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Subject: Lauren Gisal Book 2 Chapter 7-9 of 59 (ff/mf/Ff/Mf/inc,cons,nc)
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Lauren Gisal Volume Two 
 
The following fiction portrays events that will be considered 
offensive to some people. Graphic scenes are described of sexual 
intercourse by teenagers, adults, with and without their consent. 
Later chapters deal with punishment. If you are offended by such 
material, or if you are considered a minor in your country, then 
delete this file. 
 
The author hereby permits the redistribution of the attached 
material on the understanding that it is not for financial gain and it 
is credited to the author, Francis Dashwood.  
 
Please do not request reposts of this material. Constructive 
criticism is welcomed. 

Chapter 7

Lauren woke with a start. The room eventually registered in her 
mind and she turned to look at the glowing radio alarm clock. It 
said 04:12. She tried to work out what that really meant in Swiss 
time and struggled to arrive at something close to noon. A 
reasonable hour to wake up. Her mouth was dry and she was 
pleased as she realised that she wouldn't have to debate whether to 
stay in bed and die of thirst or get up and die of cold. The room 
was warm and she pushed back the covers to leave just a sheet in 
place.

She was annoyed about the pyjamas. Very annoyed. They were 
surely what had made her so warm, and, moreover, the stupid label 
stuck in the back of her neck every time she turned. She swung out 
of bed and felt the warm carpet under her feet as she wandered into 
the little lounge. A small TV sat in the corner. A sturdy shelf held 
books in many different languages along the wall, probably left by 
previous au pairs. She passed through into the bathroom and sat on 
the toilet. She had a bath with a shower attachment, a wash basin, a 
shaver point and big bath towels on a small shelf over the bath. 
Wiping herself absently, she flushed the toilet and filled a glass with 
cold water.

The little lounge also had a two-seater sofa facing the TV, and as 
she explored the stand underneath she found a stereo system that 
clearly went with the speakers stuck on the wall. She smirked to 
herself as she discovered the wrapper from a condom shoved 
between a pile of books beneath the TV. No doubt a souvenir of an 
earlier evening of pleasure for a previous au pair. She flopped down 
on the sofa and wondered about Emma. Part of her understood 
how difficult it was for her at that time in life. She herself had 
wanted to do physical damage to her mother on several occasions. 
But Lauren also felt that Emma hadn't had much attention during 
her childhood, and maybe had few friends as a result. Plus being a 
million miles from anyone didn't help.

Lauren crawled over to the TV and switched it on. Snow filled the 
screen and a loud hiss came from the speakers. She frantically 
pushed buttons to turn the thing down, finding the volume control 
that was marked by a triangle on its side. There was precious little 
on the five channels available, although she did watch a quiz show 
for about half an hour before giving up with the language and 
deciding that she could live without discovering who won the 
ancient portable radio. She crawled back into bed and slept. Until 
just after ten.

Bounding out of bed, she threw her dressing gown round her and 
hurriedly pulled on some socks. She brushed her hair in front of the 
dressing table mirror and slowly opened the door to her room, 
looking left, then right towards the lounge. Gingerly, she padded 
towards the voices coming from the dining room or kitchen. She 
rounded the corner and saw Emma talking to a tanned, old woman 
who was obviously cleaning the room. Emma stood by the sink, 
watching the old woman as she bent down. They both looked up as 
Lauren entered, and Emma burst out laughing.

Lauren smiled. "What's wrong?"

"Where did you get those clothes? You'll die in those!" squealed 
Emma, delighted at the sight.

"Why?, They may not be fashionable but they are practical. 
Anyway, I don't know who I'm going to meet."

"Nobody, I'd say!" and she laughed again with the cleaning lady. 
Lauren looked at the little girl as she stood there in a T-Shirt that 
barely covered her knickers. She had no shoes and socks on, and on 
further inspection, no bra. Even the cleaning lady smiled 
sympathetically. Lauren made coffee and looked out of the window.

"Come on. I'll show you round!" said Emma, helping her put her 
coffee on the breakfast table and taking her arm. "Want to get 
changed first?"

