When I started at St

Strip Shakespeare

Jacqueline Jillinghoff

When you’re a freshman at St. Agnes, they give you what they call a peer counselor. That’s a girl in the upper classes who becomes your official best friend, your guide to the school. My peer counselor is a junior named Julie Scanlon, and she’s everything I’m not: confident, curvy, and, well, blonde. My skin is brown, my eyes are brown, and my hair is black. Julie could be a cheerleader, if our all-girl school had cheerleaders, and if Julie didn’t hate them and everything they stand for. She’s got blue eyes and beautiful layered hair — gold on top and sandy underneath — that hangs between her shoulder blades. Her legs are muscular and always naked. She wears her skirt just long enough so the nuns don’t hassle her about it, and, usually, ankle socks. Her breasts are just the right size for her body, high and globey, if that’s a word. I’ve never seen her wear anything but the school uniform, but she’d look great in anything.

She looks even better in nothing, which is what this story is about.

When I started at St. Agnes last fall, Julie showed me around the school, introduced me to my teachers, and had lunch with me. She said it was only temporary, and we’d stop talking so much when I started making my own friends, even though I could still count on her if I was having trouble with my classes, or teasing, or anything else. But after a few lunches with Julie, I didn’t feel like making other friends. All through that first week, I noticed she smelled like peppermint, and on Friday I got up the nerve to ask her what kind of soap she used. She said it was an organic soap her parents got at the health food section of the supermarket. That weekend I went out and bought a bar, and when I got home I got right in the tub and rubbed it all over. I squeezed my sudsy little tits together and I liked the way they popped apart again under my hands. I did it over and over. The more I squeezed, the slipperier they got. The mint oil made my skin warm, and my nipples hot. My nipples are dark, and they stood up through the peppermint bubbles, burning like solid black flames. I hugged myself, taking a deep breath of the peppermint scent, and watching the foam ooze up through the almost-cleavage I made.

“Julie,” I said.

Monday I asked her if there were any clubs I could join. She asked me what my interests were.

“I’m not sure,” I said. “What clubs are there?”

Julie said she was in the English Club, and I told her right then that sounded great. I never read much, and didn’t know anything about the poetry she said they liked. But hey, it was a chance to learn, right?

One of the club’s projects this year was to memorize as many of Shakespeare’s sonnets as we can, one or two a week, for fun. (OK, they have a weird idea of fun. I had to get over that part.) We didn’t do them in order. Someone picked out one she liked and we all worked on it. By the end of March we’d gone through about a third of them. It was boring at first, because the language was hard to understand, but once I got used to it, I started to like it. Some of the sonnets even “spoke” to me, as Julie says.

So, after school on the first really warm afternoon in April — the cruelest month with his shoures sote (Julie got me reading other things, too) — five of us went up to the student lounge for a meeting. We were supposed be planning the Maypole dance, but we got to talking about the sonnets instead.

Trish — she’s a senior and the club president — thought we should put on a recital at the end of the year, and Beth, a sophomore, said we should recite a few of them, to see how much we remembered.

“Strip Shakespeare!” Julie said.

Beth, Trish and Dana groaned. They’d been through it before, whatever it was. As the frosh, I was the one who had to ask Julie what she was talking about.

“We did it last year with Emily Dickinson,” Trish said. “There were like ten us hanging out with nothing on. But we were in Julie’s basement. And we were all wasted on her dad’s beer.”

“So? There’s nobody around,” Julie said. “The only kids left in school are down in the gym. And the damn robotics club. And God knows what the nuns are doing.”

“But what is it?” I asked again.

“Tell the kid,” Trish said.

“We sit in a circle and recite a sonnet,” Julie told me. “Everybody does one line at a time, and if you mess up a line, you have to take something off. Everybody who ends up naked has to do a dare.”

“Let’s do it,” Beth said.

“I’m in,” said Dana.

“God, you two are such sluts,” Trish said.

“What sluts?” Beth said. “You did it last year.”

