There's some cross-pollination going on here.  I developed this 
story from one of the plot ideas Joe Doe included at the end of 
"Terri and Joxx."  And I also borrowed a couple of characters 
from other stories.  Sara Johnson is the central figure in Joe's 
"Searching Sara"; Terri London has appeared in several of his 
stories.    





                THE UNIVERSITY HEALTH CRISIS

                             by 

                        C. Lakewood



    Donald J. Johnson, PhD, EdD, President of Doeville University, 
sighed and rubbed his brow.  But then he got hold of himself, 
straightened up, put on a ghastly, unconvincing smile, and hoped 
he had managed to erase the furrows in his forehead.  He reminded 
himself of the need to maintain a cool, I'm-in-control-here façade 
in the presence of that snoop-...er, pest-...er, investigative 
reporter, Terri London. 

    He and Terri were at the mezzanine railing, peering down into 
the mass of women, clad only in towels, that formed a long line 
snaking across the floor of the exercise area.  Most of them were 
students (aka "student-athletes," a term that Johnson generally 
abhorred), with a handful of visiting friends and relatives, and 
even some faculty members to leaven the group.   

    "And so all this began with a Bulgarian female gymnastics team 
putting on an exhibition here and staying overnight in the women's 
athletic dorm?" Terri was asking.  

    With effort, Johnson tore his eyes away from the herd of prime 
flesh squirming on the cold, hardwood floor below and cleared his 
throat.  "Well, it was actually the athletic wing of the primary 
women's dorm, Radclyffe Hall....  But, yes, that is substantially 
correct." 

    "How many are lined up down there?"

    "All in all, 137.  It could have been much worse."

    "And are they all infested with Bulgarian lice?" 

    "We...presume so, but we can't afford to wait longer to be 
sure.  The creatures are relatively easy to deal with at this 
stage, before they get firmly established."

    "But aren't the measures that you're about to take...well, 
draconian?"

    "Any dilly-dallying would have led to a much more stringent 
course of action later."  His smile was sincere now.  A nice, 
civilized Q&A session in which he could give classically pedantic 
answers had a calming effect on him.  He had always excelled at 
interviews.

    "And you have the right to do this?"

    "Oh yes.  Over the students, the university has authority "in 
loco parentis."  And every faculty contract has what is often 
called the "catch-all clause."

    "And the friends and relatives?"

    "The Sheriff had a talk with them, and they all agreed to...to 
submit."  

    ("Small wonder," she thought.  "I've had a talk with the 
Sheriff, myself.")  Aloud, she commented, "The...um...medical 
staff -- all male -- looks rather young."

    "There are so many to treat that we had to enlist auxiliaries.  
Those in the long white lab coats are med school students.  They'll 
be supervising, primarily, during the initial stages.  Those in the 
orderlies' uniforms -- like the ones setting up the delousing 
equipment -- are volunteers from the fraternities...most of them 
experienced pledge trainers, who know how to handle people...and 
some are even pre-med.  The fellow with the cameras, adjusting his 
lights, is also the staff photographer on the school newspaper.  
(The federal government insists we record our procedures.)  So 
none of the young men is without some sort of relevant experience.  
And they have authority, too, since the Sheriff has deputized them 
all." 

    Terri was silent, lost in her thoughts.

    Dr. Johnson, too, had something to think about...something that 
he had been trying to ignore for two days (and in fact successfully 
suppressed during the Q&A), but which now, in the silence, rose up 
and demanded his attention....   

		******************************

    He'd been at home, relaxing and tying flies, after a long week 
of attending committee meetings, buttering up rich alumni, making 
weighty decisions (such as choosing between "robin's egg blue" and 
"sea foam green" as the new color for the faculty restrooms)....  

    And then the phone call had come -- from an hysterical dean. 

    He'd sat, stunned, at the news of what the Bulgarian gymnastics 
team had brought.  

    Then the second call...from the Sheriff, explaining what needed 
to be done.  Johnson was appalled...and aroused...at the details.

