THE TEMPTRESS (CHAPTER 13) About six months after Saskia’s arrival at the school, I invited her to spend the Saturday afternoon at my house. “I can’t - I’m going to a party then,” she said. “My friend Meryl, who lives on the other side of town. You don’t know her. Can we fix another time? What about the morning?” But that was a particularly busy weekend for our family and Saturday afternoon was the only possible time. Then Saskia said to me, “Well, I’m allowed to bring a friend with me, but it’s not allowed to be a boy. I know! You can dress up as a girl and come with me.” I thought she was joking, so I acted the fool a bit, mincing around and gathering pretended skirts around me. “I’ll make a lovely girl,” I said sarcastically in a higher-pitched voice. Saskia laughed. “Oh, goody,” she giggled. “Look, come round to my house after school and you can borrow some of my clothes.” It suddenly struck me that she was not joking after all. “Hey, not really!” I protested. “I couldn’t really pretend to be a girl.” “Yes, you could!” exclaimed Saskia, getting excited at the idea. “I’ll get a wig for you and you can borrow my clothes. We can make you just like a girl. Remember, you’ve played in my dresses before. Come on, Roy, that will be brill fun!” “Oh, no, not really,” I said, shaking my head strongly. “I can’t act like a girl and there will be big trouble if I get found out. Besides, your mother wouldn’t allow it, and I don’t think my parents would.” Saskia’s face fell as I mentioned her mother. She also knew that her mother would probably not allow anything like that. “I’ll talk to Meryl,” she said. “If she says you can come, will you come with me? Please?” I wasn’t really keen on going to a party where there would clearly be no other boys, but when Saskia looked at me so pleadingly it was hard to say no. “Maybe,” I said. “If there are going to be other boys there.” Saskia bounced up to me at school the following day with a victorious smile on her face. “It’s all right!” she said. “Meryl says you can come with me to her party. She says there’s going to be another boy there and he wants some company. My dad will come and pick you up at twelve o’clock on Saturday. And don’t worry about a present, because we’ll get one for you to give her.” I still wasn’t too keen, but since my conditions had been met I couldn’t very well argue. I would probably have tried to find an excuse if it had not been my only chance of seeing Saskia that weekend. I was very well aware of her faults, but I couldn’t deny that I was really excited by her company. Besides, while she was away Katarina might decide to chase me up again. “Shall I bring my swimming costume?” I asked. “No – er – Meryl – she doesn’t have a pool,” replied Saskia. I knew her well enough by now to sense that this sounded like a lie, just from the way she said it, but couldn’t think why she should lie about something like that. I decided to take my swimming costume anyway. Twelve o’clock on Saturday gave me very little time to prepare after I returned home from a trip to town with my family that morning. I had scarcely finished changing into some smart clothes when Saskia arrived in the family car, driven by her father Gerald, as he insisted I call him. His wife was not so free and easy, and she was still Mrs McDonald to me. Saskia swung the passenger door of the car open and hung her legs out, knees far enough apart for her shiny white panties of the day to be visible under her bright sky-blue dress. She seemed to take a pleasure in deliberately revealing her underwear to me every time we met, by one means or another. “Come, Roy,” she smiled, gesturing me to sit beside her on the front seat. I greeted Gerald and sat next to her. We were pressed rather close together, which we both enjoyed. “What’s in that bag?” she asked me as Gerald drove out of the gate. “My swimming costume and towel,” I answered. “I brought them just in case.” Saskia seemed to be about to say something, but suddenly changed her mind. Instead, she said, “Here you are. This is your present for Meryl.” And she handed me a box wrapped in gaily coloured paper. “What is it?” I asked. “Just some clothes,” she answered. “Meryl loves clothes. I’m so glad she said you could come.” And she immediately began to tell me all about Meryl. We drove into the centre of town, which was not too busy at the hot time of day and over the weekend. I assumed we would just be passing through the centre on our way to Meryl’s house on the other side of town. But instead Gerald drove to a parking place outside a large building belonging to an international company and stopped. “This is my office, Roy,” he said. “I’ve got something inside for you to take with you. Please come with me for a minute.” Saskia gave a giggle for which there seemed no logical explanation, but I had long since discovered that logic played a very small part in her life. I was completely unsuspecting as I walked right into the trap – but even now I cannot see how I really could have anticipated what was to happen. If I had been the curious type I would have asked questions about the faded red duffel bag she took out of the car with her, but I hardly noticed. The building had closed down for the weekend, but Gerald had a key to let us in. We took the lift up to the eighth floor, I think it was, where he had his office. I was not particularly curious about what he supposedly wanted me to take with me to the party. I was still unsuspecting as we entered his office and he shut the door behind us. The blinds were drawn and it was half-dark inside, I can remember clearly. I felt the first suspicion that something was up as I turned round, looking for Gerald’s lead about what I was to take with me, and saw him standing with his back to the door, looking at me with an almost guilty expression on his face. “Roy, first of all I have to apologise for using a bit of trickery to bring you here,” he began. I had a sudden prickly feeling in my stomach, knowing that something was unusual here but having no idea what. “But my daughter assured me it would be necessary to persuade you to – er – help us.” I stared at him, a spirit of impending doom clutching at my chest. Then he smiled and I saw a twinkle in his eye, which did encourage me just a little. “The fact is,” he continued, “that Saskia’s friend Meryl would not change her mind and allow any boys to come to her party. My little Saskia was heartbroken because she had really set her heart on taking you along with her. But then she had the brilliant idea of dressing you up as a girl to go with her. She told me you wouldn’t even think about it, but said she was sure we could persuade you once we got you started on the way to the party.” My sense of horror came back. They were going to dress me up as a girl and throw me to the wolves! I had once or twice tried on some of Saskia’s clothes briefly in the privacy of her bedroom just for fun as we played together, but I would have felt horribly ashamed had anybody else I knew seen me wearing them. But most of all was the fear of being found out. One of my friends at school had told me once about his older brother who as a teenager gatecrashed a girl’s party dressed as a girl, only to be found out rather easily, given away by his hairy arms, peculiar voice and a sagging breast. The girls stripped him, threw him in the pool, smeared food all over him and threw him out on the street with nothing but a pair of frilly panties to cover himself. There was no way I wanted to risk anything like that happening to me. I stared at Gerald in horror, and then at Saskia, who was standing there with her hands behind her back, beaming at what she thought to be the success of her trick. “No way!” I expostulated. “That’s not fair, bringing me here and tricking me like this. Saskia, you lied to me! I don’t want to go as a girl! They’ll soon find out I’m not and then I’ll be in big trouble.” Saskia’s face dissolved in shock. Since her father had pandered to her every whim throughout her life, it was just unbelievable to her that any male could possibly refuse her anything. She gave a gasp, her eyes filled with tears, her face went even whiter than usual, and I could see she was on the point of throwing a hysterical fit. So could Gerald, I think, as he acted quickly. “Wait a minute,” he said, stalking quickly over to his desk and sitting down in a chair on the near side so his face was more on a level with my own. “Perhaps we went about it in the wrong way, Roy.” He sure did! “This is really – really nothing more than a little trick, a little joke my daughter would like to play on her friends. There’s no harm in it. She’s been looking forward to it so much all week and she persuaded me to help her because I don’t want to see her disappointed. She’s been so excited about it. So please, Roy, will you just think about it for a moment? She will be so devastated if you let her down.” I was not the one letting her down, after being lied to by both Saskia and her father, but I could hardly say that. I felt bitterly angry with a father who would stoop to deception like this to indulge his daughter’s every whim. But he was now making it harder still for me to say no, using a kind of emotional blackmail. “I just can’t do it,” I protested. Saskia made another choking noise as if she was about to explode. He spoke very kindly and gently to me, and asked, “Roy, your attitude puzzles me and disappoints me. I thought a boy like you would be excited about pulling off a ripping wheeze like this. It would be such a joke to play on the girls and they will never suspect a thing if you act well, as I know you can. What is really bothering you? Are you too scared?” He said it gently, but the accusation was there. I told him the story about the boy at the party, and he shook his head. “Teenagers couldn’t get away with a disguise as easily as you can,” he smiled. “What is there to give you away? You don’t have any hairy limbs, you don’t need breasts and you only need to change your voice a little.” “And Meryl’s mum would never allow the girls to do that to you even if you were found out,” Saskia assured me. “It’s not a wild teenage party.” She giggled. “I wish I’d seen that boy!” “Look, if you’re still worried, I’ll take full responsibility for that,” Gerald assured me. “It won’t happen, but if it did, then, Saskia, you would ask Marcia” – Meryl’s mother, I assumed – “to stop any trouble but to phone me straight away. Tell her it was my fault, and not yours or Roy’s.” I did not find him very convincing, considering how he had already deceived me that day. He turned back to me. “Now, Roy, is there anything else bothering you?” “If there’s somebody there I know, she’s sure to recognise me,” I said. “You won’t know any of the girls there, I promise, Roy,” Saskia assured me. “They all go to the Roman Catholic school where Meryl goes.” On the other side of town there is such a school and some English expatriates living over there, especially the Catholics, do send their children there as it is such a long journey to our official English school. “Do you know any girls at the Catholic school?” I knew only two, one younger and one older than myself, and I mentioned their names. Saskia shook her head and said, “No, they won’t be there.” I knew her pretty well by now and it seemed to me she was telling the truth. “But I can’t make my hair look like a girl’s,” I protested, thinking this was my trump card. “It’s far too short.” “I’ve got two really good wigs for you to choose from,” smiled Saskia. “They’ll make you look so different that nobody will ever know you.” “So you’re really very safe, Roy, and it will be a wonderful joke to play,” Gerald smiled at me. I still looked stubborn, pulling a face and shaking my head. “Look, Roy, will you at least try on the clothes Saskia has brought, and then you can decide?” he said finally. I paused, trapped in a very difficult position. Saskia had her head on one side and was looking pleadingly at me, hysterics put on one side for the present but no doubt kept in reserve if necessary. I didn’t know what to say, and after a short silence she opened the old duffel bag she had brought up with her and took out a batch of clothes. “I brought two of most things, so you can choose,” she said. She spread out on Gerald’s desk a pile of girls’ clothes, no doubt her own. “Panties!” I exclaimed, mainly to try and preserve my macho image for Gerald’s benefit. “Do you expect me to wear those?” “Well, if your dress goes up and people see you’re wearing boys’ underpants, they might think they looked funny,” she explained. “And this is a bra, to cover the muscles on your chest.” A little flattery I suspected there. It wasn’t a real bra, but just one of those half-vests with the bare midriff that Saskia had been wearing during the first of our many times in the tree house. “Saskia, just come into the next room with me so Roy can change into those clothes,” Gerald suggested, taking it for granted I would. “Oh, don’t be stupid, Daddy,” Saskia retorted rudely, but her father weakly let it pass. “Roy and I change together for swimming all the time. He doesn’t mind us being here, do you, Roy?” “No,” I growled, and a moment later regretted it. If they had both gone into the other room, I might have been able to make my escape and find my way home before they caught up with me. I wasn’t given time to work out how to change my mind, as Saskia began to talk about the clothes. And in the background there was Gerald saying, “Good boy, Roy, I’m so pleased. I knew you wouldn’t let us down or hurt my little girl.” (To be continued) THE TEMPTRESS (CHAPTER 14) I felt I had no option but at least to try on the clothes and work from there, hoping I could find something to use as an excuse to refuse. I sat down on the chair opposite Gerald and began to remove my shoes and socks, hoping he might give me another chance to send them into the next room while I changed. Saskia immediately produced a girl’s pair of white socks and sandals for me to wear. “I’ll put them on last,” I said, thinking it would be easier to change clothes with bare feet. “Well, take your shirt off, then,” ordered Saskia, going round behind me as I stood up and helping me off with it. I was quite proud then of what I considered to be a manly chest, stronger-looking than most of the flat chests owned by other boys of my age. “You must put on the bra in case somebody sees down your dress or something and knows you’re not a girl,” said Saskia. “It’s not a real bra like mine but it will cover up your muscles.” More obvious flattery. By the way, Saskia was now wearing a frilly little bra all the time, although her chest was still almost flat. It fed her vanity. I knew she was keen for her breasts to grow but did not want a mass of pubic hair like Katarina’s. I slipped the half-vest over my head and pulled it down, finding it a tight fit. “I’ve brought some pads so you can have some boobs as well if you want,” Saskia giggled, picking up a plastic bag. “No, thanks, it’s tight enough already,” I said, undoing my belt and slipping my trousers down. Although the weather was quite warm at that time of year, I was wearing long trousers in an effort to appear smart at the party. I had been hoping to win feminine approval as girls of that age seem to admire boys in long trousers. Because of the long trousers I had been wearing underpants that had a slit in the front to slip out the penis when we need to urinate, and Saskia picked up on that straight away. “These are boys’ underpants,” she declared, taking hold of the front and shaking it against my penis. Her father did not react to this over-familiarity in any way. “If the girls see those, they’ll know you’re a boy. It’s a good