“Did you hear what I said about beer?”

“Besides, we haven’t seen Olivia naked yet,” Julie said.

“What’s it, like an initiation?” I said. I was trying to sound mature, like Julie, but something bounced in my stomach.

“Oh, yeah,” Trish said. She winked at me.

“And it’ll be fair,” Dana said. “At least now we’re all wearing the same number of things.”

I did a quick mental countdown: loafers and white socks (three pairs up to the knee, Julie and Trish in anklets), white pullover shirts, khaki skirts, bras, and —

“Unless one of us isn’t wearing panties,” I blurted out.

They looked at me like I’d just peed on the rug. Julie lifted her skirt, showing us her underwear — pink cotton briefs with a lacy waistband. She has a flat tummy, and her mound swelled against the crotch.

“Everybody show,” she said.

The rest of us followed her lead, flashing each other in a twinkling of pink, white, blue, black and orange. The black belonged to Dana — a transparent mesh with a solid patch over her pubes. It was obvious she shaved, which didn’t surprise me. She’s a real, professional model, even if she’s only a sophomore like Beth. She’s like six feet tall — her parents must be giants — and thin as a pencil with endless grasshopper legs and hair down to her butt. She spends her weekends traipsing the runways up in New York. She got a hundred thousand dollar contract this year that made the local paper. Seeing her naked was going to make me hyperventilate, if it didn’t kill me.

My panties were the white ones, and the only ones with a decoration: pink rosebuds. I felt like a little kid in footie pajamas.

“So we’re even,” Julie said. “Trish and Olivia, you in?”

“Yeah, what the fuck,” said Trish. Reading is so great for your vocabulary.

Everybody looked at me. The last thing I wanted was to strip in front of Julie, but she was going to strip in front of me. And I did know my sonnets.

“OK, yeah,” I said. “What does the winner get?”

“The winner goes home with all the losers’ panties,” Trish said.

“Oh, my God!”

“Jesus!”

“That’s perverted!”

“No, it’s cool,” Julie said. And to me, anything she said was cool, was. This spring, she smelled like lavender. So did I.

The lounge is just a classroom on the second floor nobody uses for anything else. It’s got an old carpet in the middle with two ratty sofas and a pair of armchairs, arranged in a rectangle with the chairs at each end. Four of us sat down on the sofas. I wanted to sit next to Julie, or across from her, but I didn’t get either privileged position. She took one of the chairs, like a queen, so we were sitting in a kind of flat-bottomed “U.” Beth was to my right, Julie to hers. Trish was across from Beth, and I was looking right into Dana’s dark eyes.

We had our book bags with us, lying at our feet. Beth pulled a creased Folger paperback from hers and held it up like a torch.

“Who referees?” she said.

“Olivia’s the cherry,” Julie said.

With that gesture, Julie made me, the only one of us who hadn’t played before, a member of the group, even though I didn’t know what “cherry” meant. I figured it was a like a newbie, but I didn’t want to knock myself down in her eyes by asking another question.

Beth handed me the book.

“Don’t I get to play?”

“You hand it off for the next one,” she said.

I just sat there with the closed book in my hands, like I had thrown up into them.

“Come on,” Trish said. “Pick one and give the first line.”

“Uh...”

“If you don’t start, you have to take something off,” Dana said.

“Give me a second!”

“One!” Dana said.

“OK,” I said. I riffled through the pages and stopped on the one that always made me think of Julie.

“Number 57.”

“Just start it,” Trish said.

“Being your slave,” I read, “what should I do but tend / Upon the hours and times —”

“No, Beth does the next line,” Julie said. “Keep it going to your right.”

“Upon the hours and times of your desire,” Beth said.

Julie was quick and flawless: “I have no precious time at all to spend...”

Trish: “Nor services to do, till you require.”

“Nor dare I —,” Dana began. “Nor dare I ... child...”

The cry went up.

“You blew it,” Julie said. “Let’s go.”

Dana took off one shoe.

