sexy feet

by bellacanta@yahoo.com

On the tv screen, Gloria was reporting from Albania, her handsome, slightly weathered face bearing down intensely into the camera, as if she had to finish her report and get away before someone shot her. Madeline's heart did that old flutter. She had just finished putting little Hannah to bed. About once every 3 or 4 months Madeline saw Gloria reporting from somewhere. In the past 6 years they had managed two meetings. Two lunches. After one of them, they had held hands briefly on a park bench, Gloria's larger, unpainted fingers closing warmly over Madeline's smaller, manicured hand. Madeline had been wearing silver nail polish that day. Gloria had looked at it and laughed. In Gloria's universe, glimmering silver nail polish was a myth, belonging to a legendary world of unicorns and princes.

Madeline's nails: they were strung over the memory of that year like Christmas lights. They had met in September of 1994 at Melville, the women's college west of Boston. That dangerous year. Madeline was returning for her junior year, back to the familiar school, but to an unfamiliar room-mate. The new room-mate was Gloria, who had transferred from a small college in upstate New York. Gloria was a senior.

Madeline had arrived at Melville a week late that September, because of the death of her grandmother. The evidence of Gloria was everywhere in the room: a clutter of books, clothes, shoes and magazines, a camera bag with cords snaking out of it, a couple of field hockey sticks. They were lucky to have this room. All the young women - and here at Melville they were always referred to as "women", not as "girls" or "ladies"; serious young "women" were supposed to have outgrown those confining archetypes - all the young women coveted the corner rooms of this, the oldest residence at Melville. They were circular, and formed a turret that rose up into the sky, the highest point on campus. They were larger, and they had the best views, especially of the long sloping grass that led to the small lake.

Madeline unpacked her suitcases. She was studying music performance, a soprano. All she knew about Gloria was that she was a senior. Later she learned Gloria was studying economics; it wasn't until the next year, at graduate school, that Gloria decided on journalism. But even in her senior year, she was writing articles for the student newspaper, always carrying that video camera around.

Madeline needed a shower. She had to replace the sticky film of her flight from Pittsburgh. She threw her robe on and got out her small soft-sided cosmetic bag, unzipping the lid and laying out about 15 shades of nail polish on her dresser. She didn't deliberate long before choosing dark blue - not quite midnight blue but darker than navy. Revlon called it "Twilight Ink".

This was the image she presented when Gloria burst into the room: knees together, leaning forward in her faded red terry robe, her foot contorted at an angle as she applied the last dab of paint to her baby toe. The door swung open, and in strode Gloria, dragging her field hockey stick for a few steps before simply dropping it loudly on the time-stained hardwood floor. You would have expected someone new at Melville to be just a little tentative, but not Gloria; she rolled in like a weather system. Like a hurricane, if you wanted to know the truth.

"Oh hi," said Gloria and walked directly over to shake Madeline's hand. "You must be Madeline. I'm Gloria. So we're room-mates. Just let me get out of this stuff and shower off."

Madeline felt her hand squeezed in the larger young woman's sweaty, muddy hand, her new friend's face flushed red with the exertion of her field hockey, some streaks of mud down the sides of her legs. Gloria wiped the back of her forearm across her brow, then her nose, then took the elastic out of her pony tail and let her long wavy dark brown hair fall messily down her back and shoulders. She sat on the edge of the bed. First, she unlaced her boots and kicked them off, half-way across the room. Then the small shin-guards, similarly discarded. Next she peeled off her t-shirt, blue, with the discreet Melville crest over her heart outlined in white, which she just dropped on the floor between her shoes. She stood up and dropped her pleated skirt in a pool around her feet, not bothering to step out of it but unpeeling her mud-scarred knee socks and leaving them in the centre of the skirt opening, the socks standing up like cloth slinkys. Finally, she reached back and stretched out of her functional sports bra, and tore off the spandex short-tights that she wore under the pleated skirt. All the time, she was breathing pretty hard. Without another word, she strode naked to the bathroom, leaving behind her this scattered pile of athletic clothes like it had been blown there by the wind.

Madeline smiled. Gloria was tall, at least 5'10, with a hard, athletic body, muscles like a guy's. Madeline noticed girls' bodies; she was part artist, and partly attracted. Gloria appeared a few minutes later, rubbing her head with a towel, her dark hair sticking to her neck and her forehead and her cheek and her shoulders. Gloria's lack of timidity was inspiring. Madeline studied Gloria's legs - not so much graceful as impressive because of the sharply defined muscularity. She looked at what must have been the hardest stomach she had seen on a girl. Nowadays, they would have called it a six-pack. Her breasts were neither large nor small: a b-cup for sure, with dark brown aureoles, hard nipples right in the bullseye. Her pubic hair was trimmed, but not a great deal. Tidied would have been a better word.

Gloria stopped rubbing her hair suddenly and looked at Madeline studying her. "You don't mind, do you? Running around without clothes? I just can't be bothered, but if it makes you feel weird..."

Madeline smiled the slow, self-contained half-smile that would come to bemuse Gloria so much. "Oh no. I like it, actually. If you don't mind, I don't mind."

"Good," Gloria said, and went on rubbing her hair, while her tight breasts bounced. After a minute or so, Gloria looked down at Madeline, studying her new room-mate in return, still in the same pose, the small bottle of blue nail polish in her fingers.

She walked over to the foot of Madeline's bed, bent to stare at her toenails, reached out a hand to turn the big toe just slightly, the dark blue nail polish contrasting the white skin of Madeline's feet. "Nice," she said. "Fucking cool." Then she noticed the array of bottles on Madeline's dresser. "Holy shit." She laughed briefly. "Popsicle toes."

"Popsicle toes?" The cuteness was so incongruous in the mouth of this hockey player.

"That's what my Oma used to call them."

"Oma?" queried Madeline.

"Yeah. My grandmother. She always used to paint our toes when we were kids, and she would call them popsicle toes. Used to drive my mother fucking nuts."

She went back to her side of the room, pulled out a sweatshirt and a pair of jeans, which she slipped on with no underwear. "Let's go down and eat."