"No, I'll be fine" said Lauren defiantly, relieved to have established 
the beginnings of a working relationship with the girl. They 
wandered out through the kitchen into a utility room that contained 
the washing and drying machines, plus a very large sink for 
oversized things. 

"This is the maids room. Servants only. We don't go in there."

"What, someone lives in there?"

"No, we just let them keep it how they want. They have lunch in 
there. Snooze, you know. And through here is the way out to the 
patio. Come on, I'll show you!" she giggled, bounding out through 
the French doors and onto the cobbled ground. "And right here .." 
she said, pulling here across a flower bed "is the pool! Oh go on, 
say you can swim!"

"Well, not very well, I don't like getting my ears wet. But it's 
certainly a lovely pool, even with a shallow end. That'll do me fine." 
Lauren noticed that the garden ran down for a long way past the 
pool, with small fruit trees in the distance and bushes surrounding 
what she thought was the perimeter. She recognised roses growing 
against the wall of the house, but most of the other plants, though 
beautiful, were new to her. Emma explained that they had horses 
down at the end of the garden which she hated. 

"My brother rides them with my father, about twice a year" said 
Emma, almost spitefully. "The rest of the time they just stay there, 
eat food and have babies. And smell. They really smell sometimes." 

She scuffed the grass with her feet, trudging into the ground as 
though trying to wear it out. The change shocked Lauren. She tried 
to categorise the young girl, to compare her to people she knew 
back in Switzerland and thereby maybe understand what made her 
tick. The peaks and troughs of her mood swings were worrying. 
Mother's words echoed.

"Come on!" said Lauren happily, "Let's have breakfast!"

"It's lunch time for me!" she replied coolly, absorbing little of 
Lauren's enthusiasm. They returned indoors and Lauren changed 
into her jeans and T-Shirt, still provoking laughter from Emma who 
considered her over-dressed.

"Hey, in the afternoon when the servants have gone we sunbathe 
without anything on."

"What, all the time?"

"Well, sometimes." replied Emma, looking Lauren straight in the 
eye.

"Don't you mind if people see you?"

"There isn't anyone. After lunch they go home for their siesta and 
that's the end of their day. Great, eh?"

"Who's 'we'" asked Lauren.

"Just me normally." she responded glumly. "Nobody really lives this 
end of town. Nobody even visits."

Lauren gradually understood what an idyllic life the children had 
and how she had been fortunate to have found a position that really 
required little effort on her part except being there when required. 
Lauren determined that if she could take the car and look around, 
wander about on the beach and get to know the local customs and 
habits that she would have the time of her life. Even if she did have 
to spank the precocious little minx now and again. And so, that 
afternoon as the sun lost it's midday power, the two girls jumped 
into the car and set off for Boquette.

Emma showed her the small, noisy marketplace where Lauren 
bought a wide-brimmed hat for the equivalent of two francs that 
would scarcely have bought her a coffee back home. They stopped 
at the post office next (where she changed some money), and the 
railway station and then down past her past rows of dilapidated 
houses that marked the way to the quay and harbour where they 
parked and walked. Heads turned and conversations died as they 
passed tiny, white-washed houses. Their route took them all the 
way along the quay to a wooden jetty that struck out optimistically 
into the sea. They leaned against the big battered posts at the end 
and chatted for over an hour, watching the gulls overhead following 
the small fishing boats as they returned to the harbour. 

"Wow, look how clear the water is just here!" said Lauren, 
crouching down on the jetty. Myriads of tiny fish swam in perfect 
unison, glinting in the sunlight, flashing on and off as they moved 
underneath the boardwalk. She sat and watched in silence, 
fascinated by the display of nature's rich abundance. Eventually, 
they made small talk, Lauren telling her about life in Andelberg.

Lauren was surprised that all she needed to do was to suggest a 
subject, offer a little personal anecdote, and Emma would chatter 
away unaided for several minutes. Lauren understood her loneliness 
and the lack of schoolfriends only too well. Without people her 
own age to talk to and share problems with her teenage years were 
going to be difficult. Lauren steered the subject round to 
boyfriends. The sun pounded even in the late afternoon, burning her 
legs through the thick denim.