thing I brought some panties with me.” She held up two pairs. “Which ones do you want?” One pair was a light pink in colour, edged with lace, while the others were plain white, the sort she normally wore for school, plain cotton with plain elastic hems and no lace or patterns. I very quickly chose the plain ones, and removed my own underpants. I felt rather strange to be standing in Gerald’s office, stark naked apart from the half-vest, but realised it was nothing to what I would feel like dressed in girls’ clothes. I slipped on the panties, feeling most embarrassed. Saskia stared at them. “At least your piss doesn’t bulge out too much,” she said with her usual silly giggle. “It should be nice and smooth, like this.” So saying, she lifted up the front of her skirt and ran her hand over the shiny silky smooth gusset of her panties that covered her vagina. “Well, I can’t do anything about it,” I answered, looking at my strange reflection in a mirror that ran down the wall behind the door. No doubt Gerald, as the vain man I took him to be, used it often to ensure he was immaculately dressed at the office. The front of the panties I was wearing did not have that same smoothness but it did not bulge too noticeably. Fortunately my penis was still pretty small in those prepubescent years. I would just have to make sure I kept my skirt down at the front. I wanted to tell Saskia not to lift my skirt up at the front at all, as I suspected she might decide to play her silly game while we were there, but I couldn’t very well say that in her father’s presence. Now that the underwear was settled, we turned to the dress. “Which one do you want?” asked Saskia. One was a pale green miniskirt without a waist, while the other was a brown and orange patterned skirt, not much longer, with large white lacy patterns round the hem and a T-shirt as a separate top. “Try the dress on first,” Saskia urged me as I picked up the other one. To humour her, I slipped the dress over my head, although I had already decided that the other was the lesser evil as it was longer. I am never worried about anybody seeing my underpants, but I was rather more concerned about people seeing feminine panties on my body. Besides that, I wanted my crotch to be as well covered as possible in case anybody noticed a suspicious bulge. I quickly declared the dress to be unwearable as it was too tight across the shoulders. I had great trouble in pulling it down over my head and shoulders, even with the help of Saskia tugging the hem down all the time. Glancing in the mirror, I saw what was definitely a boy wearing a short dress and shoulders hunched up. I took it off, again with great trouble, and tried on the T-shirt, which had a Barbie-doll picture on the front. Not my favourite, but it did give me more room. Then I pulled up the skirt, which spread out in folds and came barely halfway down my thighs. I would have preferred more protection. “Haven’t you anything longer?” I asked. “My legs are too thick for a girl’s so it would be better to keep them covered.” “I don’t have any longer dresses,” Saskia told me, and certainly I had never seen her in anything long enough to cover her bottom when she bent over, apart from her school dress. “Except my bridesmaid’s dress and my evening dresses, and you’d look really weird wearing those. I could have brought you a petticoat as well.” All this fuss about clothes! I thought straight away that life would be so much easier if everybody enjoyed a naturist lifestyle in this warm climate, and then there would have been no question of my sneaking into a girls’ party dressed as a girl! I stood and looked in the mirror, but again I saw nothing more than a boy wearing a dress, and hated the sight. “Now try on the wigs,” came Saskia’s voice from behind me. There were two wigs, both not too far from my own hair colour. There was a darker brown one that was rather a mop, and a lighter brown one that had wavy hair falling down the side of my face. I quickly chose the latter, as it would provide greater coverage of my features. It fitted firmly around my head and Saskia demonstrated that it would be very difficult for anybody to pull it off. Saskia stood back and clasped her hands together in admiration. “Roy, that’s great!” she exclaimed. “You look *exactly* like a girl now, doesn’t he, Daddy? Look in the mirror.” I did so, and was shocked by what I had seen. I had been hoping that I would still look so much like a boy that I could make that an excuse for refusing to play up. But the wig changed everything. I have always thought that I am reasonably good-looking and masculine-looking as a boy, but the reflection in the mirror showed a girl, apart perhaps from the legs. I was shocked that I could hardly recognise myself. I did not think I was a particularly attractive girl, and as I stared more closely I could see that my face still did look rather boyish. But until I looked closely I could not deny that the figure appeared to be that of a girl. “Roy, that’s wonderful!” exclaimed Saskia, jumping up and down in excitement and giving a little flash of her panties as her skirt bobbed up. “You look so different! Nobody would ever recognise you now, will they, Daddy?” “No, I’m sure they won’t,” smiled her doting father, but I broke in urgently. “My face still looks like a boy’s face,” I protested. “We’ll cover that as well,” squealed Saskia, diving into her duffel bag again and pulling out a spectacle folder. “Put these glasses on.” She pulled out some hideous-looking glasses with thick curly blue rims, the sort occasionally worn by weird women and definitely female in character. I reluctantly put them on. Saskia gave a burst of laughter, her father chuckled, and I looked in the mirror to see a very strange-looking feminine face. I could now not recognise myself at all. The glass was plain, so it did not affect my vision. “We’ve had to change your name too, of course,” Gerald said. “Yes, your name is now Rowena,” Saskia exulted, grabbing me by the shoulders with her hands. “That was Daddy’s idea, so if I do forget and call you Roy, I can quickly change it to Row and nobody will notice. So just put your socks and sandals on, Rowena, and then we can go.” They both seemed to take it for granted that I was now falling in with their plans. “Hey, I haven’t said I’ll do it!” I protested, with a surge of rebellion, and began to push my way out of the wig. They both looked taken aback and alarmed. “Oh, please, Roy, you can’t let us down!” wailed Saskia, and looked ready to press the hysteria button at any second. Gerald strode over quickly. “Please, Roy, Saskia has been looking forward to this so much,” he said seriously, one hand on my shoulder and face down to look earnestly into my eyes. “Please, don’t let us down. And I forgot to say that I am giving you both some money for the party in case there’s anything to buy there that you would like.” A muffled squeal of delight from Saskia suggested that he had also failed to tell her about the plan. He pulled out his wallet and opened it. “I think five thousand each should be enough, so you can buy things for your friends as well if you like.” He began counting out five notes for each of us. So, it was blatant bribery now, was it? That was quite a sum of money, and we both knew I was never likely to spend any of it at the party. I thought for a moment of seeing if I could push it up to ten thousand, and then suddenly felt rather sickened. Gerald was obviously going to keep applying the pressure on me and I realised now that it was only my pride that was really keeping me from going along with them. I felt confident enough that I was completely safe from discovery, barring some awful freak happening, and I suddenly began to anticipate the party with a bit of excitement for the first time. I suppose all boys have wondered at times what it would be like to be a girl, and to put your hand down your groin and feel nothing but the smooth fleshy depression down at the bottom. Probably most have wondered too what it is like to wear a dress. Well, I would find out the second one, anyway. It would be fascinating too to find out what girls really do and say when they think there are no boys around, and there were all sorts of things I might see as well. Perhaps it wouldn’t be too bad after all . . . “Would we be able to stop at the Arctic Circle on the way back?” I asked, referring to the local well-known ice-cream centre. “Why, certainly, and you can have as much to eat there as you want,” beamed Gerald, sensing victory as he pressed five currency notes into my hand. “Roy, you have made my daughter so happy,” he said as his daughter threw her arms round my neck, knocking those fancy spectacles painfully against my temple, and gave me a smacking kiss on the lips. I completed the operation by putting on Saskia’s sandals and socks, and then stuffed all my clothes into my bag. As I did so, I remembered. “I’ve got my swimming costume in here,” I said. “You won’t be able to swim because everyone will know you’re a boy then,” Saskia answered straight away, forgetting what she had told me earlier. “You told me Meryl didn’t have a pool!” I challenged her with annoyance at the lie. “Well, I had to say something,” Saskia protested, unrebuked by her father. “But even if we had a girl’s costume for you, you’d have to change and your piss would stick out inside your costume and the girls would notice. But just say you’ve had a cold and you’re not allowed to swim.” “I think you’ll need to change your voice a bit,” Gerald broke in quickly before I could respond. “Rowena,” he added, remembering. “Can you make it a little higher? Your voice is too gruff for a girl.” “I can talk like this,” I responded in a lighter voice. “Is this all right?” “Yes, that sounds better,” he approved. “Now, let’s see you walk.” I had a few quick lessons on deportment, and learned how to take daintier steps and use my arms a bit more in feminine gestures. I changed my smile a bit and even had a quick lesson in how to comb my hair. Knowing how girls like to groom each other, I asked Saskia to make sure nobody tried to comb my hair for me. If they looked too closely they would discover it was a wig. “Now, Rowena, sit down on the chair,” Saskia ordered. I did so. She giggled and said, “I can see your panties.” “No, you can’t, because they’re *your* panties,” I countered. If Gerald had not been there, I would have reminded her of the number of times I had seen her panties when she sat down. “Well, at least I can’t see you’ve got a piss,” she said. “You must sit down more slowly and lightly and smooth down your skirt behind when you sit on it. Then sit with your legs closer together.” If Gerald had not been there I would probably have reminded her that she often failed to follow her own advice. I tried sitting as she said and asked her, “Can you see your panties now?” “No, that’s better,” she said. “It’s even better if you cross your legs.” With the loose skirt I was wearing, even though it was short, the material hung down in the middle if I was careful so the panties were then invisible. After some more practising, Gerald decided it was time to go. “I certainly couldn’t recognise you now, Roy,” he assured me confidently. “You are making my little girl very happy.” A few years later I read the story of Huckleberry Finn, in which there is a scene when he dresses as a girl. One of the things that led to his secret being discovered was when a woman tossed something into his lap, and he jammed his legs together as he caught it. The woman later pointed out to him that a real girl would have spread her legs apart so as to catch it in her skirts if she missed with her hands. I did not know that at the time of this story, but have thought since that it would be of little use with the modern girl. Miniskirts are not long enough to be of any help in catching anything with the legs spread apart! As we stepped out on to the street a couple of minutes later, I suddenly felt exposed. I glanced fearfully around, hoping desperately not to see anybody I knew. Wearing a short skirt felt halfway between being clothed and being naked, although obviously girls got used to it. I could feel the air circulating around my thighs under the skirt in a strange way, and it actually felt good and made my penis swell a bit. I hoped that would not happen at the party. I swung my hips a little and felt the skirt swirl around my legs. I caught a reflection of ourselves in a shop’s plate glass window and I had to look hard to find myself. With Saskia giggling, I eventually identified myself by the brown and orange skirt, and could still hardly believe it was I. I wondered if even my own close friends and family could recognise me now, but I didn’t want to put that to the test. (To be continued) THE TEMPTRESS (CHAPTER 15) As we drove out of the centre of town and into the eastern suburbs towards Merle’s house, Saskia kept talking to me and instructing me on how to behave like a girl and talk like a girl. But most of it went in one ear and out of the other. I can’t remember ever being so nervous in all my life. It was all very well for Gerald and Saskia to say how well disguised I was, but perhaps the girls at the party would see through it straight away. Worse still, perhaps they would find out in the middle of the party after Gerald had left and when I was without protection. And I could never trust Saskia not to act in a silly way that would embarrass me, although I realised that if I were caught she would also be in trouble for trying to sneak me in. “The party really starts at two o’clock,” I heard Saskia telling me. “But Merle invited me and some other girls to come early so we can have lunch with her and help her decide what to wear for the party.” I made a mental note to remember what a big issue dressing in the right clothes is for girls. She even had a family history made up for me. At first I was to be Roy’s twin sister, but I managed to persuade her that if any of the girls did meet me at a later date, that could cause serious problems. I didn’t want any connection to be made with the real me at all, and Saskia finally agreed – or seemed to agree. Every time I spoke I had to use my new girl’s voice, or else Gerald picked me up on it straight away. Saskia was one for big families. I, Rowena, lived on a big farm a hundred kilometres away and my family were friends of hers. I went to boarding school in a nearby town and I had five brothers and five sisters. That was Saskia’s idea, but I managed to persuade her that it would be too hard for me to remember all their names and ages if I was asked. So we eventually settled on twins, a brother and a sister, aged eight. Saskia seemed to have a thing about twins as well. By this time we were almost there. Gerald drew the car up outside one of the usual walled houses with electronic gates and requested entry. My heart was thumping and my stomach churning as the gates rolled back and the car rolled down the drive. “Gerald, please – please stay a few minutes in case they – the girls find out I’m a boy,” I begged him in great trepidation, and he agreed. “There they are,” pointed out Saskia, quite unnecessarily as a bunch of girls burst round the side of the house and crowded round the passenger door before the car had even come to a stop. I looked at them through my feminine spectacles with some trepidation. Now was the crucial time. Would they suspect me of being an impostor straight away? But if so, at least that would be better than being discovered after Gerald had left. There was a lot of shouting and laughter, and I hoped they weren’t laughing at my appearance. “Hello, Marcia!” Gerald called out gaily as Merle’s mother appeared round the