Madeline smiled and stood, undoing her robe and throwing it on the bed, walking naked to her dresser. Her body was smaller and softer than Gloria's, no angles and bulges of calf and thigh muscles, just curves. She felt good, her nipples hardening as she pullied on a pair of jeans and a top. No underwear for her either. Inside there was just the slightest, darkest hum of possibilities.

Gloria was the captain of the Varsity field hockey, it turned out. She had been recruited. A week later, the afternoon of their first game, against Radcliffe, Madeline decided to go down and watch. She got there just after half time. She was stunned. She had never seen anything like it, the intensity the girls played with. The "women", rather. And in the middle of it, clearly the best player on the field, was Gloria. She knew field hockey was supposed to be non-contact, but Gloria played it like it was football, or ice hockey. She would drive toward a knot of players who were scrambling for the ball. It was like every encounter was a game of chicken. The other players would sense her, it seemed, without seeing her, and there would open up in front of Gloria a sudden wedge of space, like a sudden window in time when everyone else stopped but her, and she would slip through it, and emerge on the other side, with the ball, her glistening, mud-streaked legs crunching the ground, her ponytail trailing behind like the tail of a comet. With her mouthguard in, she always looked like she had a fat lip, like someone had punched her. It didn't look out of place.

Madeline watched and absorbed it all, disengaged, unable to summon the enthusiasm and fire she saw in the other girls who were watching and yelling and screaming. Go Melville Go. Kill 'em! Madeline felt more like she was observing paintings in a gallery, from an aesthetic distance. It was weird that people could get so wrapped up in a game. Spectators that is. Players she could understand. Madeline was intense herself. Just because she was quiet didn't mean she was docile.

After the game, Madeline went back to their room, slipped out of her jeans and sweat top, put on her thick terry robe, and took out her score of The Messiah. The game was no longer in her mind. The game was now catalogued with all other new experiences, a little flake of the collage that was her life.

As always, when she was studying a score, she took out some nail polish and absent-mindedly did her fingernails and toenails. It was a bit of a ritual. This time, she chose a bright pink, almost hot pink. It was called "Rock Candy" by the people at Max Factor. She looked at the score of The Messiah between her legs as she leaned forward. She knew the Messiah inside out. They had all sung it half a dozen times before. She just had to look at the notations Barter had insisted on for her solo. Professor Barter was a stickler, clear and emphatic; she knew exactly what she wanted. All of the girls had a solo at some point; about 15 of them had solos in the Messiah. Madeline applied her nail polish flawlessly, singing the notes inside her mind.

By the time Gloria slammed the door open, Madeline had entirely forgotten about the game. She didn't look up, applying the last dab of Rock Candy to her baby toe before returning to the next page of the score. "Nice game," she said absently, without looking up.

Gloria was going through her usual routine of dropping the collection of field hockey sticks noisily to the floor, unlacing and kicking off her boots.

"Fucking right. We kicked ass." Then silence. The silence was what caught Madeline's attention, not Gloria's noisy racket. Then there was the sound of breathing. Madeline heard Gloria inhale audibly somewhere near her as she screwed the top back on the little bottle of nail polish. It was like the sound of someone inhaling an asthma inhaler. Madeline still didn't look up.

She didn't look up, in fact, until Gloria stood at the foot of Madeline's bed, leaning over, her exercise-flushed thighs pressing against the top bar of the iron railing that formed part of the footboard of the bed. Madeline watched as Gloria leaned forward. The taller girl's face was still flushed from her game, and she hadn't taken off her sweaty t-shirt or her pleated game skirt. The outline of her sports bra was very visible; her nipples stood out like little thimbles.

Madeline's mouth went dry as she looked up. Gloria kept reaching forward. It must have happened quickly but it seemed to happen out of time, like a movie broken down into hundreds of frames so you could see each ripple in Gloria's forearms and upper arms as she leaned forward. Her hands closed around Madeline's ankles and she slowly pulled Madeline's legs flat, her eyes studying the smaller girl's toes, then methodically, clinically moving up Madeline's calves and thighs. Madeline didn't bother closing the robe that had parted open at her thighs, revealing her white cotton panties.

Madeline just looked up, her mouth completely dry. "Is the door locked?" she said, whispering hoarsely.

Gloria said nothing, but looked into Madeline's eyes. Just the same way she looked on the hockey pitch: like a Viking checking out a village she had come to plunder, brooding and ready for blood. "You are so fucking sexy. Sitting there putting on your nail polish on those pretty little feet of yours. Have you ever been fucked by a girl?"

Madeline's heart was pounding in her chest. "Yes," she said. She could feel her nipples tingling. "Is the door locked?" she repeated louder, more insistently. Now, right now, the ache to be fucked by her athletic room-mate rumbled inside her. Everything hung suspended for a few seconds, like those strange still moments before a rocket lifted off: an explosion, a flash of heat and light and smoke before the earth actually started quaking, and she cut through the stratosphere.

"Yes, it's locked." Gloria climbed over the end of the bed, her pleated skirt rising up along her strong thighs as she straddled the smaller girl's legs. She felt the after-game heat of Gloria's thighs and crotch under her skirt as they settled on her shins and knees. Gloria pushed Madeline back onto the bed firmly, and started to undo Madeline's robe. She wasted no time in opening it up, and pushing it aside. Then she just looked over Madeline's body, a pirate-queen gloating over a freshly opened treasure chest. Madeline's chest was heaving, her hands spread to her side gripping the sheets. Her white skin was starting to flush; her nipples were brown and hard. She bit her lip, feeling the lava of responses flow down her flesh.

"God your body is fucking awesome," Gloria said. She reached her hands forward and mashed Madeline's breasts with her hockey hands, strongly, roughly, making sure the heel of her palm scraped over Madeline's nipples. Madeline whimpered and jerked, but kept grasping the sheet with her fingers. She was groaning very quietly now with each intake of breath. Gloria stopped mashing Madeline's breasts then quickly ran her fingers back and forth over the smaller girl's nipples, then pinching them, pulled them and twisted them.

"Don't move," she said. "Don't fucking move. Understand?" Madeline just nodded and gripped the sheet tighter.