"No boys ever seem to want to come near me. Mum says I'm really 
pretty, but I'm surprised she has time to notice."

"Your Mum's very busy, Emma"

"Did your Mum tell you about periods?"

"Er, yeah, I think so" replied Lauren, truly trying to remember.

"I mean, before they happened"

"Yeah" said Lauren, feeling it was the truth.

"Mine didn't. She seemed almost disgusted. Tried to look for a 
servant to help me, to explain what was happening." Emma looked 
down, eyes glazing over with the beginnings of tears. "And I think I 
am, but they seem to run away" she moaned.

Lauren was bemused by her train of thought, the was she seemed to 
have any number of conversations on the boil at any time. "Perhaps 
you don't get the chance to meet them properly, you know, to talk 
to them when you're relaxed"

"Where did you meet your first boyfriend?"

Lauren laughed. "You won't believe me. It was in a dress shop in a 
town near my village!"

"A dress shop! What was he doing there?"

"Just looking. I mean, just looking at a show in there, not looking 
for a girlfriend."

"So what happened?" asked Emma, shuffling closer to her new 
found friend.

"He came up to me and just started talking to me"

"Did you kiss him?"

"Kiss him? I couldn't even speak I was so frightened!"

Emma looked down into her lap. "That's so romantic, I think!" she 
said dreamily.

"It's not really romantic, it was just very nice. And then we went 
out together for six years!"

"Wow, he must have been special!"

"He still is. He's at home in Switzerland."

"Perhaps he'll visit us?"

"I don't think so." she said, crossing her legs with a sigh.

"When did you first make love to him?"

"Emma! You don't ask that sort of question, you know!"

"Why not? I have to know!" She stared at the crystal water, 
watching the tiny fish swimming around the posts of the jetty. "All 
the girls at camp this summer had done it with boys. Except me." 
Lauren turned and saw the beginnings of tears in her eyes. 'So', she 
thought, 'we're approaching the real problem. Or one of them 
anyway.'

"There's plenty of time. Don't rush into it just because you think 
everyone else has. People tell stories sometimes just to make others 
think they're clever or grown up."

"How old, twenty?"

"I'm only nineteen now!"

"Wow, I didn't know that. That means you still a teenager as well!" 
She smiled, pushing away the tears from her eyes.

"Uh huh" confirmed Lauren with a broad smile. "Come on, let's get 
back and cook something for tea."

They stretched noisily and drove back to the house, Lauren proud 
that she had managed to find the real road out of Boquette without 
carving a new one. Emma whistled an unknown tune on the way 
home, patting her thigh in time with the tapping of her foot. They 
shared the cooking, making omlette. The light even at nine o'clock 
was still strong and after stuffing the dishwasher, they wandered 
out to sit, dangling their feet in the water of the pool.

"Jamie will be back next Sunday. Did you know he's failed his 
Spanish exam again? That's twice." said Emma.

"Have you taken yours?"

"Not yet." She paused momentarily. "Please tell me how old you 
were"

"When?" asked Lauren, knowing the answer.

"When you and he, you know, did it for the first time"

"Sixteen, just after my birthday." she lied. Anything to close the 
subject.

"I asked Jamie if he wanted to do it to me last week, He said he 
would think about it"

"What?" Lauren's heart pounded in her chest. Of all the problems 
that she had run through in her mind before accepting the job, at no 
time had she even considered having to come between a sexual 
escapade between brother and sister. She glanced at Emma, 
checking to see if she was joking or not. Emma stared glumly down 
into the water. "Now that's really silly, Emma. I don't think we 
should be discussing this, anyway" said Lauren annoyed. 

"There's nothing wrong. I held his willy as well. It's was so hot."

"I don't believe you. It's very silly. It's also very wrong. Your 
parents would be angry beyond belief if they found out."

