at the same time sleep was impossible. Not even a hot shower followed by a cold one had succeeded in ridding her of the disturbing tingle of physical awareness.
The dormitory was quiet. The chimes in the chapel steeple were just sounding the hour of curfew and most of the school lights were being extinguished. Melanie lay on her back in her bed, the sheet drawn up to her chin, staring through the darkness at the door of her room, wondering how Kate Cartwright could ignore dormitory regulations without getting into trouble.
Melanie resigned herself to the prospect of a few sleepless hours. At least she had accomplished her mission. That was the important thing. That made her feel good. But her mind kept racing back to the scene in the car with Ursula and it only added to her restless, jangled state. She could still feel Ursula's lips on her breasts and the memory of them and the pleasure they evoked made her squirm in the warmth of her bed. She rolled over on her side, hugging her pillow and tried to concentrate on having become a member of The Witchwags. She speculated on the many advantages of being a part of society's inner circle. She considered the freedom and many privileges it afforded girls her own age and then the image of the beautiful Ursula Pavio seated behind the wheel of her sleek Ferrari returned to her.
Ursula again. She could not get the girl out of her thoughts. Was it possible that a girl, whoever she might be, might want to do the same things Ursula tried to do? Was it possible that all of the girls in the club kissed and fondled one another that way? Was that what Ursula meant when she said welcome to the club?
Melanie shivered uncontrollably, unable to deny or to understand the element of excitement contained in the incredible possibility. Even if such a thing was true, why should she be so vulnerable to it? No, she thought firmly, trying to get a grip on herself, it couldn't be. It just wasn't possible. The girls in the club were too clever, too sophisticated, too well-bred and too popular to be ... well, anything but what they seemed to be. And yet what was sophistication? And what did being well-bred have to do with it?
Melanie's troubled and inconclusive reverie came to an abrupt end when she heard the door open and Kate Cartwright slipped into the room.
"Melanie? Are you awake?"
Assuming the motionless pose of sleep, her eyes open but veiled by her lashes, Melanie ignored the whisper. Kate waited a moment and then shrugged, her fingers moving to the zipper of her skirt. Melanie watched the rosy cheeked Kate undress carelessly as she swayed unsteadily, dropping her clothes lazily on the floor. A vague stirring made itself felt deep within as Melanie watched through the narrow slits of her eyes her roommate's soft white shoulders and plumply full breasts being exposed. Even in the poor light of the room, Kate's breasts glowed invitingly and Melanie stared helplessly at the chubby roundness and the tiny pink dots. The dryness in her throat increased as Kate stepped out of her half-slip to reveal her shapely hips and smoothly rounded thighs, provocatively contrasted by a pair of tight black lace panties. The swells and hollows of the girl's gleaming body refused to permit Melanie's secret gaze to break away and all at once, she knew that if Kate spoke again, she'd no longer pretend to be asleep.
Kate left the panties on as she paused to light a cigarette and blow the smoke out in a cloud. She sighed as she sat down on the edge of her bed. Melanie lay still, unable to take her eyes away from the fleshy gloves that glistened so alluringly in the dim light, her mind recalling Ursula's queries regarding her relationship with Kate. Suddenly, the vague questions took on new meaning and Melanie felt herself trembling with nervousness as she studied her cute roommate seated on the bed across the room.
Kate yawned and rumpled her brown curls as she extinguished the cigarette in a tray beside her bed. Then, stretching out her arms, she peered through the shadows at Melanie. A small speculative frown took shape before becoming an impish grin. Kate rose from her bed and tiptoed across the space that separated their beds and Melanie tensed in excited anticipation. Her roommate leaned down and Melanie could smell the liquor on her breath.
"Melanie? Melanie, wake up. I got something to tell you."
Melanie's eyes popped open wide as Kate's fingers touched her bare arm and then her cheek. "Oh, it's you, Kate," she murmured in an effort to sound drowsy.
Kate sat down beside her, causing the mattress to sink and Melanie's body to roll slightly toward the seated girl. "I just wanted to congratulate you," Kate whispered. "Ursula told us all about it. She gave us all a full report. It must have been hysterical."
Melanie inched her hip away from the warmth of Kate's thigh. "It was," she said softly, faking a yawn.
Kate giggled childishly. "Did you really have to fight off Mrs. Briar's husband?"
"Almost. The old boy didn't look like he could be trusted."
"Oh, I wish I had been there. That's wild." Melanie cleared her throat and shifted her position, feeling intimidated by the nearness of the adorable breasts and the scantiness of Kate's black panties. "I guess getting caught killed the whole deal, huh? I mean he would naturally check everything and straighten the place up before Mrs. Briar and the faculty arrived at the house."
"Oh, no. Let me tell you. Several of the girls were there watching the house-hiding a short distance away. They saw the lights go on upstairs in Mrs. Briar's room, so he might have had time to straighten up the bedroom. We're not sure. But seconds after you and Ursula drove away, Mrs. Briar and the faculty members arrived. The old boy wouldn't have had time to get dressed, to go downstairs and gather up the pictures and the books from the study."
"Oh, dear, I wonder what happened," Melanie said with concern.
"Wouldn't you have loved to see Mrs. Briar's expression?" Kate giggled. "Whatever happened, the faculty didn't stay to have cake and coffee."
"I just hope I don't run into Mr. Briar or that he doesn't try to describe me to his wife. I'm the only girl at Turbenthal with red hair."
"He won't and there's little chance of you running into him again. He never comes over to the school. Mrs. Briar won't let him, we're told. Anyhow, Melanie, you passed the test. You're now one of us. You are a full fledged member of The Witchwags-with junior standing, of course."
"What does that mean?"
"It means you're a wagger for the first year, like me. After a year, you become a wag. Sheila and Ursula are the only two wags in the club this year. A lot of the girls from last year didn't return to Turbenthal."
"I see," Melanie said as another thought concerning Ursula penetrated her mind. She glanced covertly at Kate. "What else did Ursula tell you about ... about tonight?"
"What do you mean?"
"Did she say anything ... I mean anything special about me."
A sly wariness crept into Kate's child-like eyes and Melanie knew instantly that she'd exposed herself. Kate's lips formed a pout before speaking and it was clear that she was excited about the subject that Melanie had so awkwardly introduced. "Oh, she raved on and on about you. Why? Did Ursula try anything with you?" Kate asked eagerly.
Melanie squirmed uneasily. "Try anything?"
"Yeah, did she try to make out with you?"
"Kate!"
Her roommate grimaced impatiently. "Oh, come on, Melanie, don't act so innocent. There are no secrets in The Witchwags. Now that you're a member, you can be honest with me. Everybody knows that Ursula is gay and if she didn't try to seduce you ... well, it would be the very first time."
"I'm not sure I understand, Kate. How could she seduce me?"
Kate blew out her breath in annoyance, her disbelief obvious. "Ursula Pavio is a real gay girl. She's butch ... a dyke ... a lesbian, like in the story of Sappho and her followers in Lesbos. Don't tell me you haven't read about that?" Kate's voice softened and her eyes regained the earlier slyness. "All of us fool around with one another from time to time but we're not really gay. We do it for kicks, because there's a shortage of boys. There's nothing wrong with it as long as you can take it or leave it alone." Kate's fingertips trailed over Melanie's shoulder in a timid and hesitant caress. "It's kind of fun."
Melanie felt feverish. She was beginning to tremble and nothing she could do seemed to lessen the nervous fluttering of her stomach. She could hear her heart pounding and the restless fire that Ursula Pavio had ignited was once again burning brightly. Afraid to move, afraid to speak, she stared up at the naked breasts and the cute nipples in helpless surrender.
"Didn't you ever have a special girl friend back home?" Kate asked softly. "You know, someone you liked a lot, someone you could talk to and be close to every so often, like you'd stay over night at her house one week end when the family was away and then she'd come over and stay with you the next time."
"No. I didn't have a friend like that. My family never left me alone."
Kate folded the top sheet down to Melanie's waist and then returned her fingers to the buttons of the pajamas. "This past month, ever since school started and we were assigned as roomies, well, I've been dying to be close to you this way. I kept hoping for some sign, some hint that you might want to be close to me, too. Just let me show you how nice it can be..." Kate opened the top two buttons of the pajama jacket and gently spread the top apart, exposing Melanie's high-peaked breasts. "It doesn't have to mean anything," Kate continued, her voice strained, her face flushed. "That's the best part of it. I mean, it's different than going to bed with a boy. It isn't nearly as serious or important. Please, Melanie, let me show you. You can stop whenever you want."
Melanie croaked the words weakly. "You won't tell the others?"
"I promise."
Melanie caught her breath as Kate's fingers began to stroke her breasts lightly, "All right," she whispered, her lashes becoming heavy with languor as the caresses lulled her into a euphoria of contentment. "Just this once..."
Kate's smile was as eager as her hands and she hurried to rid the .obstacle of the top sheet. She rose up on her knees beside Melanie and plucked anxiously at the pajamas. "Lift up a little."
Melanie obeyed, her heart racing, her flesh quivering. She felt the pajamas being stripped from her body and when her nakedness was complete, she heard Kate's low sigh of admiration. There was another movement and when she turned her head, she saw her roommate wiggling out of her black lace panties. All at once it was hard to breathe and Melanie shuddered as she stared at Kate's smooth plump nakedness.
"Move over a little," Kate whispered, sliding down on the bed.
Melanie tensed as their bodies made contact and the sensation was a strange and wonderful one. Kate's small chubby hands began to roam freely and even as they did, the moist red lips wandered all over Melanie's body.
"You're beautiful," Kate mumbled, her face lost in the valley of yielding flesh, her hands boldly stroking Melanie's tensing buttocks. "I really mean it, Melanie. You're one of the best looking girls I've ever known. Oh, you feel so wonderful. I could love you to death."
Melanie allowed the dizziness to cloud her awareness of what was happening and permitted her body to respond by sheer instinct. The warm pleasure rolled over her in rhythmic waves as Kate continued to explore her femininity with soft kisses and childishly curious caresses. Melanie was struck by how much easier it was to accept them from the avid Kate than it had been when she'd been taken by surprise in Ursula's car. Being naked and in bed was probably part of it, she thought foggily, but the real difference was that she felt safer with Kate than she'd felt with the masterful and excitingly demanding Ursula.
She felt Kate tugging at her hand and heard the girl panting heatedly. "Touch me, too," Kate whispered urgently, guiding Melanie's hand. "like this."
Melanie hesitated, embarrassed, and then complied with awkward shyness. It was as if her hands belonged to someone else once the initial contact was made. Kate moaned aloud and her excited response was manifest in the fierce kiss she administered to Melanie. The secret probing of Kate's hands grew more hurried and Melanie felt her body begin to pulsate with maddening intensity.
Kate twisted, clutching Melanie feverishly, her breathing ragged and her rounded body quivering. "Oh, Melanie ... Melanie," she whimpered in tiny bleating moans that seemed to vibrate in her throat.
It seemed unreal to Melanie that she should be squeezing the incredibly round and spongy breasts with such artistry. It seemed unbelievable that she should be able , to make the pretty pink crests grow so rigid. "Am I doing it right?" she asked, curiously detached for the moment.
The squirming and gasping young school girl groaned her answer and tightened her embrace, shifting her body suddenly so that Melanie was guided to a more dominant position. "Now..." she panted desperately, imprisoning Melanie with her limbs as she began to convulse with new fervor.
A wild delirium enveloped Melanie and she followed Kate's guidance willingly, finding a new excitement in the variance of their lovemaking. In a matter of a few seconds, she was no longer able to control the wild undulations of her hips and her body began to quake with ecstatic tremors. A terrible and yet wonderful expectation mounted within her and she shuddered, uncertain as to what was about to happen but very much certain that it would happen. It was as though she was a spring that was being wound tighter and tighter until there was nothing left but for the spring to snap into a million tiny pieces.
Kate's eyes went wide and the cry that trickled up from her was more animal than human.
Melanie was well beyond the point of stopping. The convulsion rocked her to the core of her consciousness and she was only barely able to recognize the prolonged moan that filled the room as having come from her rather than from some stranger. She collapsed weakly, too shaken by the experience to think.