Gloria did have fingernails, they were just shorter than Madeline's and one or two of them were always chipped. She dragged her fingers down Madeline's front to her tummy, then down the outside of her panties into her pussy, pressing the gusset into Madeline's cleft. "You're wet, you're fucking wet. Good." She pressed her fingers into the panties at Madeline's slit, then slid the panties up and down along the seeping channel, lifting her clit with the wet, panty-clad fingers. "You're fucking wet and you want to be fucked, don't you, Maddy?" Gloria had not called her Maddy before; from now on she always would. Gloria slipped her fingers under the elastic of Madeline's panties; Madeline lifted her ass off the bed so Gloria could slip the panties off easily. Madeline just lay there, her hips shifting, her mound lifting with each breath.

Gloria wasted no time. With one hand she parted Madeline's pussy lips, and then drove two fingers into her pussy. Madeline jerked and writhed, moaning as loud as she dared, fearful the girls next door might hear. She did her best to stay still; she kept gripping the sheets as tightly as she could. The scent of her own pussy mixed with the sweaty athletic smell of the girl fucking her. Gloria's skin felt so hot. Gloria's fingers curled up inside her, almost lifting her off the bed, them slid out and back in, fucking her slowly. "There, you little fuckgirl, feel me fucking you. I am going to fuck you hard and fast. Fuck yes. I just have to. Fuck your wet cunt. Your pretty wet fuckable cunt. Don't you just ache to cum, you little fuckgirl? Don't you just ache to be fucked?" Then Madeline felt Gloria's thumb on her clit as two fingers plunged deep into her wet silky pussy, parting her roughly. Suddenly Gloria lowered her mouth and clamped it onto Madeline's mound. Madeline felt the other girl's strong tongue sliding up her slit, in unison with two fingers fucking her cunt, then felt the clit sucked into the athletic girl's mouth, her tongue pressing it hard, relentlessly, completely devoid of finesse, completely full of intensity and purpose. There was no manipulation, no teasing, no torment.

In less than a minute, her orgasm started, she writhed and bucked, feeling Gloria push the explosion out of her with her fingers, then suck it out of her with her mouth and tongue. She twisted on the bed, moaning as quietly as she could, her legs taut, then jerking, her head thrashing from side to side.

"Please stop. Gloria please please stop I can't stand any more please stop oh god oh god oh fuck I can't stand it I'm cumming again oh fuck oh shit you bitch you fucking bitch oh fuckkkkkkkkk!!!!!!!"

Gloria kept fucking her and licking her, swatting Madeline's hands away as the smaller girl tried to push her off. Then she unbent, kneeling above the smaller girl, her face flushed, her mouth and cheeks glistening with juices from Madeline's pussy. Her pony tail was still bobbing behind her head. Power smiled in her face. "I'm not finished with you yet. Don't move!"

Gloria leaned back on her ass and pulled the spandex tights from her thighs, and unzipped her pleated skirt. In less than a second, she was straddling Madeline's shoulders, her pussy inches from the smaller girl's mouth. She looked down and smiled briefly before she ripped her t-shirt off, then her sports bra, then began pinching her left nipple with the fingers of her left hand. With her right, she sunk her fingers into Madeline's dark red hair and firmly pulled the smaller girl's mouth to her own pussy.


"Come on now, baby. Lick my cunt. I NEED to cum. Come on, Maddy, use that pretty tongue of yours."

The athletic girl's scent filled Madeline's nostrils completely. The scent of her wet cunt, the scent of her perspiration on her thighs, the suddenly released heat of her crotch from under the spandex tights. It was like being in a greenhouse of exotic plants, kept at jungle temperature and humidity. Feverishly she pushed her tongue between Gloria's labia, feeling her room-mate's juices filling her mouth. Her clit was a hard, thick nub, Madeline's tongue pressing against it, lifting it, circling it vigorously. Gloria was holding the back of Madeline's head and rubbing her cunt up and down over Madeline's mouth, fucking the smaller girl's mouth with her pussy. Madeline's arms were still helpless, pinned under Gloria's bent legs. Every few seconds the cunt pressed harder, on the pubic bone, and Madeline felt a sharp shock of pain, and whimpered, her cry muffled by the hot wet labia around her mouth. Looking up with wide, wild eyes she saw the intensity of Gloria's eyes sealed shut, then looking back down as she fucked her cunt up and down Madeline's mouth. Then Madeline felt Gloria humping faster, her mouth pressed harder against the athletic girl's pussy, until in one final lunge she felt her face clamped between the strong girl's thighs, several hard thrusts jerking her whole head and neck back, and hoarse screams from Gloria's mouth as she tried to restrain the volume of her cries.

Madeline let her head fall back as Gloria leaned forward, her hands on either side of Madeline's head. The strong girl was trying to catch her breath, as was Madeline. Madeline's mouth and chin and nose were red with the pressure of being fucked, soaked with Gloria's juices. Finally Gloria looked down at Madeline and smiled, her breath coming more evenly now. She placed her fingers on Madeline's cheek and rubbed them gently, before lifting her leg off Madeline's shoulder and sitting beside her on the edge of the bed. She turned her fingers over and brushed Madeline's cheek with the back of her hand, then leaned down and kissed her on the lips, hard but not long, then leaned back up.

"You okay, Maddy? All right, baby?"

Madeline nodded. "God yes. I'm more than okay."

"I just couldn't stop myself. I just had to fuck you. You looked too fucking cute."

Madeline blushed very slightly, not used to any sort of flattery from Gloria. "Do you always just see someone you want to fuck and just take her like that?"

Gloria thought for a minute, pondering the question. "Not always. Only when I just know it. Sometimes you just know it, you know?"

It was Madeline's turn to think. "Hmmmm. I guess so. I've never done that."

Five minutes later Gloria was in the shower, and Madeline was looking at her music again. The world resumed its course.

***

A week went by, and they didn't even talk about the incident, the fucking. Madeline relived it in her mind, but she always fantasized a lot, and masturbated a lot. Plus, they both went out with boys; during the week boys were scarce on campus. Young men were allowed, of course, but it's just that most of the young women got on with life. Some had boyfriends, and there were always boys skulking around, but life was busy. Gloria had field hockey every day, and Madeline had her music. Hours of practice, scales and exercises, plus the flute. Everyone was expected to have an instrument as well as a voice, and Madeline had chosen the flute. It was a chore, but one she didn't mind too much.