"They're never here." she shrugged. "Sometimes when it's really 
busy they're away for days." She kicked at the water noisily. "Then 
they come home, change, wash and pack and off they go again. I 
think they just come home to pretend they care about us, that's all." 
Emma pouted, clearly upset. Lauren decided that she didn't want to 
take sides in the argument so early in her employment. 

"Come on, I think it's time you had a shower and went to bed, 
young lady." Lauren took her hand and led her through the utility 
room to her bedroom.

"Want to see my room?" she asked gleefully.

"Sure, just for a moment" replied Lauren, still frowning from the 
previous conversation.

Emma pulled her into the room and smiled proudly. Lauren looked 
around, absorbing the contents with interest. There was a single 
pop poster on the wall, and a large number of dolls, exquisitely 
dressed, lying around the room. On the windowsill was a large jar 
with what looked like soil.

"Oh, those are my ants. Mr. Quintero made it for me. The tunnels 
change shape almost every day. Especially if you put lots of food in 
there like bits of meat and corn"

Lauren watched the little creatures, busy doing whatever ants do all 
day. She noted that Emma also had a little room off the end of the 
bedroom, presumably to her own bathroom. Emma skipped over to 
her cupboard and pulled out a clean T-Shirt and threw it on her 
bed. She unknotted the sarong from around her waist and let it drop 
on the ground. Before Lauren could turn for the door, she had 
pulled her T-Shirt over her head revealing her firm budding breasts 
and the darkened nipples that crowned them to perfection. Lauren 
caught sight of the crease between her knickers for an instant 
before glancing at the floor clumsily. She found the door and left, 
her head swimming slightly as she mumbled good night.

She pulled the door to her own room tight and let out a deep 
breath. Lauren wondered briefly what her pussy would have looked 
like if she had stayed to see her pull down her little girlie white 
knickers. She firmly dismissed the thought from her head. The fact 
that Emma was divine had nothing to do with her contention that 
the girl needed strict control. Lauren knew if she failed she would 
be in deep trouble. 

Chapter 8   
   
Lauren lazed in the bath for almost an hour, adding hot water    
whenever she felt it had cooled too much. She loved the thought of    
adding hot water without the tank running out, or having to turn    
the boiler on specially to have a bath. Moreover, the thought of    
having her own bathroom was marvelous. She could keep all her    
stuff where she could see it, maybe buy some local products and try    
them out if there were such things. She swished the water over her    
shoulders and looked down at the droplets as they fell between her    
breasts and over her pale stomach. With her finger she guided them    
down to her pubic hair before reaching for the soap and washing    
herself carefully.   
   
She had set her air conditioning temperature control up to about    
seventy five, warmer than the rest of the house, and it felt so    
unusual to get out of the bath without having to dash to get a    
dressing gown round her shoulders. She stood on the fluffy white    
bath mat and dripped for a moment before wrapping herself in the    
bath towel and drying off. She pulled on her knickers and pyjamas,    
draping the dressing gown around her shoulders before sitting on    
the sofa in her little lounge. Putting her feet up on the armrests at    
the end, she switched the TV on with the remote, basking in her    
new-found luxury. She allowed twenty minutes for one of the five    
channels to redeem itself, then clicked the remote and slipped into    
bed. Her thoughts were still with Emma, and the potential problem    
that the young girl posed. Setting aside her feelings about the young    
girl - which she thought she could do - her quest to lose her    
virginity could be very difficult. Lauren debated whether to tell    
Elizabeth next time she saw her, but she thought on balance that    
she needed Emma's confidence more than she needed Elizabeth to    
intervene at such an early stage in what might just be Emma testing    
her out.   
   
Her thoughts turned to Switzerland, and she again tried to    
determine what everyone might be doing. If it was about ten in the    
morning, then the answer for Nikki was nothing. She would still be    
asleep or lounging in bed. Jim would be either at college or looking    
for a job. Her mother would be fussing around the house, or telling    
everyone in the village that her daughter had gone to work abroad.    
She thought of the plane and Peter's story and smiled. She really did    
hope it had a happy ending, just like the story of Nikki. Lauren    
wondered what would have happened if she had told him every    
detail of the afternoon, of every fold of skin she had kissed and    
every tremor she had felt inside as they made love.    
   