side of the house. “I’ve brought Saskia and her friend Rowena for you.” “Oh, good. Hello, girls,” Marcia greeted us briefly with a wave before walking round to Gerald’s door to talk to him. She was a small slim woman in a short black dress and rather too much make-up. She didn’t exactly inspire me with confidence if anything went wrong. “Open the door, silly,” Saskia told me as the girls outside pulled at the handle but were unable to open it as it was locked from the inside. She leaned over me and pulled the handle so the door opened and the girls were right in front of me. I could now see that there were four of them. They were paying all their attention to Saskia, who pushed me out of the car and then threw her arms round a girl I took to be Merle, laughing and kissing. The other girls crowded round too, and for a moment nobody was paying me any attention. Then Saskia said, “Girls, this is my friend Rowena. Rowena, these are . . .” and she proceeded to reel off the names so quickly that I couldn’t take them in. I did manage to confirm which was Merle, the birthday girl, though. She was a rather hefty girl my own height, with light brown hair, blue eyes and what I thought was a slight precocious expression. “I’m glad you didn’t bring your boyfriend like you wanted to,” giggled Merle, looking at me, as did the others. My heart stopped for a moment, but none of the girls gave any sign that they suspected me of being an impostor. “Knowing you, I couldn’t be sure you wouldn’t sneak him in somehow.” I tried to say “Hello” in my girl’s voice, but the word somehow stuck in my throat and came out as a sort of gurgle. Saskia plunged in to rescue me straight away. “Rowena’s rather shy,” she explained with a giggle, throwing an arm round me. “Maybe it’s because she looks like a boy sometimes.” That was quite uncalled for, and I thought a really stupid remark that might have aroused suspicions – but it was Saskia all over. It set off the other girls giggling at me, and one of them said rudely, “Well, her chin sticks out too much for a girl.” This, I later discovered, was Avril, a tall girl with short dark hair, a plain freckled face and a silly smile and giggle. “Those glasses make her look a bit weird,” commented Merle, staring through them at me from the far side. This catty comment also caused a great deal of giggling. I immediately considered the possibility of climbing back into the car and refusing to perform. “Oh, don’t be horrible, she doesn’t look . . . so bad,” a third girl piped up. I looked at a small girl with a dark complexion and big round black eyes. She had a long dark brown fringe down to her eyes and plaits down over her shoulders, and reminded me of a little mouse. But I could tell she was trying to be kind, only she was a little too honest to say I looked pretty. “I like your skirt,” she added, quickly finding something she could praise. Her name, I found out later, was Lindsay. “Thank you,” I replied, trying to smile at her politely and in a feminine fashion, but not managing it very well because I felt so nervous and out of place. “She has nice panties too,” put in Saskia with a loud laugh, lifting the back of my skirt to expose her own panties worn on my body underneath. “Hey!” I exclaimed, taken by surprise and pulling it out of her hand. This duly brought some more laughter from her silly friends, but I noticed Lindsay was not laughing. “She even talks like a boy!” Avril called out. I quickly reminded myself that next time I was attacked in this manner I should squeal like a girl (or perhaps a pig), if I survived long enough. I had better watch the front of my skirt carefully if this was one of the girls’ favourite games, as I didn’t want any suspicious bulges to be noted. “What about you, Saskia?” chuckled Merle, lifting the hem of Saskia’s skirt to expose her panties. Saskia duly squealed and grabbed for Merle, but Merle was at that time wearing a pair of jogging shorts rather than a skirt, and she laughed at Saskia’s efforts. So did Avril, so Saskia darted for her dull red skirt and managed to lift it enough to give a flash of off-white panties underneath. Lindsay backed away, wrapping her little blue-grey dress around her legs lest she should become a victim, and I did the same thing. It momentarily became a free-for-all as Merle lifted Saskia’s skirt again, Saskia tried to pull down Merle’s jogging shorts and Avril came back at Saskia. Behind them was a smaller girl, later revealed as Merle’s seven-year-old sister Clare, jumping up and down with laughter and flicking up her own skirt to reveal white print panties underneath. “Now, now, girls,” reproved Marcia, who was probably failing to make herself heard in her conversation with Gerald. “Saskia, have you given Merle her present?” asked Gerald, finding a better way to distract them. “Oh, yes, that’s right,” answered Saskia, fluttering her hands in front of her chest in a feminine way. I made a mental note to copy this gesture when appropriate. She reached back inside the car and pulled out the two boxes of presents, handing one to me. “Happy birthday, Merle,” she squealed, thrusting the box into her friend’s hands and then wrapping her arms round Merle’s neck and giving her a smacking kiss. “Thank you, Saskia,” Merle responded, as she had no doubt been trained. I came forward with my present, wondering if I should kiss Merle as well in that gushy feminine way. I decided I could be excused that as I didn’t know her, but would have to be ready in case Merle herself should take the initiative. But I didn’t have anything to do straight away, as Merle was too intent on ripping open the wrapping on Saskia’s parcel. “Ooh, a skirt,” she squealed, holding it up. It was a beautiful snowy-white pleated skirt. “And a blouse,” Saskia reminded her, pulling out a red and white patterned blouse from the wrappings. The next minute or so was spent with the girls all exclaiming over the clothing and holding it up against themselves to see how it looked. When the fuss had died down a bit, Saskia said something useful for a change by reminding Merle that I too had a present. I bashfully stepped forward, holding out the box. If I had been able to think like a girl, I would surely have wondered and asked Saskia in the car exactly what I was going to give Merle. I was rather embarrassed, therefore, to see when Merle opened it a set of four sets of very feminine panties inside, of various light colours. Just like Saskia to cause me unnecessary embarrassment. “Ooh, they’re silk!” exclaimed Merle in delight, rubbing a pale pink pair against her cheek and cooing with satisfaction at the soft smoothness of the material. The other girls, all exclaiming with admiration, crowded round to take a pair each and do the same. My initial crossness with Saskia at giving me such a present to hand over was replaced by surprise and satisfaction at the pleasure it was giving. There was certainly no embarrassment on the part of Merle and her friends – after all, we were all girls together, weren’t we? At this point Gerald finished his conversation with Marcia and prepared to drive off, much to my alarm. But I couldn’t very well plead with him in front of the girls to stay longer. Saskia flew round the far side of the car and enveloped her dad in noisy hugs and kisses. Merle forgot all about me, the one who was supposed to have given her the gift, and bounced up to Marcia, exclaiming, “Mum, we’re going to try on these new clothes!” “Do it after lunch, dear,” Marcia suggested. “Or you may get them dirty and won’t be able to wear them at the party, if you decide that’s what you want to do. Lunch has been ready for quite some time.” “You were late,” Merle said accusingly to Saskia and me. “It wasn’t my fault,” Saskia defended herself. “Rowena came without any party clothes and she had to borrow some of mine.” “I’m sorry, I didn’t know,” I apologised in my high voice, waving my hands around in what I hoped were feminine gestures. “But I’m glad we’ve come now. Thank you so much for inviting me, Merle, and I’m so glad you like the panties.” This seemed to mollify Merle somewhat, and we all followed Marcia inside the house. She had prepared plates for us all with cold meat, vegetables, bread and butter – not very appetising – but also with large quantities of potato chips. There were glasses of fruit juice and bowls of jelly to follow. We each took a small tray and trooped out into the front garden, where we headed for a large shady tree and sat down in a circle. Normally when sitting on the grass I put my knees up and wrap my arms round them, but this is a boyish way of sitting and would show my panties if I did that on this occasion. So I hung back and watched exactly how the girls sat, although I already knew in general terms. Holding the trays in both hands, they crossed their legs at the shins and lowered their bottoms to the ground, leaning forward as they did so, so as to sit with their legs crossed. Usually, older girls will at the same time push their skirts down between their legs to avoid revealing their panties, but they could not do this and hold the tray at the same time, so I had quite a view of them all until they had put the tray down in front of them and freed their hands. This is what Avril and Lindsay did, at least, and I had a glimpse of Lindsay’s light blue panties for the first time. Avril’s unattractive off-white ones I had already seen, courtesy of Saskia by the car. Saskia herself never bothered to push her skirt down when she sat, as I knew from experience, and Merle was wearing jogging shorts. They were loose, and as she sat I could see the hem of her white panties most of the way round. I sat between Saskia and Clare, sitting down the same way as the girls did, although aware that I too would no doubt be showing my panties, and then pushing the skirt in place when I had deposited the tray. Clare was still unsophisticated, and she sat with her knees up and her little tray underneath them. Her little white panties were visible, with a picture on the front that looked like a couple of fairies - I could see only the bottom part. Merle gave a giggle, pointed and said, “Clare, we can see your panties. Cross your legs properly.” “It doesn’t matter, Merle, we’re all girls here,” Saskia piped up with a provocative giggle, directed at me. At the same time Clare sought to obey by putting her knees down and crossing her legs, but knocked her fruit juice over as she did so. “That’s your fault, Merle,” Clare scolded crossly, on the verge of tears, as the girls laughed unkindly at her. She scrambled to her feet and set off for the house, carrying her empty glass and calling, “Mummy! Mummy!” Her little skirt was folded up slightly at the back, leaving her panties hanging down for a couple of centimetres. “Look at her panties,” Avril said, giggling in a silly way. “There’s no hope for her, Merle.” “Who cares?” put in Saskia, rolling over backwards and sticking her bottom in the air, displaying her own panties in full. She rolled back up again, giggling. “There are no boys here today, so we can do what we want. Can’t we, Rowena?” “Yes, Saskia,” I agreed, and decided to risk falling in with her frivolity. Taking care not to kick my tray, I too rolled backwards for a moment, giving them all a view of my panties – or rather, Saskia’s. I came up again quickly and did my best to copy her giggle. “Saskia, you’re just a show-off,” Avril was accusing her, but perhaps decided she didn’t know me well enough to tackle me as well. To Saskia, this was no doubt to be considered a compliment. The other four were all indulging in `girl talk’ when Clare returned with a new glass of fruit juice and sat down next to me, knees up at first giving a brief glimpse of her panties and tummy right up to her belly-button before crossing her legs in the approved fashion. `Girl talk’ consisted mainly on this occasion of talk about other girls that they all knew, many of whom were apparently coming to the party. My dislike of Avril grew as she so often seemed to find something bad to say about most of them. “She’s so silly” or “She’s so ugly” or “She lives in such a horrible house” or “She’s a real baby” or “Her mother wears such ugly clothes” seemed to flow from her lips all the time. When boys were mentioned, she was ruder than ever. She seemed to be the dominant hen in the group and I soon thought that Merle was very much under her influence. The little Lindsay didn’t have much to say, just getting on with her meal quietly. Saskia of course would be outshone by nobody when it came to talking, and she would hold forth with her opinions even about people she didn’t know, it seemed. The lawn was lush and green and very comfortable, but it did have a problem with little black ants. We had to keep brushing them off our food and legs. Most of us had just started our jelly when Saskia suddenly grabbed herself between the legs and exclaimed, “Oh, gross, I’ve got ants in my panties again, would you believe it?” So saying, she put down her dish, lifted her skirt and pulled the leg of her panties aside, introducing her vagina to the fresh air. Seated next to her, I had a clear view of her white vagina as she bent her head over it, examined it closely and brushed aside a couple of ants, real or imagined. “Saskia!” came a chorus of disapproval, carrying from amused distaste to a degree of shock, from the other girls, and I just managed to join in. Of course, this was no new territory to me, because after knowing Saskia for a few months I knew her private area every bit as well as my own. Saskia replaced her underwear and looked up with a big grin, as if to show that she was doing it mainly to be an exhibitionist again. “So? We’re all girls, aren’t we?” she challenged them, knowing very well that we weren’t. “I don’t want ants crawling all over my pussy. They must be sex maniacs.” This comment brought the expected rude laughter from Merle and Avril. We had all finished our food and were continuing to talk – or at least three of us were – when Marcia came out to join us. “Did you enjoy that, girls?” she asked. “Yes,” we all said in various tones, some of us with gratitude but Merle and Avril with the bored tones normally associated with teenagers when asked a stupid question. Marcia sank down on the grass next to Merle, not crossing her legs as the girls did but sinking down with her legs together and sitting with them curled up to one side, balancing herself with her other arm on the ground. It was not the place for a lady to do that with a short skirt, as she left a sizable triangle between her thighs and the hem of her dress. I could see her panties, soft and white and seemingly well padded. “Mum, I can see your panties,” Merle informed her in the same bored voice. “Darling, I don’t see how that matters when there are only girls here,” Marcia replied, but she did try to adjust her skirt with her other hand. “You know, your panties are showing under your shorts as well.” This led to a quick adjustment by Merle and a swift check by all the girls, except the grinning Saskia of course, to make sure all their underwear was covered. “Merle, your other guests will start arriving in about half an hour, so perhaps it’s time you changed into your party clothes,” Marcia said. “Don’t forget to say thank you for all your presents and to say hello politely to the parents.” “Yes, Mum,” Merle replied in the same bored voice, rolling her eyes. Marcia pushed herself to her feet and then bent over to pick up a paper napkin, giving us at ground level a quick view of her rear end. Saskia stuffed her hand to her mouth to stop her giggling. As soon as she was out of earshot, Merle leaned forward, laughing, so we all leaned forward so our heads