The next time Madeline painted her nails, and Gloria came in, the taller girl got out her video camera. "I've got to get this on film. You are a real expert. It is so fucking sexy."

Maddy let Gloria tape till she was finished. Then she packed up to go and do her voice exercises.

"Show me where you have to go and practice," Gloria said.

Madeline looked at her like she was from Mars. Voice exercises were like piano scales. A torture you had to survive, like sprints at field hockey practice Gloria had told her about. And the practice rooms were ridiculous.

"Are you nuts?" Madeline said.

Gloria looked at her. "No. I just want to see. I want to hear what you sound like. You sing in the chorus too, don't you?"

Madeline nodded. "All right, come on."

When they got there, Gloria was clearly surprised. "This is it? What's with the walls?" She plunked out a note on the piano.

"The walls, that's so the sound doesn't echo, carpet on the walls to kill it." Gloria ran her fingers over the nubbly carpet on the walls.

After she had sung a few exercises and scales, Gloria decided she wanted to sing the same scales. Madeline could hardly believe her ears. Gloria had a very good voice, clear and loud, just not terribly rich. She realized Gloria had been wanting to impress her.

"You never told me you could sing."

"Oh I used to sing a lot. Church choir. Is the chorus here volunteer, or do you have to be in the Music programme?"

Madeline shook her head. "No, anyone can join. You have to audition." She watched to see if that would put Gloria off.

"All right. I'm going to join. I don't have to sing a solo, do I?"

"No, only the girls in the programme have to have solos." Madeline didn't say she might not make it; it wasn't automatic.

"So when's your next rehearsal?"

"Next Tuesday night."

"All right." It was now Thursday. "You can help me practice a bit."

"Okay" Madeline smiled her bewitching half-smile. She was honestly amazed at her talented, intense friend, who seemed to do everything in her life this way: straight ahead, unblinking, intense. She really felt nothing was beyond her.

Except, perhaps, painting her toenails.

They were in their room, both of them with reading that had to get done. Gloria slammed her book shut. She got up, and asked Madeline if she could try some of her nail polish. Actually, "ask" is the wrong word. Gloria walked over and picked up a bottle of dark red nail polish and said "Mind if I try some?" She held it out for a second, hardly making eye contact with Madeline, walking across the room in sweatshirt and panties, her long muscular legs rippling, her bare feet thudding softly on the wood floor.

"Sure, go ahead." Madeline said, hardly paying attention. She didn't remember ever seeing Gloria with nail polish on. Once in a while Gloria did wear lipstick, a dusky red that made her lips look a little darker. And occasionally she would use a curling iron on her longish dark brown hair. She watched her room-mate out of the corner of her eye. Madeline had been painting her nails a couple of times a week for years. She never thought about it. She had always liked a little decoration. She had some exotic clothes. She dressed stylishly, and she had an outstanding collection of shoes.

"Fuck!"

Madeline looked up. Gloria was leaning forward, her knees bent, one hand holding the applicator brush, the other hand holding the bottle of nail polish. "Fuck!" she said again.

Madeline slowly placed her wooden ruler in the middle of her book and swung her legs off her bed. She walked over to Gloria. She shook her head. "I bet the last time you painted your toenails was when your Oma did it."

Gloria looked up, flushed with frustration. "Fuck it." She screwed the top back on and handed the bottle back to Madeline. Madeline put her book down and smirked at the mess Gloria had made of her toenails. Polish was smudged outside her nails on almost every toe, and rubbed into her skin where Gloria had obviously tried to correct her mistakes.

Madeline knew exactly what to say. "Giving up, are you?"

Gloria's eyes locked onto Madeline's for a brief, intense second. Madeline possessed her own intensity, deep and ironic.

"Let me show you," she said. "You'll pick it up fast enough, just like everything else you do." She looked down at Gloria sitting there, thrusting her lower lip out. "Or do you not want to bother?"

Madeline knew she had the hook into Gloria. She just wondered how deep.

"Hmmm. Okay. Just be careful. I'm ticklish as hell. I'm likely to kill you if I kick you."

Madeline raised her eyebrows, nodded and went back to her dresser.

"All right, just lay your legs flat. Let me take this mess off first." She pulled a cotton ball from its bag, wetted it with nail polish remover and grabbed Gloria's left foot, rubbing her big toe firmly. Right away Gloria's foot jerked.

"Shit!" Madeline said. She looked down at Gloria, trying to figure how to do this. "All right. You're going to break my jaw. Move down, stick your feet between the bars." Their beds were old, with bars at the head and foot. She waited while Gloria moved herself down and slid her feet between the bars at the foot of the bed. "No, spread them further apart, just so I don't get them both at once, just in case." Gloria moved her right foot out, and placed it between a different set of bars, so that her feet were now about two feet apart.

Madeline was very methodical. She reached down and picked up one of Gloria's field hockey sticks, and laid it across the athletic girl's ankles. Gloria stared back down, half quizzical, half intent, not quite sure what was going on, but not wanting to confess to any fear. "Hold onto the bars above your head, if you feel the need to kick, Glo. Sort of transfer the energy." She had begun calling her Glo almost as soon as Gloria started calling her Maddy. "I don't want a cut lip." Gloria reached up and grabbed the bars above her head. She adjusted her pillows so she could see exactly what Madeline was doing.

"What's with the field hockey stick?" Gloria said.

"Oh just consider it an early warning system. Try to keep your feet still. I'm going to lean on the stick just to keep your feet down. Now, are you holding on?"

She started to remove more nail polish. Gloria twitched. Then she jerked, flopping the hockey stick to the ground. Madeline stood up and shook her head. "Come on, Gloria! Keep still for fuck sake!"

"Sorry! Geeze! Fuck I can't help it."

"Maybe this isn't such a good idea. You've managed fine without painted nails so far." Maddy thought she would set the hook a little deeper.

"Go ahead. Try again. I can do this."