There was no telling how many minutes passed before she was capable of lucid thought. Melanie was aware of the passage of time but only remotely and indifferently. She could feel herself floating upwards to the surface of reality in gentle spirals and she knew that the trip was taking a long time. When finally she was able to draw a deep breath and open her eyes, she was struck by how strangely relaxed and sated her body felt.
Bathed in sweat, her legs still twitching with dying spasms of excitement, she turned her head on the rumpled sheet and looked at the naked girl lying beside her. Kate's mouth was open and her dark lashes fluttered each time she snored. She was hugging a pillow and her plump knees were drawn up to her chest in an infantile pose of serenity.
Melanie sighed and looked up at the ceiling, her mind struggling to assimilate and analyze the scope of her new knowledge. She'd never dreamed there could be such devasting and electrifying pleasure. It had come to her so quickly, so completely, so naturally, that there hadn't been time to fully appreciate it. Now, resting, still warm from the intimate exertions of their love act, she tried to recapture the deep thrill of the explosive release of a lifetime of pent-up desires.
She felt vaguely exhilarated, as if she'd stumbled upon a great treasure and, without knowing why, her thoughts immediately jumped to Ursula Povia. It had been wonderful with Kate but she sensed that it would have been even more wonderful and exciting with the knowing Ursula ... or even with the mysterious Olivia Lucas. Kate was an affectionate puppy while Ursula was a stalking tigress, and the velvety-voiced Olivia an alluring enigma.
Melanie blinked, embarrassed by her thoughts, realizing with dismay that she was already wondering what it might be like with other girls. She frowned, berating herself, and glanced again at Kate before rising from the bed.
Kate's bed felt cool against her naked flesh, cool, crisp and refreshing. Melanie stretched out and pulled the covers up to her chin. Even as she gave the pale outline of Kate's naked body a final glance, her eyelids began to droop and a long yawn tensed her languorous body. Then, with a small smile of satisfaction, she closed her eyes and permitted sleep to claim her.
It had been a long, strangely wonderful night and tomorrow was still another day.
CHAPTER FIVE
"You'll never guess what happened," Kate said seconds after she had dashed into the room and breathlessly crossed to sit on the edge of her bed where Melanie was still sleeping.
"What," Melanie moaned, followed by a yawn. She did not have any classes that morning and Kate had been considerate enough to get up and get out without disturbing her. She stretched her legs until they hurt and desperately tried to come to life. "What time is it, Kate?" she added as an afterthought.
"Nine thirty."
"Oh, go away," Melanie moaned once more. "I don't have a class until two thirty."
"I know," Kate said quickly, "but you've just got to hear this. It's priceless."
Melanie peered at Kate through one eye. "Oh, Kate, nothing is as priceless as sleep."
"This is," Kate assured her. "My class in advanced calculus was canceled this morning."
"So, your class was canceled," Melanie repeated, still groggy and half asleep. "Happy days. Have a ball, but let me rest in peace."
"No, you don't understand," Kate replied as she nudged a little more life into Melanie. "Wake up. That's Mrs. Briar's class. She's not in school today. All her classes have been canceled until tomorrow."
If somebody had jabbed a pin into Melanie, she could not have shot up to a sitting position any faster. "Oh, my Godl What do you suppose that means?"
Kate shrugged with a chuckle. "Maybe the old bitch was up all night reading 'Love Is a Four Letter Word.' Maybe she killed poor old Mr. Briar. Who knows."
"I don't think it's very funny, Kate. I haven't heard the last of this."
"Oh, don't worry. The Witchwags won't let you take all the blame for this."
"Ursula said I was on my own."
"Oh, that's just part of the routine."
"Kate, do you know who the girl was who was caught by Mrs. Briar?"
Kate seemed surprised. "You mean Ursula didn't tell you?"
"No."
"It was Ursula."
"Oh!"
Kate hopped off the bed and crossed to the window. "Come on, Melanie, get up. It's a glorious day and I feel marvelous. Wouldn't it be a great idea, if we drove up to the ski lodge and took the north slope down? A lot of the girls from Mrs. Briar's class are going up there for breakfast."
The north slope was the steepest and you had to be an expert skier to reach the bottom without injuries. Kate was from Colorado and a very good skier. Melanie never by-passed an opportunity to ski with her.
As Melanie threw back the sheets, she suddenly realized that she had slept in the nude. She looked up and caught Kate staring at her.
"By the way," Kate said softly, purring like a kitten, "did I tell you I adore you?"
Melanie was somewhat startled by the remark and then blushed with embarrassment. "Oh, Kate, please, don't say things like that." In the cold light of day things always looked different, Melanie thought to herself. People felt more inhibited, more withdrawn and Melanie considered herself no different.
A wave of dismay swept through her as Kate turned away from the window and crossed back to her, a knowing smile upon her lips, to squeeze her shoulder in another show of intimate meaning.
"Thank you for last night, Melanie."
"Uh-huh," was all that Melanie could bring herself to say. She looked up briefly into the soft blue eyes and felt her cheeks beginning to flush. Grabbing at the bedspread, she wrapped it about her nakedness as she jumped off the bed and headed for the bathroom. Before closing the bathroom door, she turned back to Kate. "I'll only be a few minutes."
As Melanie dropped the bedspread from her shoulders and was about to step into the shower, the bathroom door swung open and Kate stood in the doorway.
"I forgot to tell you, I saw Ursula this morning," Kate informed her. "She said she would be up at the ski lodge and she hoped that you would join her there."
"Oh, really," Melanie exclaimed in an effort to be as casual as she could. "Maybe we'll see her there."
"But you are going to ski with me, aren't you."
"Of course," Melanie replied with a trifle annoyance in her voice. "Now close the door or I'll never be ready." As she stepped into the shower, she experienced a pang of guilt for being so calloused in her own attitude toward the young girl who had been responsible for opening a new door to a strange exciting new way of life. After all, what had happened between them the night before was as much her doing as Kate's and she had no right to expect Kate to remain unaffected by it. That led Melanie to another and far more disturbing aspect as the warm water splashed over her body. Why wasn't she similarly affected? How was it possible for her to look upon their intimacy with such impersonal detachment only a few hours later? It didn't make sense and yet lately, nothing made much sense to Melanie. At that moment she made up her mind to take life as she found it.
As Kate and Melanie made their way through the clusters of students, all costumed in colorful ski togs and jackets lounging on the sun-drenched deck of the ski lodge, Melanie was warmed by the friendly hellos called out to her by various members of The Witchwags. She returned the greetings happily, cradling her skis in one arm, basking in the glow of feeling as if she finally belonged. She finally had an identity of her own at Turbenthal Hall!
They found an empty table inside the lodge near the large open circular fireplace situated in the center of the room.
"I'm starved, aren't you;" Kate remarked as she handed Melanie a menu. "What would you like to have? It's on me, this morning."
Ever since awakening, Kate's attitude and behavior had been one of puppy-dog adoration and it made Melanie uncomfortable, particularly in public where it seemed to her that the other girls from Turbenthal could not miss noticing it.
As they were about to give their order to the waiter, Kate remembered that she had promised to pick up one of the girls who went to Turbenthal, but didn't live in the dorm.
"Oh, damn!" Kate complained. "Where's my mind? How could I forget a thing like that."
"Who is it?"
"Anita Borge. I don't believe you know her. She's sort of on the dull side, but she's been a big help to me in calculus. I just can't ignore her."
"Maybe you can call her," Melanie suggested.
"She still has no way of getting up here," Kate explained. "No, I'll have to drive back and pick her up. It shouldn't take me too long."
"Do you warn me to wait for you?"
"No, you go ahead and order breakfast. And remember I'm picking up the tab. I'll grab something fast when I get back. I'm sorry about this, Melanie."
"Forget it," Melanie said as Kate pranced away from the table, leaving her skis and other equipment with Melanie's.
Kate had no sooner departed when Melanie's gaze came to rest on a rear booth where she saw Ursula Povia seated opposite the regal Sheila Winslow. Ursula looked up and nodded, her smile unfathomable, her eyes vaguely amused and as always, rather cynical. Sheila turned and smiled sweetly, and, with a movement of her head, invited Melanie over to join their table.
Melanie wedged herself through the wall of laughing and chattering skiers that clogged the room. She could feel her pulse quickening and she realized that she'd come to the ski lodge more in the hope of seeing Ursula than skiing with Kate. For some reason, one she was afraid to analyze to any degree, she wanted desperately to undo the damage done to their relationship during the episode in the parked car the previous night.
"Here," Sheila said, rising to her feet, "take my seat. I was just leaving."
Melanie smiled her thanks and slid into the vacated seat, looking shyly and hesitantly across the narrow table at the chic and relaxed Ursula, who looked dramatically and boyishly attractive in the severe black sweater and matching ski togs. "Hi...." Melanie murmured.
"Hi yourself," Ursula replied, puffing on a cigarette. She seemed to enjoy using American terms.
Sheila touched Melanie's shoulder. "Oh, by the way ... I forgot to tell you last night. We're having a small party tonight at my chalet. A mixed group-boys and girls for a change. At any rate, it's a party for no particular reason than to have a ball and I'd like you to come. Feel free to drag along a date. I've got to run along." With a wink to Melanie, she added, "I'm paying Mrs. Briar a visit just to find out what is up."
Melanie said good bye and watched the slender blonde weave her way gracefully and haughtily through the crowd. When Sheila was out of sight, Melanie turned and looked at Ursula. "Do you think there's going to be any repercussions over last night."
"None at all. It will all blow over," Ursula predicted. "And if there is any trouble, we'll get you out of it. I promise you. Now forget it. Have something to eat and tell me how you feel, little virgin."
Melanie blushed and lowered her eyes. "I'm glad I found you here today, Ursula. I ... I want to apologize for last night."
"Apology accepted."
Melanie moistened her lips, wishing that the darkly attractive girl would drop her breezy manner. "I just wanted you to know that ... well, that I'm sorry I acted the way I did. It was silly and childish and ... well, it just took me by surprise."
Ursula laughed softly. "It does seem as though I was a bit premature, doesn't it?"
"Premature?"
The older and more poised girl leaned forward to deliberately crush out her cigarette in the tray. "I should have waited until you had made the scene with Kate before I made my move."
Melanie's mouth dropped open. "How did you..."
"Baby, all it took was one look at Kate's pretty little face this morning. She's like an open book."
Melanie sagged despairingly. "Yes, I know."
Ursula's slow smile was taunting and bold. "Well, how was it, baby. Did you enjoy your debut or not?"
Melanie squirmed uncomfortably. "Please, Ursula, I'd rather not discuss it."
"Never mind, I can guess."
"What I mean to say," Melanie went on, "it's difficult for me to talk about." Ursula's level gaze added to Melanie's dismay and she blew out her breath in surrender. "All right. She was sweet and kind to me and ... and I'm glad it happened. Does that satisfy you?"
Ursula arched an eyebrow. "Not me. Kate maybe, but not me. I am the one you left in the car, remember? That hardly satisfies me."
"I said I was sorry, Ursula. If you want to know the real truth, when I was with Kate I kept thinking about you."
Ursula's smile faded. "Are you serious?"
Melanie nodded shyly. "Very serious."
"It wouldn't be the same, you know," Ursula stated, her eyes glowing with a new intensity. "I am not the sweet and kind type like Kate. When I play, I play for keeps."
Melanie's stomach skipped a beat. "Yes, I know."
"Do you? It'll be different, a whole lot different."
Melanie suddenly felt reckless. "I'd like you to show me how different it can be, Ursula. That is, if you still want to."
Ursula's smile was dazzling. "Why don't we get out of here, before you change your mind or before Kate comes back?"
Melanie left a note for Kate with the waiter and then checked Kate's skies and equipment at the desk. They had considered taking the towing bucket seats up the mountainside and skiing back down so that they would be relaxed and exhilarated, but on the steps just outside the ski lodge, Melanie's nervousness caused her to slip on the snow and turn her ankle, which was immediately painful.
"We better forget about skiing," Ursula advised.
"It's nothing serious, Ursula. I'll be all right."
"It might prove dangerous. Besides we both have to be in class this afternoon and there isn't much time. My place isn't far. Let's go there and you can soak your foot."
Ursula took Melanie's arm, guiding her along the path to where the gleaming white sports car was parked.