Her hands wandered across her breasts, feeling the nipples already    
hardened under her pyjamas. She hated the idea of wearing clothes    
that she associated with old people, but had to admit that at least it    
was another layer of clothing to peel off, to fantasise about. Her    
fingers found the buttons and undid the first two, allowing her    
ample room to cup her breasts and delight in their firmness and    
form. She rolled onto her side, her weight pushing her hands tighter    
against her breasts as she moved around the large bed, smiling in    
the beginnings of her dream world. Her finger ran between the    
young mounds and down between the material and her stomach,    
encountering the not-so-sexy elastic that held the trousers up.   
   
She stopped, decided that the trousers had to come off and raised    
her bottom off the bed as she slipped them to her ankles. They    
could stay at the bottom of the bed for all she cared, they weren't    
going to be needed. Remembering that she now had a bathroom,    
she thought how sexy she could be, wandering around her    
bedroom, bathroom and lounge half naked. As long as the curtains    
were drawn, then she was sure she would be safe, even with the    
light on. She undid the remaining two buttons of her pyjama tops    
and switched on her bedside light. In the pale glow, she pulled    
down her knickers and threw them onto the floor with abandon,    
then swung her legs over the side and stood, a smile on her face and    
bubbles in her stomach.   
   
Lauren paraded through the bedroom with just the unbuttoned    
pyjama tops, passing into her lounge where she drew the curtains    
and switched on the light, still amused that the whole country    
seemed to have light switches that worked when flicked upwards,    
rather than down in Europe. In the bathroom she found her Baby    
Oil and hair brush, laid down on the sofa with her legs over the arm    
rest, and began to dribble the oil between the aroused lips of her    
pussy. Bent almost double, she could see clearly the detail of her    
sex, the trail of the oil and the glistening of the pink inside of her    
vagina. The arm of the sofa pushed against her bottom as she    
squirmed on the cushions, trying to find a comfortable position.    
Still with her legs over the arm, she laid right back on the sofa,    
dropping the oil to allow her left hand to pull her legs tight against    
her chest. She rubbed herself briefly, savouring the mixture of the    
two lubricants on her fingers before running the hair brush down    
from her breasts to her pussy. She turned it slowly between her lips,    
coating it with oil then down along her thighs as she imagined a    
thousand fingers stroking her. She angled it over her pussy lips and    
pushed down slowly, introducing it into her warmth. Its rounded    
end had served her well and needed no introductions to its duty that    
night. Her position made it difficult to move her hand smoothly, and    
after a moment of thought, she decided that it would be safer to    
return to bed. She flicked off the lights, took the oil and brush with    
her, and skipped back into her bedroom.   
   
Seeking variety, she picked her knickers of the floor and slipped    
them on, unsure what she was going to do but pleased with the    
thought. She jumped back into bed, noted where the oil was on the    
bedside table and then flicked off the light, checking that there was    
no light from either the bedroom window of the window in her    
lounge. She brought her knees up, making a tent with the covers,    
then raised her bottom.    
   
She slid her thumbs beneath the waistband of her knickers and    
pulled them down until her pussy was just exposed. The elastic    
gripped her buttocks, squeezing sexily. Her fingers trailed around    
the swollen lips, teasing and experimenting, announcing that it was    
show time as she gradually spread the oil all around. The top of the    
bottle flicked off easily as she dribbled more between her legs    
without a second thought for the sheets. Lauren smirked to herself    
as she pulled her knickers back up tight causing the gusset to    
stretch in between her pussy lips. She rubbed her middle finger    
along the length of her vulva, feeling the area becoming more and    
more slippery. Occasionally, she slipped underneath the material,    
touching her swollen lips as though forbidden territory. Images of    
Jim flashed through her mind as she delved further, her left hand    
seeking out her bottom and toying with the tight hole. Her hand    
pushed at her knickers, fighting for a way in, slick with oil and hot    
with expectation.   
   
