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Subject: {ASSM} Dana and Dana Naked in School, 6/7 (ff mf mfm mg fg, exhib, voy, NIS,   naked, cussing, sexuality issues)
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Date: Mon, 24 Oct 2005 05:10:02 -0400
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Dana and Dana Naked in School by pseudoRandom

   6.  Friday

   Dana Smith

   I still wasn't up for any crypto work and tired enough to bag homework
after not too long, so I actually got to bed on time.  So I arrived fifteen
minutes before school started next morning -- outside, in the clearing
puddles.  Dana, of course, was already there, still dressed.  She was
pleasantly surprised to see me.

   "You're on time."

   "Yeah," I said ruefully, "I'm more on-time when I'm off than when I'm
on."

   "Less distraction in your head?"

   I thought a moment.  "Pretty much."

   In the circle were Pat and Patty, undressing each other.  At least it
wasn't lascivious in the sense of lusting after each other -- more in a you
know you want him/her, way.  It was still disturbing.

   "I want us to go next," Dana said.

   "I'm not sure how distracting I can be."

   "Not like that." She considered me.  "I know you're not on, but you're
fizzing a little, at least -- how inventive are you feeling?"

   I thought about it a moment.  The meds were kicking in, making me feel
less like a blank wall.  "I can follow a lead."

   "Good -- I wanna do a drama project."

   Meaning, it turned out, improvise a skit -- that we go up together, and
pretend to be a long-married couple undressing for bed, telling each other
about their day.  As in long enough married to be so comfortable with each
other's bodies we weren't erotic with each other.

   We pushed through the crowd to arrive up front just in time to watch the
twins masturbate to orgasm for the audience -- doing themselves, not each
other, fortunately.  Ms Angeles smiled as they came together.  That woman
is one sick fuck, as Scarlett might say.  She gestured the twins over.

   As they went, I spun into the open stage.  "And now, the Dana & Dana
Players present -- "

   " -- 'At the End of the Day'," Dana finished.

   And then she put on her character.  I could watch it happen -- she's in
drama for a reason.  I tried to do the same.

   "Oh God," she sighed, hand over her eyes.  "It's been a long one."

   "I'll say," I said, pulling off my shirt.  "I thought it would never
end." I didn't watch her, pretending that we did this all the time.  I
tossed my shirt at a bin.

   "Hun!" she complained.

   I grimaced ruefully.  "Sorry," and picked it up, and mimed dropping it
into the laundry basket she was using for her top.

   "I swear, you're as messy as the kids."

   "Were they bad today?"

   "Worse than ever.  I don't know why I became a high school teacher. 
They're AWFUL." Which got a laugh.

   I pulled off my shorts without my underwear.  "I'm sorry.  Maybe they'll
get better."

   "Hun, could you help me?" I looked over -- Dana had her hands behind her
back, undoing her lacy blue bra.  "It's stuck."

   "Sure." I stuffed my shorts under my arm as she turned her back to me. I
pretended to fiddle with it for a couple moments.  "Okay, this really is
stuck.  We may have to cut it."

   She made a small exasperated sound.  "And to think you used to be so
good at getting this off me."

   Behind her back, I acted out not dignifying that with a response.  Then
I popped it open.  "Oh, there, got it."

   As she pulled off her bra, I dropped my shorts into the laundry bin,
then my underwear into a different one -- separate whites and darks, don't
you know.

   "What about you?" Dana asked me as she took off her short skirt.

   "Oy -- constant sniping, constant stupid demands, constant trouble, blah
blah blah -- " I made a talking mouth with my hand, " - all day.  They
never let up." Which got another laugh.

   "But you only have to deal with our two," Dana said.  A smaller laugh, a
little delayed.

   "Okay, don't start," I said, "this has been just as bad a day -- as bad
a WEEK -- for me as for you."

   "Okay, fine, don't talk about it," she snapped.

   "That's not what I meant, and you know it."

   She peeled off her panties, blue that matched her bra, and flung them
into the laundry basket harder than necessary.

   "Look," I said, and took her arms by the wrists.  "I just meant, don't
say anything we'll both regret.  Let's just go to bed and hold each other."

   She closed her eyes and sighed.  She moved closer and rested her
forehead on my shoulder -- on the side towards the audience, so they could
hear her speak.  I put my arms around her.  After a moment's rest, she
said, "I don't have the energy for anything."

   "That's okay," I told her.  "Neither to I."

   She pulled back.  "When did we turn into an old married couple, anyway?"

   "Ah, who cares," I said.  "I'm just glad I have you."

   "Me too," she mouthed.  She held out her hand, and I took it, and we
exited, stage left.  Or maybe right -- is that supposed to be from the
audience or actor's point of view?

   A couple people, prompted by Gabrielle and Phil, started clapping. 
Others took it up.  Jake, I noticed, just shook his head.  Ms Angeles
looked baffled.  But she called us aside and told us, "First period, report
to my office for a Program meeting."

   "That's the second history class I'll miss this week," Dana told her. 
"I thought the Program wasn't supposed to interfere with our academic
subjects?"

   "Your teachers have been instructed that this is an excused absence."

   We moved to one side, and Peri came up to us.  "That was great, you
guys. How long did you rehearse that?"

   "Improv," I said.

   "Really?"

   Dana nodded.  "You can do a lot when you channel what you're feeling."

   Spike came up to us.  "Danas, I gotta tell ya, that has to be the most
unerotic undressing I've ever seen."

   "Amazing what happens when you force a lesbian into a straight
marriage," I deadpanned.

   "Don't give me that," Spike said, "you guys had connection.  Just not an
erotic one." She patted her camera, perched on her shoulder.

   "Speaking of which," I said, "shouldn't you be seeing something true?" I
glanced back at Gabrielle undressing to a pavane inside her head.

   She shrugged.  "Still waiting for Sylvie and Bruno -- they're both
late."

   I blinked -- Bruno was the other Whitman freshman in the Program,
another musician.  "Together?"

   "Let's just say they were unable to keep their hands off each other,
yesterday after school.  I almost told them to get a room -- and sex in
public almost looks normal now."

