Deep Inside (2 page)

I heard the bathroom door open. I stopped and peered through the crack in the stall.

Great, Sarah Walker. She had begun attending St. Theresa's only two weeks ago. There was an air of mystery about her. First, there was the accent. It was British, but as though she was born in some far more exotic country.

Then there was the fact that nobody could figure her out. Was she rich? Was she poor? No one seemed to know. I knew exactly where the rest of my classmates stood. Who was spoiled, who had two after-school jobs, and who was somewhere in between.

Janine claimed to know for sure that Sarah's family was actually trailer trash and doing their best to disguise it with their fancy way of speaking.

Janine might put her down, but I thought Sarah was amazingly sophisticated with her short, chic cropped hair. I suspected the blackness of it was a dye, because Sarah's skin was so fair. And her posture! It made the standard Catholic-school uniform look like a fashion statement. She didn't sex up the look the way Janine and Tia did. Yet, Sarah was hotter, like someone who'd just dropped in from the best party in a big city. Nobody this rad could be trailer trash.

The bell for the next class gave its shrill ring.

I hated being late. I jumped up and wiped my crotch as dry as I could. I gave my G-string a fast spray of perfume and pulled it on.

“Hello, who's in there?” Sarah asked in her crisp yet seductive accent.

I emerged from the stall, doing my best not to look red-faced.

Fortunately Sarah seemed pleased to see me.

“Oh, it's you, Cammie dearest. I'm so glad,” she said, giving me an inquiring look. “My goodness. You look as though you're running a fever. Are you all right?” Her voice was a crystalline purr.

“Yeah,” I said. “Though I don't know. Maybe I'm coming down with something.”

Sarah marched over and put her hand on my forehead.

I flinched, then let Sarah feel my temperature. Her hand was pleasantly cool.

“You are a bit warm, and even sweaty,” said Sarah.

“Oh, gosh, I'm so sorry,” I said, covering my mouth. “I don't mean to—”

“I'm hardly concerned about a few worldly germs,” Sarah said.

She clicked open the plush scarlet purse that she always had with her. It was a red velvet clutch—the kind of unhip thing no one else would have dared carry in high school.

“I have just the thing for you,” Sarah said, removing an old-fashioned jar. I gasped at its beauty. “Isn't it lovely?” she said. “It's cloisonné.”

As Sarah daintily unscrewed the gilded top, I stared entranced at the exquisite, bejeweled little jar, with its latticework and tiny symbol-like curlicues.

“It's so amazingly beautiful,” I said.

“I know,” said Sarah. “Now hold out your left hand.”

I did as I was told, and Sarah gave the jar a gentle shake. Tiny glistening lavender-colored flower petals—or were they butterfly wings?—fell into my palm. They seemed weightless. “If we put this on your eyelids, it will make you feel much better.”

With her index finger, Sarah touched the dainty heap of glistening things in the palm of my hand. The petals—or whatever they were—turned into an iridescent powder.

“Let me help you,” Sarah said.

I obediently lowered my lids, and felt the slight pressure, as the English girl applied the strange powder.

“There,” Sarah said. “Now take three deep breaths, and you will start to feel wonderful.”

And did I ever! My feelings of franticness and vulnerability flew out of me. My breathing got deeper and calmer with each inhale and exhale.

“Wow, that's amazing,” I said. “What is that stuff?”

I opened my eyes and glanced at myself in the dingy bathroom mirror. I even looked better. The thick pale purple color Sarah had put on my eyelids wasn't something I would ever have thought to wear. Yet it brought out the blue in my eyes, and it did something else, too. What was it? In any case, I adored how I now looked.

“It works for you,” said Sarah. “Isn't that enough to know?”

I nodded happily. I was no longer the embarrassed virgin who felt she had to apologize to Janine and Tia. Here was an image of myself I could really go for: womanly, a little mysterious, triumphantly beautiful.

I looked over at Sarah, who jokingly batted her eyes. She was wearing the same shade of purple shadow. She entwined her arm in mine. We coolly walked out of the bathroom, down the hall, and into art class.