With her left hand, she tugged at the material roughly, imagining    
she was being forcibly undressed. Her knickers stretched tight    
between her knees as her legs pulled against them. She tipped the    
bottle of oil over her pussy and then placed it back on the table,    
picking up the brush at her side. Resting her head to the right and    
nuzzling into the softness of her pillow, she brought the head of the    
brush to the hot opening, feeling it slip easily in almost half an inch.

But she deliberately slowed proceedings, not to be rushed that    
evening and toyed with her lips and hidden clitoris, pushing and    
probing, even combing her pubic hair hard with it before inserting it    
slowly almost half way. She savoured the feeling, thinking of Nikki    
and their bath together, then rapidly once again of Jim and when    
they had made love one Sunday morning while her parents were at    
Church. Her dreams whisked her away to that sea of lust where she    
dwelt all too frequently and bathed her in it's splendor so much so    
that she failed to see the light appear under her door.   
   
She did hear the footsteps though, and hurriedly brought her legs    
back down and rolled onto her side, the brush still inside her.    
Mentally scanning the room, she grabbed the Baby Oil and hid it    
under her pillow. She recognised the noise of the fridge opening    
and was surprised that she could hear it so well. Then a click. The    
kitchen light. Then footsteps outside her room. Another click and    
darkness. Her heart beat loudly as she waited for any further    
movement but there was none. She breathed out slowly and rolled    
onto her back, amused but a little worried about her lack of    
awareness. She bent her legs outwards, keeping her knees flat on    
the bed, and turned the brush round inside her. With her left hand    
she felt between her legs below the brush and sought out her anus.    
Oil had already beaten her to it, and her finger entered easily. She    
pushed deeper and took the brush with her right hand, her neck    
straining to keep her balance and rhythm. Her middle finger    
remained firmly embedded in her anus setting up a slow, firm pace    
as she concentrated on the brush, dreaming again of Jim and his    
huge cock that would ram into her, combining pain and pleasure to    
bring her to shattering orgasms.    
   
The vision surprised her in its intensity as her bottom raised slightly    
off the bed, her orgasm building rapidly. Her right hand pushed and    
pulled and turned the brush inside her while all the while rubbing    
against her clitoris which dripped in oil. Again she turned her head    
to the right and sank into the pillow, biting the clean cotton as she    
took that final step to the top of the hill and then she was over, her    
left hand jamming hard into her bottom as she shook spastically, her    
legs clasped together in a death-like grip, destroying the regular    
thrusting of the hands as her muscles gripped her finger and the oil-   
coated brush.   
   
Her bottom lowered slowly back onto the bed as her climax    
receded. She continued to rub her clitoris slowly, running her hand    
over it and then around between her brush and the finger in her    
anus. She shook gently for two or three minutes, basking in the    
afterglow of her orgasm, and then slowly, very gently, removed the    
brush from her pussy. She always saved her bottom until last, so    
she could concentrate on the feeling as she slowly pulled out, and    
the strong muscles gave up the finger with a burst of pleasure that    
always caused her to experience what could only be described as    
aftershocks.   
   
 Chapter 9  
  
Autumnal winds and rain began to intrude upon the blazing heat of   
the sun, providing a number of spectacular thunderstorms during   
Lauren's first week in San Falino. Boquette appeared to at least   
have its fair share as the clear morning sky gave way to huge grey   
clouds, followed by rain that fell so suddenly that Lauren and   
Emma had to scurry indoors like frightened cats.   
  
She dried herself in her room and got out of the wet jeans that she   
had worn, hanging them over the bath to dry. For a fleeting   
moment, she thought about putting another pair on, but settled for   
a summer skirt. She had always liked it for the way it rose up when   
it twirled. The T-Shirt tucked nicely into the skirt giving her figure   
much more definition. Just as she placed her wet socks beside her   
jeans, she heard the sound of piano music lilting along the corridor.   
She raised her eyebrows in appreciation and paused, savouring the   
romantic melody. Her head swayed with the phrasing and she found   
herself stepping lightly through the house in search of the source.  
  