   I grinned.  "They'd just come from one." That practice room, I was
willing to bet.

   Dana followed my thinking, and gave me one of her mock-frowns.  "And
you'd know about that."

   To which the only thing I could do was tickle her.  Dana squeals
beautifully when she's tickled.

   Dana Partlow

   Once I got to homeroom and had some peace without reasonable requests, I
thought about what I'd said about emotions and acting.  That was what Mrs.
Clemens had been talking about, using one's emotions, I realized.  And I
certainly was more emotional this week -- all over the place.

   I was preoccupied enough by this, I almost went to history on
auto-pilot. It was a Program boy, a sophomore -- Tyler?  Taylor?  -- who
reminded me as we passed in the hall

   He pointed behind me.  "Wrong way!"

   "Oh, right." To the main office.

   When two girls tried to stop him for a little friendly fondling, I shook
my finger at them.  "Uh uh, Program business -- we gotta go."

   Tyler/Taylor looked at me, startled, as we walked on.  "We can do that?"

   "No," I admitted.  "But it works."

   "Heh.  Well, thanks.  I'd rather not get any more worked up till I can
get relief."

   Which made me do a double-take -- the Program meeting wasn't a class,
after all.  Though I doubted Ms Angeles would mind if we masturbated. 
Heck, she was probably hoping for an orgy or something.  I didn't want to
put the idea in his head.

   Ms Angeles was in her office, as were Principals Skinner and Jackson,
and Nurse Jones.  Dana was there before me, in a seat.  Rather than sit in
one of the cold things -- the towel only protects your butt, not your back
-- I sat on the carpet, leaning against his legs.  He put his hand on my
shoulder.  It felt nice.

   Everyone's emotions were running high.  Well, not Gabrielle's -- she's
unflappable, I think.  But Jake and Madison were pointedly Not Noticing
each other, with Madison jilling off while Jake and Colleen masturbated
each other lightly.  And they weren't the only ones getting frisky --
Sylvie was sitting in Bruno's lap.  Not having sex, mind, but feeling each
other up -- though Sylvie was looking at Dana the whole time, biting her
lip when Bruno wasn't kissing it.

   I caught Spike's eye, and she rolled her eyes at them.

   Phil was the last kid to arrive.  As he found a seat, Principal Skinner
cleared his throat.

   "IF I could have your attention please?" he said at the Madison/
Jake/Colleen drama.  Hands left laps.  "Thank you.  Congratulations to you
all for surviving the Program." Some kids chuckled -- though not I.  We
still had to get through today.  "With all seriousness, I would to thank
you for participating in this inaugural week.  It's because of you that the
Program is successful, and is likely to continue to be -- because of the
direction you people have taken it."

   I nearly choked, and wasn't the only one.  If this was a successful
Program week, I didn't want to know what a BAD one looked like.  Either
that or he was a sadist.  Which I didn't think, though Ms Angeles surely
was.

   She took over.  "You kids should give yourselves a lot of credit -- it
took COURAGE to open yourselves up the way the Program asked you to." She
went on for a while -- blah blah Program is good blah blah, as Dana puts
it.

   Eventually, Principal Jackson took over.  "Now, because you were the
inaugural participants, it's especially important that you tell us about
your experience with the Program.  Not now," she raised a finger.  "It's
still not over.  But we have an assignment for you -- all of you, Grant and
Whitman.  Tell us about it, any way you want to.  It can be your story, an
essay, a poem, painting, whatever.  Miss Spicard here is doing a
photo-documentary," she gestured at Spike.  "But whatever you do, tell us
about it.  And not just us.  Tell your fellow students.  Tell them what
they need to know."

   I was so croggled that Spike turned out to be her LAST name, I almost
missed the next part.

   "Monday morning, you'll present them to the schools.  There will be a
joint assembly, first thing in the morning, with you sixteen on stage.  So
be prepared."

   I panicked.  "Wait, we'll be clothed, yes?"

   Before Angeles or Jackson could answer that, Skinner said, "The Program
ends Sunday night.  Yes, clothed.  Unless you want to volunteer to be
naked."

   I could tell Madison was seriously considering doing that.  But it was
Gabrielle who said placidly, "That might be fun."

   "As you wish," Skinner said.  "After the assembly, next week's
participants will be announced, and they'll enter the Program.  And
questions?"

   "How long does it have to be?" Madison asked.

   "As long or as short as you want," Jackson said.  "Whatever it takes to
say what you want to say.  This isn't graded.  This is to help us.  You'll
have only five minutes on stage, if that helps you any.  But speaking of
which, please have an electronic copy, so we can post it on the school web
sites.  Anything else?"

   Three other kids asked the same question, worded differently -- trying
to game what she wanted.  Jackson evaded them as deftly as a teacher.

   I knew what I wanted to write -- a damning critique of every little
thing the Program does wrong.  Five minutes to tear it down?  Yes.  I was
almost cackling against Dana's leg.

   Tired of this, Jackson took the next question from Spike, who asked the
rest of us for a favor.  "For this photo project, I'll like a shot of each
of you standing against the wall here -- just standing, no emotion, no
seduction.  I want to show that you're unclothed, not that you're you."

   Doing that took the rest of the period.  It took a lot of coaching to
get Madison and Colleen to not be seductive, especially with Jake watching.

   Smith

   On the way to English, Dana and I decided without consultation that
kissing each other, even "just like an old married couple," was not a
reasonable request.  We were asked twice, by Ricardo and then by Rani and
Fatima.  So with nothing to perform, we got to class just before the bell.
We walked through the door and both almost stumbled at the sight.

   Ms Emerson's waist chain was worn even lower, arcing across her pussy --
which today was shaved bare, exposing puffy lips and an erect pink clit. 
It looked like a failed pretense at modesty, which made it erotic as hell.
And when she saw us, she smiled warmly.

   "Dana, Dana, do you need relief?" she said hopefully.