"I think I'll be all right, Ursula. Just walking and putting pressure on my foot makes it feel better already."
"Good. But let's still go to my place."
"Okay. Whatever you say."
Melanie waited until they were some distance from the ski lodge before initiating further conversation. "Wouldn't you prefer living in the dormitory, Ursula, instead of living alone-off to yourself?"
"No." Ursula answered directly. "Most of us who can afford it try to find places of our own. The privacy is worth the added expense. Besides, I couldn't stand the strain of living in a dorm with a bunch of giggling screaming little virgins." Ursula glanced at Melanie, momentarily taking her eyes off the road. "Present company excluded," she smiled wryly.
Melanie smiled back at her and lowered her lashes, not quite sure of what she should say next. The thought of sharing a room with Ursula ran through her mind and she was surprised to discover that she found the idea most exciting. She started to make a remark about her thoughts, when Ursula stopped her.
"Tell me something?"
"Tell you what?"
Ursula's eyes were fixed on the winding road, her hands efficient in the handling of the steering wheel and yet seeming almost overly casual. "Tell me why you're in this car with me right now, headed for my place. You must have given it a lot of thought since last night."
"Yes, I have," Melanie replied. "I'm not sure exactly why I'm here. I'm not sure about anything at this point. Every things been happening so fast. I just know that I want to be with you."
Ursula nodded in silent understanding as she turned a corner and diminished the speed of the car. "Do you think you'd be here, going to my place, if my name was Roberto, or Sam or Bill and I needed a shave? Do you know what I'm saying?"
Melanie thought for a moment, welcoming the analysis, wanting to find out as much about herself as she could. "No, I don't think I would. As a matter-of-fact, I'm sure I wouldn't."
"Are you sure about that?"
"Quite sure," Melanie said as she shifted her position in the leather seat. "I can't explain it yet," she began slowly, searching for the words. "I just can't imagine myself letting a man do anything with me. I don't think I would ever enjoy it."
"Does it scare you?"
"Yes, it does. I don't know why. It didn't before, but it does now, since I came to Turbenthal. The idea frightens me. I'm sure if I ever find a boy I can love, the fear will go away and everything will be all right. But for now, I don't know." She looked at Ursula sheepishly. "Of course, ever since I've been old enough to know what it was all about, I've never met a boy I was wild about. Does that sound silly?"
Ursula laughed throatily as she pulled the Ferrari up and stopped in front of her father's luxurious discarded lodge. "You are asking the wrong girl, Melanie. For one thing, I've tried it and it doesn't frighten me ... it sickens me. For another thing, I don't put much faith in the loyalty and trust of men. I suppose my father has something to do with that. He has so many women and he makes such fools out of them." She braked the car and turned off the motor. "Well, here we are. Back to the scene of the crime yesterday."
Ursula walked ahead to unlock the door. Melanie's knees began to tremble as she recalled being led up the same path to the same house yesterday blindfolded. Now her eyes were wide open and she still was not sure that she knew what she was doing. Was it right or was it wrong? She had to know. Maybe Ursula Povia would provide her with the answer.
Ursula's voice suddenly made her aware of the fact that she was inside the lodge now and her hostess was closing and locking the door behind her. She took a breath to steady herself.
"Take off your shoes, anything you like and make yourself comfortable," Ursula was saying, "while I mix a couple of drinks."
"Thank you." Melanie eased herself down on one of the enormously puffy sofas and proceeded to take off her boots.
"How's the ankle?" Ursula called to her from the bar across the room.
"Fine. I don't feel anything."
When Ursula returned with two drinks, Melanie was struck by how much taller and more dramatically stunning the girl seemed indoors than outside. The tailored slacks and black matching sweater left little doubt as to her feminine slenderness and yet gave the sleek lines of her body an elusive sensuality. Melanie was aware of a ripple of eagerness within her as she accepted her drink and moved slightly to allow Ursula to sit down on the sofa closely beside her.
Ursula clinked their glasses. "A toast is in order. Here's to the mixed-up modern generation to which we both belong. May the merry-go-round never break down or Heaven help us."
"Are we on a merry-go-round?"
Ursula nodded soberly and leaned back against the cushion of the low-slung sofa. "That we are, little virgin. That we are. And where we stop, nobody knows." She stared at Melanie steadily for a moment before speaking again. "Are you sure you don't want to get off while there's still time?"
"Yes, I'm sure," Melanie answered, averting her eyes nervously.
"And you promise you will not panic and run away?"
"I promise," Melanie replied as she sipped the pleasant tasting drink.
"Then hurry up and finish your drink so I can put you to the test."
Trembling, Melanie gulped down the mixture of scotch and soda. "Ursula?"
Ursula took the glass from her. "Yes."
Knowing she'd never achieve full relaxation until she voiced one final admission, Melanie said, "Please be patient with me. I want you to like me but ... well, I really don't know what I'm supposed to do. Last night with Kate..."
The words were cut off by Ursula's warm lips and Melanie felt instantly reassured by the kiss. Nestling closer in the arms that encircled her, she parted her lips freely and decided she'd been right in her suspicions of the previous night. It was better with Ursula than it had been with Kate. Much better. Ursula's kisses were firmer and more meaningful. The unhurried game they played together seemed to have more purpose. Melanie's eyes closed and her body relaxed. Ursula was right. It was a whole lot different.
Ursula slowly withdrew her lips. "Don't move."
"I won't," Melanie replied without opening her eyes.
"And stop worrying about what you should do."
"All right."
"I'll do all that has to be done. That's the way it has to be with me."
Very slowly, with amazing artistry, Ursula's hands removed Melanie's clothing piece by piece. It was a strange sensation, a thrilling one. Melanie kept her eyes closed, basking in the pleasure of the occasional tantalizing touch and the exposure of warm flesh to the cool air of the room. She allowed the hands to move and guide her down full-length to the yielding cushions. She sighed deeply as the knowing experienced fingers eased her brief panties down her bare legs, completing her nudity.
Then, for a long moment, the hands were gone and Melanie shivered with awareness, sensing that Ursula was studying her total nakedness. "Do you like me, Ursula?" she asked tremulously, her heart pounding, her breasts tingling.
"You're gorgeous," the husky sexy voice responded from very near, as her hands began moving so lovingly over her body.
Concentrating on the pleasures that the knowing hands were stirring deep within her, Melanie could not help but compare all that Ursula was doing to all that Kate had done. Where Kate had been so eager and avid and hurried in their lovemaking, Ursula was playing upon her body as though it was a delicate instrument.
Even the kisses were entirely different. Kate's had been those of a greedy child, feeding and nibbling kisses, all centered on the tips of her breasts. Ursula's lips moved in a totally unpredictable fashion, from throat to thigh to breast to mouth to palm to belly to knee to nipple, tasting and sampling, teasing and delighting. Each moist new contact was made all the more wonderful because of the surprise and Melanie could feel the pleasure becoming desire and the desire becoming passion as her body twitched and writhed beneath the prolonged dalliances.
"Oh, Ursula," she breathed weakly, her head rolling on the soft cushion, "hold me in your arms, please."
"Wait."
Melanie groaned as the lips and hands withdrew again. It was agonizing and although she lay untouched, she .could feel her hips moving in want almost of their own voliton. The throbbing in her aroused breasts became unbearable and she was forced to cup her hands over the aching fullness of them in a vain attempt to lessen their agitation.
"Hurry," she moaned. "Please hurry."
"You can open your eyes now."
The voice sounded far away. Melanie lifted her lashes and focused her eyes on the naked girl who loomed incredibly tall and straight at the side of the sofa. A spurt of new excitement shot through her veins as she stared in open admiration at the towering figure. "You're beautiful, Ursula," she whispered, shocked at the perfection of the long and finely curved legs, the neatness of the narrow hips, the polished tautness of the smooth belly, the exquisite tilt of the well-spaced and diminutive breasts.
Dizzy with desire, Melanie lifted both arms in the air entreatingly, as Ursula came to her, her superbly formed body cool and wondrously firm as their bodies meshed and their lips fused. The kisses were unrestrained and wildly passionate and Melanie began to lose contact with reality. She could hear herself moaning aloud as Ursula exerted her mastery and dominance. There was a terrible pounding at her temples as the fiery kisses traced sensuous patterns on her body and she could hear her fingernails scraping the fabric of the sofa as she convulsed with breathless expectancy.
Then, with a suddenness that brought her body high off the sofa in arching responsiveness, the exploring lips put an end to their tantalizing game and sent Melanie into a whirlpool of ecstatic sensation. Great shock waves rolled over her, lifted her, buffeted her. She felt a tidal wave gathering force and then it was upon her, carrying her on its crest at an ever increasing velocity, higher and higher in the air until the wind whistled in one single shrieking sound about her. Still higher, still faster, until she felt she could no longer endure it. And then, with a momentous roar, the wave crashed ... and crashed again ... and again.
Melanie could feel her senses slowly shedding the heavy cobwebs of what seemed at first a deep sleep. She became conscious of the sound of ragged breathing and realized it was her own. Her body felt as if it had been drained of blood. She tried to move her arms and legs, but they were lifeless and incapable of obeying the command of her fogged brain. She licked her parched lips and took a deep breath and slowly lifted her lashes.
She moved her head to the right and the first thing she saw was Ursula Povia seated naked on the floor beside the sofa, her arms hugging her drawn up knees, a cigarette burning between her two fingers.
"How do you feel now," the lovely familiar face smiled.
"I can't move."
"Don't try."
Melanie closed her eyes and opened them again, and looked down the length of her drugged body. "I feel so ... so empty," she uttered, summoning the strength to move one leg in order to minimize the wanton abandonment of her position. "Is it always like that?" she asked truthfully, awed by the experience. "Is it always like a tidal wave."
"Not always, baby, but sometimes when two people are well matched. It's rare."
Melanie started to analyze the reply but decided to wait until she was in a more lucid state of mind. A not totally-unrelated thought occurred to her and she looked over at the smooth olive skinned, small breasted girl quickly. "What about you? How do you feel?"
Ursula smiled sadly. "Just fine."
"You do?"
"Of course. Why?"
"I don't know. I feel a little guilty. I mean after all what did I do to please you?"
Ursula shook her head and sighed. "Will you believe me when I tell you it was every bit as satisfying for me as it was for you, my darling? I know it must be difficult to understand, so just take my word for it. Later on, when we're both in a mood to discuss things, I'll tell you all about the birds and the bees ... but for now, just relax and don't let yourself be concerned about anything.
You'll find out all the answers soon enough I'm afraid now that you are a member of The Witchwags."
Melanie smiled mischievously and extended one hand to rumple Ursula's short dark hair. "You know something, Ursula? I'm so glad we met."
Ursula pulled Melanie's hand down to her mouth and kissed the palm tenderly. "So am I, little virgin. So am I."
CHAPTER SIX
Melanie still couldn't understand, no matter how hard she tried, about Ursula being contented to give so much love without being loved in return. It didn't seem right somehow, but then, Melanie supposed none of it could be considered right or natural. On the other hand, at least as far as she was concerned, it seemed so natural and so right for her. Anything that felt that wonderful had to be right. A quotation came to mind-a Shakespearean quotation she thought-that seemed to prove her point: "Nothing is either good or bad, but that thinking makes it so."
Still, that one aspect of the hour she'd spent with Ursula continued to nag at her. Once, when out of sheer want, she'd placed her hands on Ursula's firm breasts, the older girl had gently removed them and had whispered some vague joke about letting her stay in character. Melanie did not understand why the one-sidedness of their lovemaking disturbed her so. She wasn't even sure that she was absolutely capable of reciprocating Ursula's attention, particularly to the same extent, but the fact remained that she'd felt a desire to at least try, if only out of gratitude and fairness.
Perhaps next time, she thought quickly, putting an end to her flow of thought as she dressed and prepared for Sheila's party that evening. Perhaps the next time Ursula would permit her a deeper glimpse into the mysterious world that she seemed to know so well.
Following her final class of the afternoon, Melanie had returned to her room to find Kate in a sullen, almost bitter mood. She thought her roommate's attitude of ignoring her presence and not speaking was childish even though she felt she knew the reason why. Kate had seen Ursula dropping Melanie off at the dormitory during the noon hour which was about the same time Kate had returned from the ski lodge in her rented jeep. "Is anything wrong, Kate?"