 

When we
entered the room late, I expected to be reprimanded. Instead everyone looked up at us. With awe.

“I like this eye shadow,” I whispered to Sarah, as we sat down next to each other.

She touched her hand to her eyes and mouthed back the words, “Looks pretty on you.”

During the class, I noticed that Sarah was making the strange little shapes she always did. It didn't matter if she was molding clay, or painting, or doing watercolors. It was always the same—they looked human, but with three eyes and long extended limbs.

Sarah worked on her little creations very hard, and her work on them was extremely detailed. They looked like their limbs had been twisted so hard that the veins were popping through the skin. She modeled the flesh so it had scales and hideous knobs.

I myself loved being creative, and today amused myself by painting large, swirly, swoopy abstract images. As I moved with my brush, my imagination drifted off.

In my mind, I was in an English garden. I saw myself in one of those large, flower-strewn hats and a long white dress. There were flowers bordering an expanse of grass. It must be spring, I thought, because the air had a newborn quality to it, not plumped up the way that summer air can be, but like a first, pure breath.

And all of the blooms were shades of purple: rows of deep blue-red roses, lines of lavender tulips, beds of white and purple striped petunias. I walked among the abundance of flowers, strolling, finding a Victorian parasol in my right hand.

I caught a glimpse of my skirt and saw that it was transparent and realized I wasn't wearing anything underneath. I could see my pubic hair. I gathered my voluminous sheer skirt around me, bunching it up to cover myself as best I could.

And yet when I glanced around the garden, I saw dozens of aristocratic women, all adorned in the same sheer way. You could see their pubic hair, and their breasts. They wore their revealing skirts proudly. They strolled elegantly, carrying parasols. They wore enormous hats that had long feathers and ribbons.

They held their heads high, so why shouldn't I?

And there was Sarah, laughing and chatting with them. What a glorious day! I was so happy to be there. Sarah waved at me, her own dress not white, but a stunning shade of lavender and I could glimpse her body through it. She raised a parasol and flirtingly twirled it, while smiling enigmatically. Then she walked on, winding her way around the lawn. There was a mansion behind her—one of those many-turreted and -chimneyed things.

I suddenly realized that it was Sarah's family estate. How nice of her to have invited me over! I was having the loveliest afternoon.

I waved at Sarah, let my skirts waft in the gentle breezes, and leaned down to take in a rose. I startled at its perfume. It was exactly the way my pussy smelled when I had touched it in the bathroom, but instead of wanting to disguise the odor, I breathed it in.

I saw in the distance that Sarah's funny little humanoids were in the garden, too, serving tea, playing croquet—but they didn't seem odd. They seemed as elegant as everything else.

I felt something nipping lightly at my ankles. Could it be an insect? It was a far more pleasant bite than a bug or fly. When I looked down, I saw that some of Sarah's humanoids were running in and out of my skirts.

At first they sent delicate itchy shivers through me. Suddenly, my imagination broke free. It, rather than me, now ran the show.

I tried to regain control. But all went dark around me. I blinked my eyes, trying to reconnect with the reality of my art class. I couldn't.

I was in a pitch-black place where I could see nothing.

The little humanoid things now swarmed over me. A couple of them scrambled up my thighs and humped me the way our family's dachshund often did. They were making their way to my crotch and I swatted at them, but the feeling was strangely good, like being tickled, or loved. It made me giggle and swoon. As I did, my pussy relaxed, and I could feel several of the creatures scurry into my cunt.

“You can't go in there!” I cried.

Yet my pussy had a mind of its own and welcomed them in. It was so pleasurable, not at all like anything I'd ever felt before.

At that time, I was ashamed to admit it, even to myself, but the truth was—I was a very bad masturbator. When I tried to make myself come, I strained and agonized, and got tense.

Now, I could feel the little beasties in me. The muscles of my cunt were relaxing. I felt like I was melting. Feelings were sweeping me off, effortlessly.

Still lost in my fantasy, amazed at the reality of it, I watched the scene shift. The writhing in my cunt subsided, and my fantasy now extended before me.