   Now as I said, when I'm off, I basically have no sex drive.  But between
sitting around in a room full of naked teenagers, with one leaning against
me, and with Sylvie frantically trying to get my attention with her little
show, and with Emerson herself looking like a gods-be-damned wet dream, I
actually had an erection.  Not that I NEEDED to get off, but I could.  And
I knew that Emerson didn't want to give us relief, just watch us receive
it.

   I stopped in front of her desk.  "Only if you do me," I told her, posing
with my hips cocked.

   "No, Dana, I don't think so." Her voice was amused, but I thought I saw
her drooling.

   "Aw, come on," I said.

   "As we already established earlier this week," she drawled suggestively,
"of course not -- I'm a cock-tease.  If I wasn't, of course ...  " She
spread her hands as if helpless.

   Dana raised her hand from her seat.  "Are you willing to give me relief?
After all, I don't have a cock.  And you seem so eager to be helpful." Some
of the class tittered.

   Emerson looked taken aback for the first time.  "Ah, no, Dana."

   Dana went on, "Because I'm a girl?  So, what, you get to discriminate
based on sex when Program participants can't?"

   Emerson started regaining her poise.  "No, it's because you're
students."

   "It's a reasonable request, and you're in the Program," and Dana waved
her hand at Emerson's (luscious) naked body.

   "Actually, I'm not -- for one thing, I don't have to perform reasonable
requests.  And for another, it would get me in a lot of trouble, if I were
to engage in anything sexual with a student."

   I couldn't help it -- I glanced at Christopher.  He was poker faced --
but he would have to be, to become Emerson's boy toy.  My eyes only
flickered, but Dana caught it.  She looked at Chris, and I could tell she'd
guessed at least something of the truth.

   Anyone else would have thought she was just getting angrier about
Emerson's flirtations.  I knew better.

   "Never mind," I told Emerson, "I don't need relief anyway.  I can hold
it till I meet my girlfriend."

   It was a long class, and not just because I was behind on reading MOBY
DICK -- Peri kept teasing me to tell her about my supposed girlfriend.  At
least I quickly lost my erection.

   When it finally ended, Dana dragged me by the hand out of the room and
into the first bathroom she could find -- a boy's room.  She turned and
faced me, fists on hips.

   "You said Monday that you and her had a past history together."

   I sighed.  "That was joke to take your mind off things."

   "But not just a joke.  Tell me, what was the half-truth?  What were you
covering up?"

   I rubbed my eyes with my hand.  She had my number.  "I know someone who
had an affair with her, last year.  And before you get your hopes up, a boy
-- she's straight."

   "And a pedophile."

   "Ephebophile -- she likes adolescents, not children."

   "It's still wrong."

   "And not mine to right," I said.  "Even if I knew how."

   She glared at me.  "You're smart.  Think of something."

   "I'll think about it," I told her, pulling her out into the hall.  "In
class."

   As we parted, she hissed at me, "And it wouldn't matter if it was a
girl, anyway."

   She was right -- that had been a low blow.

   Partlow

   I simmered all the way to Drama -- enough so I barely noticed three
requests for poses.  It was bad enough the Program opened us up for abuses
-- Ms Emerson was taking advantage of it to flirt with us, teasing us as if
it were all in innocence.  It was as bad as an aw-come-on-just-fooling-
around-unreasonable-request.

   Mrs.  Clemens called me up when I entered the classroom.  "I heard about
your little show this morning."

   "Ah, thanks," I said.  And then thought, I think.

   "The Program has definitely helped your acting, despite any other
difficulties it may cause you."

   I smiled wryly.  "Yeah, well, it definitely arouses emotions in me."

   She shook her head.  "No, you had emotions before.  You're just USING
them more." And with that cryptic note, she dismissed me to my seat.

   Funny how she didn't ask if I wanted relief.

   Mrs.  Clemens asked how many of the class had seen the Dana & Dana
Players.  About half the class raised their hands.  She picked two, a boy
and a girl, to improvise a scene on our "At the End of the Day" scenario.
They mimed taking off their clothing -- which didn't work as well, I don't
think.

   For the next try, Mrs.  Clemens asked if there were any students willing
to actually undress, given they all would have to by the end of the year. A
few raised their hands, and another couple tried.  It didn't work as well,
because they were too self-conscious about getting naked.  The key of our
scene had been not noticing.

   For the third and last try, the teacher had me and Craig do it.  Craig's
the best actor in the class, bar none.  There was one problem, though.  "I
can't wear ANYTHING -- not even props," I told Mrs.  Clemens.

   "Well, pretend you've done it all except your elaborate sandals,"
pointing at my flip-flops.

   It worked.  I sat on the "bed" and slowly undid them as the scene
unfolded.  It worked, too -- it wasn't the same scene, of course, because
even though I clicked with Craig, we took it different directions than I
did with Dana.  When my sandals were off, I mimed brushing my teeth and
taking some medications.  Craig timed a couple lines beautifully, to catch
me with my mouth "full" and unable to talk back.  Which pissed off my
character all the more.

   We got applause for that scene.

   And I realized Mrs.  Clemens was right.  It wasn't that I was more
emotional now.  I was less bottled up.  And it wasn't just Program
openness. If that at all.  I couldn't wait to find Dana and talk about it
with him.

   I tracked him down at his locker, just as he closed it.  He looked
guilty when he saw me.  Oh, right, the whole Emerson thing.

   "Never mind that," I said as we started towards my locker.  "Chalk it up
to a cranky Program dyke being discriminated against again."

   "But you have a point -- "

   I waved that aside.  "Listen, something else.  About our scene this
morning -- "

   But before I could say more, Principal Skinner stopped us.  "Mr.  Smith,
if I could have a moment." He looked very harassed, with his tie flying
loose for the first time I could remember.

   Dana blinked but quickly said, "Sure.  What's up?"

   "Would you mind opening your locker for me?"

   Which must have surprised him as much as me, but Dana still shot back,
"Can I see your search warrant?"

   "I don't have one -- this is just a request.  Please."

   Dana and I looked at each other.  Then we walked back to his locker.  He
spun the dial a couple times, and opened the door wide.

   Skinner looked at the photos of Madison and sighed.