She paused at the doorway to the lounge and watched as Emma   
looked out of the window, her body swaying as she sat at the piano,   
her fingers gliding effortlessly over the keys as she played what   
Lauren thought to be Chopin. She walked in silently and sat on the   
sofa, laying her head on the top of the cushions as she watched,   
listened and dreamed as the powerful storm was calmed by the   
music indoors. Emma played for almost five minutes before Lauren   
sensed that something was not right. Emma missed a few notes, but   
her upper body shook as though she wanted to sneeze but couldn't.   
Lauren stood up and walked quietly over to her. To her   
amazement, Emma had tears running down her cheeks. She sat on   
the piano stool with her.  
  
"Emma, you play beautifully, don't cry now!" she said, putting her   
arm around her shoulders.  
  
Emma simply shook her head. "It's just so romantic, just so   
beautiful. I always cry when I play that piece." Emma rested her   
head on her shoulder, dripping tears down the middle of her T-  
Shirt.  
  
"Sorry" she said, brushing them off.  
  
Lauren's heart missed several beats, then kicked back into action,   
blood surging through her head at lightning speed. Her words   
trembled. "There there, that's OK." She squeezed her shoulders and   
got up, forcing herself to put distance between her and her thirteen   
year old responsibility. She walked over to the window and looked   
out at the receding storm.  
  
Emma looked up. "I love storms. During the day, that is. I hate   
them at night. Not sure why!"  
  
"They're so dramatic. Such power and violence!" replied Lauren,   
dreamily.  
  
"Wow, you've got legs!" said Emma, wiping her nose and eyes in   
one movement. Lauren looked down and smiled. She held her skirt   
against her thighs and leaned backwards to get a better view. Emma   
looked at the profile of her figure. "God, I wish I had legs like you.   
They're so long. All of you is the right shape, not like me"  
  
"But Emma, you're still developing. In fact, you've really only just   
started. Don't try and hurry through life. There's so much for you to   
discover."  
  
"I know. Can I ask you something?"  
  
"Sure"  
  
"Well, it's sort of a problem. A ladies problem."  
  
"We all get them sometimes. Do you itch??"  
  
"Well, it's sort of a hot rash thing, but more like inside that   
outside."  
  
"Between your legs?"  
  
"Mmm"  
  
"We should take you to a doctor then. They'll help you in no time.   
What did your mum say?"  
  
"Oh, I couldn't tell her. And anyway, she's too busy to listen to my   
problems."  
  
Lauren stared at Emma, concerned with her opinion of her mother.   
"Give me the doctors name and I'll make an appointment for you."  
  
"And come with me?"  
  
"Of course I will. That's what I'm here for!" Lauren watched her   
smile and her heart fluttered. Emma stood and seemed to be about   
to go and get the phone number when she sat down again. Lauren   
knew there was more.  
  
"Do you think I could have done myself some damage? Like if I   
touched myself there."  
  
"No, I don't think so. In fact I'm sure you couldn't."  
  
"Not even for a long time, until I got this feeling"  
  
Lauren decided that it was time to cut corners otherwise Emma   
might start discussing the nonsense with her brother again. "What, a   
really lovely feeling when you touch yourself?"  
  
"Yes, that's right. How did you know? It happened about two   
weeks ago" she spluttered. A weight seemed to lift before her very   
eyes as she smiled again.  
  
"And when did you feel this rash?"  
  
"A few days ago, I think"  
  
"Then I don't think you've anything to worry about. The doctor will   
sort you out. Emma, it's not wrong to play with yourself, just don't   
do it with dirty hands. Us girls are very delicate around there, aren't   
we?"  
  
Emma beamed and hugged Lauren. She turned and walked away.   
Her sarong twitched with each step she took, following the   
contours of her little cheeks, occasionally offering a glimpse of her   
tanned bare legs as she left the room. Lauren sat on the piano stool   
and began to analyse the list of conflicting emotions that she had   
registered in the ten minutes since she entered the lounge.  


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