"All right. Let me do just one more thing. Safety first." Madeline picked up the field hockey stick and laid it back across Gloria's shins. She reached down into Gloria's bag and pulled out the skipping rope Gloria used to train. She looked up at the taller girl's hard body laid out, her hands gripping the bars at the head of the bed, her muscles completely tense. Madeline shook her head. "You really do need to get a grip. Look at your toes!" Then like a military nurse she moved to the head of the bed, quickly wrapped the skipping rope tightly around Gloria's wrists and the bars at the head of the bed. Gloria looked at her skeptically.

"What do you think you're doing?" But she stayed in position, the field hockey stick still balanced across her ankles where they stuck through the bars at the end of the bed.

"Do you want your nails done or not? You are such a wuss. Such a wimp. Honestly."

Madeline moved, still the sergeant major, the clinical nurse, the Nurse Rachet, to the foot of the bed. She looked around the room quickly, then went to her dresser and pulled out a pair of pantyhose. Without hesitation she tied Gloria's ankles to the field hockey stick, and the stick to the bars at the foot of the bed.

"What the fuck-?" Gloria said.

"Now you'll have to keep still."

Carefully, methodically, Madeline removed the flawed polish from Gloria's toes. The taller athletic girl jerked violently, but she was tightly held in place. Madeline looked up and smiled. "See?" she said. Gloria from time to time thrashed her head back and forth, or pursed her lips strongly, but basically endured the torment. Then began the more delicate process of applying the paint. Slowly, carefully, Madeline did each of Gloria's toes. "Are you watching?" she demanded, looking up like some drill sergeant. "Next time you've got to do this yourself."

"Oh fuck the next time. I don't think I can stand it!"

"Hmmm," Madeline said, casually, as if she didn't care. "Just not your thing, huh? Not one of those life skills you need, huh? That's okay. It's not for everyone. You can probably sail through life just fine without the ability to paint your toenails."

She knew exactly how to press Gloria's buttons.

"Fuck that," Gloria said. "Finish it. You'll see. You're not fucking Picasso. It's not so hard."

Madeline just pursed her lips and nodded, finishing the job. "There, now doesn't that look pretty?" A row of little red toes, lined up like Monopoly houses. With a flourish Madeline put the cap back on the nail polish and smiled. She picked up her book and took the ruler out that marked her page, took it back to her bed and started to read.

"Hey!" Gloria said.

Madeline slowly moved her head and looked over. Wordlessly, she got up and went over to stand above her room-mate, whom she had left still strung out between the two ends of the bed. "Just let it dry, Glo. Don't be so impatient." Then she turned and lifted the ruler, and smacked the top of Gloria's bare thigh hard. Much harder than was necessary for a playful tap. Gloria's leg jerked in surprise, stung.

"Hey, you bitch! What was that for?"

Madeline looked at her, lifted the ruler and smacked her thigh again. "Bitch, am I?"

Again, Gloria jerked and tried to twist away, protecting her thigh. "You fucking bitch. You just wait!"

"Oh really?" Madeline said. She lifted the ruler again and brought it down right on Gloria's mound, tightly encased in her functional cotton panties.

"Fuck!" Gloria whispered hoarsely. "What the fuck are you doing?"

Madeline said nothing, but with a slight smirk, kept up a constant, firm tapping on Gloria's mound as she watched the other girl twitch and writhe. "Be quiet. Don't be such a whiner. I thought you were a tough girl." Madeline was a witch, she knew. She knew exactly what she was doing.

Under her breath, Gloria said, "you just wait, you fucking fucking bitch. You just fucking wait." But she kept her body stiller now, not wanting to show Madeline how the smacks with the ruler stung.

Madeline suddenly stopped. She looked up and down Gloria's body. Under her t-shirt, Gloria's nipples were standing up like little gumdrops. "Your nipples are hard, you nasty girl." Then she brought the end of the ruler down on Gloria's right nipple through her t-shirt, then the left nipple, then the right, and so on. She didn't stop once but kept it up continually as Gloria jerked and writhed and twisted to get away. When Madeline finally stopped, she folded her arms and looked down at her room-mate, her face completely flushed, breathing hard, spewing fire practically. "Hmmmmm," she said. "I thought you would have been able to endure more than that."

Gloria said nothing, just gritted her teeth. "Fuck you, you little bitch. I am going to get you. Get you so bad."

"Oh really?" Madeline then reached out with her fingers and pinched Gloria's nipple through her t-shirt, pulled and twisted, staring straight into Gloria's eyes as Gloria lay as still as she could, trying not to register any reaction. Madeline nodded. She moved her fingers to the other nipple. Pinched. Twisted. Tugged. The only sound was a muffled grunt from Gloria's throat. "That's better," Madeline said. She took the ruler, and trailed it down Gloria's stomach, down to the elastic of her panties, then down over her mound to where her room-mate's puffy pussy lips were clearly evident now in her tight panties. She slid the ruler down Gloria's cleft, then back up, several times. Gloria still said nothing, just whimpered. Then Madeline began a slow, steady tapping, right over the top of Gloria's slit, right where Gloria's clit was. Gloria's face was very flushed now. Madeline stopped tapping and just pushed the ruler against Gloria's pussy lips now. Pushing into the soft flesh, swollen now. "Your cunt is swollen, Gloria. It's wet. You're such a slut."

"Fuck you, Maddy. You are going to pay for this so bad!!"

Madeline said nothing, but went quickly back to her dresser and got a pair of nail scissors. She cut away Gloria's panties, revealing the athletic girl's trimmed mound, her swollen pussy lips, a glistening line of wetness evident right down the middle of the nest of hair. She leaned over, inhaled, then blew on the other girl's wet pussy. Gloria writhed. She moaned. "Fuuuuuccccccccccckkkkkkk," she whispered, almost to herself this time. Madeline lifted her room-mate's t-shirt, looked at her hard nipples, then lowered her mouth and took Gloria's right nipple in her teeth, closed it firmly and tugged. She bit it till Gloria cried out. She flicked it with her tongue as she pulled it. Then the other nipple. Gloria was now whimpering. Thrashing her head. Looking down at what Madeline was doing, helpless and whimpering.

When Madeline moved her head away, she let the nipple slip from her mouth with a plop, and patted her own palm with the ruler. She tapped both Gloria's nipples with the ruler, gently but firmly, not as hard as before. Gradually she increased the force, looking at Gloria's face as she did so. The bound girl just looked back up, intense, enduring. Her hips were writhing now, lifting and shifting with each smack.