were close together, in the way girls seem to do when sharing secrets. “Did you see my mum’s panties?” Merle giggled. “She’s incredible!” “I thought they were nice,” put in Lindsay, trying to be kind again. “Well, they are nice, but fancy letting us see her bum!” squealed Merle. “I keep telling her her skirts are too short, but she says my Dad likes them that way. I’ve seen him pinch her bum, too. He puts his hand up her dress and pinches it.” “My boyfriend Roy does that to me sometimes,” grinned Saskia. “He pulls up my skirt so he can see my panties.” I fumed inwardly, unable to defend myself by explaining that this was Saskia’s idea of a game, not mine. “How perverted!” snorted Avril. “Saskia, I don’t know how you can associate with such a dirty-minded boy. Slap his face next time he does it.” “Or kick him in the balls,” giggled Merle. “Is your dad coming to the party?” Saskia asked her. “No way, he says there are too many females here already so if boys aren’t allowed to come, neither is he,” replied Merle. “But that’s just an excuse because he wants to play golf.” We climbed to our feet, some of us still talking non-stop and some of us doing just what Marcia was being criticised for and revealing our panties. Merle led the way to her bedroom. The six of us crowded inside and shut the door after us. (To be continued) THE TEMPTRESS (CHAPTER 16) “Now I was going to decide what I wanted to wear to my party,” announced Merle, peeling off her T-shirt to reveal a chest that was just beginning to develop, looking like a deep boy’s chest. “But I may just decide to wear that lovely outfit you brought me, Saskia.” Saskia looked pleased, and Merle took down her jogging shorts so that she stood there wearing only her panties. They were white, as I had already seen, but they also had a floral pattern on the front. I noticed how flat and smooth those panties appeared as they disappeared between her legs, with only a slight depression in the middle at the bottom as a clue to what lay underneath. I was sure I could not stand there clad only in panties without my gender being discovered. Even though she had already seemed to decide on what to wear, Merle would not have been female had she not wanted to try on several other outfits as well. She opened her wardrobe and pulled out one dress or skirt after another, trying them all on and talking all the time, except for when Saskia or Avril interrupted her. Then, as I predicted, she said, “I think I will wear your skirt and blouse after all, Saskia.” Saskia flashed a mischievous grin at me and said, “What about those panties Rowena brought you? Aren’t you going to wear those?” “Ooh, yes, let’s do that,” enthused Merle, looking for the box and finding it. She took out a pale pink pair and held it up to her cheek. “Mmm, these are so soft and lovely. Thanks, hey, Rowena.” This was the first time she had actually thanked me, I think. “I want to wear a pair too,” put in Clare, reaching out and picking up a pale blue pair. Avril sniffed in contempt and Merle snatched them out of Clare’s grasp. “It’s my present, not yours,” she snapped. “You wait till your own birthday.” “And when it’s my birthday you’re not going to see *any* of my presents, then!” Clare shouted, and immediately a quarrel started. Merle and Avril both shouted back at Clare, who dissolved into tears and fled the room, crying, “Mummy! Mummy!” Merle pushed the door shut after her and slipped off her panties. I could see quite a large, fleshy vagina there. Avril was holding a yellow pair of the panties. “Merle, do you mind if I wear these?” she demanded rather than asked. Merle hesitated for a second, perhaps to decide that Avril was too influential to cross. Then, standing there naked still, she said, “All right, but only you. Nobody else is to wear any.” “Let Rowena wear some if she wants, since she brought them,” put in Saskia mischievously. “Hey, Row, do you want to wear your panties?” Merle had paused to look at me, with an expression that hinted at reluctance, but then looked down as she put on her new panties when I shook my head vigorously. Avril put her hands up her skirt and pulled down her off-white panties. As she stepped out of them, raising one leg and then the other, I thought I could see something up her skirt but was unable to make out any detail. At the same moment Saskia said, as she did on far too many occasions that afternoon, “Good thing there are no boys here. Hey, Merle, has a boy ever seen you naked?” Merle’s vagina disappeared under cover as she answered, “No way. I’d never let a boy seem *me* when I was bare.” She then took hold of the skirt to put that on. Meanwhile Avril was pulling up the yellow panties she had chosen. Girls are quite capable of changing their panties under their skirts without revealing anything, given reasonable length, but Avril pulled the panties up to her thighs, and then lifted her skirt for a moment before pulling the panties up properly. She pulled them high and then jiggled her legs up and down as she made sure they were in place. I wondered for an instant why she had apparently deliberately exposed herself to the rest of us. I was so naïve then that it was not until years later, when I was thinking about it, that I suddenly realised the reason. Avril had obviously just received her first sample of pubic hair by mail order, and she wanted to make sure we knew she was growing up. I just caught a glimpse of a black vagina with a fuzzy dark patch at the top of it. I think Saskia was the only other one to witness the display, as Merle was getting dressed and Lindsay, sitting on the bed with her legs neatly crossed, seemed completely sexually unaware. Provocatively Saskia asked the same question, “What about you, Avril? Has any boy ever seen you naked?” “Never!” Avril denied vehemently. “I’d kill myself if a boy ever saw my pussy! Or else I’d kill him.” With this sort of attitude from Saskia, I was naturally unable to enjoy the irony of the situation until much later, but rather became more fearful than ever of the possibility of being caught. For Saskia, though, it was a huge joke. She tried not to laugh but was unable to stop herself from bursting into laughter. “What do you think’s so funny?” demanded Avril angrily. “Has a boy ever seen *you* naked?” “Of course – my boyfriend Roy,” grinned Saskia, causing Avril and Merle to gasp in horror and exclaim “Saskia!” in shocked tones. “We often see each other naked,” she continued. “How do you think you can ever have babies if a boy never sees you naked?” “I’m never going to get married,” declared Avril viciously. “I hate boys! I wish they were dead, all of them.” Looking back with the wisdom of additional years, I now suspect that this attitude may have been caused by the plain looks which would certainly not have made her attractive to the opposite sex. Her bitchy nature would help to make that doubly certain. “What do you mean, you often see each other naked, you and Roy?” Merle asked, putting on her blouse, most curious. “What do you do?” “It started off when we swam together,” Saskia replied, in tones of great personal satisfaction. “Then we slept together at night. We even had sex together!” “Saskia, you are a liar!” exploded Avril viciously. “You never did any such thing!” “Yes, we did,” insisted Saskia. “It’s true, isn’t it, Rowena?” I had been sitting there with my mixed feelings of apprehension and anger at Saskia growing, but dared not interrupt. Now that I was invited, I just remembered to use my girl’s voice and hissed at her, glaring. “No, that’s not true, Saskia! Don’t tell lies!” Saskia looked completely taken aback by my denial, and I glared at her as strongly as I dared risk. I don’t know what she would have done next, except that Merle suddenly broke in with the question, “Saskia, what does Roy – what does he *look* like?” For once Saskia was not properly on the ball. She was still looking most disconcerted, but she replied, “Well, he’s – he has dark hair and sort of grey eyes, and . . .” “No, I mean, what does he look like – down here?” Merle asked, grinning with obvious embarrassment. “His thingy . . .” “His cock, you mean,” broke in Avril sharply. “I’ve seen a boy’s cock, you know. Last year I saw one of the locos having a piss by the side of the road.” (`Loco’ is derogatory slang for a member of the local population, of Mediterranean stock, whose young male population in particular is often quite unconcerned about where to relieve themselves.) “It looked like a sausage. A big ugly brown sausage! And there was this wrinkly bag of balls hanging out underneath. I nearly died!” “Oh, gross!” came predictably from Merle, who pulled a face and made as if she was ready to vomit. “Roy’s not like that,” Saskia told them. “His is quite small and it looks quite nice. It doesn’t look like a sausage at all – it just looks like – like – like a nice little thing.” Comparisons obviously failed her. She held her hands apart to show the length, and I must admit she had it just about right. Most people need a motive to tell lies. Saskia needed a motive for telling the truth. She did not want to win Avril’s contempt by claiming too long a penis for me. “He’s probably still just a *little* boy, then,” declared Avril with contempt. “You wait and see, when he gets older his cock will get as big and ugly as all men’s.” “Does he have any hair on it?” Merle wanted to know. Saskia shook her head. “Well, he hasn’t even reached puberty yet,” sniffed Avril. “It’ll get big and hairy and ugly then.” “He’ll be a fuzzy-wuzzy, like my sister,” laughed Saskia. “I’m telling you, girls, she looks so ugly. She’s got so much hair all over her pussy. Just like a beard!” She went off into peals of laughter. “My mum’s a fuzzy-wuzzy, too,” put in Merle, her eyes gleaming in excitement as she picked up on Saskia’s vivid term. “She’s got black hair all over here.” And she smoothed her skirt down and waved her hands all over her loins to illustrate. “Well, that’s all right for girls,” put in Avril sharply. “It’s called pubic hair and it shows you’re becoming a woman.” “You’ll be a fuzzy-wuzzy like my sister,” grinned Saskia, who was sitting on a chair with one knee up and revealing her panties. “So will you, Saskia,” snapped Avril aggressively. “But *you* have to reach puberty first.” “All right, show us what yours is like, then,” challenged Saskia. “I’m not going to show off to you lot,” retorted Avril snootily. “I’m becoming a woman and that’s a million times better than becoming a man.” “There’s no point in becoming a woman if you hate men so much,” Saskia provoked her. “When you’re a woman you can have sex, and don’t pretend you’re so superior to all the rest of us when you’ve never had sex with a boy.” “Neither have you, Saskia,” accused Avril, moving forward and standing over her. It was beginning to get nasty now. “Don’t tell us your boyfriend has poked you because it’s not true. Even Rowena says so.” “Rowena doesn’t know,” replied Saskia, who refused to be intimidated. “Only Roy and I know, because it was private.” “If Rowena doesn’t know, why did you ask her, then?” demanded Avril. Saskia was losing the argument. “Well, I – I told her afterwards,” she answered, bluffing it out. “She must have forgotten.” “Saskia, you are the biggest liar I have ever met,” snorted Avril. At last, I thought! Something we agree on! “You have never had sex and I don’t believe you’ve seen a boy naked, either.” She turned her back on Saskia and stomped over to the door. “Oh, yes, I have!” Saskia shouted at her back. “I’ve seen lots of boys naked! They have this piece of skin at the end that slides up and down. And you can make their piss stiff by tickling it, and that’s when they can have sex with you.” “Oh, everyone knows *that*!” jeered Avril. “That’s what’s so disgusting. You can even see the bulges in their swimming costumes where their cocks stick out. I can’t imagine why boys have to be born with such ugly things.” “That’s so they can have sex!” Saskia pointed out triumphantly. “You see, when a boy’s piss goes all stiff and . . .” “I know all about that!” shouted Avril contemptuously. “That’s even more disgusting. I’m never, never, never going to have any stupid, horrible, ugly boy lying on top of me and sticking his cock down my fanny, I can tell you. They shouldn’t have them at all.” Merle for once tried to reason with Avril. “They can’t really help it, Av,” she said. “When a baby’s inside its mum’s tummy, they all have cocks. But before they get born, some of them fall off and they become girls. Those who still have them become boys.” Avril treated this fable with the contempt it deserved. “Who on earth told you such absolutely stupid rubbish?” she ridiculed her. Merle looked quite abashed and her cheeks went red. “My mum,” she muttered. At that moment there was a loud knocking on the door and, speak of the devil, Marcia’s voice was heard. “Girls, please, not so much shouting in there,” she called out. “Merle, Tanya’s arrived, so please come and greet her.” “All right, Mum,” replied Merle and headed for the door, no doubt relieved to be rescued from the sharp end of Avril’s tongue. (Did it have any other ends?) I happened to glance at Lindsay at this point. She was still sitting cross-legged on the bed, but her eyes were filled with shock and dismay. The poor little innocent obviously had had no previous experience of anything the other girls were talking about, and her safe, secure little world was crumbling about her. We all began to move out of the room. I hung back and put my arm round Lindsay’s slim waist. She still looked very shocked. “Don’t take any notice of those girls, Lindsay,” I encouraged her. “They’re so rude.” Lindsay made an indecipherable noise but did not otherwise respond. I took my arm away, remembering my inclination to remain as inconspicuous as possible, and we followed the others outside. I kept as much in the background as I could as Merle’s friends arrived, terrified in case there was anybody there who knew me or who would suspect that I was not a girl. But as they came, one by one, I saw nobody I recognised properly, although there were one or two who looked slightly familiar. I couldn’t remember where I had seen them before, though, if I had at all, and as none of them knew me and were among their friends, they ignored me. I was watching them, though, and assessing them, as I have always tended to do, looking for those I found attractive. One of the first to arrive was a lovely girl called Martine. She had straight dark brown hair down to her shoulders, not too different from the wig I was wearing, and wore a flimsy dark purple patterned dress that swirled around her as she walked. She had a lovely wide smile and a happy open way of talking, neither did she shriek with laughter at the end of every sentence, as did Saskia, Merle, Avril and many of the others. She also brought a more original gift than the others, whose gifts were very predictable – a joke box. Keeping out of the way and therefore behind all the others, I did not get to see much of what was in it, but it seemed to contain some funny wigs, masks, body paint, false beards and exaggerated eyelashes and all that sort of thing. Avril put on a mask of a very old witch, most exaggerated, and the girls all shrieked with laughter so loudly that my ears hurt. I was sorely tempted to congratulate her on the improvement. Just as Merle was about to try out some of the articles, more visitors arrived and the gift had to be put on one side for the time being. One of the newcomers was a little girl called Daisy. She was wearing a neat little brown and white checked dress, and had long light brown hair in an untidy ponytail and a little pointed freckled face. Like Avril, she did