"No, nothing," Kate replied airily. "Nothing at all. If you don't know, why should I waste my time trying to explain?"
"All right. If it's about this morning, let's have it out and have done with it."
"Why didn't you wait for me? I thought we were going to do the northern slope together."
"Kate, I didn't ski on any slope. I slipped and turned my ankle and for awhile it was very painful."
"I got the note."
"Then what are you upset about."
"You went with Ursula didn't you? Up to her place."
"Yes, I did. It was near by and I wanted to soak my foot."
"You spent the entire morning up there?"
"Yes, I did. Anything wrong in that?"
"When you have a date with somebody, you don't just walk out and leave them flat."
"Now, Kate, be reasonable. I didn't leave you flat. You had made some sort of arrangements with that other girl, Anita whats-her-name. And besides I didn't know how long you were going to be. Now come on."
"Did you really turn your ankle?"
"Yes, I did. Not seriously, but I have a bruise to prove it."
It was apparent that Kate suspected that something had gone on between Ursula and Melanie. In a way, Melanie was glad, knowing in her heart that after having been with Ursula she could never again be content with the brand of love Kate could offer. At the same time Kate's obvious jealously and bitterness worried her. She had sensed long ago that the childish girl was capable of being every bit as malicious as she was appealing.
"I suppose you'll be meeting Ursula at the party," Kate injected suddenly, "or is she picking you up in her Ferrari?"
"We'll both be meeting Ursula at the party, as you very well know," Melanie replied. "And no, she will not be picking me up. I plan to be going with you, unless you're dragging along that local girl who's so brilliant in calculus."
Kate grunted and slipped back into the sullen silence as they left the room together and headed for the party at Sheila Winslow's chalet. Melanie made one or two attempts at idle conversation during the drive from the dorm in Kate's battered jeep but Kate's testiness made it clear that nothing Melanie could say could soothe her feminine feathers. Finally, feeling in much too good a mood to allow herself to be annoyed, Melanie stopped trying and turned her thoughts to the morning she had spent with the exciting Ursula Povia.
It had been a revelation. A glorious and exhilarating revelation, one she would never forget as long as she lived. Who could have guessed at the degrees of pleasure one girl was capable of giving to another? Who could have imagined that a person could be capable of absorbing so much sensation and still throb with the need for more. A sweet surge of affection flooded her as she recalled Ursula's utterly selfless and incredibly thrilling lovemaking. What a wonderful feeling it was to be slowly and agonizingly aroused, brought to a bursting pitch, and then so totally and expertly drained of every ounce of strength. These were her thoughts as she suddenly realized that she and Kate were approaching the very stylish entrance to Sheila Winslow's chalet.
Melanie could hear the party sounds from within as she looked about the driveway for some sign of Ursula's Ferrari. Suddenly the front door opened and she followed Kate into the house to get a first-hand glimpse of the much discussed parties thrown by The Witchwag members. To her dismay she noticed that there seemed to be as many boys present as there were girls. Melanie recognized two of them as ski instructors who worked up at the ski lodge and who greeted the suddenly vivacious Kate eagerly. Without bothering to introduce Melanie, Kate went off with the two boys and without so much as a backward glance, disappeared into one of the many ground floor rooms, leaving Melanie standing in the huge reception room all by herself.
It was evident that the party had been in progress for some time and that more than a few of those present were well on their way to being drunk. She wandered toward one of the rooms where most of the activity and merriment appeared to be. Standing in the doorway, she looked around the crowd for a familiar face, one in particular, Ursula Povia. A few of the girls smiled and waved hello but none bothered to leave the sides of their escorts, all who appeared to be a few years older than the school girls.
"Here you go, Pussycat..."
Melanie blinked at a tall young man who swept by her and into the large room and barely managed to mutter her thanks for the drink he had handed her before he got out of range. She sipped the drink cautiously and tears sprung to her eyes. It was raw and biting and undiluted gin and it made her realize that she hadn't taken time to eat anything since the late breakfast she had had at Ursula's. Warning herself to drink in moderation, she sipped again and started to leave the threshold of the huge rumpus-type room.
"Melanie!"
She turned and saw Sheila Winslow approaching her out of the crowd. Behind her, broad-shouldered and incredibly handsome, was a burly athlete, who Melanie thought she recognized as an Olympic star.
"Hello..."
"Melanie, dear, did you just arrive?" Sheila asked and without waiting for an answer went on with, "I want you to meet the love of my life. Rockford Kane, this is Melanie Stevens."
The hulking athlete grinned down at Melanie, his bloodshot eyes openly appreciative of her well-developed breasts. "Sheila, how come you didn't tell me the new girl was such a living, loving doll? Afraid of the competition?"
Sheila gave her escort a cool and confident look. "Not at all, Rocky. Any time you feel itchy, lover, feel free to scratch. You're not the only star athlete in the neighborhood."
Rockford laughed. "Ouch!"
Sheila looked back at Melanie. "Did you come alone?"
"Uh-huh. Actually I came with Kate, but she disappeared as soon as we got through the door."
Rockford grunted. "Oh, that will never do. We'll have to fix you up with a date." He looked about the room before wandering off, leaving Sheila and Melanie alone together.
"Has Ursula arrived yet?" Melanie asked.
"Oh, I have a message for you. Her father flew into town this evening to announce that he's getting married again for the fifth time. Ursula said she has to have dinner with him, but she said to tell you that she would try to drop by later, if she can get away."
Melanie was crestfallen and she was certain that it obviously betrayed her to Sheila, who forced a half smile. "Well, we all have those family obligations, don't we?"
"Such a bore," Sheila commented wearily as she looked around for Rockford. "Now where did that muscle-bound idiot drift off to."
Melanie had no idea, but she wanted to be alone long enough to collect her thoughts. "I think he went 'thaddaway," she said, pointing to one of the other rooms.
"I don't trust him alone for one second," Sheila remarked as she started off. "Circulate, dear, and enjoy yourself. The party's just beginning to get warmed up."
With her drink in her hand, Melanie decided to take a tour of the chalet and see what was going on in some of the other rooms. As she crossed the reception room, a rugged, shaggy blonde youth blocked her way. He was deeply tanned, had a mouthful of white teeth and wore a heavy turtle neck sweater. His intoxicating smile seemed genuine.
"Are you Melanie Stevens, that redheaded bombshell from New York?"
"I don't know about the bombshell, but I am a redhead, if you can see that far, and my name is Melanie Stevens."
"You're just the person I'm looking for. Our hostess has instructed me to take very good care of you," and then after a vulgar chuckle, he added, "I wonder just what Sheila meant by that?"
"Well, who are you-and I might add, what are you?"
"Oh, excuse me. I'm Hank Meyerson, all the way from Chicago, Illinois. I'm studying art down in little old Rome-up here for a weekend for sports, the night time variety. I'm well scrubbed, legitimate and at your service, ma'am."
If the other guests were a little high, Melanie concluded, Hank Meyerson was absolutely potted and she didn't wish to get stuck with him. She gulped down her drink and handed the empty glass to Hank. "The first thing you can do for me, Hank, is get me a fresh drink."
"But of course. What are you drinking, angel? Hair tonic, turpentine...? "
"I believe it's rat poison over the rocks," Melanie replied.
"Coming right up," Hank said without making any reaction.
Melanie let out a breath of relief as he staggered off. "Hello, Melanie Stevens...."
The instant she heard the velvety voice, Melanie knew who had spoken to her. She turned sharply, her pulse quickening with anticipation, and found herself staring at one of the loveliest and tiniest girls she'd ever seen. The blue-green eyes were sparkling and the red lips were delightfully full and well shaped. Long straight blonde hair to the shoulders framed her radiant angelic face.
"I'm Olivia Lucas," the tiny girl smiled, her eyes dancing with mischievous delight. "I'm the girl on the right who helped you to undress at the initiation."
"Yes, I know," Melanie managed to mumble. "I mean I recognized your voice."
The diminutive blonde flashed a dimpled enchanting smile and tilted her head to one side. "I was hoping you'd be here tonight. I even asked Sheila if she had invited you. Did you come with anyone special?"
Melanie moistened her lips, her heart continuing pound at a rapid pace. "No, not really. I came with my roommate, but she went off with a couple of boys."
"And Hank Meyerson?"
Melanie frowned. "I just met him and I hope I've just lost him."
Olivia Lucas laughed and it was a tinkling sound. "I know what you mean. These boys can get pretty wild when they're drunk." The mischievous glints returned to the very blue eyes. "I know a wonderful place we can hide. That is, if you're sure you wouldn't rather be with somebody else?"
"What a silly question," Melanie smiled. There wasn't a person in the whole world she'd rather be with at that moment than Olivia Lucas, not even Ursula Povia, who seemed unreal and distant as she breathed in the elusive perfume scent that rose from Olivia's hair. "I'm sure," she answered. "You lead the way and I'll follow."
"This way," the irresistible blonde uttered, guiding Melanie around a quartet of laughing couples toward the wide stairway leading to the upper floor.
Melanie looked at the girl who preceded her up the stairs and without actually willing it, her eyes plucked at Olivia's figure-hugging cocktail dress in an effort to visualize the loveliness it concealed. Melanie was having trouble containing her mounting excitement as she followed the entrancing little coed the length of the upstairs corridor. All the doors that lined the hallway were closed but she could distinguish muffled sounds from within the rooms that indicated they were being put to good use. Somehow, the awareness of what was happening behind the closed doors added to the tingling anticipation that was sweeping through Melanie's body and she wondered if she was expecting too much, if she was misinterpreting Olivia's tantalizing smiles and honey soft remarks.
The small blonde stopped unexpectedly at one of the doors and placed a tiny finger to her red lips in silencing fashion as she pressed her ear against the paneled wood. The smile on her pretty face widened as she eavesdropped on-the muted voices on the other side of the door. "It's Kate Cartwright," she whispered impishly, her hand moving to grasp the doorknob.
Melanie frowned and touched her arm. "Olivia, I don't think we should..."
"Hush, it's all right. Nobody cares."
Melanie watched the girl slowly turn the knob and push the door inward. The sounds became louder and before Melanie could offer another protest, Olivia's hand was tugging her into a position where the two of them could peek around the edge of the door into the room.
Melanie's first reaction to the spectacle that greeted her startled eyes was one of disbelief and astonishment. Two naked girls were on the bed, kissing each other, their hands fluttering over one another in mutual adoration. One was nicely shaped and vaguely familiar; the other was a slender, blonde and hungrily aggressive. Near the bed, slouched deep in an upholstered chair, a young ski instructor Melanie recognized was sipping a drink and idly caressing the naked breasts of Kate Cartwright who sat curled comfortably on his lap, her sinuous body strikingly illuminated by the overhead light of the bedroom. Both Kate and her boyfriend were staring fixedly at the actions of the two girls on the bed. Kate's face was flushed with an evil excitement.
The astonishment slowly faded and Melanie stared in helpless fascination as the girls began to clutch one another with an added fervor. A hot flash of excitement shot through her body and it took a second for her to realize that it hadn't stemmed entirely from the erotic scene she was witnessing. Olivia's hand was moving feverishly over her buttocks and thighs.
Flushed and shaken, Melanie caught her breath and stared at the lovely faced little blonde who seemed literally transfixed by the tableau that was unfolding before them. Olivia's breathing was ragged and there were dots of color high in her cheeks and her blue eyes were glazed with excitement. It was almost as though she wasn't aware of the movements of her hand.
Melanie was about to speak when her attention was drawn back to the bed by a long and passionate moan. The dizziness that was causing her knees to buckle increased sharply as she watched the blonde and her writhing bed partner. In the back of her mind she was conscious of the tiny fingers that rhythmically kneaded her buttocks in a show of shared excitement.
Another sound far more crude and shocking distracted Melanie from the two naked members of The Witchwags and a terrible wave of nausea swept through her as she turned her head to stare in disbelief at Kate Cartwright and the ski instructor deep in the throws of unrestrained passion. Kate's expert movements easily overcoming the limitations presented by the upholstered chair. Revulsion filled Melanie as she witnessed the strainings of their bodies and she turned away awkwardly, her senses clouded, her heart racing with unwanted stimulation.