"You want it harder, don't you, Glo?"

Gloria's eyes widened and she said nothing, just breathed very hard. "Fuck you Maddy. You're going to pay."

"You want it harder, don't you Glo?"

Then Gloria nodded. She hissed. "Yessssssss. Do it." Almost a whisper. Hard and intent.

Madeline did smack harder. Until Gloria's breasts were red with the smacking.

Then she stopped. Gloria's face was completely flushed, her chest rising and falling, almost heaving. Slowly Madeline bent over, looking at the reddish skin around Gloria's nipple, the hard point reddened also, and standing up hard and firm. She stuck her tongue out delicately and flicked the nipple with the tip, then circled it, the slowly, softly sucked the nipple in her mouth, rolling her tongue around and around it.

"Oh fuccckkkkkkkkkk! Fuckkkkkkkkkkk!" Gloria hissed the words out and writhed, humping the air with her hips as the smaller softer girl licked and toyed with her nipple. "Come on, Maddy, come on! I need to cum. Make me cum. I can't stand it! Come on! Fuck meeeeeeeee!"

Madeline just raised her eyebrows and moved her mouth to the other nipple, whereupon Gloria's response intensified.

But Madeline was far from finished. She proceeded now with scientific attention to the rest of Gloria's nerve endings. People were always underestimating Madeline, her still waters ran very deep. Slowly, bit by bit, she reduced Gloria to a complete zombie, a trembling slab of flesh. She spread Gloria's cuntlips apart with her fingers, toyed with her clit with the tip of her tongue. She slid her fingers inside Gloria's cunt. Two fingers, then three, then four, just slowly, slowly pushing, kneading, feeling inside. Then slipping a finger into her soaking ass, her athletic room-mate's body jerking and spasming.

"Oh fuck Maddy please! Plllllllleeeeeeeeeeeassse! Fuck me. Make me cum. Make me make me make fuck me fuck me make me cummmmmmmmmmm!!"

But Madeline didn't alter her rhythm at all. She toyed with Gloria like she was experimenting with some laboratory animal.

"Fuck I'm going to get you. I'm going to get you bad. Fuck you so bad. You just wait you little bitch. You fucking bitch!!!!!!" She breathed harder, sweat dripping from her temples. "Plllleeease Maddy pleeaaaaase... please... fuck I'll do anything. Pleasssse!"

Gloria alternated between curses and pleas, humiliating herself, begging, needing to cum. Madeline toyed with her. Smacked her with the ruler, then used her silky tongue on Gloria's labia, sucking softly, gently on her clit then letting it go. Then smacking her breasts. Then smacking her mound, right over Gloria's aching, swollen clit.

Then she stopped. Gloria had gotten quiet. Her body kept heaving and writhing. Madeline looked at Gloria's face. Tears were streaming from Gloria's eyes. Eyes closed. Biting her lip. Sobbing quietly for a few seconds. Then growling. Madeline smiled. She seemed content now. She slipped two fingers inside her athletic room-mate's cunt, and started a slow massage deep inside the velvety canal, and placed her small thumb at the base of Gloria's clit. Her blue thumbnail was a dark contrast to the swollen purple-pink of Gloria's glistening pussy. Madeline pressed and circled her clit steadily now, massaging inside with her fingertips. The sheet under Gloria's pussy was soaked, a wide circle of pussy juice, the air like a sauna. Slowly, slowly she saw Gloria lifting higher and higher, her mound shifting up and down as Madeline circled the swollen bud of her clit. All Gloria's muscles tensed. Madeline gripped her tighter with her fingers in the other girl's cunt and with her thumb on her clit.

The larger girl's muscles all bunched up: her calves, her strong thighs, her incredible stomach, all the bulges and little pouches of muscle. Then it happened. Gloria shattered. She bucked wildly. The bed moved. Madeline didn't stop, and neither did Gloria: Gloria's hips lifted and bucked, then did it again, then again. The only sound was the sound of Gloria's strange, strangled hoarse breath as Madeline drove her and kept driving her. Gloria's head thrashed from side to side, her eyes screwed shut.

Finally, Madeline did stop. She removed her fingers, almost aching, from Gloria's cunt. Even thirty seconds after the fingers were removed, Gloria was still spasming, saying nothing. Madeline knew she had gone way too far, but that didn't matter. She had enjoyed it thoroughly. She slipped her fingers into her own slit, flicking her clit beside Gloria's bed as the athletic girl watched, and came hard, leaning on the bed. Once she was finished, she smiled at Gloria, who lay there still speechless, her eyes wide and zombie-like, tears wetting her pillow, glistening on her cheeks and temple. Then Madeline undid Gloria's wrists and ankles, leaving her there, completely spent. She returned to her own bed, opening her book and resumed reading.

Gloria finally got her breath back. "I'm going to get you, you fucking bitch. I've never cum like that in my life. You fucking bitch. You little witch. You just wait." Ten minutes later, she was asleep. Madeline put her book away and studied a collection of lieder for another hour, then had a shower, then went to bed. Gloria hadn't moved.

***

The first rehearsal that Gloria went to, Prof Barter raised her eyebrows slightly and simply nodded. "All right, we could use an alto. You can have your audition afterward. You sight read?"

Gloria lied. "Sure. No problem." She was not a good sight-reader, and mainly faked the difficult sections by listening really hard to the girls around her. But she learned very fast. Her audition afterward went fine. Madeline knew it as soon as she had finished singing her little section of "The Shepherd on the Rock".

"She's quite the bitch, isn't she?" Gloria said as they walked back to the dorm.

"What do you mean?" Madeline didn't think of Prof Barter as a bitch or an angel: she was simply her music prof. Almost devoid of personality.

"I mean those shoes! And that blouse and skirt. Like something from the forties, one of those movies. So proper. I bet she's a fireball underneath."

"Barter? A fireball?" Madeline shook her head. She thought Prof Barter was completely sexless. She kept her hair up all the time, in those old-fashioned hair clips. She probably brushed it out at night, counting out the strokes, then did it back up again. She made no effort to improve herself, to "decorate" as Madeline called it when she painted her nails or applied lipstick or dangled exotic earrings from her earlobes. "I bet Barter's cunt hasn't been out of the deep freeze in years."