“Shoes and socks count as one,” Trish said. “They both come off.”

Dana set her shoes on the rug in front of her, neatly, side by side.

The circle had come back to me, but I had the book.

“Now what?” I asked.

“It skips you and goes to Beth,” Julie said.

“Nor dare I chide the world-without-end hour,” Beth said.

So it went around, and it didn’t take long. Dana didn’t know the sonnet at all. By the end of the round, she’d messed up three lines. Her feet were bare and her shirt was off, and we all had a stunning view of that long, taut stomach between her bra and the waistband of her skirt. Her bra was black mesh, too, too, like her panties, but with no patch to hide her nipples. The fashion people must pay her in clothes.

Beth had taken off her shoes.

I was still all dressed, because I hadn’t recited yet. Julie told me to pass the book to Beth, who riffled through it like I had and stopped at about a third of the way from the end.

“Let me not to the marriage of true minds,” she read.

Everybody froze for a second.

“Go on,” Julie said.

“No, that’s the end of the line,” Beth said.

“Admit impediments,” Julie insisted.

“ ‘Admit impediments’ is in the second line.” Beth turned the book around and, leaning over, held it up to Julie’s face.

“Ugh!” Julie grunted. And she pulled off her shirt and dropped it on the floor.

“Everybody starts with their shoes,” she explained when she saw me looking at her. “Besides, my feet get cold.”

She was wearing a plain white bra that showed the slopes of upper breasts. As the game went on, it was going to be harder to think.

My shoes came off at “Or bends with the remover to remove,” which was stupid, because it’s such an easy line. I was just nervous, my first time, and I didn’t realize it was my turn. I hesitated, and it cost me my penny-loafers.

But I recovered and got into the rhythm of it as we went on, laughing and making up lines and handing the book around and throwing our clothes into a pile on the rug and laughing some more.

Dana, the death-dealing model, was the first one out. She flubbed something in “When forty winters shall besiege thy brow.” I guess she can’t imagine herself getting old and weedy, with deep trenches in her beauty’s field. Anyway, with the three other girls hooting, and me staring, she stood up, and slid her panties down those long, long legs, bending absolutely double as her hands reached her ankles,. her tits pressed to her knees. Her hair slid from her bare back and spilled over the floor. When she straightened up I saw I was right: She was shaved — completely. Probably for when she models swimwear. Her tits were small and set far apart, and she was impossibly long in the waist. Even her belly button was stretched out. It was more an oval than a circle.

Dana dropped her panties on the free wing chair, which Beth designated the “panty depository.” They would pile up there for the winner to claim at the end.

“Olivia, you’re staring,” Trish said.

“Who wouldn’t stare?” Julie said. “God, I envy her.”

“Stop it. It’s just a body,” Dana said as she flopped back into her seat and crossed her legs.

“A million-dollar body,” Beth said.

“Just a hundred thousand dollars,” Dana corrected her.

“Oh, my bad!”

“What’s her dare?” Trish asked, but Beth already had her smartphone out of her book bag. She entered a number.

“Hi,” she said when whoever it was answered. “There’s somebody here who wants to talk to you.”

She gave Dana the phone.

“Tell him who you are and what you’re doing,” she said. “And you have to stay on as long as he wants.”

“Who is it?” Dana asked.

“What do you care? He’s a guy.”

“Hello?” Dana said. “I’m Dana. Yeah, that one … Six one. Really.”

“Tell him you’re naked,” Beth mouthed.

“I’m naked,” Dana said.

“Totally naked.”

“Totally naked. Really. We’re playing a strip game, and I was the first one out. I’m sitting here nude … I never pose naked. I’m too young … Well, Beth is topless, and so is another girl.” She meant Trish. “One girl” — Julie — “took off her shirt and panties, but she still has her skirt and bra on. And her shoes and socks.” She looked at me. “And there’s a freshman here in her bra and panties ... No, I’m not that big ... Thirty-two B.”