A flushed and incredibly pretty face hovered before her blurred eyes and she felt small hands tugging her down the hall.
"Let's hurry," the little blonde whispered heatedly. "Let's find a room all our own."
Melanie stumbled forward obediently, dazedly, her brain still numbed, her blood still racing. She entered a shadowed room and heard the door closed and locked behind her. A light went on and she turned, blinking, and saw Olivia hurriedly unzipping the side of her cocktail dress.
Olivia smiled at her. "You tool"
Melanie nodded dumbly and began to undress.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Melanie felt as though Olivia was weaving a seductive web around her, taking over the powers of her mind and body to the point that she had no will of her own, no control over her actions. It was all happening too fast and the only adjustment to the sudden transition was to go along with it.
Olivia rose on her toes and swayed closer, her soft lips brushing lightly against Melanie's cheek. Melanie trembled, feeling her blood pumping faster all at once, and when their lips finally fused, it seemed to Melanie that the room began to turn in slow circles. The small guest room was quiet and warm and slightly musty. The sounds of the party on the lower floor of the huge chalet were muted and vaguely unreal. None of it was real, Melanie told herself. It was only a dream to be enjoyed, and Melanie allowed herself to be caught up in the enchantment of the moment.
She felt Olivia's fingers rising from her shoulders to twine gently in her hair adding to her headiness. Melanie moaned and responded by instinct.
Olivia eased away, slightly breathless, her lovely face flushed. "You do like me, don't you?"
"Oh, yes."
"When I saw you undressing during the initiation, I got goose bumps all over me and I couldn't wait to be alone with you like this." Olivia gushed excitedly, her light body remaining close, her small hands still cupped behind Melanie's neck.
Melanie was acutely conscious of the perfume that rose up from the swaying girl. "I kept wondering who you were," she mumbled, overcoming the lump in her throat. "I mean you were so nice to me."
Olivia giggled softly. "You looked so scared."
"I was!"
The pink tongue darted over the already moist lips again and the tantalizing body moved forward in another gentle but inciting contact. "Are you scared now, Melanie?"
"No..."
"Honest?"
"Yes!"
"Do you want me?"
Melanie shivered, knowing that she was falling deeper into the magical spell, knowing that every last ounce of resistance and self control was melting under the enchanting allure of the dazzling Olivia. "Yes," she croaked hoarsely, "I want you."
Olivia laughed excited and rose up again for another quick kiss before stepping away. "Let's take off all our clothes."
Melanie nodded, dazedly, and watched Olivia skip across the room to draw the blinds at the window. The cutely formed girl began to undress and Melanie roused herself with an effort, lifting her hands to the zipper of her dress. The terrible anticipation of what was about to take place between them made her fingers stiff and uncooperative, and she fumbled with the clasp and catches of her clothing in near desperation.
A shivery wave of self-consciousness swept over Melanie as she unclasped the hooks of her brassiere and freed her full and tingling breasts. She turned away from Olivia's delighted eyes out of uncontrollable embarrassment, knowing that she'd never be able to finish undressing if the young girl continued to admire her so openly. She stepped out of her half slip and hesitated before hooking her fingers into the elastic band of her sheer panties. The point of no return, she thought fleetingly, her brain a mass of jumbled thoughts. Ursula's face flashed across the mirror of her mind and then, just as quickly, it was replaced with the image of the two naked girls on the wide bed. Nervously, she peeled the panties down her legs to complete her nudity.
"Turn around," a syrupy voice whispered. "Let me look at you."
Melanie steeled herself and turned toward the bed. For one terrible second she thought her heart was going to jump out of her body. Olivia Lucas knelt nakedly in the center of the bed, the pink and gold beauty of her body breathtaking. Melanie stared in open awe, forgetting her own nakedness, oblivious to the blue eyes that danced so delightedly over her own flesh. The young blonde was overpowering in her doll-like perfection and the pink tipped and pertly uptilted breasts held Melanie's eyes like two tiny magnets.
A spasm of desire coursed through her body when Olivia finally lifted her eyes and spoke in a husky whisper. "We go well together," the little girl stated.
Melanie quivered helplessly as the tide of her rising desires was quickened by the strangely exciting words. Suddenly it was impossible for her to remain apart from the adorable, little blonde who knelt so cutely and provocatively in the center of the bed. She moved forward on trembling legs, her heart hammering, her blood racing. When she reached the side of the bed, she felt a terrible need to give vent to all she was feeling at that unbearably exciting moment. "You're beautiful," she whispered fervently, sitting on the edge of the bed, staring at the pure loveliness of the silken thighs and pink crested breasts and radiantly pretty face. "So very beautiful..."
Olivia's blue eyes sparkled delightedly and then dropped to admire the fullness of Melanie's thrusting breasts. "I'm not nearly as big as you, though," she cooed modestly, lifting her hands to her exquisite breasts. "May I touch you?"
Melanie swayed dizzily. "Yes..."
The little hands rose quickly and flooded over Melanie's pulsing flesh in an exploratory fashion. Melanie as though she was going to faint. The fingers began to dally and tease and toy with maddening artistry. She could feel her nipples growing hard and sharp with each plucking exercise and the desire within her body took on a steady throbbing rhythm.
"Come closer," Olivia said eagerly. "Just like this."
Melanie obeyed without hesitation, swinging her long legs up on the bed. "This way?"
"Uh-huh," Olivia murmured, inching forward. "Now you touch me and I'll touch you."
Tense and trembling, Melanie nodded and slowly lifted her hands to the cutely formed breasts. The blood rushed to her head as Olivia's small hands reciprocated and the erotic thrill of the mutual love-play took hold of her senses. Olivia's flesh felt wondrously cool and indescribably resilient and the fragile tips grew needle sharp almost at the first touch.
"I'm very sensitive there," the small-bodied girl mumbled thickly, her eyes focused on the joint movements of their hands. "You are, too, aren't you?" Melanie felt drunk with sensations and she could hear breathing growing increasingly ragged as the little fingers tweaked and petted her swollen nipples. "Do you like me to do this?" Olivia whispered, her pretty face flushed.
Melanie gulped, her brain fogged. "Yes..."
Melanie let her hands fall away and copied Olivia's movements unthinkingly. She leaned forward at the waist and the hot spasm of electric pleasure shot through her as their breasts came together and their nipples brushed against one another. Without any deliberate thoughts, she obeyed a need and as their breasts ribbed, she sought and found Olivia's sweet tasting lips in a hungry kiss.
For one lovely moment, they clung together in their embrace. Then, pulling her mouth away, Olivia tugged at Melanie's earlobes and arched her back so that her sharp tipped breasts were offered up for sampling. "Don't be shy," she smiled warmly, "I want you to kiss me."
Caught up in a strong craving, stronger than she had experienced with either Kate or Ursula, Melanie moaned her surrender and lowered her lips to the awakened and agitated tips. Olivia's naked body jerked and her fingers tightened their hold and Melanie obeyed their commands happily, finding a deeply fulfilling pleasure, her own breath pulsating wildly. Melanie tried feebly to restrain her hunger.
Melanie's groan of total abandonment was muffled by the softness. All at once there was nothing more important than to give Olivia more pleasure. All at once there was nothing more exciting than to taste every delectable inch of the squirming and shifting body. Reality evaporated and in its place came a glorious state of delirium. Melanie welcomed it with closed eyes and an instinctive subservience to the guidance of the twisting flesh and the directing hands.
Melanie became dully aware of new pressure that she could not fully understand. She resisted it momentarily, reluctant to surrender the dizzying pleasure afforded by the lovely young breasts. Finally, as the fingers tightened in her loose hair, she was forced to give way and slide her wet lips down across the silken smoothness of the quivering and virginal flesh.
The words, impassioned and strangely harsh, penetrated the sensual haze to some degree and the stabbing realization hit home with numbing force. Melanie tried to jerk away, but the small hands twisted in her hair, making her captive and helpless. "Olivia," she gasped, shivering with fearful awareness, "I couldn't do ... I mean, I've never..."
"You can't stop now, damn you," the girl hissed venomously, her angelic face no longer angelic, her writhing nakedness no longer adorably appealing. "Hurry ... hurry ... I'm on fire..."
Melanie's moan was one of confused torment. A part of her was seared by the fact of what was being asked of her; another part of her was seething with a curious but tangible want. The sharp nails were punishing her scalp and the pagan movements of the wanting body were adding to the unwanted excitement.
Melanie flirted with the intoxicating warmth, trying as best she could to retain some detachment, and her unintended teasing seemed to add to Olivia's ecstasy.
The madness of the moment conquered the final inhibitions and restraints and Melanie sobbed her surrender. She was only partially conscious of the hands that no longer punished her, but instead goaded and guided, only partially conscious of the delirious moans of hot excitement that had suddenly become a constant sound, only partially conscious of the one-sidedness of the erotic act she was consummating with the insatiable little blonde girl. Lucid thoughts were impossible amidst the frenzy that drove her to still wilder abandon.
Then, with a meaningful and yet unintelligible cry Olivia's passion became almost impossible to contain. The savage cries and fierce clawings mounted in intensity until the tiny body arched high off the bed in a single and monumental quaking.
"Please, Olivia..."
"No more," the tousled-hair coed panted weakly, "Stop."
"I can't stop ... not yet."
The little hands pushed Melanie away. "I said stop..."
Whimpering and shuddering with frustration, Melanie collapsed on the sheets and dug her nails into the softness of the bed in a pitiful attempt to ease the terrible agony of her raging hunger and need. Without willing them to move, her hands left the bed and swept forcibly up her twitching body to her swollen breasts. She squeezed her throbbing flesh rhythmically and unthinkingly, drawing a small measure of appeasement from her desperate clutchings. She pinched her nipples, hurting herself, and moaned as pain and pleasure coursed through her steaming body. She knew what she was doing was shameful and childish but she couldn't stop. The fiery want was searing her senses and all that mattered was that it be fed in whatever fashion possible.
Eyes half-closed, head tossing back and forth on the sheet, teeth biting hard into her lower lip, Melanie sobbed as her hips jerked in a spasm of responsiveness to the frantic self loving. She felt the fire leap higher and the passion that bubbled like hot lava roared through her veins with ever increasing speed. And it was at that moment, at the height of her delirium, at the peak of her self induced excitement, that she realized that she was being watched.
Olivia Lucas, eyes bright with avid appreciation, was kneeling at her side and watching her in open fascination. "Don't stop," the velvet voice whispered excitedly.
Melanie felt the soft lips capturing the erect nipples of her breasts and the plucking sensation triggering the explosion that had been building inside of her at a dizzying pace. The cry that came up from her as her naked body bucked violently was scarcely human and even before the echo of it died out, she lay panting and drained and thoroughly disgusted with herself and the selfish thrill-seeker who still knelt at her side. Melanie reached out blindly and pushed the feverish face away from her suddenly sore breasts. "Don't!"
She heard Olivia catching her breath and then the soft voice sounded again. "Gee, that was wild."
Melanie tried to shut out the sound of the voice. Every word Olivia uttered added to her shame and disgust. She not only had to face up to the fact of what she had done in front of the girl but also, what she had done for the girl. She felt sick inside, sick with herself, sick with the kind of love the members of The Witchwags seemed to take so much for granted. She felt as though she'd been used, degraded, exploited, and the resentment that came with the feeling was almost as strong as her despair.
Olivia was trying to cuddle close to her. "I knew you'd be like this. I could tell the first time I saw you that you'd be a wonderful lover. When you were kissing me, I thought the top of my head was going to blow off, I swear. Were you serious when you said it was the first time you'd ever...."
Melanie jerked up from the bed, her movement startling Olivia into silence. "Yes," Melanie stated bitterly, keeping her bare back to the naked blonde girl, "it was the first time. The first and the last."
"I don't understand," Olivia stated. "Didn't you like it?"
Melanie shuddered and rose to her feet. The incisive question nagged at her as she walked to her scattered clothing, forcing her to face up to the facts. "I suppose a part of me enjoyed it," she answered finally, talking more to herself than to the naked girl on the bed. "At least, at first ... but then..." Her voice trailed off as her mind struggled to analyze her confused emotions.
Olivia sighed with exasperation. "I can't make you out, I swear. You sound as though you're mad at me."