I was in a long narrow corridor swathed in red velvet. It was the red velvet of Sarah's purse! The lush material billowed like slept-in sheets. I walked among the flowing red waves, my white dress a sharp contrast.

“Come with me,” a voice whispered into my ear, a woman's voice, self-possessed and seductive, with an English accent.

It was Sarah, of course. Her arm circled me.

“We're so delighted to have you here today,” she said. “Have you been enjoying yourself?”

I didn't have to say yes. She knew I had loved the afternoon. She led me down the plush scarlet tunnel, moving me towards a candlelit opening I could barely see.

As we drew closer I gasped at the beauty of it: the walls were covered in black satin. In the center of the room stood a shiny marble slab.

“Come here,” Sarah said.

She settled me slowly, slowly onto the marble. It was so cool to the touch. When I was on my back, Sarah smiled, then she pinned my arms down. She ran her red fingernails between my legs, parting them. I felt the cold metal of chains and manacles. I knew where I was now. The man with the cock ring would soon appear.

I struggled against the chains. I could feel myself sweating. I'd put on my usual heavy dose of antiperspirant that morning, but it was no use. It was no match for my body's desire. The smell grossed me out at first, then it filled me with a wicked pride. I struggled against Sarah's bindings no more.

The chamber was suddenly filled with a blinding light. I heard familiar voices murmuring concern. I blinked, and when I reopened my eyes, I saw that my classmates, art teacher, and a priest were peering down at me.

I was lying on the floor of my art class.

“She must have fainted,” I heard my art teacher say.

I felt my head, yet it didn't hurt from the fall. My body still tingled with evil bliss. Were my hard nipples showing through my white uniform shirt? I raised my head and saw my legs were still parted the way they were on that marble slab. I quickly closed them. I stammered as I tried to explain myself.

“I have no idea what happened,” I said.

Sarah winked at me. Then she took control of the situation.

“Right before class Cammie told me she thought she might be coming down with the flu,” Sarah announced.

 

My teacher
insisted that I see the school nurse, but instead I hung out in the courtyard. I felt okay, I really did—I actually felt amazingly good.

At lunch hour, I dodged Janine and Tia. I didn't need to have them pestering me with questions about the incident. It wasn't difficult to avoid them. They didn't want to catch whatever I might have. My best friends swerved around me, keeping a good distance away.

I wandered back into the girls' bathroom. Two classmates stood applying mascara. They looked at me as I entered, then abruptly packed up their makeup and hurried out, whispering and giggling as they did.

I stood at the sink and splashed water on my face. Would I never stop being tormented by my fantasy life? And then I glanced at my eyes. That purple eye shadow really was lovely but I had to wipe it off. I wet a paper towel and rubbed my lids. It stubbornly remained, not even smearing.

The door opened. I knew who it was even before I heard the deep clear tones.

“You didn't have a good time in art class?” Sarah asked, walking towards me.

Something in me snapped. “It was that fucking eye shadow you gave me! What's in this stuff? It's evil! I want it gone!”

“All right,” Sarah said.

She made a curious motion with her index and little finger. And I saw that the eye shadow disappeared from my lids. I reeled around.

“Stay away! You're too weird!” I stammered, trying to get past her and out the door. “Janine's probably right about you!”

“That what—that I'm trash?” Sarah said. “From the backwoods? That's what everyone says about me, isn't it?”

She was standing right next to me. Our hips touched slightly. Sarah raised a hand and ran a gentle finger down my face.

“The truth is we sort of do live in a trailer park,” Sarah said. “We are only here for a while and then we will have to move on. But you know why we're here, don't you?”

I shook my head, but I felt a strange rush. I gasped for breath.

“We want you. We want you because you have sacred blood,” she said. “Do you understand the word
sacred
? It's something that you shouldn't be wasting on Mike.”

I backed away from her. But I was now far away from the exit.

“What are you talking about?” I asked.

“Why do you think I transferred to this school?” Sarah murmured. “We smelled your virginal essence a continent and century away. We came to help you through this passage so that you can realize your eternal female power.”