   "Mr.  Smith, I'm sure you're aware the policy about obscene or
pornographic material on school property.  And that the punishment is
automatic suspension."

   "That's not obscene -- that's Madison."

   I smiled.  I'd warned Dana about this, but I still wanted to cheer him
on.  Anything against the Program?  Oh yeah.

   Skinner waved at the pictures.  "THAT is obscene material."

   "The girl walking around naked all day -- that's not obscene?"

   "Nevertheless, Mr.  Smith -- "

   Dana cut him off.  "So you're telling me it's okay for me to look at
her," and he gestured at me, framing me with his hands like a photographer,
"but I can't put a picture of her in my locker," and he moved the frame to
the door.

   I thought of another issue.  "And what about Spike's photo project --
isn't that just as much of a problem?"

   Skinner rubbed his hand through his thinning hair.  "Look, Mr.  Smith,
I'll make a deal with you.  Take down those pictures and don't ever put any
back up, and we'll consider this closed, okay?"

   "Only if you revise the school guidelines to eliminate the
contradiction, one way or another," Dana said.

   Principal Skinner looked at him for five seconds.  And then, without
argument, Dana took the pictures down.  I bit my lip.

   When Dana was done, Skinner quietly said, "Thank you." Then with a nod
to me, he strode off.

   Dana looked down at the stack of photos and tape in his hand, and
sighed.

   "You should push it," I said.

   He shook his head.  "Not worth it.  If I get suspended before the end of
the day, I have to repeat my week."

   "Or, well, heck, I can do it," I said.

   He tried to grin.  "And you tried to tell me you didn't want any Madison
pin-ups."

   "You know, I would not have described the Dana I met Monday as a
pushover.  If anything, that was the second-to-last word on the list, after
'quiet'." He looked at me, soft pain in his eyes.  I ignored that and said,
"It's like Emerson."

   "I'll THINK about it," he said.  "I'm not supposed to make any decisions
on off days."

   He probably wasn't, though surely Dr.  Thea was talking about anything
suicidal.  Though maybe he classed taking on a teacher or administration
suicidal.  Though with his popularity and trust, you'd think that he'd have
enough clout.  Then I mentally bopped myself in the forehead.  Oh, right,
that would mean VALUING himself.  Stupid depression.

   "Right," I said, "let's get some lunch inside you.  That always helps."

   Peri met us just inside the door of the cafeteria.  "There you are," she
said to me.  "Just wanted to tell you, Dana, before I forgot.  I think it's
amazing -- the transformation you've gone through, and how well you're
handling it."

   I blinked at her stupidly.  What, she liked me more cranky?

   She gestured with your hands.  "You're more open -- freer.  I hadn't
realized how much of your being closed off was because you were in the
closet.  Now you don't have to pretend.  It must have been so hard,
before."

   I felt like I'd been clobbered by a sock monkey filled with sand.

   "No," Dana told Peri, "it's more that she's been forced to face up to
her fears."

   "Exactly -- of being found out." Peri beamed.

   "Oh," I said.  "Ah.  Thanks."

   "Anyway, I just wanted to say that," and Peri turned to leave.

   "Where are you going?" Dana asked.

   Peri grinned.  "Phil and Donny are giving a demonstration on gay sex --
with pointers on how to write it believably."

   She all but bounded away.

   Dana looked at me.  "Your head hurts, doesn't it."

   "Yeah," I said.

   "She's right you know."

   "Yeah." Hadn't Mrs.  Clemens the same thing, in different words?

   "Let's go sit down."

   "Yeah."

   Smith

   I saw Spike behind her camera over at the Whitman end of the cafeteria,
so I found us a small table for just ourselves.  I kinda worried about
leaving Dana alone to the mercy of possible reasonable requests, but
decided her shocky look might ward them off.  Besides, if I asked the right
person nicely, I might be able to cut in line.

   I did -- Zoe and Talia really are sweet girls, if a little
cock-obsessed. I got hard from their attentions, but I also got my lunch
quickly.

   When I got back, Dana was munching thoughtfully on her whole-wheat
sandwich.  I let her stew her thoughts a bit while I dug in.  Peri's
revelation had landed in a prepared mind, apparently, and it takes a while
to absorb that kind of bomb.

   Just as I was deciding the mystery meat was tofu after all, she said,
"How long have you known?"

   I looked up as I swallowed.  "I hadn't thought about it, actually.  I
was never close to Honors Student Dana -- the Dana I got to know had been
knocked off-kilter by the Program and Liz and all, and was out to me right
off the bat."

   She considered her sandwich a moment.  "I have to say, I'm not entirely
sure I like how cranky the new Dana is."

   "Assertive," I corrected.

   "That too."

   "Strong."

   "I wouldn't go that far."

   "Takes no crap from no one no how."

   "You can stop shoving the crap now."

   We grinned at each other.  She was recovering.  Whoever she was going to
be, she was going to be a good friend to hang with.

   "There you are!" a girl said anxiously behind me.  Sylvie.  I turned
around -- she was standing, trying to twine her arms together.  "I've been
looking and looking for you -- I wanted -- that is -- "

   I don't think I've ever seen anyone that high-strung look that sexy --
despite her nerves, her face all but glowed, as did her swollen labia. 
Just above her jutting left nipple was a half-dried glob of semen.  She
reeked of sex.  She was the perfect picture of a debauched pixie.  An
incredibly cute debauched pixie in need of reassurance.  I patted the empty
chair next to me before she tied her tongue into a knot worse than her
elbows.  "Sit."

   She sat.  She didn't even notice how cold the chair was.  "It's -- I --
just -- "

   "Deep breath," I told her.

   "Focus," Dana said, less helpfully.  I gave her what I hoped was a
quelling look.  Though the New Dana doesn't quell easily.

   Sylvie swallowed.  "I want to apologize.  I didn't get a chance during
this morning's meeting.  But I really was in love with you, you see?"

   I didn't, yet -- she was worse than a gaggle of Ginny's friends.  "I'm
flattered," I said.

   "I know -- that's why I feel so bad about this!  I tried to find you ALL
DAY yesterday, to tell you.  But you didn't even come to the practice room,
seventh period."