The other three girls giggled into their hands. Dana handed the phone to Beth.

“He wants to talk to you.”

“Yeah, it’s true,” she said into the phone. “Everybody does a dare ... Oh, God! No. You promise? OK, hold on. — Dana, stand up and do a model pose.”

Dana stood up and snapped into position automatically — hands on hips, her hair across half her face, and those lips in a killer pout — and before she knew what was happening, Beth took her picture with the phone and sent it off to the guy.

“You bitch!” Dana yelled. “Gimme that!”

The other three were laughing.

“Too late, he’s already got it,” Beth said.

“What if he posts it on the Internet? If they see it, it could ruin my modeling.”

“He won’t. He’s cool,” Beth said. She talked back into the phone. “Get it? Yeah, she is amazing. OK, that’s only for you, no sharing. I’m serious. OK, see you later. Love you, too.”

She closed the phone.

“Who was that?” Dana asked. “It sounded like a kid.”

Beth just grinned. Enigmatic. That’s a word I learned this year.

Trish was the second one out. She messed up on “O thou, my lovely boy.” Of all of us, she’s the only one who has what you would call knockers: big, soft breasts that need only a little lift to make deep cleavage, which she got from her silky push-up.

Dana told her to lick her own nipples. I still can’t do that, but it was easy for Trish. Her brown buds got hard and glistened with spit. She went back and forth, lapping one and then the other. Her eyes closed and she breathed louder, huffing through her nose.

“God, she’s really getting into it,” Beth said.

“Mmmm-hmm,” Trish said.

“Now you might as well get yourself off,” Julie said.

Trish’s hand slid down between her legs. She started rubbing herself with her fingertips, in a slow, round-the-clock motion, right at the top, where the black curls opened around the fleshy pink part. I wondered if every girl’s pussy looked like a monkey’s face.

“What’s she doing?” I said.

“You’re kidding, right?” Dana said.

Trish’s hand went faster. She moaned a little, and suddenly she stopped. Her tit dropped from her mouth, and she slumped into her corner of the sofa with her eyes closed. Her legs were open, and she was angled toward me. I looked right up her hairy crotch, at her finger dug between her swollen, lips. I had no idea what was going on, but after what Dana said I was afraid to ask.

We waited awhile for her to sit back up. Then Julie, Beth and I went on with the game like nothing happened. Dana and Trish became the referees. Since they were naked, they couldn’t play anymore. Beth only had her panties on, but she came back strong and kept them. Nobody seemed to notice when I lost my bra, but then, in the moment I’d been waiting for, Julie lost hers. She twisted her arms behind her back and easily unsnapped the hooks. I’ll never forget the instant the straps and cups suddenly popped and went slack, and the thing came off. Her tits were bigger than I thought, looking at them through her shirt all year, and they were beautifully shaped. The upper slopes were short. The rounding underneath was full and firm. And in between, the pink nipples tilted up like swirls of soft strawberry ice cream.

I stared harder than I did at Dana, and before I could get my focus back, Dana read “They that have power to hurt and will do none.” I hardly knew what was coming, but I kept going until the last line before the couplet, when I messed up on “But if that flower with base infection meet.” I said “mere” instead of base, I think, and Dana threw her hand up. My rosebud panties went into the depository. I was left with the gold cross around my neck, which I guess didn’t count as clothes.

Losing my last shred of covering, I was finally comfortable enough to curse.

“Shit!”

“Look at that,” Julie said. “No tan lines. How does she do that?”

“White girls get tan lines,” I said. “Latinas are just dark.”

“You’re only half Latina,” Julie said.

“What’s her dare?” Trish said.

“She’s got to go pee,” Dana said.

“Right here?” I said.

“You go into the corridor, walk down to the girls’ room, and you take a pee,” Dana explained, slowly, like she was talking some kid in the lower tracks. Her humiliation with the smartphone made her mad, and she wanted revenge on somebody else.

“But —”

“Naked, yes,” Dana said. “You’re catching on.”