not at first appear pretty at all, but unlike Avril she more than made up for it by being so lively and full of smiles. After a couple of minutes she sat down in a small group that included Lindsay for a chat, and I noticed straight away, as she sat rather carelessly, the baggy pale yellow panties she was wearing. They were tight enough around the leg, but certainly hung down in the middle, with big folds in the material. Quite unconcerned, she did not cover them up as she sat there and talked with her legs crossed and her panties sticking out under the fold of her skirt. I immediately thought that perhaps these should be the sort of panties I was wearing, as I was still very much afraid that if mine were exposed at the front the bulge might be too visible. I was still feeling very much out of place and wishing heartily I had never come, and this was my main fear now. I consciously kept one hand down by my thigh all the time, ready for instant protection should Saskia or any of the other silly girls try to pull up my skirt. With my childish mind, I then starting fantasising as to whether Daisy could also be a boy in disguise like myself. Common sense told me that she was far too feminine for that to be possible, but as I looked at her sagging panties it did seem possible to me that a penis might really be hidden underneath there. Pretty she certainly wasn’t, but her lively personality, her smiles and sense of fun definitely made her attractive. Sure enough, when there was a lull in the arrivals and Merle’s mother was not too close, Saskia went behind Avril and whipped up her skirt, saying at the same time with her silly giggle, “Look, girls, this is one of the presents I brought Merle. Avril wanted to wear them.” I at least have to hand it to Saskia, she was not afraid of Avril as most of the others seemed to be. White with anger, Avril turned round and tried to slap Saskia, who dodged away and tried to pull up Merle’s skirt, amid much squealing and laughter. Avril stood there glaring, hands on hips and quite unaware that her skirt was still tucked up at the back, revealing the bottom of her panties. Martine was the next victim, Saskia pulling her skirt up to reveal tight little white panties over a round bottom. Martine squealed and giggled, but did not join in the free-for-all that followed, as six or seven girls all started the silly game of skirt-lifting. There was not much room for escape, so I thought the best way to protect my own dress was to sit on it. I went over to the little group on the ground and shyly asked Lindsay, the only one I had spoken to before, “May I join you, please?” “Yes,” smiled Lindsay, looking up at me with her big brown eyes, and moved back a bit to make room for me. I sat down rather clumsily, forgetting to cross my legs first. I sat on my bottom with a bit of a bump and then leaned back to cross my legs. As I leaned forward again, pushing my knees down, one of the girls on the other side of the group, sitting next to Daisy, giggled and said, “Nice panties, Whatever-your-name-is.” “It’s Rowena,” said Lindsay, flashing a small smile at me, as I blushed and pushed my skirt down. “And it doesn’t matter because we’re all girls here, like Saskia says.” They all giggled at the mention of Saskia. “You’ve got nice glasses, Rowena. I like them.” The thought came to me that apparently at least one girl had had a good view of my panties between my legs and had seen nothing to arouse her suspicions. I surreptitiously kept my eyes on Daisy’s panties, again childishly thinking that it was indeed possible for this to be another boy in disguise. I fantasised about what I would do if I uncovered her secret, imagining myself sharing my secret too and becoming secret friends with him/her. On the far side of the group, Saskia and her like-minded friends were still running around pulling up skirts. “I can see your panties, girls,” came the musical voice suddenly of Merle’s mother, with a big smile on her face. Rather guiltily the girls all dropped their hands and looked at her, wondering if they were in trouble. But Marcia just smiled at them and said, “Do you want to carry on playing this game, or shall we start the real games now that almost everybody has arrived?” There was a brief pause, then Saskia gave a big grin and giggle and said brightly, “Let’s carry on with this game for a while.” So saying, she pulled up Avril’s skirt again, as the latter was taken by surprise. “Marcia, these are the panties . . .” She broke off with a surprised squeal, as Marcia bent down and pulled up the hem of Saskia’s dress. “Oh, that’s a very nice white you have there, Saskia,” she laughed. In my naivety, I found this most startling behaviour from an adult. Thus encouraged, the girls began lifting dresses again, amid the usual shrieks of laughter. Whenever a girl came near her, Marcia would reach out and lift her dress too, treating it all as a harmless game herself, which I still found almost incredible for an adult. None of the girls dared to lift her skirt, though. Once Saskia ran up to her and reached out a hand to pretend to lift it, although I could tell it was only pretence. “Don’t you dare, Saskia,” Marcia laughed, reaching forward to grab hold of Saskia and hug her to herself. She tickled her, rolling her over on her back, where she lay with her knees and skirt up, laughing hysterically. Like vultures, the other girls gathered around Saskia, pulling her and tickling her. Merle reached hold of her panties and began to tug at them. I don’t know whether she would really have pulled them off, for I suddenly saw Avril, close to Saskia, bring her foot down hard, and in an instant Saskia’s laughter became a piercing scream, followed by a noisy flood of tears. The other girls dropped back in shock, as Saskia rolled over, clutching her hand. “My hand!” she wailed. “Somebody jumped on my hand!” I’m sure other girls besides myself had seen that it was Avril, but did not dare say so. Marcia gathered Saskia up into her arms, studying her hand while Saskia howled loudly. “Oh, I’m sorry, Saskia,” I just managed to hear Marcia say, as our group sprang up and went over to have a look. “I’m sure it was an accident.” I was sure it wasn’t, and had I not been trying to remain as inconspicuous as possible I would have challenged Avril on it. Furious as I was to have my girlfriend treated so, however much she may have deserved it, I kept quiet, as Marcia supported the wailing Saskia into the house for some first aid. The rest of us stood around, rather subdued now, and there was no more pulling of skirts, although I kept away from Merle’s clique just in case. I was naturally less certain than ever that Marcia would be able or willing to protect me from the wrath of the girls were my boyhood to be discovered. (To be concluded) THE TEMPTRESS (CHAPTER 17) After a few minutes Marcia came out of the house again. “Girls, Saskia is just resting because her hand is very sore. Let’s start playing some games, shall we?” We moved over to the front lawn where Marcia organised us into a large circle. I stayed with Lindsay, and kept away from the `silly group’, as one of the other girls called Merle and her skirt-pullers. I was not surprised when, just as we were sitting down, a red-eyed Saskia came out of the house to join us, still holding her hand very limply. She would have had to be in a very bad state to miss the action, but of course she kept saying how much it hurt and she was sure it was broken. The games were rather silly and very girlish, from my point of view, but I had to pretend to enjoy them. There was a lot of squealing and shrieking and flashes of panties, especially in the first game, where a runner had to drop a handkerchief behind one of those sitting in the circle, who then had to chase her. I am sure I revealed mine as well when Saskia dropped a handkerchief behind me and I scrambled up awkwardly and chased her. I hadn’t thought about how to run like a girl, but Saskia was always a slow runner and I caught her, so she had to try again. I was relieved that none of the other girls chose me, except for Lindsay once near the end, so I could stay comparatively inconspicuous. We were in the middle of this game when a friend of Marcia’s arrived, rather late, with a video camera to take shots of the party. Some weeks later Saskia borrowed it and we watched it together in private, she with great delight and myself with apprehension. Fortunately nothing particularly embarrassing came out, as I was aware all the time of its presence during the party. I was relieved to see that, even to my critical eye, I did nothing that would have marked me out clearly as a boy – I merely looked like a rather clumsy girl. It had one shot of me from behind, bending over on my knees and bobbing for apples, bottom in the air and panties clearly visible, but there was another girl next to me doing the same thing and revealing even more. There were several panty-shots of Saskia, some of them intentional I am sure, and she shrieked with laughter as we watched her bump into another girl and sprawl over backwards with her legs apart, and pull up the hem of her dress to wipe sweat off her face, having temporarily forgotten her ‘broken’ hand. When we had races, I tucked my skirt into the elastic legs of my panties to run, as the other girls did, and made sure I finished somewhere in the middle each time so as not to draw attention to myself. There was one chasing game where we had to stand with legs apart when we were caught and were rescued by somebody else crawling under our legs. I stood there for quite a while before, to my initial surprise, Avril came running up and crawled under my legs from behind. But then she scrambled up too soon, obviously deliberately, and shrieked with feigned laughter as she tried to stand with my skirt caught over her head. I pulled away, but slipped and fell over with my skirt half-up as she laughed unkindly at me. I was not the one to suffer the most, though, as I could at least perform fairly capably the things the others did. There was a tall, thin, ungainly girl called Angela, half a head taller than any of the rest of us, with short light brown hair and dreamy but anxious-looking brown eyes. She seemed very clumsy and uncoordinated, and Avril was soon making her contempt for Angela clear. “I only invited her because I had to,” I heard Merle say. “Her mum’s a friend of mine so she said she must come.” “Well, she runs like a camel,” retorted Avril loudly, snorting with laughter. At the first opportunity, she pulled up Angela’s green and white dress, revealing her delicate pink panties, bordered with lace. “Just making sure you’re not a boy,” she told the hurt Angela sarcastically. “You’re clumsy like a boy.” At the end of the games we had a dancing session, when Marcia brought out a tape recorder and played some pop music. I wondered whether to pretend I had sprained my ankle, but thought that with my inability to swim I had better join in everything else, even if I did it badly. So I jiggled around and swirled my skirt and jumped up and down along with the others, laughing and squealing along with them. We played musical statues, and Angela was the first to be dismissed, unable to stop moving quickly enough when the music stopped. Again I contrived to be one of the middle group to be dismissed. Then we had a dancing competition, when Marcia said she would stop the music and each time call out the name of the poorest dancer, who would have to sit out. The music began, and we danced. When it stopped, Marcia most thoughtlessly selected Angela as the first to go. Avril led a bit of jeering and mockery, and Marcia did at least tell them to stop it. I saw Angela walk off miserably towards the house, head down, as the music started again. I tried to hang in there until the middle, but I could not disguise my inability to dance. When the music next stopped, Marcia called out gaily, “Rowena, you’re out now. I guess they don’t do much dancing on the farm, do they?” I quietly slipped out, and when the music started again I walked over towards the house, following Angela. I could see her sitting on the step with her head down, knees up due to the shortness of the step and those delicate pink panties visible underneath. She had her arms wrapped round her legs and her chin resting on top of her knees. I went up and sat down next to her. She glanced at me and then turned her head shyly away, eyes filled with tears. I tried to behave as I had seen the nicer girls of my acquaintance do. I put my arm round her neck and said, “Aw, don’t cry, Angela. I’ll be your friend.” She turned her head and looked at me now, trying to smile. “Thank you, er . . .” she responded. “I’m sorry but I don’t know your name.” “I’m – er – Rowena,” I answered, taking a moment to connect. “I’m Saskia’s friend and I live on a farm. She invited me today. I’m sorry Avril is being so horrible to you.” “A lot of the girls tease me,” she replied with a sob, hugging her knees. “I’m just not very good at games and dancing and that sort of thing.” “Nor am I,” I told her. “What are you good at doing, then?” “Well – computers,” she answered hesitatingly. Then slowly she began to tell me about her father’s computer and the things she liked doing on it. I could tell at least she was pretty clever, even if physically she was fairly hopeless. We sat together for a few minutes, watching the dancing from a distance. It was actually won by Daisy, who was really enjoying herself and moving so fast nobody else could keep up with her. Then Marcia called everybody to join in the final dance. I got up from the step, holding Angela by the arm, and linked arms with her as I often saw girls do. “Let’s go,” I said, and she came along quite happily with me. I suddenly realised as I approached the rest of the girls that befriending Angela might well make me more conspicuous than I wanted to be, but I didn’t feel I could leave her. “Everybody find a partner,” Marcia called out gaily. “Will you be my partner?” I asked Angela, and she nodded her head, obviously relieved that she would not have to suffer the embarrassment of being by herself. “Oh, look, the two losers are together,” sneered Avril as the music started. “We’re just doing it for fun,” I replied as Angela and I tried to dance together. She was quite a bit taller than I and there was no chance we would be able to coordinate our movements, but we just jumped around and had some noisy fun as the music grew louder and louder. Skirts swirled, and of course Saskia had to swirl them higher than anybody else, but we were all excited and some of the other girls followed her example. Finally the music stopped, and we were all exhausted but talkative. Marcia tried to make herself heard, but we were too full of nervous energy to keep quiet. Finally Marcia called out, “Now our last game before we eat . . .” There was a degree of silence. “The winner of the next game can help Merle cut the birthday cake,” announced Marcia. “All of you, lie down on the ground. Anybody I see move or hear make a noise is out, and the last person I see moving will be the winner.” All the girls, it seemed, were eager to help cut the cake. We sank down to the ground, some on their sides or their faces. I lay down on my back, trying to keep my chest from heaving with my breathlessness, and remembering to check my skirt was pulled down properly over my crotch. Marcia then walked among us, studying us to try to find somebody who was moving. I had not chosen my position intentionally, but I suddenly realised as I saw her coming in my direction that if she came any closer I would have a worm’s-eye view up her short skirt. At that point she stopped and bent over Merle to look