"No. You're wrong. I'll prove it to you."

Madeline should have known. This was Gloria's gift. Like second sight. She knew things. She was a scalpel, cutting right through to the heart of things.

At first Madeline didn't quite understand.

The next time they went to chorus, Gloria pulled out a pair of Madeline's shoes. They were thick-heeled, open-toed mules with a thick piece of leather over the top the arch. She would wear them when she went out on dates. Through the open toes, Madeline's toes stuck through in a tidy row, her toenails a row of bright silver-violet bullets. At the top of the band of black leather, small silver half moons adorned the band of leather. They were hot. "Here," Gloria said. "Wear these. You know, fuck-me shoes. You just watch Barter's reaction. I'll prove it to you. She's a fucking volcano."

Madeline had to sing her solo at tonight's practice.

When the time came, she came forward and stood in front of the rest of the chorus. She held her score out in front of her then lifted her eyes to Prof Barter. Barter's eyes were focused right there. Right on her shoes. Madeline was quick. She wiggled her toes, smirking inside. She had no qualms about being wicked. Barter paused a little longer. Then everything went back to normal. Probably no one else noticed.

"See?" Gloria said afterward.

"So she noticed my shoes. Doesn't mean anything."

Gloria looked at her and shook her head. "All right, we'll see next time. Okay?"

Madeline liked this game. Regardless where it went. "Sure."

Gloria lifted her hand quickly and ran it through Maddy's thick dark red hair. "You were so fucking sexy, wiggling your toes like that."

That night, Madeline was in a deep sleep, in the middle of a strange dream. Her body was pressed under a weight like a heavy beam. Then she realized it wasn't a dream. Something was on top of her. She was scared for about two seconds, then she realized it was Gloria. She uttered a muffled, low grunt. "Fuck!" she whispered, disoriented. "What are you doing! I can't breathe!"

Then she felt Gloria's hot sweet breath on her face, hissing back at her in the dark. "It's payback time, you sweet bitch." Then she felt Gloria's hot mouth on hers, kissing her hard, her tongue snaking inside her lips, Madeline unable to respond because of her awkward position, her face forced into her pillow. "I think you are just awesome, you little bitch. And now it's payback time."

Madeline breathed in, tasting Gloria's mouth, her salty skin. Gloria turned on the bedside lamp, and out of the corner of her eye Madeline could see Gloria in the mirror. She was straddling Madeline's back, and had one of her hockey sticks across the back of Madeline's thighs. In her hand was the roll of tape she used to tape her ankles. She tugged the sheets off the smaller girl. Roughly, she pulled one of Madeline's wrists down to her thigh, and taped it to the hockey stick behind her back. Then the other wrist. Next, Madeline felt Gloria's strong hand around her ankle, bending her leg back, which she then taped by the ankle to the same hockey stick. Then the other ankle. Now, Madeline was completely helpless, her arms taped back to the hockey stick, and her ankles taped up, so her body was bowed. Gloria got up and smiled, her hands on her hips.

"Now then, my little witch... you are completely mine." Gloria, so strong, took Madeline by the shoulders, lifted her back and simply flipped her on her back, so that now her body was arched back, her tummy and mound thrust up, her breasts jutting out.

Gloria's approach was completely direct. She placed her hand on Madeline's breast and squeezed it, pinching the nipple. Madeline made no effort to resist, just let the responses surge through her. She felt the strong girl's fingers pinching her nipple, first one, and then the other. The electric current went right to her clit. Then Gloria dragged her fingers down her taut, arched body, to Madeline's mound. Unlike Gloria, Madeline kept her mound neatly shaved, just a small v of red hair over shaved lips, perfectly smooth. Gloria dragged her nails over her mound, then squeezed Madeline's cuntlips right over her clit, and twisted. Madeline was already dripping wet.

"Ooooh, look at this pretty little cunt. Do you want me to fuck you, my lovely little helpless fucktoy?" Gloria slid a finger along Madeline's slit, dipping it into her vagina, where it sunk in easily. Then she slid it out, lifted her hand and smacked Madeline's mound, her fingers slapping against her swollen labia. Madeline barely jerked; she liked a little pain, and felt no need to resist. Gloria was enjoying it, turning Madeline this way and that, her body fixed to the hockey stick, a doll. She bit the smaller girls' nipples, sucked them, listened to Madeline moan hoarsely, quietly, sunk her fingers into Madeline's cunt... one finger, two fingers... pumping into her.. fucking her.

Before long she was on the edge. "Come on, Gloria... come on honey... let me cum... god please..."

Gloria smiled and dug three fingers deep into Madeline's cunt, starting to fuck her hard. Madeline pushed against the fingers. But needed the feel of something on her clit, a mouth, some fingers. She thrashed. "Come on Glo, please. Please suck my clit!" Then she felt Gloria's mouth on her clit, flicking and sucking it hard.

She came hard. She bucked against the athletic girl's mouth, cumming deep and shatteringly. Gloria didn't stop sucking. Madeline came again. Then Gloria stopped. She smiled, looking at Madeline's face, caressing her cheek. She leaned over and kissed the smaller girl on the lips. "You're beautiful, baby."

She took the tape off, let the hockey stick drop to the floor, and crawled onto bed with the smaller girl, Madeline's body still shuddering, almost overwhelmed. Madeline didn't know what to think. She felt so close to Gloria. She wasn't prepared for it. She slept. In the morning, Gloria was back in her own bed, sleeping deeply.

***

"Okay. these tonight. You do your solo again? These should be perfect. They'll look great under your jeans."

Madeline smirked at her, her head angled. She was enjoying this game. The shoes were strappy ones, with rhinestones, dressy, hardly the thing for the beginning of November in Boston. She slipped them on, and struck a pose, her line of pretty bright pink toenails looking like bubble gum at the end of her feet.

It was almost the same routine. Except that Madeline exaggerated the effect by striking a bit of a pose, her one foot extended, showing off the shoes and her pale feet. Once again, Prof Barter paused, a pause understood only by Gloria and Madeline, looking at Madeline's shoes and feet. In the middle of the piece, Barter stopped conducting and just watched, smiling. Once or twice her eyes drifted down Madeline's bluejean-encased legs, then her feet, before she caught herself and looked back at the score.