   I started to see the pattern, where this was going.  "Because Bruno was
using it."

   "Oh.  Oh!  -- you knew.  I'm so glad.  Because I was like so horny and
lovesick for you, and he was horny and lovesick over that girl he talks
about, and we decided to help each other out, a little mutual relief, you
know?  -- and it was like WONDERFUL, better than you -- not that he can
screw me nearly as well as you can, not yet, but it FELT better, you know?"

   I had a hard time keeping a straight face through her breathless
confession.  "Because you're in love."

   "Yes!  That's it!  How'd you know?  It turned out the girl had been me
all along, and I'd been stupidly jealous of her Monday, when I
misunderstood him, though of course if he'd only said it straight out --
but anyway.  When I came to you, Tuesday, I wanted to learn how to have sex
so I could make him jealous.  And you did, and I started having sex with
all the boys.  But they weren't as good -- you were so wonderful, compared
to them, so perfect that of COURSE I fell in love with you.  Which is why
I've been feeling incredibly guilty, even while I'm like totally giddy with
him, because now you can't have me, because I'm Bruno's and he's mine,
forever." After a moment, she added, "Not that I can't give you a mercy
fuck now and then.  If you wanted me."

   Far be it from me to puncture young love by taking advantage of a
continuing crush.  "I'm flattered.  But that's not necessary."

   "It not?  Oh.  Oh good." Her face was a mixture of dismay and relief.

   To sidetrack her, I asked, "Did you sleep together last night?"

   "Oh yes!  Well, not sleep, much.  Daddy's SUCH a cool parent, especially
when he thinks it'll piss off Mom and my stepfather." She made a dreamy
little smile.

   I wondered how long the adrenaline of limerance would last and she
crashed in exhaustion.  I hoped before midnight.  "That is cool."

   "Yes, I almost don't deserve it.  ESPECIALLY after what I've done to
you."

   "It's not a problem.  Really."

   "Really and truly?"

   Dana openly took my hand in hers.  "No, really, it isn't."

   Sylvie looked at our interleaved fingers.  "It won't?  Oh, I see.  Oh
that's so sweet!"

   Dana went on, "So why don't you go back to your boyfriend and show him
in the best way possible that he has no cause to be jealous."

   I swear Sylvie's nipples went SPROING!  at the thought of shagging her
boy.  She stumbled as she got up.  "Oh, yes.  I will.  Right now.  Buh-bye.
And I'm so sorry!"

   When she was safely away, Dana and I wrapped an arm around each other's
shoulder, leaned our heads together, and howled with laughter.

   Partlow

   It's moments like these that OMGWTFBBQ!  was invented for.  My ribs
ached for an hour afterwards, from laughing so hard.

   Smith

   After we'd wiped our tears away, and stopped our third renewed bought of
giggles, I finally managed to say, "I have to admit that was a remarkably
painless puncturing of a crush -- not that I have much experience dealing
with crushes ON me."

   Dana snorted.  "I don't see why not -- a guy like you must be fending
off crushes left and right."

   Which just brought back all the old empty feelings back.  "Yeah, right,"
I said sarcastically.

   "Okay, what the heck -- no, sorry, what the FUCK is that about?" She
glared at me.  For a moment -- ONLY a moment -- I kinda regretted the New
Bullshitless Dana.

   "You know," and I gestured helplessly at my chest, "a guy like me."

   "Just because you're on an off day doesn't mean you can't face the
truth. You are THE best-known kid in this school and while I won't say
you're universally liked, because the creeps you help keep down don't like
you, you're the least DISliked.  Just because you're not part of the
'official' social structure doesn't mean you're not popular.  You have your
own authority.  Just look at how kids do what you say, when you put
yourself forward."

   "Uh ...  "

   "And don't you say that it's just because they're afraid of you because
of your condition, even if they don't know what it is.  I think, Dana
Smith, you've been using being bipolar as a shield to keep anyone from
getting too close for far too long."

   I don't know what it is -- I mean, Dr.  Thea's been telling me this, in
different permutations, for a while now.  Maybe it was the bluntness.  But
for once, I believed that last statement.

   Dana saw Spike coming towards us.  "Spike, here -- Dana's a Good People,
right?"

   "Hell yeah.  What, all that clowning around's masking insecurity?" Then
off whatever my face told her, Spike put her hand over her eyes.  "I don't
believe this." Then she mimed whapping me upside the head.  "Listen, Dana,
the mask is off -- stripped away with your clothes.  Everybody now knows
that deep down inside you're a good guy and the best friend anyone can
have, even when you're just an acquaintance.  You'll just have to live your
life with the knowledge that your good surface is also your good core."

   I finally snorted.  "I'll try."

   And you know, it did feel good to hear that, from both of them.

   The bell rang.

   "Ah, shit," Spike said as we got up and started for the door.  "Listen
can you two meet after school?  I want to talk about this Program project
for Monday."

   "I have class at Trinity until 4," I said.

   "And I'm at the dojo until 4:30," Dana said.

   "How about meet me at 5 at Bill's Burger Hut, down on 6th St?  I'll buy
you guys dinner."

   I like Bill's burgers.  "Sure."

   "What's this about?" Dana asked.

   "I have a proposal for you guys -- but later, eh?  Gotta run."

   Partlow

   I spent all of algebra thinking -- about Dana and me, and our masks. 
And our fears.  And how my ingrained sense of privacy was part of my
closeted persona.  That was Honors Dana -- the staid, rock-no-boats Dana I
didn't like any more.  I didn't want to be staid.  I didn't want to be
boring.  Okay, not that I was boring before.  But I'd been too careful. 
Just as Jeanette had been telling me all along.  I wanted to be Out There.
I wanted to go cruising with Dana for cute chicks.

   Which meant letting go, just a little, of my modesty.  For even after a
week in a Program designed to strip away any shred of modesty, I still had
a lot of it.  And as a first step, before the end of the day and I lost my
chance, I had to take relief.