Melanie continued to dress hurriedly. "Not mad, Olivia. Just disappointed and maybe some what disgusted. Oh, never mind."
"Oh, I see," Olivia murmured, narrowing her eyes. "You're angry because you wanted more from me. Well, all I can say is I never pretended to be that gay. Ask any of the girls. I mean, I like fun once in awhile but ... well, I'm not a queer."
The word seemed to echo in the silence of the room and Melanie felt as though someone had just kicked her in the pit of her stomach. Tears sprang to her eyes, stinging and blurring tears, as she stared at the beautiful blonde who lay curled in a kittenish fashion on the rumpled bed. "And what's that supposed to mean? That you think I'm ... I'm queer? I've only been a member of this damn club for a little less than twenty four hours," Melanie mumbled numbly, shakingly.
Olivia Lucas merely moved one rounded shoulder in an indifferent shrug. It was a cruel answer. Melanie turned sharply and fled from the small bedroom.
CHAPTER EIGHT
The music was going full blast and a few couples were still on their feet doing what apparently was supposed to pass for dancing, when Ursula arrived with her father, Victorio, who was in a festive mood and admired the tempo of youth. She had not been able to lose him, so she had decided to drag him along to Sheila's party rather than miss out on seeing Melanie. She sought out Sheila and found her with a group of friends playing the high priestess, demanding an article of clothing from an inebriated unsuspecting athlete. The poor victim was offering up his belt and was having a difficult time holding up his pants.
"Sheila, have you seen Melanie," interrupted Ursula.
"Oh, little Miss Innocence, is on the second floor behind a locked door I believe," Sheila answered gaily. "But don't be surprised, pet, if there's nothing left of her for you."
Ursula was infuriated by the remark, but she had her own way of getting back at Sheila. She turned to the athlete who was Sheila's slave in the game of removing clothes and said, "Give the bitch your blindfold, stupid," as she marched out of the room, destroying Sheila's fun.
As Melanie opened the door to the small guest bedroom she was stopped cold. It took a few seconds for her to focus her tearful eyes on Ursula, who stood before her, staring in disbelief, her hand still raised in mid air read to knock.
"Ursula!"
The tall Italian beauty seemed unnaturally pale as her dark eyes flashed over Melanie's disheveled hair and wrinkled dress. A wave of despair swept through Melanie as Ursula's gaze moved from her to the opened bedroom door. The lovely lips twisted into a cynical smile.
"They told me I'd probably find you up here," Ursula remarked flatly. "It appears they knew what they were talking about."
Melanie moved instinctively to intercept the taller girl who stepped to the opened door but then realized she was too late. She stood helplessly by, feeling shamed and sick, as Ursula peered inside to where Olivia sat on the edge of the bed, casually fitting her breasts into her lace-trimmed brassiere. Melanie saw Ursula's back stiffen and then relax again in tiny quivering degrees.
Olivia turned her head and her childish dimples flashed as she smiled at her audience. "Ursula, darling. I was hoping you'd show up tonight, Melanie and I were just...."
Ursula slammed the door on the velvety voice and turned to stare coldly at Melanie. "When you decide to do something, you really go all the way, don't you? Who's next on the list? Mrs. Briar?"
Melanie winced under the verbal lash of the cold and bitter voice. "Ursula, please ... let me explain..."
"Don't bother, baby," Ursula said crisply, pushing Melanie to one side. "I've heard it all before."
Melanie watched Ursula's lean and graceful form move away and hurry down the hall to where an elderly man was waiting near the head of the stairs.
"Who is the bella donna with the red head, Ursula?"
"Watch it, papa. That little virgin could teach you a thing or two."
The terrible sinking sensation deep within Melanie was unlike anything she'd ever experienced. It was as if a part of her was being wrenched out by the roots. Finally, sobbing, she broke out of her numbness and ran desperately down the corridor. "Ursula, wait! Please wait."
The tall brunette and her father turned the corner of the staircase and disappeared from view.
"Ursula!"
A body lurched into Melanie's path, checking her progress, putting an end to any hopes she might have had of catching up to Ursula. It was Hank Meyerson. Melanie came to an abrupt stop as his hand gripped her wrist. Her spirits sinking, she realized that there was no longer any point in trying to pull free and continue after Ursula.
"Hey, where you been, Red?" the art student slurred. "I been lookin' all over for you, honey."
"Hank, let me go. Let me go."
Hank pulled her into the alcove and pushed her against the wall, using his thick body to block any avenue of escape. "Why did you run out on me, huh," he said dully, his eyes bloodshot and his hard chest pressing against her still sensitive breasts. "Is that anyway to treat a guy from Chicago?"
Melanie's nerves were worn thin and the strong stench of whisky breath was adding to her disgust. She struggled to free the wrist Hank held doubled behind her back and ward off the other hand that was moving up the side of her thigh to her hip. She twisted her face to one side just in time to avoid a slobbering kiss and a spurt of acute distaste shot through her as his wet mouth slid across her cheek to nibble at her ear.
"Hank, who do you think you are? Let me go, now. Damn you, let me go," she screamed, wincing as her body flattened under the bulky weight of his body.
"C'mon, Red," he blubbered, pinioning her to the wall, his hand moving up to cover and knead the fullness of her breasts. "Let's have some fun, huh? Let's have ourselves a ball. Everybody else is doing it. How about you and me?"
Melanie began to feel dizzy as his sour breath floated around her face like a heavy cloud. The hand that was punishing her breasts was much too crude and rough. The long fingers pressed deeply and coarsely into her flesh in cruel contractions, hurting her. The wet lips seemed to be all over her face no matter how frantically she tried to escape them. Then they captured her lips and she sobbed with frustration. "Stop it," she gasped, wrenching away. "So help me, if you don't..."
"Whatsamatter with you?" he mumbled, his hand tightening on her breasts and making her nipple throb painfully. "Who the hell you think you are? A virgin or something?"
Melanie drew strength from her desperation. Without fully considering the consequences of her actions, she turned her body and drove her knee upwards against the leaning weight of his stocky physique. Hank's breath exploded into her face as he cried out in shocked pain. Melanie shoved his crumpling body away as she dashed toward the staircase, her heart thumping with fearful excitement. She could hear Hank's guttural groans even as she began descending the stairs two at a time. The sounds of his violent wretching was dangerously contagious and she felt nausea fluttering within her own body as she slowed and told herself that he was beyond chasing her.
Once she reached the first floor of the huge chalet, Melanie drew a deep breath and wiped the film of clammy perspiration from her feverish face. The throbbing of her breasts continued and her lips were still stinging from the cruel punishment of Hank's teeth. She felt shaken and weak and sullied by the incident and, as she stood and looked around at the party surrounding her, her disgust increased steadily.
The open archway of the rumpus room testified to the fact that the news of the party must have spread over the village. It had tripled in size since her arrival and the dozens of boys and girls seemed to be caught up in the orgiastic atmosphere. Everyone of them appeared drunk and everyone of them had apparently shed all their inhibitions.
A boy and girl stood a few feet from her and the girl's skirt was hiked high around her waist by the boy's moving hands. Another couple were sprawled on the floor of the high ceilinged reception room and their bodies were moving together in feverish urgency. A trio of raucous males staggered from one room to the adjoining one, dressed ludicrously in their lettered sweaters and colorful shorts and white sweat socks. A brassiere dangled from a light fixture on the wall and someone had become ill just to one side of the stairs.
Melanie saw all these things and even though she realized Ursula might still be somewhere in the chalet, she knew she could no longer remain a part of such a spectacle. Bitter tears of self shame were already brimming at the corners of her eyes as she was forced to see herself in each of the guests who lurched in and out of view.
Finally, with a convulsive sob, she turned and plunged out of the chalet away from the noise, away from the sordid abandonment, away from her own shame. The night air whipped across her face as she continued to run across the gravel driveway and snow-covered grounds. She gulped at the clean air greedily, unable to get enough of it, unable to suppress the convulsive sobs that wracked her body.
Then, when the noise of the party no longer pursued her, she stopped running. Her legs ached as she walked tiredly down the highway. A degree of lucidity returned as her breathing became quieter and Melanie was able to think of what she had left behind. The disgust was still strong within her but not nearly so strong as the contempt she felt for herself.
What a fool she was for having wanted so desperately to be a part of such a scene. What an idiot she'd been for having yearned to be exactly like The Witchwags. They were spoiled and selfish and sluttish, for all their superficial sophistication, and they'd almost succeeded in contaminating her with their jaded beliefs.
Almost?
Melanie shivered as she walked along the road leading back to Turbenthal Hall. In fleeing from the party, hadn't she really been trying to flee from herself? From the ugliness of her actions? From the horrible fact of her exposed weakness? From the shaming insinuation of Olivia's casual words?
Was it possible for a person to draw pleasure from being intimate with another person of their own sex without being homosexual? Was it possible to feel a desire for another girl without being a lesbian? Was it possible to do all these things she had done with Kate, Ursula and Olivia without being ... queer? Brilliant conclusions; it didn't seem--likely. No more--likely than Olivia's comfortable and self protective belief that there were varying degrees of being gay. Either a girl was that way or she wasn't ... there was no in between.
Melanie had no choice but to follow her thoughts to the inevitable conclusion. She had enjoyed being with Kate Cartwright that first night. She had exulted in being so expertly loved by Ursula Povia the following morning. And, despite the revulsion and disgust that had followed, she had thrilled to the newness of what she had done with Olivia Lucas only a short while ago.
It added up to one thing and one thing only. There could be no escaping the fact of it. She was gay. She was queer. She was a lesbian. Further testimony to the truth of it was the terrible revulsion she'd experienced when being manhandled by Hank Meyerson. There had been nothing at all pleasant about the feel of his hands on her body, nothing at all exciting about the feel of his powerfully masculine body against her own, nothing at all thrilling about the feel of his mouth capturing and exploiting her own.
She was gay.
She had to accept it.
Melanie felt the acceptance take hold of her and she knew there was a permanence to it. She felt like weeping, and yet deep down, there was a curious relief in having at last faced up to the truth about herself. After a lifetime of dodging and avoiding and rationalizing secret misgivings and strangely mysterious yearnings, she'd admitted their cause and their nature and their basis. And now that she had, she felt as though someone had removed the great weight from her shoulders.
All right, what now?
One thing was certain, in any case. She had to break with The Witchwags. Gay or not, she couldn't swallow their brand of love. They'd resent it, of course, and most--likely make her life miserable at Turbenthal. Nobody quits The Witchwags. How many times had she heard that expression used? Kicked out, perhaps, but quit? Never. A girl would have to be out of her mind to even want to do such a thing.
Well, this is one girl who wants out, she thought grimly. And if things get too bad, she'd even leave Turbenthal Hall. There were other schools, other colleges. Perhaps not as exclusive, but that didn't matter. What mattered was that she learn to live with herself, a sane and rewarding life ... if such a thing was possible under the circumstances.
It would take time. Time to adjust to it all. And the matter of transferring to another boarding school would have to be handled carefully. Her parents would be heartbroken by the news unless she explained it to them in such a way that they felt it was all for the best. They'd worked so hard to send her to Turbenthal, to give her the very best ... or, at least, what they thought was the very best.
Melanie was aware of a feeling of relief for having decided to leave Turbenthal. She'd be tactful, of course, allowing herself time to drop little hints in her letters to her family in a way of preparation. She could say that she was interested in courses that Turbenthal did not offer. Her father would like the idea of her wanting to improve herself, even if it meant leaving the school they had selected for her. Then, when the time was right, she would file applications at other schools. She would make the transition with a minimum of discomfort and suspicion.
There was only one thing that remained to temper her newfound resolve. Now that she had admitted that she was gay, could she ever hope to find a measure of happiness and fulfillment in her personal life? Was lesbianism, by its very nature, doomed to be always transitory and sordid in its rewards? Certainly, the level she'd reached with both Kate and Olivia did not offer much hope for anything substantial in the way of true emotional gratification.
As for Ursula Povia. ... well, Ursula had given her a glimpse of something more beautiful and meaningful, but it had been only a glimpse and one never again to be repeated. Ursula was gone and with her, all chances of possibly finding out whether her life was destined to be an endless succession of momentary thrills and ensuing shame. She couldn't blame Ursula. The older girl had been justified in her biting remarks. No amount of words could have erased the fact that she'd been with Olivia and that she'd done exactly what the tiny little blonde always demanded from her partners.