more closely, perhaps keen to expel her daughter first. She was still facing me, but I saw and heard Saskia, on the other side of her, give a stifled giggle and I knew she had seen up Marcia’s skirt. Marcia immediately turned round and dismissed Saskia, although I was sure she had no idea what Saskia was giggling at. Then she turned again quickly to find Merle moving, and two of them were out. Marcia continued her walk in my general direction, and I kept even my eyes very still, staring into the distance, until I knew Marcia was looking at one of the others. She stopped about a metre away from my head to look at one of the other girls and I yielded to temptation. I could see up the front of her skirt to the rounded shape of her luscious white panties, looking smooth and well padded, at her crotch. She turned and bent slightly to look at a girl behind her, and now the bottom of her panties showed at the back, firm and rounded, with a slight crease down the middle. Again one or two of the other girls behind her exchanged glances and giggled, which led to their removal from the game. Within a minute the numbers were going down fast, mostly through giggles, and Marcia never seemed to realise why there was so much giggling. I soon found to my alarm that there were only four of us left in the game. I took a last glance at Marcia’s panties up her skirt and then gave a muffled cough, which successfully led to my removal from the game. We were all amazed that Angela actually won this game, remaining completely still to the end, lying on her side with her eyes shut. She looked surprised when she opened her eyes as Marcia called out, “I see your eyes blinking, Martine, so that makes Angela the winner!” Saskia started to clap, smiling, so I joined in and so did a few of the nicer girls there. Merle and Avril studiously ignored her, Merle looking most displeased at the prospect of having to cut the cake with Angela. “Please when may we swim, Marcia?” asked a little fair-haired girl who was wearing a pink dress that matched the colour of her face. “I’m so hot!” “We’ll swim after the food, Elly,” replied Marcia, who unlike most parents didn’t seem to see anything wrong with that. “Come along now, girls.” We followed her over to a large trestle table set under the trees and loaded with food. I suddenly found my heart beating faster and a tight feeling in my stomach. I didn’t feel I could eat much. Swimming after the food! I couldn’t swim myself, but would I be allowed in while the girls changed? From what I knew of girls, I didn’t think they would mind having other girls in attendance – unless they had suspicions of me or unless Avril decided she hated me so much she couldn’t stand me in the room. But did I dare? I suddenly felt a desperate need to go to the toilet. As the girls tucked in greedily, I slipped away and headed for the house. Once inside, it only took me a moment to find the toilet and I shut the door after me, taking in deep breaths. Then I discovered to my dismay that there was no key. Somebody might come in while I was busy. But I had no choice. Listening carefully, I put my hands up Saskia’s skirt and pulled Saskia’s panties down to my ankles. Then I raised the skirt at the back and sat down on the seat, with the skirt at the front covering my penis. With a gasp of relief, I let fly into the bowl. I had almost finished when to my horror I heard footsteps and voices coming along the passage. I knew I did not have enough time to dress again before they reached the door, so I just hoped they were going further along the passage. But no such luck – I was still sitting there on the seat holding my breath when the door swung open and Clare marched in, followed by Merle and Elly. I remembered the habit girls have of turning a visit to the toilet into a social occasion. Merle giggled when she saw me, but it seemed perfectly natural to Clare. “I’m next, Rowena,” she said, standing in front of me to begin a queue. “I need a wee badly.” She pushed her thighs together and slipped one hand between her legs, rather like the Dutch boy with his finger in the dyke. “I’ve just finished,” I stammered, standing up and reaching down to pull up my panties. They were halfway up when Clare rebuked me, “You didn’t wipe yourself.” “I forgot,” I muttered, red in the face, while Merle giggled again. I tore off a piece of toilet paper, reached my hand under the skirt with it, brushed it against my penis and let it drop in the bowl – the toilet paper, that is! Then I pulled up the panties under my skirt, taking the greatest care not to let my boyhood show. Clare pushed past me as I did so, and I heard a splashing in the bowl before her panties were even down properly. I moved aside, standing there adjusting my panties, while Clare giggled and said, “I almost wet my panties then.” She finished urinating and then stood up, taking a piece of toilet paper and lifting her skirt to reveal a fleshy little vagina, which she wiped. “Me next,” said Merle, moving in. As nobody seemed to object to my presence, I hung around, glancing round the bathroom. It was quite a mess, with a dirty washbowl and a dirty pair of panties flung in one corner. I saw among the towels strewn over the rail a big white fluffy towel, very clean, with a large picture of a ballerina on it. For want of something to say, I exclaimed, very girl-like, “Oh, what a pretty towel! I just love it. Merle, is this yours?” It was the right thing to say. Merle, in the process of wiping her vagina, looked across and smiled. “Yes, my mum gave me that for my birthday,” she beamed. “Isn’t it beautiful? I wish I could do ballet. Do you do ballet, Rowena?” “No, we live on a farm,” I explained, as Merle pulled up her panties and joined me by the towel rail. “You saw when we did the dancing – I can’t dance at all, though I try. But I thought you were good.” Elly took Merle’s place on the toilet, pulling down her white panties and momentarily lifting the front of her skirt as she sat to show her cute little vagina. As she sat, her skirt covered her from the top of her thighs but there was again the splashing of urine in the bowl. I looked around the bathroom and found two toothbrushes to exclaim over, with Mickey Mouse heads on the handle. These belonged to Merle and Clare, who both seemed pleased at my admiration. As we all left the bathroom together, Merle momentarily put her arm through mine, smiled and said, “You know, Rowena, you’re not so bad after all!” We returned to the table to find most of the girls had dispersed with their food and were sitting around in groups on the grass, talking. I took some crisps and a chocolate bun, although my stomach was churning so much I knew I would find it difficult to eat them. Angela was standing by herself, looking lost, so I said, “Come, Angela,” and walked over to join the group on the grass with Lindsay and Daisy in it. Angela hesitated, and then followed me, and Lindsay moved over again to give us room as we sat down. I finished my food slowly and with difficulty, and then my heart lurched again as I heard Merle call out, from a nearby group, “May we go swimming now, Mum?” “Yes, all right, and you can come back here for more food when you want it,” Marcia replied. “Girls, just change in the lounge as there are so many of you today.” That was in fact where they had put their little bags with swimming costumes and towels when they arrived. The girls in our group now began to get to their feet and head for the house. I rose too, and wandered over with them wondering if I actually dared to join them in the lounge. Saskia had it all planned. She detached herself from Merle’s group and came over to take me by the arm. “Come, Roy – I mean, Row,” she ordered. She turned to anybody else who was in earshot and announced, “Rowena can’t swim today because she’s been sick. That’s why her voice sounds funny sometimes.” I was rather worried that Saskia would overdo it, but I could at least be grateful that she was doing her best, in her misguided way and for whatever reason, to help me out with my desires. We walked into the house and then turned into the lounge, along with the other girls. I felt both thrilled and terrified at the same time. If I was unveiled as a boy in here, I was dead meat. I immediately headed for a place in the corner where I would be as inconspicuous as possible. There was a little chair in one corner, so I sat on that, my heart thumping wildly. At our naturist club I had not the slightest interest in watching girls changing, but the lure of the forbidden had a completely different effect on me. Avril switched the lights on and then moved over to draw the curtains. “Oh, don’t be silly, Avril, there’s nobody here to see us changing,” snorted Saskia, pulling her dress off over her head. “We’re all girls in this place,” she added for the hundredth time. “You do as you like, but I want to change in private,” replied Avril coldly, completing the job. It did seem quite dark in there, even with the lights on, after the bright sunlight, but perhaps it would make me less noticeable. Saskia looked at me with a meaningful smile on her face as she removed her panties. At this point in our relationship she seemed to get a kick out of exposing herself to me as much as possible. But I could never tire of seeing that lovely plump, rounded little vagina, destined to grow a light coating of down almost before my eyes over the next few months. Other girls were still coming in and my heart was still trying to burst out of my chest. My stomach felt tight and I could feel my penis pushing against the panties I was wearing. Angela slipped in on the other side of me and looked around nervously. She looked at me with a tremulous smile and I grinned back, and then hurriedly tried to change it into a more girlish smile. She opened her bag to take out her swimming costume and towel. Then she slipped her hands under her dress and began to pull down her panties. After a couple of enchanting and very sexy-looking wriggles, completely unintentional I have no doubt, she slithered her pink panties down her legs and stepped out of them, facing me and back to the rest of the girls. I was sitting with my eyes at about the level of her waist, and as she stepped out of her panties I could see her vagina up her skirt, as first one leg lifted and then the other. I caught my breath. Was that possibly some pubic hair at the top of it? The other girls were in the process of stripping off completely, quite unconcerned. I have since discovered that girls at the beginning of puberty are often ashamed of their bodies, even before other girls, and it seemed that Angela was at this stage. I suddenly thought of Daisy and my childish imagination sprung into action again. Was she really a girl, or was she hiding something under those baggy panties? Part of me knew that she had to be a real girl, but the other part just wanted to make sure and fantasised about what would happen and what I would do if she wasn’t. I glanced swiftly around the room for her but she didn’t seem to be there. Again I watched Angela as she put on her bikini bottom, and again her knees went up to reveal her secret place. With her tendency to be rather clumsy and uncoordinated, she caught her toe as she tried to put it on over her second foot, having succeeded with the first. She struggled to regain her balance, but failed. With a little squeal of dismay, she overbalanced and fell backwards, one leg still up. As she bumped on to the carpet, I had a second to see her long, slender vagina with clarity, and I had been right. At the top there was a light puff of pubic hair. I was quick-witted enough to react in the way a girl would – a nice girl. “Oh, Angela, are you all right?” I fussed, going over and helping her as she struggled to her feet. “Yes, I’m – I’m fine. Thanks,” she gasped, very red in the face. She quickly put the bikini bottom on the ground and stepped into it more successfully this time, pulling it up hurriedly, still most embarrassed. “Why are you changing under your dress, silly?” the girl on the other side of her, naked, asked. “Are you shy of showing us your pussy?” she giggled. I looked across to Avril, who was now down to her underwear on the other side of the room. She was wearing a genuine bra, plain white and pretty utilitarian. Fortunately she was talking earnestly to Merle and hadn’t picked up this incident. Bikini bottom in place, Angela glanced nervously behind her and, still facing me, slipped her dress down. She wore nothing underneath at the top. She kept her eyes downcast, so I had no difficulty in watching her with what I hope was a very casual air, and saw her little breasts were budding. She had quite large nipples that were sticking up in a lump from her chest, only two or three centimetres high but growing. Saskia also noticed, and foolishly had to say something. “Hey, Angela, you’ve got some nice boobies there,” she said in appreciation. “Let’s have a look.” And she came closer to see. This time Avril did pick it up. She looked across the room to see the barebacked Angela covering up with her hands as Saskia tried to inspect her. “What’s wrong with Angela now?” she called provocatively across the room. “Angela, what are you hiding?” “They’re nice, Angela,” Saskia tried to encourage her, realising that she had made a mistake, too late as usual. “Don’t worry, Angela, she means it,” I said reassuringly, as she looked at me for help with big fearful eyes. “You look good.” “Come on, Angela, show everybody what you’ve got,” Avril called mockingly across the room. Angela looked helplessly at me, and I hesitated, then nodded, thinking that this was the best way to act in such a predicament. Any more covering up would be an invitation for the likes of Avril to humiliate her still further. Fortunately Angela took my advice, lowered her hands and turned round towards Avril, although stopping halfway. Some of the other girls murmured with what sounded like a mixture of envy and approval. They were all still flat-chested, as far as I could see, apart from Avril, and they were perhaps surprised to see the points sticking out of Angela’s chest. “That’s good, Angela,” beamed Saskia, who seemed quite unenvious. She was still quite naked herself and was in no hurry to put on her swimming costume. Angela gave a weak smile and then began to put on her bikini top. “That’s not much,” came Avril’s bossy voice, just as she started removing her bra. “You don’t need a bra yet, Angela. You’ve still got to grow up a bit.” Avril gave me the impression that she was both proud and a little embarrassed about her own development into puberty. She seemed keen for others to appreciate her progress, but not altogether comfortable in supplying proof of it. I learned later that she had two sisters, both several years older than herself, so I suspect that she may have been desperate for years to catch them up. Certainly she seemed to possess a typically dirty teenager’s mind. Almost defiantly she pulled off her bra, to reveal only slightly more substantial breasts than Angela’s. They were a bit broader and a bit more pointed, but still had a long way to go. Some of the other girls looked on in a certain amount of admiration and envy, as no doubt Avril had been expecting. “Hey, Avril, what would you do if a boy saw your boobs?” Saskia grinned at her provocatively across the room. “No boy will *ever* see *my* boobs,” Avril responded curtly, as she began to pull down her panties. Then, looking at Saskia, she happened to see me sitting next to her, still fully dressed. “Rowena, aren’t you changing for swimming?” she demanded, in the tone of voice she might have used to a criminal. “Rowena isn’t allowed to swim because she’s been