   Which I needed.  Between Sylvie looking like a sylph taking a breather
from an orgy -- and wafting all her sex pheromones over us - and seeing
Spike naked again, I was actually pretty horny.  I could survive till the
end of the day.  But I didn't have to, and needed to not to.

   So when I walked into French class, I told Madame Toussaint I wanted
relief.  Then I looked at Dana and smiled.  Not for assistance -- however
good at oral sex he might be, he's still a boy.  But to watch over me. 
That's why I was doing it here, in my last class with Dana.  I wanted his
support.  And bless the boy's heart, he understood, and nodded back.

   Madison also asked for relief -- no surprise.  Which was good --
everyone would watch her.  I ignored her and her boytoy, sat in the chair
at the front of class, and spread my legs.  Then I closed my eyes and
lightly stroked my labia, spreading my wetness.  I was worked up over doing
this -- exposing myself to everyone one -- and it excited me, a lot more
than I expected, even as it frightened me.  I sighed, and began rubbing
myself.

   And because I'm working on letting go of that privacy thing, I'm going
to describe what I fantasized:

   I walk down the hall, the light-filled hall, into a large white room,
the cafeteria.  There are people here, but it's mostly empty, except for
her -- she's sitting at the table, writing something.  She looks up at me
and smiles -- it's Spike, and she's smiling at me.  She's naked like me,
the body I've been seeing all week, with that constellation of brown spots
on her right hip and a silver bar through her left nipple, one I've been
curious to explore, to find out how it feels.  I walk up to her, and greet
her, though without words because there are no words in this fantasy, but I
greet her and bend down to kiss her.  Her lips are soft of course, like a
girl's, but strong.  She's glad to see me, is eager, likes me, wants me --
her tongue tells me this, tells mine as we taste each other.  And I want
her.  I reach out and cup her breast, her round tit, with its hard nipple,
and she gasps as I lightly tug the piercing.  It turns her on, that bar,
makes her more sensitive, and she gasps with pleasure.  She reaches out,
and her fingers find my pussy, my private spot, my wet lips, and I open my
legs to let her in.  And she's rubbing me, first softly like I had been
doing, but now harder -- and fast, yes, for we have to be quick, this time.
I throw my head back, somehow I'm standing, no longer kissing her, standing
with my legs open and Spike fingering my labia and clit, sliding between
and over as she kisses my nipples oh yes like that and I shudder and it
comes and I

   come

   like that.  I take a deep breath, and Madame Toussaint called out,
"Time!"

   "Okay, that was better," Madison said.  Some kids applauded and
whistled.

   I opened my eyes, and lifted my head, and looked at Dana.  He gave me a
thumbs up.

   I spent that period more relaxed than I've been all week.  As Dana says,
it may not be sex, but five-fingered love is better than nothing at all.  I
didn't even hit him when he leaned over and whispered, "I hope you didn't
think about Sylvie, because she's taken."

   I'd more or less come back to earth by chemistry.  Which was good,
because it was a lab day.  I didn't get a protective apron, because we
weren't working with anything caustic -- just heating up various objects
and letting them cool.  I let Peri, my lab partner, handle the Bunsen
burner.

   As the clock ticked towards the end of the period, I started getting
more excited.  Soon, very soon, it'd be the end of the day.  I had nothing
school-related over the weekend, which meant -- praise God -- I was almost
done with the Program.  The last five minutes of class felt like a month.
Finally the bell rang, and I broke out in the biggest grin my face could
hold.

   Allen looked at me from across the lab bench.  "Glad to be done with the
Program?"

   "You have no fffffreakin' idea," I told him.

   Allen nodded.  "We're definitely talking about the problems with the
Program Tuesday." During our next Student Council meeting.

   "I like the Program," said Peter Newmann, Allen's lab partner.

   "There are definite problems with it," I told him.  I would have argued
more, but his locker was in the other direction.

   Allen and I talked about strategies and tactics as we walked down the
hall, with Peri tagging along -- until at the main staircase, I stopped. 
She was there.

   Liz.  With Mina.  Standing in the biggest nexus on this floor of the
school.  What, was she going to try and apologize to me?  In the most
public way she could?  I looked at her face.  She was.

   I wanted Dana.  But he wasn't here.  I'd have to do this on my own. 
Fortunately, this week had taught me I could.  Peri and Allen stood beside
me, watching.  Everyone walked around us five, like an island in the
stream.

   "Dana," Liz started.

   "I don't want to hear it," I told her.  "Not unless you can take back
everything you've done this week."

   She frowned, rubbing her buzz-cut.  Mina at least looked troubled.

   "Dana," she tried again, "I'm sorry.  I really am.  I hadn't realized --
how much you mean to me.  I want to go back to what we were, before all
this."

   What I said about sex and emotions being linked?  This was the flip
side. Standing there, I saw Liz as an egotistical bitch, and that feeling,
that hatred, is not sexy.  Yes, she was strong and sexy.  But I was no
longer attracted to her.  Whatever it was I'd felt at the start of the
week, whether it was love or lust or something else, she'd killed it.

   And here she was trying to pretend the ashes were flames.

   "Liz," I said, "put a fucking sock in it."

   Which shocked her.  Honors Dana never cussed.  "What?"

   "You betrayed me.  You know how.  You know why.  I can't trust you, ever
again.  Your name," I said clearly, loudly, "is fucking mud in my book."
And I walked around, down the stairs, leaving her and school behind.  Never
mind that I still had books I needed in my locker -- I wasn't about to ruin
a exit line with logistics.

   "Dana!" Liz called after me.  "What the hell was that?"

   I ignored her.  I went downstairs to my clothes and got dressed.  I was
out of the Program.

   Smith

   After French, after saying bye to Dana, I breezed out of school.  I
dressed in my car, in the shirt and shorts I'd stashed in my backpack,
gods, how long ago?  Only Tuesday?  Whatever -- I was done -- out of the
Program.  I wanted to leap in the air and shout.  I cackled all the way to
Trinity.