There was little comfort in the thought that she'd learned a bitter lesson from the incident. Melanie had not realized how much Ursula had come to mean to her in so short a time until she saw Ursula walking out of her life. It was a high price to pay for learning a lesson, a very high price, and Melanie suspected that with the passage of time she'd continue to appreciate just how high a price. She doubted whether she would ever again meet a girl like Ursula Povia.
With a deep sigh of sadness, Melanie turned the corner of the path that led up to the entrance of the dorm. She had not realized it until this moment that she had walked all the way from the chalet, a distance of almost two miles. She felt drained and exhausted and in thinking back, the entire day seemed impossible to accept as having really happened. The remembrances were tiring in themselves and Melanie yearned for the cleansing heat of a hot bath and then the cool sterility of starched sheets.
She started up the stone steps to the dorm. "Miss Stevens?"
Melanie stopped and turned, peering into the shadows to one side of the building. A vague figure moved forward slightly, gradually emerging into a circle of light. Melanie caught her breath and felt her heart skip a beat as she recognized Mr. Briar.
"I've been waiting for you, little lady," the heavy set man stated softly. "I believe you and I have something to discuss."
Melanie swallowed the lump in her throat and tried to conceal her nervousness. "I'm not sure I understand."
Mr. Briar smiled slowly. "Please, Miss Stevens, let's not play games with one another. You paid a visit to my home, a visit which caused my wife a great deal of embarrassment. I assure you it would be much wiser for us to discuss the matter on an informal basis rather than doing so in the office of the Dean of Discipline."
Melanie sagged with defeat. She wondered how he had found out her name and whether someone had informed on her. Could it have been Kate or Sheila? Then, knowing it didn't matter how he knew, she realized she had to face up to the situation and try to make the best of it.
"May I suggest that we talk as we stroll," Mr. Briar suggested smoothly.
"It's very late," Melanie mumbled weakly.
Mr. Briar smiled wryly. "Come now, Miss Stevens. It is Friday evening, and judging from the window lights in your dormitory, most of your house-sisters are still out enjoying themselves." He stepped to one side and gestured with his hand. "Shall we walk?"
Melanie nodded reluctantly and descended the stone steps. She walked stiffly at the man's side, convincing herself that he wouldn't dare to try anything on the school grounds. There were too many people around who would hear her if she screamed and then he would be the one in trouble. "I hope you understand that it was only a joke, Mr. Briar," she offered worriedly. "I mean, I never intended...."
Mr. Briar chuckled and peered at her. "Please don't bother to explain, young lady. I'm fully aware of all the circumstances leading up to your visit."
Melanie nibbled on her lower lip as they followed the path toward the shadowy library. Why hadn't Mr. Briar told his wife? He apparently hadn't, because if Mrs. Briar had known of Melanie's identity, she would have gone directly to the Dean. It was certainly grounds for immediate dismissal. Melanie shuddered at the thoughts of what such a scandal would do to her parents, especially her father, who was riding on the crest of success with his best selling novel. The publicity would be outrageous. The whole thing would be built up in the papers back in the States. Melanie knew she had to play upon the older man's sympathies. She braced herself for the task, still not sure of what his angle was. "I'm really sorry about all this, Mr. Briar. I mean, I really am."
The rotund man shrugged indifferently. He was almost amused. "To be perfectly truthful, young lady, I couldn't care less about the embarrassment to my wife. As a matter-of-fact, I rather enjoyed it. You see I was able to straighten up the bedroom, so I had no explaining to do whatever. Only my wife was humiliated by your visit." He touched her arm and steered her around the side of the huge library in the direction of the more remote section of the grounds. "This way, Miss Stevens. We will require a certain amount of privacy."
"Now look here, Mr. Briar, I don't know what you're up to, but I think we have gone far enough."
"If you know what's good for you, you'd better hear what I have to say."
Feeling a need to keep the man talking, she asked the question that she had pushed aside moments earlier. "How did you find out who I was? I mean, how did you get my name?"
Mr. Briar pulled something out of his coat pocket and held them up so that they were illuminated by the moonlight. "These are your panties, are they not?"
"I don't know. I mean I can't be sure."
Mr. Briar smiled smugly. "Well, I can, Miss Stevens. An indelible mark inscribed by the student laundry service testifies to the fact. All it took was a telephone call inquiring as to the meaning of the code letters. Once learning your identity, a brief investigation disclosed the fact that you have recently become a member of The Witchwags, a most interesting organization of young ladies, who have held a feeling of hostility toward my wife for some time now-a hostility which I might add I share, but nevertheless, I have more than sufficient grounds to prove your guilt and to cause you a great deal of trouble. Possessing obscene pictures and books and then circulating them is shocking enough, but if I should report what I caught you and my wife doing in her bedroom...." He held up Melanie's panties once more, dangling them from his fingers as evidence.
Melanie felt her blood chill. "You must be mad!"
"Oh, come now, let's not be childish. I've been aware of the things you young ladies do over at the Povia lodge for sometime now. It wouldn't be difficult to bring the whole thing out into the open."
"Just what do you want?"
"You understand, of course, if I bring this matter out in the open, exposing my wife, a member of the faculty, and you, the daughter of a most famous father, the results will be scandalous, disgraceful and dismissal for both you and my wife." He paused at this point to take a breath and gave Melanie an owlish glance along with a chuckle. "As it is, Mrs. Briar still has a lot of explaining to do."
"I said what do you want."
"Well what a man wants, young lady, and what a man gets are sometimes two different things."
"Now look, Mr. Briar, if you don't come to the point, I'm going to start screaming and then you'll have a little explaining to do along with the rest of us."
"All right, to the point, Miss Stevens. I would like to get away from my wife, an insufferable woman, but that would take a little money...."
"Blackmail? Is that what you're getting at?"
"Now, now, Miss Stevens, don't be hasty. I did say what a man wants and what he gets."
"How much money, Mr. Briar?"
"My, you young people are impulsive. There is an alternative. Wouldn't you like to know what it is?"
"I asked you how much money you wanted, Mr. Briar?"
"Well, I hadn't really thought much about that angle, but it would have to be enough to get me to ... say a place like South America-I've always wanted to go there. I'd need enough money to get started in a little business."
"And just where do you think I would get that kind of money?"
"I think if a few of you young ladies got together, you would be able to come up with a satisfactory sum. If Miss Povia sold her Ferrari, for instance, it would bring a few thousand. And Miss Winslow comes from a very wealthy family. Her allowance..."
"Then why don't you go to Sheila Winslow. Why me? I don't come from a wealthy family I'm very sorry to inform you."
"Yes, but I do have something on you, young lady-much more than the others. And then again I did say there was an alternative, didn't I?"
"An alternative?"
"That's right, Miss Stevens. It is entirely up to you as to what I do and who I involve in this matter."
The uneasiness returned and Melanie felt her throat go dry. "Up to me?" she croaked weakly, knowing and yet trying desperately not to know what she was thinking.
Mr. Briar stared at her fixedly. "You see, young lady, I find you most appealing ... and as it happens, I have a pronounced weakness for appealing young girls." He paused a moment, still confident, obviously enjoying her discomfort. "Well, what is it to be? A scandal involving you and some of the other girls that will certainly stigmatize you for the rest of your lives, money or a few harmless moments with me?"
Melanie lowered her eyes, shuddering at the thoughts his words evoked..."a few harmless moments." She thought then about Sheila and Kate and Olivia and Ursula and involving them along with her. She didn't much care about the others, but Ursula kept bouncing back into her thoughts. More than anything she didn't wish to involve Ursula, especially since she already had one strike against her. Somehow, and why it seemed so important to her at that moment she did not know, but she could not bear the thought of hurting Ursula again.
"A few harmless moments..." The words penetrated deeper and deeper into her thoughts.
"Well, Miss Stevens, what is it to be?"
It was as if all the fates of the universe had been conspiring against her. She felt whipped and emptied almost to the point where she wondered if it mattered any longer what she did or didn't do. Still faced with the ordeal of an enforced intimacy with Mr. Briar, a part of her refused to surrender without a final attempt to escape such a repulsive experience.
She steeled herself, not wanting the nervousness to creep into her voice. "Do you know what you're asking, Mr. Briar? What if I told you that I have never been with a man that way?"
Mr. Briar frowned. "Are you claiming to be a virgin, Miss Stevens?"
"Not claiming to be one. I am one."
He chuckled, as though amused. "Remarkable! However it doesn't relate to the moment. I have no intention of destroying your most cherished possession, my dear. I prefer to take my pleasure in another less taxing and energetic manner."
Melanie's confusion was mingled with relief. While she was not certain what the man wanted exactly, the fact that he did not plan to possess her seemed to indicate thaf his demands would probably not be as serious as she had thought.
Mr. Briar sighed impatiently. "Don't look so bewildered, Miss Stevens. You don't have to understand, merely obey."
The momentary relief evaporated and a nameless fear took its place. Melanie shivered inwardly as his eyes took on a new and eager brightness, one that she sensed was born of excitement and anticipation. She thought of his threat and of the scandal and of the effect it would have, not only on her parents, but on the other girls and their parents, and Mrs. Briar and everybody connected with the school. Once a thing like that gets started, regardless of who is guilty and who is not guilty, it avalanches into an ugly situation that seriously affects everybody. Why take the chance of involving everybody. Why hurt Ursula again? In a way if she agreed to do what Mr. Briar wanted, whatever it might be, she could consider it a self imposed punishment for what she had done to Ursula. Besides she told herself bitterly and despairingly, it couldn't be any more degrading than what had happened at the party that evening, the scene with Olivia, the ordeal with Hank Meyerson.
In an instant, she made up her mind. She would submit to his mysterious desires. This would be her punishment for all her mistakes, for all her sins.
"What do you want me to do, Mr. Briar?" she asked tonelessly and at that moment she was devoid of all emotion and feeling.
CHAPTER NINE
An hour later, although it might have been a lifetime later, Melanie found herself, wandering aimlessly on the road leading back into the village. She had no set destination, only a desire to be alone, to try to reclaim her own soul and her spirit. She did not feel safe in returning to the dormitory. She could not bear to face Kate or any of the other girls in her present state of mind. The only person she would have given her life to see at that moment would have been Ursula, the only person in the world who would understand, who would be kind enough to listen.
The moment she thought about the extent of her debasement at the mercy of Mr. Briar, she felt the tears of shame springing back to her eyes. Her eyes were swollen and red and she assumed that she must look like a wreck. The feeling of sickness was so severe that she could not control it. She longed to put an end to all the ugliness that had entered her life in such a short period of time.
It had been an ugly nightmare, an eternity of agonized torment with Mr. Briar, so ugly that when the moment of awakening had brought it to an end, she felt like she wanted to die. But the thoughts of death had not remained with her for very long, once she was free to go, once she was able to breath in fresh air and collect her thoughts. She was young and strong and there was a life ahead for her. She felt that she had stepped into the fires of hell as a form of punishment, to burn away all the confusion and now it was over and she had come through it, perhaps a wiser and more conscientious person. One thing was certain. She promised herself that she would never allow herself to be placed in such a humiliating position again. Now that it was over, she had to put it all behind her, filing it in a section of the distant unreal past.
Her mind was so clouded with thoughts of the past, the present and the future, that she did not hear the approaching car as she crossed over to the other side of the road with the intention of heading back toward the dormitory. Suddenly she heard the ear-splitting screeching of tires on the pavement, of brakes being applied and before she was aware of what had happened, the car swerved to the other lane of the road to avoid hitting her and came to a violent stop.
It had all happened so quickly, Melanie did not even have an opportunity to flinch or to jump back off the road. She turned see a white Ferrari halted on the road just in front of her.
Ursula!
The rangy brunette hopped out of the car and ran over to her. "Melanie, are you all right? My God that was close." Ursula's dark eyes took in the disarray of Melanie's clothing, the tangled dishevelment of her hair and the swelling beneath her bloodshot, tear stained eyes. "Melanie, baby, what has happened to you? I've been looking everywhere for you. I went back to the party, I went to the dorm...."