Madeline didn't know what made her think of it, but what she did next was inspired. At the end of the rehearsal, she went up to Prof Barter as the older woman was putting away her music. "I think I need some extra work. I would really like this piece to be excellent."

"But it's already excellent, Madeline." Prof Barter's glance drifted up for a second to Gloria behind Madeline, then drifted back to the music she was stuffing inside her leather satchel. Her posture was indeed stiff and formal, her neck curving down from her clipped hair, a white blouse with embroidery at the collar, and a tight wool skirt that stopped just above her knees. Royal blue pumps and translucent white hose.

Madeline didn't persist much; just enough to leave the impression that she thought Prof Barter was really not trying for high enough standards. "Well, if you think it's good enough, I suppose it is. There were just a few bits and pieces I wanted to work on." Madeline reached down and tugged on the strap of her shoe as if it had fallen; she placed her foot down and made a show of pressing her foot into the shoe, wiggling her toes. She looked up quickly, seeing Prof Barter looking down at her shoes, lips parted.

Prof Barter tucked a wisp of brown hair behind her ear. Was she perhaps caught a little off-guard? "You really think so? All right then. You know where I live, just off campus? I think we did some practicing there one time. Why not come over there on Saturday afternoon."

Madeline smiled seriously and nodded. "That would be just fine. Perfect actually."

Madeline and Gloria walked home in the dark November night. "Good move," Gloria said. "I'll come with you."

Madeline looked up at her taller friend, eyes trying to pierce the darkness. "You have a plan don't you?"

Gloria looked ahead, chewed on her lip a bit. "You bet."

"I thought so. You were right about Barter. I can see it. She is seething, and she's afraid. I never would have guessed. How did you know? You even knew about me, didn't you?"

Gloria slipped her hand from her pocket and smacked Madeline on the ass. "You were different. You are awesome, Maddy. Even the first time we met, and I saw you looking at me the way you did. Plus you always looked so fucking sexy painting your toes, concentrating like a little kid. But Barter? Well Barter... I just knew. That's all."

Saturday came.

"Perfect," Gloria said. She had chosen Madeline's outfit. No bra, a heavy stretch top, dark purple, that stopped a few inches above her navel. Through it, her nipples showed, but it was thicker than most, with sleeves, which meant she wouldn't freeze if Barter's house wasn't warm. White opaque tights, that ended at the bottom of her calf. A black skirt with a wide belt and a big buckle in front, low slung. Her navel, with its silver ring, glinted.

"And now the important part. These!" The shoes. Black open-toed mules, with a leather strap that went around her ankle.

Gloria walked up to her friend, breathing in through her teeth. She extended her fingers, and flicked Madeline's nipples. The smaller girl just shivered slightly, her nipples visibly hardening. "Just a little hint that maybe there's a slut underneath. Perfect. Let's go."

Prof Barter wasn't expecting Gloria, too. The surprise on her face was visible. She led the two young women into a large, traditional house, one of those in the neighbourhood of large lawns near the university. The living room was large as the lawn: bay windows, and old formal furniture. "The music room is upstairs. I'll just get an extra cup for tea." That was her only comment that indicated she had not been expecting Gloria.

Upstairs, the music room was the duplicate of the living room: large, bay windows, with a view of the leafy neighbourhood, the nearest house through the trees within shouting distance only if you were outside. In the middle was a grand piano. The one difference was that the edges of this room were untidy. Music along the shelves, magazines, a computer. In one corner stood the exercise machine that the professor used to keep herself trim.

"Well, Prof Barter, thanks for taking the time this afternoon," Madeline said, taking off her coat. Gloria saw the moment coming and just watched, her hand resting on the strap of her leather shoulder bag. Prof Barter, held the teapot, ready to pour it, but stopped, looking at Madeline's outfit, not commenting. Madeline's nipples were hard. Obvious. She could feel Barter's eyes on them, which only made them harder. She could feel Gloria watching Barter, Gloria who knew things.

Prof Barter poured the tea. "Please, you're a junior, now, Madeline. And Gloria you're a senior. My name's Petra. Please call me Petra."

"Petra. What a pretty name," said Madeline.

Petra smiled warmly. "Thank you." She sat on the piano bench.

Gloria was putting her bag on top of some music spread out on top of the piano. "It's okay there?" Petra nodded. Gloria pushed it a bit, then adjusted it neatly in place. Then she came and stood behind the music teacher. "I can turn the pages. Make myself useful."

Barter smiled and chuckled. "That's hardly necessary, Gloria. The piece just covers two pages."

But Gloria simply sat down on the piano bench, her hands folded over her bluejeans. She was wearing a burgundy sweatshirt. "That's okay. I'll just sit here."

Prof Barter looked at Madeline, almost ignoring Gloria. "All right, Madeline, tell me what Handel had in mind with this aria."

Madeline told her. "It's a little oasis of calm. All the pieces around it are angry or loud or furious. This is calm. Almost delicate. You know. 'How beautiful are the feet of those that preach the gospel of peace.' A single delicate voice. A quiet controlled voice." She stood there at the end of the piano, her purple nails scratching silently, her toes wiggling in her shoes, drawing Petra Barter's eyes. Gloria leaned forward and pressed the score in its thick binding flat. Prof Barter's eyes were drawn back to the music, then to Madeline's face.

"Yes, that's the mood. But technically, what?"

"Ahhhh," said Madeline, pointing with her fingers to the notation above the music. Her purple nail was like a jujube on the paper. Her faint perfume filled the nostrils of both Gloria and Petra Barter as she leaned forward, her breast inches from their faces. "Larghetto, see? And of course, it is piano, like the rest of the oratorio. But this has to be clear as a bell. Flowing, legato, dancing..." Gloria could hardly believe her eyes as Madeline performed a quick mock-pirouette in front of them. "Like that, dancing." She pointed to her feet. "How beautiful are the feet, right?" She giggled. Then took her stance, hands folded in front of her, just below her glinting navel ring.

part two here

prof