sick,” Saskia retorted. “Well, she can get out of here, then,” snorted Avril, panties right down in the groin with fingers underneath and just covering the essentials. “Go on, Rowena, piss off.” “Ah, no, Avril, let her stay,” Merle suddenly piped up on my behalf. “She’s not so bad, and it’s my party.” “You can keep her, then,” sniffed Avril dismissively and turned her eyes from me. At the same moment she slid her panties down her legs, revealing her vagina with a very definite black patch of pubic hair at the top. Then, to help draw attention to herself, she announced, “If the party had been last weekend I couldn’t have swum either. But I had a good reason because that’s when I had my period. I’m sure *Rowena* will have the same reason in a few years’ time.” Again there was a murmur as some of the girls took in Avril’s pubic hair. I cringed in expectation of Saskia throwing in an inflammatory remark about her becoming a `fuzzy-wuzzy’, but fortunately Saskia was admiring the bikini of the girl next to her. All the girls, it seems, were wearing bikinis, as this was definitely the fashion for that age group, who had just grown out of swimming topless. Avril rather quickly put on her bikini bottom, then her top, as if not too comfortable to have certain areas exposed for too long a time. After all, she had made her point. I noticed that some of the girls were watching her in admiration, while others were taking no notice at all. That was one of the characteristics of that age group, I later worked out as I thought about it. Some were far more sexually conscious than others – very much an in-between age. Two who were not at all sexually conscious were Lindsay and Daisy. At this moment they marched gaily into the lounge, having been delayed outside for some reason. Again I fantasised about Daisy, and watched her as she marched gaily over to her bag by the window. She didn’t keep me in suspense for long. Within a few seconds she had whipped off her little brown and white dress and was standing there in her baggy yellow panties. She had a pale flat chest and the tan marks on it indicated that she spent a great deal of time wearing a girl’s swimming costume. Then she whipped off the panties and I had my evidence – a sweet little curved vagina between her legs, lightly freckled. I didn’t know whether to be excited or disappointed that she was not a secret boy. She reached in her bag and within moments was dressed in a little red bikini. Lindsay next to her was taking things more slowly. She sat down first to unpack her bag, and then peeled off her white top. Then she stood to remove her dark blue skirt, revealing her light blue panties. Her skin was darker than most of the other girls’, almost an olive colour, and her sweet little vagina stood out in black as she removed her panties. She slipped on a dainty white bikini bottom and then packed her clothes in her bag. Apparently she was not wearing a top for it. This was not unusual, as girls in this country often do not wear tops until their breasts start to grown, but with this group, who went to the Catholic school, tops were very much the fashion obviously, even if they were only bikinis. By now Daisy was scooting out of the door towards the pool, closely followed by Martine, in a tiny pink bikini with yellow polka dots. “Wait for me, girls,” called Merle, dragging up her bikini bottom and chasing after them. I suddenly realised with great disappointment that I had forgotten to keep an eye on that sweet little Martine while she changed. “Saskia, are you planning to swim stark naked?” Avril asked in a voice of contempt, as my girlfriend strutted around the room as bare as the day she was born. Saskia took her seriously. “Yes, let’s do that!” she answered excitedly. “There are no boys here! Great idea, Avril.” “It was not an idea,” snorted Avril. “I certainly will not be swimming in the nude, and you had better not either. Now get your swimming costume on. It’s nothing to be proud of, showing everybody your flat baby chest and your little fat bald pussy.” Just as that moment Lindsay walked past her towards the door. “Hey, Lindsay, you’re not going swimming like *that*, are you?” she asked contemptuously. Lindsay looked rather shocked. She stared at Avril, not understanding what was wrong. “Hasn’t your bikini got a top?” Avril asked icily. Lindsay looked down at her bare chest in surprise. “I – no, it doesn’t have one,” she whispered timidly. “My mum says I don’t need one.” “That’s because you’re such a *little* girl,” snorted Avril. “You are so immature, Lindsay. You don’t even understand that girls of our age wear tops to look decent. Lindsay, I don’t know why Merle invited you to this party. Even Clare wears a top to her bikini. You certainly can’t swim like *that*, you silly little baby! You can sit next to Rowena while the rest of us swim and both be weird together.” And with that she stalked out. I felt furious inside, as I saw poor little Lindsay standing there looking stunned, with tears welling in her eyes. Normally I would have rushed to her defence, but in my disguise I did not dare. I felt I hated Avril, but didn’t know what to do about it. Saskia was now dressed in, of course, the smallest bikini on display, which actually showed her tiny nipples at the top and the grooves of her groin at the bottom, as well as the top of the crack of her bottom to the rear. The top was tied with strings at the back and the bottom with strings at the side. “Come, Rowena, let’s go,” she said gaily, linking her arm with mine and propelling me towards the door. Still seething, I went with her, not sure what else I could do. We were in a straggling line of excited girls heading for the pool, which was at the far side of Marcia’s house. We arrived to find more girls in the pool, diving and splashing and shrieking at the tops of their voices as girls often do. I felt more out of place than ever, still wearing Saskia’s dress. Marcia was standing at one end of the pool keeping an eye on things. Within moments Saskia was diving into the pool along with the others, forgetting me in an instant. I saw Avril screaming and splashing with Merle and my blood boiled. Then I remembered Lindsay, and felt the least I could do was to help one of the few girls who had been pleasant to me here. When the last of the girls had entered the pool area I slipped back to the house unnoticed. I entered the lounge, finding it darker than ever after the bright sunshine outside, and it seemed very strange to find it deathly quiet. For a moment I thought Lindsay was not there, and then I saw her sitting cross-legged on the floor by the window. She had taken off her bikini bottom and was sitting there naked, with tears rolling silently down her smooth brown cheeks. Remembering to act like a girl, I went over to her and sat down in front of her, also cross-legged. For a moment my eyes strayed downwards to where her little vagina was spread slightly, showing a little white piece of flesh at the top. Then I felt very bad for taking advantage of her like this, although she didn’t know it. “Sorry, Lindsay,” I said. “Avril’s horrible. Aren’t you coming to swim? I’m sure Marcia would let you.” “Yes, but if I do Avril will be horrible to me again,” sniffed Lindsay, not looking at me in her distress. I wished I could tell her I would stand up for her, but in my disguise I did not dare. Then I had an idea. I scrambled to my feet. “I’m just going to the toilet, then I’ll come back,” I promised. I shut the bathroom door behind me and then slipped off Saskia’s shirt. I took off her half-vest and put the shirt back on. I had not dared to do this in front of Lindsay in case she saw my boyish chest and suspected something. Then I returned to her. “I’ve had an idea. Lindsay, would you like to wear this?” I asked. Lindsay looked up and saw the half-vest. She hesitated, and then took it. Standing up, she tried it on. It was a bit loose, but not too bad, and when she put her bikini bottom on again it did not look too out of place. “Thank you, Rowena,” she said, wiping her eyes and trying to smile at me. She put her arms round my neck and gave me a hug. I felt the warmth of her cheek pressed against mine as I responded in what I hoped was a girlish way. “You’re a good friend,” she said. “I wish you came to our school.” (To be continued) THE TEMPTRESS (CHAPTER 18) We went over to the pool and Lindsay, with a final smile at me, slipped quietly into the water. As far as I knew, there were no further problems, and another incident happened to distract the attention of anybody who noticed. I saw it happen as Saskia, scrambling out of the pool near the diving board, showed her white bare bottom to the public. There was an “Ooh!” from several girls who saw her, of mixed amusement and shock, then I could hear several loud voices passing on the news to those who hadn’t seen. “Hey, Saskia, your bikini’s fallen off!” I could hear Merle’s amused voice. “We can all see your bum!” By now there was more laughter than anything. This time I am sure Saskia had not done it deliberately. She looked down at herself, then turned to face the pool and gave a mock curtsey, with a big grin on her face and wearing only her tiny top. A couple of girls were already diving for the missing piece. “Why bother?” asked Saskia loudly. “Marcia, let’s just swim like this. We can be naked here when there are no boys around.” Marcia looked doubtful, and I thought she might even have agreed when Avril broke in scornfully with, “Of course not, Saskia! Don’t be stupid! We can’t go naked outside. Put your costume on again properly.” “Please, Marcia,” Saskia appealed to a higher authority as one of the girls came up with her missing piece. “Well, er, you know, Saskia, it might cause trouble,” replied Marcia, rather uncomfortably. “Just put your bottom on again, all right, dear?” Saskia reluctantly complied, and I was disappointed, but grateful to her for her effort to please me, although perhaps it was a mischievous sense of fun as much as anything that had prompted her. A moment later Merle called out, “Mum, may we use the tubes and the airbed?” “Yes, dear,” agreed Marcia. “Er – Rowena, they’re in the shed behind you. Can you just get out the tubes and the airbed for us, please, dear?” As the only `girl’ not in the pool, I was the natural choice for such a task. I went over to the small shed in the corner, only to find it was locked. Marcia asked Merle if she had the key. “It’s in my room somewhere, but I don’t remember where,” replied Merle. “Rowena, just go up to my room and look for the key. It’s got a red piece of string round it, but you might have to look around for it.” “In Merle’s room it will probably take you some time,” smiled Marcia. “Will you do that for us, please, Rowena, there’s a good girl?” Reluctantly I agreed, going back to the house by myself and into Merle’s bedroom. Almost immediately I saw the key, with the red string, hanging from the cupboard door handle. I picked it up, then, knowing I was not expected back immediately, looked around the bedroom. Merle’s presents were in a pile on the floor. The joke box Martine had brought caught my eye. Idly I opened it and had a look at the contents. There were the wigs, masks and other things I have already mentioned, and then I found a little white packet with a funny cartoon picture on it of somebody with a horrified expression scratching their back wildly and the words `Itching Powder’. “Wish I could pour this down Avril’s back,” I thought. Then suddenly an idea came to me. I grinned in anticipation. Looking round the room, I saw Avril’s discarded off-white panties lying on a chair, where she had left them when she exchanged them for my `present’. I took a piece of paper out of the waste-paper basket. Then, very carefully, I tore a tiny slit in the top of the little packet and shook and squeezed out some of the contents on to the paper. I did not dare make the slit any larger for fear of discovery, so it took a minute or two to get a small pile of powder on the paper. I had no idea how strong the powder was and I did not want to try it out, so I hoped this would be enough. Then I gingerly picked up the obnoxious Avril’s obnoxious panties and opened the inside. I poured the powder on to the material at the front of the crotch, in the middle, then spread it out a little with the edge of the paper. The powder was almost invisible on the material. A thrill of excitement and anticipation spread through me. I put the panties down carefully, hoping the powder would not fall off, and then returned the paper to the basket and restored the joke box to the way it had been when I found it. Confident I had covered my tracks, I took the key and returned to the pool. I could not wait for the swimming to finish. But finally Marcia called everybody out and we trailed back to the lounge. Changing afterwards was even better than changing before, as the girls would remove their costumes and then dry themselves naked, talking loudly all the time as usual. I kept an eye on the cute little Martine this time, and was rewarded when she slipped off her bikini to show a tiny tight little vagina, almost invisible between her legs. Her little naked body looked beautiful beyond words as she tossed her head back to dry her hair, the front of her body curving outwards smoothly right down to that lovely place between her legs. Avril was holding forth as usual, standing there naked with her patch of black pubic hair quite visible and her little breasts sticking out grandly, drying herself with what I’m sure she saw as complete elegance. I had a thrill of anticipation at what I hoped was to come. I just hoped she would not continue to wear the ones she had borrowed from Merle, as I wanted to see her suffer. She sat down on a chair opposite me to dry her feet, lifting one foot and then the other to do it. I had a perfect view of the long, deep slit between her legs, starting at that black patch of hair and spreading all the way downwards until it appeared to meet with the crack in her bottom on the other side. I could see the long oblong piece of loose pink flesh at the bottom, like a couple of long flat testicles I thought, with the vagina running down the middle. It gave me no pleasure, apart from a rather sadistic pleasure, to see the nakedness of a girl I disliked as much as Avril. I could also feast my eyes on the naked beauty of the other girls there who had attracted me – Martine, Daisy, Elly, Lindsay – and those who had not. Even Angela was less inhibited this time, still with her back to others, but facing me naked as she dried herself. Sure enough, she had a little tuft of hair beginning to grow at the top of her vagina and some long hairs hanging down between her legs. I could hardly keep the smile off my face as I watched her delicately dry her small soft breasts, the towel dangling down just to one side of her shallow, smooth groin. Lindsay, naked, came across to return the half-vest to me, with a sweet shy smile. Daisy, now that I had more time to watch her at my leisure, had quite a prominent pubic mound that bulged outwards as she dried her hair, with her little vagina down the middle. I don’t suppose that had anything to do with her baggy panties, though the bulge, a smooth one rather than a knobbly one like mine, might have been noticeable under tight panties. Saskia as usual was in her element, revelling in her nakedness and wandering all over the room talking and laughing non-stop. Although she had set up the situation for me, I got the impression she was rather jealous if I paid too much attention to the others, and often came back to me to say something, leaning forward, legs spread apart and weight resting on her hands