Melanie felt like crying but there were no more tears left in her to shed. She started laughing, laughing from relief and happiness, building to an almost state of hysteria. "Oh, Ursula, if you only knew how happy I am to see you. Please take me with you ... any place."
"What's happened, Melanie," the older girl demanded. "Tell me. What is it?"
"Mr. Briar," she muttered tonelessly, shuddering with the memory of it.
"Oh, my God," Ursula winced with awareness. "When?"
Melanie shrugged tiredly and hung her head. "He was waiting for me at the dorm. He took me to a place and forced me to..." A convulsive tremor rocked her huddled body and she looked up desperately at Ursula. "Don't take me back there. I never want to go back to that school again. And please, don't leave me, Ursula. I know you hate me for what I did, but..." The tears came and she sobbed, covering her face with her hands. "Oh, God .
"That bastard ... that filthy bastard," she heard Ursula mutter to herself and she felt Ursula's strong hands guiding and supporting her to the front seat of her car. "You're coming home with me and we're calling a doctor. And then we're calling the authorities."
"No, Ursula, that isn't necessary. I haven't been raped. And I don't want you to call anybody. It's over now. I just want to forget about it."
"We'll talk about that later, after you've had a warm bath and a drink and are able to relax.
Melanie watched the dark-haired beauty start up the car and drive off. "Do you hate me?" she asked softly, the tears blurring her vision.
"No, I don't hate you, baby. I could never hate you, no matter what you did."
Melanie turned away and started to cry again. "It was cheap and cruel and vile..."
"That's enough," Ursula ordered. "There'll be plenty of time to talk after we get back to my place."
"What about your father? Won't he be there?"
"No, I put him up in a hotel in town. We will be alone-all alone."
Melanie allowed Ursula to peel off her clothing once they had reached the warmth and security of the lodge. Melanie rattled on aimlessly with few of her sentences connected but enough so that Ursula was able to piece together what had happened. She let Melanie rattle on and on, as she prepared a hot bath for the girl, hoping that it would be good if the red head got it all out of her system.
"I wanted to die, Ursula. It was so ugly. But I couldn't let him go to the Dean. My parents ... and the scandal. And if I didn't do what he ask, he wanted money ... he was going to involve you and Sheila and some of the others, if you didn't come up with a sum of money. He was even going to involve his wife. He is sick, sick, sick."
"He should be locked up," Ursula remarked. "Why didn't you send him to me? I could have handled him. I could have paid him off."
"I don't know. I kept thinking about you. I guess because I suddenly discovered that I'm in love with you. I didn't want to be the cause of hurting you again-you had said never involve The Witchwags-and I guess I just wanted to protect you."
"What did he do?"
"He made me take off my clothes and stand before him. Then he took off his clothes. He was so disgusting to look at. He touched me all over and then ... and then he made me touch him. I was so sickened by the sight of him I thought for awhile I was going to throw up. And then he grabbed my hair and forced me down on my knees and made me ... Oh, Ursula, it was horrible. Horrible."
"My poor baby," Ursula murmured, crouching to ease the panties down her legs. "Try not to think about it any more. Come on, step into this bath I've drawn for you. It will make you feel better."
"I did so want to see you again, Ursula," Melanie mumbled, letting Ursula assist her into the tub, leaning on her as she slid down into the steaming water. "I'm going away. I just can't stay here."
"Shut up," Ursula commanded softly, resting her knees on the bath mat at the side of the tub, her hands working the soap into a foamy lather. "Lean back and close your eyes."
The scented heat clouded Melanie's thoughts and she felt her body falling under the magical spell of the pervading warmth. The muscles in her legs were beginning to relax under the loving care of Ursula's hands. She felt a heaviness creep through her limbs as she tilted her head back and closed her eyes obediently. "I feel so ... dirty," she whispered.
"I know," Ursula interrupted bitterly, understandingly. "The bastard knew he had you on the spot, so he decided to gamble. I wish I had been there to handle him. I've met his kind before." Ursula sighed and Melanie felt the hands move up to her breasts. "Don't worry, baby. I'll fix him and he won't bother you again. He won't bother anybody again."
"He won't have the chance," Melanie murmured drowsily, as her relaxation increased by the feeling of Ursula's hands sliding across her breasts. "I'm leaving Turbenthal. The Witchwags. All of it. I'm through with all that ugliness."
"I guess I can't blame you."
Melanie opened her eyes to look at Ursula. "You're the only good thing that's happened to me since I came here. You're the only person I'll miss. I'll miss you terribly, Ursula."
Ursula sank back on her heels as their eyes met and held for a long moment. "You mean that?"
Melanie nodded slowly, thoughtfully. "Yes, I didn't know how much you meant to me until it was too late. I don't expect you to forgive me. I'm not sure I'll ever be able to forgive myself. But I want you to know that ... well, that I'll never forget you, Ursula. Never."
Ursula seemed moved by the words. She nodded, in a preoccupied manner, indicating a partial acceptance of the declaration of Melanie's love. "Stand up and let me rinse you off."
Melanie rose unsteadily, aware that tiny white suds clung to her glistening breasts and hips and thighs, aware of Ursula's dark eyes moving over her nudity in serious reflection. "Is it too late for us, Ursula? I mean, could you ever forgive me?"
Ursula rose to her feet and smiled sardonically. "There's a saying about people in glass houses ... Olivia's a tramp but an appetizing little tramp. I should know her methods."
"You?"
Ursula nodded as she busied herself in cleansing Melanie's naked body of the soapy froth. "We got along beautifully for awhile. You might say our ... personalities ... meshed quite well, but only for awhile." Ursula brushed back a lock of hair from her eyes and smiled warmly at Melanie. "Yes, baby, I can forgive you. And it isn't too late. In fact this may be the very beginning."
"Oh, Ursula."
Ursula laughed throatily as the young red-head sought to reach out and embrace her. "Hey, watch out. You'll slip and break your beautiful neck. Here, step out and let me dry you. Then it's into bed for you ... and a good night's sleep."
Melanie complied eagerly, stepping out to the fluffy bath mat. It seemed incredible that her body should be tingling with such renewed awareness and that the aching tiredness should be all but forgotten. She felt alive again, both physically and emotionally, and the nightmare that had haunted her was rapidly fading from her mind. She stood quietly as Ursula patted a soft towel over her body and she drew a strange satisfaction from the fact that her nipples were still capable of hardening with sensitivity. When Ursula turned back to powder her body, she shivered with embarrassed delight. "I can't help it," she murmured, covering her nipples with her fingertips. "I guess it's because I feel so happy."
"It's amazing what a few minutes in a hot tub can do for a girl."
"Yes, it is, isn't it?"
"Stop squirming you little minx." Ursula tossed the powder puff aside and took hold of Melanie's hand. "Okay, baby, to bed."
"Yes, let's," Melanie replied impishly, unable to contain her revitalized exuberance.
Ursula frowned again, as they walked together into the outer room. "Don't start getting any ideas, young lady. You might be happy but you're also exhausted. Go on, get into bed."
"Only if you come with me."
"You're impossible."
"I'm in love," Melanie stated softly and truthfully.
They looked at one another, smiling, and Ursula's fingertips rose slowly to caress Melanie's cheek. "All right, you win," the taller girl murmured. Then, raising her other hand, to frame Melanie's face and tilt it upward, Ursula moved in to press her lips on Melanie's mouth.
Melanie leaned hungrily toward the stronger girl, her arms curling around Ursula's narrow waist, her lips parting and searching. "I do love you," she breathed, feeling her body throbbing with want and love and need. "Oh, Ursula, I do, I do, I do..."
Ursula kissed her savagely and then guided her to the bed. Melanie waited, her arms folded above her red hair, her nakedness twitching with impatience. She watched the flawless beauty of Ursula's superb body become revealed to her and the hunger in her quickened with a suddenness that made her bite on her lip in impatience. She knew that her love was real and true and filled with a promise for the future.
"Hurry, my darling," she whispered, squirming uncontrollably atop the soft coverlet of the bed.
Ursula paused to stare down at her. "Believe it or not, there are moments when I wish I were born a man. You're beautiful. Almost too beautiful to believe."
Melanie moaned with happiness as the naked girl slid down beside her on the bed. Arms looped around each other's waist, their hands slowly savored the smoothness of each other's skin. "I'm glad you're not a man, Ursula," the young red head murmured dreamily, kissing Ursula's lips in tiny pecks. "I like you much better just the way you are, but if you were a man, I'd love you just as much." Melanie eased closer so that their bodies meshed and she could inhale the wonderful aroma of Ursula's short dark hair. "Oh, Ursula, hold me and never let me
Ursula's moist lips moved on Melanie's cheek and throat and shoulder. "Never, baby, never."
"Tell me you forgive me."
"I forgive you."
"Tell me you love me."
"I love you."
"Tell me you want me."
Ursula groaned and pushed Melanie back on the bed and attacked Melanie's thrusting breasts freely and fiercely. The sounds of their mutual gasps and cries mounted in volume as the one-sided love making progressed at a feverish pace. It was as though each tiny kiss, each artful caress, each tantalizing shifting of their bodies, was cleansing Melanie of all the sordidness she'd experienced. She felt bathed in delight and sensation and pleasure and it was impossible for her to control these spasms of ecstasy that wracked her.
The need to reciprocate, to give vent to her own feelings of love became too intense to deny. Melanie cried out and seized Ursula hungrily, pulling her closer and covering her beautiful face with adoring kisses. "Let me love you too," she gasped breathlessly, running her hands down the sinuous body she had come to worship in a new and wonderful way. "Please, Ursula, I want to love you too."
The older girl went taut. "No, baby, don't," she breathed. "You know how it is with me. You don't have to--. "
Melanie blurted out her desperation. "I can't help it. Besides it has to be this way for us. It's the only way it can last. It can't be all one-sided. Please, Ursula, try. Just this once, try. I want to love you so badly."
The sleek brunette surrendered to Melanie's embrace by degrees, reluctantly, fearfully. She sank down into the softness of the bed and her fingers combed Melanie's red hair as Melanie moved to capture the stiffly pointing nipples. Melanie heard Ursula's sharp intake of breath and her pleasure in satisfying herself was tempered by a desperation to succeed in breaking down the walls of Ursula's resistance. All at once she wished she were more experienced, more knowing, more aware of the intricacies of love-making. Then, as her hands moved over the warm smoothness of Ursula's thighs and her lips savored the sweetness of Ursula's breasts, she was incapable of all thought and her love-making sprang solely from her love and need.
Then she heard Ursula whisper "Oh Melanie, for you anything."
For Melanie, the sound of those heated words signaled an end to all doubts that had filled her as to the texture of lesbian love. The moments that followed offered even more proof and it was as though an entirely new world was being revealed to her for the first time. The absolute totality of both giving and receiving to such a degree of intensity gave her a feeling of completeness that defied all description. It was wild and wonderful and so beautifully uninhibited as to be incredibly pure in its honesty. Then she knew, even as they shared the monumental fulfillment of their love, that it would always be wonderful for them in the future.
They remained close as the final spasms of spent passion wracked their naked perspiring bodies. "Was it all right for you?" Melanie asked, nestling closer, feeling her eyelids drooping.
"I guess I could get used to it."
Melanie's eyes popped open and she lifted her head.
Ursula laughed and kissed her. "I loved every wonderful second of it, you little red headed fool. It was ... well, it was something I never thought posisble for me."
Melanie relaxed happily. "I'm glad," she murmured sleepily, closing her eyes.
Ursula stirred slightly. "Hey, before you go to sleep ... I want to tell you something."
"What?"
"When you leave dear old Turbenthal, you leave with me."
Melanie smiled drowsily. "I know."
"We will leave together and drive down to Italy to my father's place at the shore."
"Sounds delightful."
"Money's something we don't have to worry about."
"That's good."
"Then wherever you want to go, wherever you want to settle, that will be it, as long as we go together."
"I wouldn't want it any other way, Ursula."
"Okay, my little Yanky baby. I just thought I would make it official, that's all."
"Make it official again tomorrow and the next tomorrow and the tomorrow after that," Melanie sighed with a yawn as she curled herself into a cozy ball of flesh. "We'll have a good life together, maybe even start a business of our own."
"A good life together," Ursula repeated as she enveloped Melanie gratefully into her arms. "Yes, we'll try for that, baby."