“Wow!” Julie said. “That’s bitchy.”

I looked at her pleadingly, but my God had had forsaken me.

“You have to do it,” she said.

Beth, still in her panties, walked over to the door and opened it, looking up and down the corridor.

“All clear,” she said. “Let’s go.”

I stood just inside the door, goose bumps turning my skin to sandpaper.

“The faster you do it, the faster you’ll get back,” Trish said.

I was still making up my mind when two open hands hit me hard in the back and I half tripped into the corridor. The door slammed shut behind me, and the lock clicked.

I whirled around and rattled the handle. It wouldn’t budge. I stood terrified, with one hand over my crotch and the other trying to hide both nipples as four pretty faces laughed at me through the window. I had never been more alone, more exposed, more excited.

“Go on! Hurry!” Trish shouted, pointing to her right. I took off running and was almost down to the end of the hall when I remembered the girls’ room was in the other direction. Trish had faked me out. They were all laughing harder when I ran back, and they cheered me on like a racehorse.

I kept my hands vaguely over my body, one over my tits and the other back and forth over my cunt and my bottom, as if it would do any good if a nun walked by.

The girls’ room was an empty haven. I locked myself in a stall and climbed onto the toilet seat, squatting like a vulture while I streamed. I was scared to death a nun would barge in and see my bare feet under the door. They didn’t use the girls’ rooms, but they were always sticking their noses in to make sure we weren’t doing something wrong, like smoking — or running around the school naked.

Not stopping to wash my hands, I charged through the door and streaked back to the classroom. The door was still locked. I rattled the handle and banged on the glass.

“Let me in!” I demanded. “Come on, I did it.”

Nothing but laughter from inside. Somewhere a door opened. I danced on my bare feet, flapping my hands like a crazy bird. “Hurry up! Somebody’s coming!”

“Let her in,” said a muffled voice. I could tell it was Julie. Trish popped the lock, and I crashed through the open door.

“Have fun?” Trish said.

I was panting. My nipples were black bullets. The whole area between my legs felt heavy and swollen. This was all new, and I had a feeling I knew why Trish liked to rub herself there.

The game had gone on while I was out. Julie had moved to a sofa, and she and Beth were sitting across from one another, looking hard into each other’s faces. They were down to their last scraps. Beth was still in her panties, and Julie had just her socks on. The shoes and the skirt had come off while I was running in a panic through the hall. It was hard to see her pubic hair while she was sitting down, but the little patch I caught was light brown. A natural blond, the beautiful bitch.

Dana handed the book to me to referee again. I sat down next to Julie — finally! — and read, “My mistress’ eyes are nothing like the sun...” The lines bounced back and forth between them, but Beth, who took the second line, was focused, and Julie laughed too quickly and too loudly every time she had to recite. They almost reached the end, threatening another face off, but Julie muffed it on “And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare.” She said, “I think she is as rare,” and I jumped on it.

“Game over!”

Julie pulled her knees up to her boobs, flashing her gaping pink gash through her silky blonde patch, and swept off both socks at the same time. Beth, in triumph, grabbed the panties from the chair and waved them over her head.

“I am da queen!” she said. “Mistress Marvel of Shakespeare, and the boss of all you naked losers.”

In the land of the nude, the girl in panties rules.

“What’s Julie’s dare?” Dana wanted to know, still out for revenge.

“She has to—” Trish began.

“My win, my call,” Beth said. We looked at her in silence as she thought. Then she said, slowly, “Make out with Olivia.”

“Yeah, gotta be,” Trish said.

“Perfect,” Dana said.

“Don’t look so shocked,” Beth said to me. “You’ve been following her around like a puppy all year.”

For once, Julie stepped out of the game.

“No. She’s a nice kid. Think of something else.”

“Make out with her,” Beth insisted, “or you go outside and hitchhike home.”

They had her, or she thought they did. It didn’t occur to her that both dares went too far, and she could have just said no.

“Let’s get it on,” Trish said. “Sweet lovers love the spring.”