   What with getting make-up work from my professor and class notes from a
classmate, I didn't get to Bill's Burger Hut until a little before 5,
though it's just off campus.  Spike was already there, once more in her
usual black shirt/black jeans/black jacket outfit.  She dyes her hair black
too, as we now knew from her brown pubic hair.  I'd sometimes thought about
introducing her to Scarlett, but decided Spike can find her own bad
influences.

   "Hey, thanks for coming," she said.

   "No prob.  What's this about?"

   "Let's wait for Dana."

   "Devil, comma, speaking of," I said, for at that moment Dana walked in
the door.  She looked the best I'd ever seen her -- and let me tell you,
she was pretty damn sexy jilling herself off in French.

   "I'm FREEEE!!!" she cried, leaping into my arms.  I spun her around. 
She felt relaxed, if you can say that of someone clutching their arms
around your neck.

   "Free at last," Spike said, "Free at last, thank God all-mighty," and we
joined her for, "we're free at LAST!"

   Somehow, I think Reverend King wouldn't have disapproved.

   "You're looking good," Spike said to her.

   Dana grinned.  "Sensei made me work on my extension.  It was a good
workout."

   I don't think Spike quite got what she was saying, but she dropped it.
We grabbed a booth -- Dana and me on one bench, Spike across from us.

   Bill's is near Trinity College -- mostly a student hang-out, though
nearby families also eat there.  At 5 on a Friday, it wasn't bad -- later,
it'd be packed.  After we ordered, Dana asked Spike, "So what's this
about?"

   Spike swallowed a sip of soda and put her hands on the table.  "I've
figured out what I want to do for my Program Project.  It's a multimedia
thing, with a slide show of my photos -- and your text." She looked back
and forth between us as she talked.

   "What text?" I asked.

   "I want you two to tell me your stories -- how you each experienced the
Program, both the good and bad parts.  No hindsight, no apologies, just the
naked truth as you saw it at the time, as best you can.  Each of you write
it separately, and I'll splice them together visually, on screen -- maybe
two columns, side by side -- I'll have to think about that."

   "Huh," I said.  It might work.

   "Why us?" Dana asked.

   "Because as far as I'm concerned, you guys are the poster children for
the Program Experience.  You two getting together -- yes I know, totally
friends -- is the best thing to come out of this week.  And your awful
outing," nodding to Dana, "and whatever it was that happened to you
Wednesday," to me, "they have to be the worst."

   "What about Rodrigo and Surya?" I asked.

   Spike waved that off.  "They were already having problems."

   "What about Sylvie and Bruno?" Dana asked.

   Spike gagged.  "Those walking bundles of hormones?  I give 'em two weeks
before they start breaking up and getting back together.  What did she want
with you at lunch, anyway?"

   I winced.  Dana laughed, and said, "To apologize for no longer being
Dana's lovebunny, while offering to be his lusthamster if he still wanted."

   Spike choked on her laugh.  "You serious?"

   "She has a lingering crush on me," I explained, "and was feeling guilty
about it."

   "Okay, free advice to you," Spike said.  "Never get involved with anyone
that young -- even if you are yourself -- they can't separate hormones from
emotions."

   "Neither can we," Dana said.

   "Yes," Spike told her, "but we have driver's licenses and can get away."

   Which statement made our waitress give us a dubious look as she
delivered our burgers.  We began inhaling them.

   When we started slowing down, Spike asked, "So whadya say?"

   To the proposal.  I looked at Dana.  "I'll do it if you do it."

   She chewed on a fry.  "I don't know if I can."

   "What had you been thinking of?" Spike asked her.

   "A political speech -- a rant damning the whole Program to hell with
every rhetorical trick Mr.  Lanier stuffed into us last year."

   "I'd been thinking of writing a sonnet," I admitted.  Off their
incredulous looks, "What?  I can write a poem."

   Dana patted my arm.  "What's important, dear, is that YOU believe that."

   I looked down my nose at her.  "You have no appreciation for my
linguistic skills."

   "On the contrary, I have all too much appreciation of them." Then
immediately to Spike, "I'm in."

   "Why?"

   She took a breath.  "Something I realized today makes me think it'd be a
good idea -- for me."

   I wondered how this was connected with what Peri had said during lunch,
and what happened in French.

   Spike made an inquiring noise, but Dana said, "You'll find out when you
read it."

   "When'll that be?"

   "When we're done," Dana said firmly.

   "You'll have to give me enough time to work with it, put it all
together."

   "No later than 6 pm Sunday," I told her.

   She thought a moment.  "That'll do."

   We talked for a while, after that.  Not so much about the Program as
life after it.  How weird it will be to walk into school -- with clothes
on. How nice it'll be to be ordered to bend and spread 'em - and get to say
no.  Apparently, Spike's time through the Program was a little rougher than
Dana's, at least physically.

   "Because she didn't have you," Dana told me.

   Spike smiled wryly.

   Well, maybe.

   Finally the waitress asked us if there was anything else we wanted
enough times that we got the message and left.

   Outside on the sidewalk, Spike looked at us.  "There's another reason
why I'm glad you guys are willing to do this.  The Program made me realize
something, something my lens showed me.  I like girls' bodies as much as I
like boys'.  And that I want to explore what that means -- now that we're
safely out of the Program hothouse."

   And with that, Spike stepped up to Dana, put her hand behind her neck,
and pulled her down for a kiss.  A passionate kiss, which Dana returned. 
Oh, I thought -- that comment yesterday about the bi-curious girls had
applied to her, too.  After about ten seconds, just as Dana was about hold
her closer, Spike let go.

   And then Spike turned to me and did the same.  I may be a fool, but I'm
not stupid: I immediately wrapped my arms around her as I kissed back --
holding her curvy body against me as her lips and tongue explored mine.  It
was sweet -- really sweet.  My pulse rushed in my ears.  Finally, after
what felt like an hour but was probably exactly as long as Dana's kiss,
Spike broke off.

   She smiled, and without a word, turned and walked away.  We watched her
till she turned the corner into the parking lot.

   Finally, I croaked, "You need to jill off, don't you."

   "Oh yeah," Dana said in a dazed voice.  Then, "You need to jack off,
don't you."

   I swallowed.  "Mr.  Happy is back and I'm turning on."