which in turn were resting on my knees. She was positioned like this once when Merle, naked herself, came up behind her and playfully tickled her between her legs. Saskia squealed, jumped, and turned round to chase Merle, catching her and tickling her on her vagina in turn. “Nobody’s allowed to do that to me apart from my boyfriend,” she told her bossily but with a smile on her face. “Your boyfriend!” snorted Avril, interfering as usual. “That’s all you talk about, Saskia! Who needs a boyfriend? And I certainly don’t believe all the things you say you’ve done with him.” “You’re just jealous because you’re so ugly no boy would ever want you,” retorted Saskia, which I thought was very close to the truth. “Liar! Bitch!” spat out Avril, an outburst that brought expressions of shock to the faces of most of the other girls, delicately bred at the Catholic school as they were. But they did not dare to challenge her. “Avril, those are my panties you’re putting on,” Merle broke in. “Please don’t go home with them. I think yours are still in my bedroom.” Reluctantly Avril removed the yellow panties and began putting her dress on over her naked body. I waited in eager anticipation. Then she went out of the door, no doubt to Merle’s bedroom. I wished I could be there when she put them on, but knew I had best keep out of the way. Avril returned very shortly, empty-handed, so I assumed she had put her panties on there. I felt dismayed. It looked as if the powder was not working. She began to pack her bag, talking to Merle as she did so. Then I noticed her put a hand down to her crotch and give it a rub. Saskia had thrown her clothes on by now and she grabbed me by the arm. “Come, Roy – Row, let’s go outside,” she urged. I saw Avril clutch at her crotch again and give it a squeeze. “Hang on,” I said. “What’s wrong with Avril?” “Who cares about her?” Saskia snorted. “Let’s go.” I wished I could have given Saskia a hint of what was really happening, but I dared not trust her not to give it away. So I made another excuse. “In a minute,” I said. “My knee’s sore.” I lifted my knee and pretended to inspect it. Saskia gave a giggle and said, “Rowena, I can see your panties.” “It doesn’t matter, we’re all girls here,” I said in a giggly voice, and continued my pretence, all the time watching Avril. She now had both hands over her crotch. “Hey, look at Avril,” I said, putting on a puzzled voice and pointing, now that it was clear something unusual was happening. Saskia looked, as Avril clutched tightly at her crotch, teeth gritted, and gave a loud gasp. Merle looked at her in surprise. “Are you all right, Avril?” she asked. “She needs a wee-wee,” suggested Clare brightly. “Oh, shut up,” Avril snapped at her. “Merle, something – something’s itching horribly here.” She did a sort of dance, stamping her feet up and down and wriggling, clutching herself tightly by the crotch. I spluttered and coughed to contain my delight and laughter. “Where, on your tuzi?” asked Merle, somewhat startled. “No – yes!” squealed Avril, frantically shooting her hands up her skirt and inside her panties. “It’s weird! I can’t stand it!” While most of the other girls stared in shock, Saskia burst into peals of laughter. “Oh, Avril, you look so funny!” she cackled. “You look just like you were bursting to do a wee!” Some of the other girls tried to contain their laughter, but in vain. They may have been somewhat scared of Avril, but to see her like this, frantically scratching inside her panties, was quite a cure. There was a noise of smothered giggles, and then some of them burst out aloud, clapping their hands over their mouths as they stared in fascination. “Shut up! I can’t bear it!” screamed Avril, white-faced and scratching furiously. Merle began to panic. She raced to the door and shouted, “Mum! Mum! Come quickly!” Her tone was enough to convince anybody it was an emergency. Marcia came dashing in, looking as if she expected a fatal accident. “Mum, it’s Avril. Something’s wrong with her wee! It’s itching her to death,” blurted out Merle. Avril was now almost doubled up on a chair. Her skirt was up and her hands were inside her panties, scratching away furiously. Her face white with alarm, Marcia skittered over to her, grabbed her panties and dragged them off. As the girls all gazed in awe, Marcia pulled Avril’s hands away and had a look. I caught a glimpse of a vivid red vagina with the patch of black hair at the top. Avril struggled to scratch again, wailing, “It itches! It just itches so much! I’m going mad!” Saskia burst out into laughter again, but the other girls were a bit more solemn now, thinking something was seriously wrong. Avril clapped her hands to her vagina again, but did not scratch so wildly this time. “Try wiping it with this,” suggested Merle, handing her mother Avril’s wet bikini bottom. Marcia moved Avril’s hands aside and wiped the area gently. “I can’t see anything, dear,” she told Avril comfortingly. “My goodness, you are growing up.” This was presumably recognition of her pubic hair. “It just itches, did you say?” “Yes, it was – driving me mad,” wailed Avril tearfully, scratching her vagina again but not so desperately this time. “That’s a bit better.” She lay back on the chair, her vagina area, bright red with all the scratching, fully exposed, but she had forgotten to care. The other girls crowded round to have a look, and I joined them. “When did it start?” asked Marcia. “I’d just been to Merle’s bedroom,” came Avril’s voice, a broken, humiliated voice. “I was changing back into my own panties. Maybe . . .” “Maybe a spider came and laid some eggs in them and they all hatched,” suggested Merle. “Oh, shut up,” moaned Avril, forgetting this was Merle’s party and she was in the presence of Merle’s mother. “Maybe all your fleas in them went out and brought back some more fleas with them,” suggested Saskia, bursting into giggles again. “Oh, Avril, you looked so funny!” Saskia began to mimic her, dancing around the room, squealing and flashing her skirt up and down. “Ooh dear! I’ve got fleas! They’re all over my pisshole!” “Saskia!” Marcia reproved her with a rather shocked frown, but I don’t think Saskia even heard her. Most of the other girls were either laughing aloud or spluttering to cover their laughter. Now that Avril seemed to be out of danger, they were remembering how funny it looked. They gazed at Avril with a new disrespect. “It’s still itching too much,” wailed Avril, but I think this was more a ploy to get some sympathy. “I’ll get some water,” Marcia said, bustling out of the room. Saskia sank to the floor and wheezed with laughter. “Oh, you should have seen how funny you looked, Avril,” she laughed. “Scratching your fanny and screaming!” “Saskia, I hate you,” Avril ground out through clenched teeth, hands still tightly between her legs. At that moment Marcia fluttered back in, carrying a dripping wet cloth. “Just lie back, dear, and let me see to it,” she urged her. Avril lay back in the chair, eyes closed. Marcia moved her hands away and began to run the cloth lightly over the whole pubic area. The girls all surrounded the chair, watching with fascination. Being taller than most of them, I managed to peer over the shoulders of Lindsay and Daisy to get a clear view of what went on. The black slit of her vagina ran down the middle of her open legs, with that black patch at the top. I was close enough to see the individual hairs straggling out, still fairly short and slightly damp after the swim. Her legs were far enough apart for the folds of skin to be seen inside her vagina, and the surrounding skin was a bright, raw pink. It didn’t quite look as repulsive as Katarina’s had close up, but it was fairly close. There was still time – just give her a few years. “Ah, that’s better,” gasped Avril, without thanks, as Marcia’s sponging seemed to remove the remainder of the powder. She looked upwards at all our big eyes gazing at her, and her voice became suddenly harsh again. “What are all you lot gaping at?” she exploded angrily. “Get the hell out of here!” She waved her hands at us furiously. “Avril!” reproved Marcia. Then she turned to us. “I think all of you should go outside for a while,” she said. “We’re handling this all right now.” Merle was allowed to stay, but the rest of us went outside, talking in hushed, excited whispers at this fascinating event. There was nothing hushed about Saskia, though. “Did you see her pisshole, girls?” she cackled. “Bright red! Like a turkey!” Normally I presume the nicer girls at least would have expressed some shock at Saskia’s language, but they were so caught up in the drama of the situation that they appeared not to notice. “I wonder how it happened,” said Martine thoughtfully. Although some of the girls were less crude than others, I noticed that none of them expressed any sympathy for Avril. “Her panties were in Merle’s bedroom,” said Elly. “She must have got an insect or something inside them there, I think.” “Serves her right!” laughed Saskia. “She’s a bitch. I’m not a bit sorry for her.” Saskia was even less sorry for Avril when I later had the opportunity to tell her just what had really happened, and almost had convulsions of laughter. She was full of praise for me, but as I might have suspected could not help telling everyone about how `her friend Rowena’ had sabotaged Avril’s panties. “Next time you must also put some super-glue in the right place so her fuzzy-wuzzy hair will stick to them,” was her suggestion. We waited a while and gossiped about what had happened. I felt a nervous warmth inside me, rather a mixed feeling. I felt thrilled about my trick on Avril, but a bit afraid that somehow I might be found out, or at least suspected. And I felt a wonderful warmth to look round at this group of girls and know I had been privileged to watch them all changing before and after swimming. The feeling of intimacy was wonderful and it was all I could do to keep quiet. After quite a while Merle came out of the house by herself. We crowded round her eagerly for a progress report. Apparently Avril had taken a while to recover and had then foolishly decided to put on her panties again, refusing to believe there was anything wrong with them as she could see nothing inside. But she started itching again, not so violently this time but enough to be uncomfortable, and had had to take them off. She was borrowing a pair of Merle’s panties, but was not ready to come out again. The humiliation probably made her reluctant to see her friends again for one who had been so arrogantly in charge of the group, ruling with an element of fear. In fact, I never saw her again, for which I was not at all sorry. “Serves her right,” said Saskia again, beaming broadly. She raised her hands in the air, swung her legs up and stood on her hands for a moment. Her skirt flopped down over her stomach until she fell over a second or two later. She tried again, with similar results. “You’re not very good at it,” Merle informed her. “Rowena’s much better at it than I am,” stated Saskia mischievously. “Come on, Row, show everybody how you can do it.” “I’ve been sick, so I shouldn’t be doing that,” I protested weakly. “Oh, it won’t harm you – come on, Row,” Saskia encouraged. I gave in, secretly longing to do it and share the feeling of intimacy I was experiencing. I just tucked my skirt quickly into my panties at the front lest my bulge should show, and stood on my hands. I could stay on my hands for up to half a minute, actually, and from my upside-down position I could see bare legs about me and hear murmurs of admiration. Then I felt hands tickle me around my bare back and I collapsed in a heap, bumping my head on a stone. It was Saskia, as I might have expected. “Sorry, Row, but your skirt was right down all the way at the back and we had a big view of your panties,” she giggled. I gasped and rubbed my sore head. Martine was the first to realise I was hurt. “Are you all right, Rowena?” she asked kindly, crouching down next to me and unintentionally giving me a view right up to her belly button. I could see all of her lovely white panties, but even in pain I warmed with the knowledge that a few minutes earlier I had seen far more than that. I staggered to my feet, aware I was showing my panties again as I put my knees up and clambered up. “Let’s all do handstands together, girls,” called out Saskia. “See if we can beat Rowena.” “I’ll join in the next one when my head feels better,” I said. “Go!” Saskia called out, and they all swung their legs into the air. Most of them had perfunctorily tucked their skirts in, but not very well, and I had a brief display of underwear as they all went upside down. But none of them could stay up for more than a couple of seconds, and they collapsed into heaps, usually with their legs in the air. “Now join us, Row,” commanded Saskia, and I joined in the second time round. From my upside-down position I could see collapsing girls around me, and then suddenly I realised I had forgotten to tuck my skirt in this time. I collapsed too. We were sitting there laughing when we suddenly heard a jocular male voice. “That’s a very good handstand, Rowena,” I heard, and turned round to find that Saskia’s dad Gerald had arrived unexpectedly. “But you did rather display your panties.” I felt most embarrassed and briefly wished hellfire on the man who had deceived me in the first place. But then – after what I had seen, perhaps it was worth it. As long as I could escape undetected. I hated the thought of betrayal that nice girls like Daisy and Lesley and Martine and others would feel if they knew a boy had been there all the time. “That doesn’t matter, Daddy – we’re all girls here,” grinned Saskia very cheekily, glancing at me as she said it. Gerald had come a little early due to an evening engagement and we had to leave at once, the first to go, to my relief. All I wanted to do now was to get out while the going was good, while I was still ahead. And boy, was I ever ahead! Marcia came out to see us on our way, and we climbed into the car. Saskia pushed me into the middle of the front seat, and then rolled the window down so she could talk to her friends. Most of them ignored me, but I could see Lindsay and Angela looking fondly after me and waving, while Martine also flashed me a lovely smile and a wave. I leaned back and heaved a huge sigh of relief. I had got away with it, and carried a host of exciting memories with me. As Gerald started the engine, Saskia leaned out of the window and shouted to the group, “Girls, before we go, I want to tell you a very special secret. It’s about Rowena, and none of you have even guessed it!” I sat up and reacted in shock. I had taken it for granted that Saskia would keep the secret for ever, unless she foolishly revealed it by accident. But now that we were safe, she just couldn’t resist the temptation to reveal everything. “Hey, no!” I gasped, grabbing her by the shoulder and trying to pull her back. “There is a very big secret about her and I can’t wait to tell you,” laughed Saskia, pushing me away and shouting to the girls again, who crowded round eager to hear and staring at me. “No, don’t!” I shouted, trying to put my hand over her mouth to shut her up. She bit my finger and then pulled her head away. “This is the secret, girls,” she called out as the car just began to move off down the driveway. Desperately I tried to shut her up again, but all in vain. “The secret is –” she paused dramatically. “Rowena has two very favourite boyfriends. Bye - ee!” The End ___________________________________________________________ Yahoo! Messenger - Communicate instantly..."Ping" your friends today! Download Messenger Now http://uk.messenger.yahoo.com/download/index.html