Julie — curvy, naked Julie — inched over toward me on the sofa. I just sat there staring straight ahead, and my whole body was rigid: mouth, neck, arms, legs — even my boobs, if that’s possible. To reach my face, Julie had to kneel on the sofa cushion and sort of twist around in front of me.

She planted hard kiss on my mouth, but our lips were shut. I could hardly feel anything.

“This is boring,” Beth said. “I want to see some tongue.”

Julie put her mouth to my ear. “Relax, sweetie,” she whispered. Her breath sent a tingle down my side, raising goose bumps all the way to my thighs. Her lavender scent made my head swim. I put my nose against her neck and took a long sniff.

She stroked my neck, my legs, my breasts — if you can call them breasts. When she touched my dark nipples, the tension began to give. She drew my hands apart and placed one of my arms across her shoulders. She tickled my thighs, and my legs parted.

“God, her bush is so black,” I heard Dana say.

“But you can see her pubes sticking through it,” Beth said.

Julie’s lips touched mine again, and this time I opened for her. So what if everybody was watching? Who would they tell? I turned my head toward her to make it easier. Our tongues touched. She pressed down on one of my nipples with her fingers, and a quiet moan rose in my throat.

I had never kissed anybody before.

“Here we go!” Beth said. “Now it’s getting interesting.”

Julie Frenched me, and I cupped a hand under one of her tits. Her fingers wandered down my breasts, and my side, and between my legs. Her touch was feather-light. It made me tingle all over. Finally, she found the sensitive, wonder-girl flesh under my black curls. She hesitated. I broke the kiss and put my lips to her ear — the ear that was turned away from the other girls.

“It’s OK,” I breathed. I prayed no one could tell how hot I was.

Julie’s fingers circled the same spot Trish touched. I was starting to get it.

“God, she’s wet,” someone said. My eyes were closed, and the voices ran together. Julie raised my hand to her mouth. She sucked my fingers, then returned them, wet, to her boobs. I rubbed my spit into the nipple.

I really was wet. Stuff was oozing out of me. We kissed some more, and I moved my hand from her tit to her pussy, to see what it was like. She was wet there, too.

It was like a dream. While my tongue was cuddling with Julie’s, I felt something warm and wet on my left breast. I thought it was Julie’s hand again until it tightened around the nipple and sucked. Another mouth. I opened my eyes, and I saw Trish’s short black hair under my nose. She smelled like strawberry shampoo.

Someone else pulled Julie’s hand away, and another tongue washed over my swollen cunt, slipping into the hole and flickering across that wonderful spot. It was Beth.

Hands touched me all over, massaging me, pulling at my legs and my shoulders. I was lifted off the sofa, floating like a balloon. My ass bumped a hard, scratchy surface, and my shoulders followed. I was lying on the carpet. All the better for us to eat you, my dear.

Beth settled between my legs and cleaned me out with her tongue. Trish sucked one of my tits. Julie sucked the other. They were licking me all over, each to a side. Legs and arms and tummy and hips. My feet. My toes. My God ...

I was wondering where Dana had gone when those long legs folded down on either side of my head, and a pink and white bald blob bore down on my lips.

I knew what she wanted, because Beth was doing it to me. I lapped at Dana, trying to find the magic spot everybody seemed to know about but me. My nose was up her ass, and all I could see were her white bouncing cheeks, and a whisking brush of her brown hair up above.

I found Dana’s spot. It was nothing, really, just a little thickening, but I pressed and licked, and she rode my face like a pony.

Beth ate me, and Julie and Trish licked me, and something new swelled up inside, something better than anything I’d ever felt in my life. I moaned into Dana’s cunt. She grunted and yelped.

“Shut her up,” Trish said. “Somebody’ll hear her.”

The cries were suddenly muffled. I couldn’t see, but I figured Dana must have put her hand over her mouth, because everybody else still had their mouths on me. Dana humped my face. Her toes tangled up in my hair, which was spread out across the floor. Her perfect model’s body stretched, rose, stiffened. She froze for a long time. Then she suddenly broke down, shuddering and bending over me.