   She looked at me.  "You ARE on.  The way you're fizzing about the edges?
You're manic, boy."

   Well, not yet -- but she hadn't yet seen my FULLY manic initial couple
hours.  Soon, though, if I didn't channel it.  I smiled - writing would be
a perfect outlet.

   Partlow

   Dana was definitely going manic -- it took him just a minute to badger
me into agreeing to start writing immediately.  He WANTED to write straight
through until we finished, but I put my foot down and said I was stopping
for Saturday Aikido.  You have to be firm with him, or he'll exhaust you
into submission.  As it was, I caved that much.

   Because Dana's house was closer, we stopped there first -- to drop off
his car and pick up his laptop -- before heading to my place.  And while we
were there, get permission from his mother to stay out late.  To my
surprise, Catarina gave it at once -- possibly because we'd be at my place.

   While I waited for Dana to pack his computer, Ginny came into his room,
carrying a fat, long-haired tabby I hadn't seen before.  It took one
startled look at me and leapt from her arms to get away.

   "Ow!" Ginny rubbed her scratched arm.

   "Hey, Squirt," Dana said.

   "Hello, Ginny," I said.

   "Hi, Danas." She sat down near me, on the foot of his bed.  "Dana, I
need help."

   Dana and I looked at each other.  This one was his.  He turned around in
his desk chair.  "What?"

   "About what happened.  How do I get Mom to let me out of Groundation?"

   "You apologize for what you did," he said.

   Which was not enough, of course.  I added, "In a way that shows you know
what it was and that you won't do it again." A guilty little voice
whispered in my ear about Jeanette, but I refused to think about that. 
Later, when I was alone.

   "But that's just it," Ginny wailed.  "What did I do wrong?"

   Dana ticked off his fingers.  "You scared your mother and acted like an
idiot." To me, "That about it?"

   "Those are the biggies," I said.

   "I guess," Ginny said sullenly.  "But -- "

   After a moment, Dana prompted her, "Mm?"

   "I mean, Mom's always been, When you're ready to start having sex, make
sure it's SAFE SEX.  And I was ready, and it was SAFE."

   Dana turned his hand up to me -- lesbian sex was my subject matter.

   "Mechanically safe, yes," I said blandly.

   "Why does she think I'm too young?" Ginny went on, as if she hadn't
heard me.  "I'm TWELVE.  That's not THAT young, is it?  I've friends who've
done it."

   Dana said, "The average age for Americans to first have sex is 16.7
years old."

   An authoritative-sounding number that sounded dead wrong.  I made a
face. "In what part of the country did they come up with THAT number?"

   "It's a national average.  I'd have to do more research to see if
there's regional variation." He looked at his computer bag, as if wanting
to start it up right there.

   "Or even rural/urban differences," I said.  "And what are they calling
'sex'?  Boy-penitrates-girl?  Oral sex?  Heavy petting?"

   Dana spread his hands.

   Ginny just looked back and forth between us.

   I made an impatient sound.  "They keep throwing these numbers around, as
if they mean something.  But we're not numbers, we're people.  Each of us
different."

   Dana held up a finger, then looked at it.  "I could say something about
the unique beauty of each number, but a) you'd sit on my head, and b) we'd
get distracted."

   "I'm just saying," I said, "16.7 years doesn't match what I see, looking
around me."

   "Yes, but the people who do have sex are often more visible -- those who
don't, keep quiet for the most part.  The closet for virgins is much larger
than for queers." Before I could respond to that, he went on, "Also,
there's a selection effect -- both of us associate more with people who
started having sex young, like us."

   Which sidetracked me.  I cocked my head and asked, "How old were you?"

   "Not counting some circle-jerks when I was twelve?  Thirteen, about a
week after my birthday."

   Ginny looked at him wide-eyed.  "Did Mamacita know?"

   "Gods no -- I hope not.  And it was all I could do to not burble about
it 24/7." He looked at me.  "The medication I was taking at the time had
some odd side-effects." I wondered just what was embarrassing about his
first sex, and made a mental note to ask him later.

   "Was that the green pills?" Ginny shook her head.  "Yeah, you were hard
to live with then."

   Dana rolled his eyes.  "Don't remind me."

   Ginny looked at me.  "When did your parents find out about, yanno?"

   I gave a little snort.  "My mother knew the day I first had sex with
Jeanette.  My father, it's not clear he knows yet."

   Dana wrinkled his nose at me.  "How could he not -- ?  Jeanette sleeps
in your room, just down the hall."

   "Slept," I said, more sharply than I intended.

   Ginny looked troubled.  "Did you break up with Jeanette?  Because of
me?"

   I swallowed.  "I don't know, Ginny.  I'm still figuring that out.  But
we've stopped sleeping together -- for the moment."

   Ginny screwed up her face.  "Were you," she said tentatively, "were you
jealous?" Of her.  As in, had she broken us up.  I wasn't sure which answer
she wanted.  But I knew the easy answer was wrong.

   "No," I said firmly.  There'd been jealously in there, yes, but mostly
it was as I'd told Jeanette.  "I'm pissed off at her for how she hurt your
family.  You're a good family, and she pulled out your pin and let the
Ginny Grenade go off."

   "Oh." Ginny didn't sound comforted.  But I had no comfort to give, here.

   After a pause that stretched for several seconds, Dana said, "Have you
figured out how to apologize?"

   "I guess.  I gotta think about it." Ginny kicked the bed-frame with her
heel.  "I HATE this."

   Dana stood up, laptop case in hand.  "Consider it your first lesson
about sex: always be prepared to accept the consequences."

   "Even," I said, "if your partner was doing it to make someone else
jealous."

   Ginny of course took that to mean what Jeanette had done with her, but
Dana heard my reference to Sylvie.  He made a half-laugh/half-groan noise.
Ginny looked at him suspiciously.  "No, I'm not telling you," Dana said to
her, "so just forget about trying."

   And to keep us from any more questions, we left for my house.

   [concluded in 7, Sunday Again]

   -- http://www.fastmail.fm - Email service worth paying for.  Try it for
free 

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