I lifted my ass off the floor, pushing my cunt into Beth’s face. I screamed, louder and longer than Dana, but Dana’s pussy absorbed the sound like a wet gag.

“Shhh!” Julie said, half-laughing. “You’ll bring in the nuns.”

I didn’t care. I only wanted whatever was happening to go on and on. Beth hummed into my sweet nub, sending that wonderful buzzing through my body and out my mouth into Dana.

Somewhere in there, I found Julie’s pussy with one hand and Trish’s with the other. They were both sopping wet, and my fingers went up their holes.

I jerked them and yanked them like crazy as those fucking incredible girl-feelings built up inside me, and then my state, like to the lark at break of day arising, — oh, sweet fucking Jesus! — sang hymns at heaven’s gate.

● ● ●

“Did anybody here not have an orgasm?” Trish said.

She and Julie and Dana and I were scattered around the floor like our cast-off clothes. We didn’t feel like moving. Beth stood over us like a cop at a four-car pileup. She was still wearing her sky-blue panties, but a wet stain was creeping up the front from under her crotch.

“I didn’t,” she said. “Nobody took care of me.”

“Well, it’s too late,” Julie said drowsily. “You don’t have any dares left.”

“Is that what that was?” I asked.

“Yeah,” Trish said. “Didn’t you know?”

“Uh uh.”

“Hey everybody,” Trish announced, “it was her first!”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Well, was it?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m gonna come again,” Dana said. “Everybody watch me come again.”

She didn’t sound mad anymore. She was on her back, rubbing her cunt slowly with both hands, puffing up her tits between her down-stretched arms. This time she was quiet about it. The only noise she made was a self-satisfied sigh. Beth had her phone out, taking more pictures. Only this time Dana didn’t seem to mind.

“I really like Shakespeare,” Trish said, and we all burst out in giggles.

“Come down here, Baby,” Julie said to Beth. “Let’s do you.”

“That’s OK,” Beth said. “I got somebody waiting. And I’m so hot right now it’ll be fantastic.”

“Who, that little kid on the phone?” Dana said.

“Maybe,” Beth said. “Maybe somebody else. We should get dressed.”

“How do we know whose clothes are whose?” I said.

We all rolled over and pushed ourselves off the floor.

“Just take whatever fits,” Julie said.

We put our stuff back on, clumsily, swapping the skirts and shirts and socks and shoes that didn’t feel right, and in a few minutes we were good little Catholic girls again. A little disheveled, maybe, but decent enough.

When Beth got her skirt back on, she stripped her panties off.

“These things are soaked,” she said. “I think I’ll wear Dana’s.” She pulled Dana’s mesh panties on over her socks, then slipped her feet into her loafers.

“Hey, those are expensive,” Dana said.

“Yeah, and they’re mine now,” Beth said. “These feel good. They’re like nothing.”

“Dana’s just a sexy bitch,” Trish said.

Beth stuffed our underwear into her book bag, and we walked down the hall to the stairs. It felt good to be naked under my skirt, after everything that went on. The air felt clean on my cunt. In the gym, we could hear shouts and a thumping basketball, and somewhere the robotics team was getting ready for a big tournament. I wondered if they ever played strip games. They have a rep in the school as cutthroat competitors. Stripping would keep them sharp.

Trish, Dana and Beth headed out into the sunshine without even saying goodbye, but Julie held back inside the front door and motioned me over.

“You OK?” she said. “We all like fucking raped you.”

“No, it was ... Oh, God it was great,” I said. “Do you think ... I mean...”

“My parents will be home soon,” Julie said.

“My dad goes out drinking after work,” I said. “We could go back to my apartment for some sandwiches.”

“Sure,” Julie said “And we should work on some sonnets — for next time.”

We walked out of the building and down the front drive, holding hands for anyone to see.

The End