    He was vaguely wondering where his wife was -- probably cycling 
or swimming....  He questioned (not for the first time) whether he 
should have married someone 16 years younger than himself and far 
less sedentary.

    And then the third call had come.  It was his wife.  In a 
rather matter-of-fact tone, Sara had told him that she'd been 
visiting the Bulgarian girls and had been quarantined.  He'd 
tried to get her to see their private doctor instead of going 
through the public process, but she had refused.  It was a 
"rank has its privileges" versus "noblesse oblige" sort of 
argument, and the latter won.  Johnson had given up his rather 
tepid opposition when Sara promised to go incognito. 

    He was curious, however.  He had never thought of her as 
particularly egalitarian.  And he also wondered how much she 
knew about what she was getting into....

		******************************

    He leaned over the railing and again scanned the crowd below.  
Perhaps Sara had changed her mind and had opted for private 
treatment after all....  Relief and disappointment were struggling 
for supremacy in his mind, when he spotted her standing with the 
Bulgarians.  (Though she was only of medium height, she towered 
over most of the gymnasts).  Then a couple of frat boys came by 
with a big laundry cart, collecting towels.

    Oh, god!  Sara...naked...in-in public!  She looked very 
self-conscious.  (As well she should!)  But the Bulgarians 
seemed utterly casual about their nudity.  Probably lesbians 
-- many female athletes were....  But Sara wasn't one, of 
course...maybe bi, though.  It was possible.  That would be 
awful, his super-ego told him (though his id was saying 
something entirely different).

		******************************

    Down below, Sara Johnson, though naked and trembling, was 
secretly elated that Dirk -- Officer Williams -- had ordered 
her to submit to this.  It was another adventure for her libido, 
one in which she was again amidst a crowd of young, attractive, 
naked girls.  She would have been particularly jittery because 
of her lack of pubic hair, except that none of the Bulgarian 
girls around her had any either.  (She wondered briefly if that 
was the result of shaving or -- considering their flat chests -- 
of delayed puberty due to their training regimen.  Whatever, she 
thought it was so attractive....) 

    Then she realized that she was staring at a girl's hairless 
crotch and -- oh, god! -- actually salivating.  Tearing her gaze 
away reflexively, she looked up and saw that it was Ivana, the 
star of the team.  The Bulgarian girl had a smile on her lips -- 
and a gleam in her eye.

    "You like vaht you see, eh, Sah-rah?" Ivana said, her silky 
voice like a caress.

    "No...um...I...."

    Ivana moved close and stroked Sara's naked bottom.  "Shy?  
Is okay.  I like shy.  Ve vill know each other bezzer in ze...um 
quarumteen...motch bezzer.  Ze beds are narrow...verrry narrow, 
and you and I, ve vill share one, no?"   

    There were smirks and a couple of jealous pouts from the rest 
of the team.  Sara was mortified -- but flattered, too.

    "And ve vill be naked togezzer, Sah-rah...."

    "Y-yes, Ivana," Sara answered.  Despite her recent adventures, 
she was feeling very shy indeed. 

		******************************

    Up above, Dr. Johnson couldn't hear what was being said, but 
he could tell from the body language that it must be remarkably 
lascivious.  He unconsciously licked his lips.  Terri London, at 
his side, was making soft, incomprehensible noises.

		******************************

    Down below, the barbering had begun.  A dozen naked women were 
perched on stools, bending over plastic trash bags, while student 
barbers, dressed in hazmat gear, used electric clippers on them.  
Most of the boys were not very skillful, but that didn't matter, 
since very little expertise was required for this particular job.

    Each female was given a basic "high and tight," the hair on top 
about ¼ inch long and on the sides and back less than half that.  
After the haircut, the women were separated into two groups: those 
with pubic hair and those without.  Sara, the Bulgarians, a number 
of students, and even a few faculty were in the latter group, which 
was considerably the smaller of the two.   

    The larger group had to go through a rigorous process in which 
all pubic hair was stripped away.  As fascinating as that treatment 
was, however, Dr. Johnson felt compelled to spend most of his time 
following his wife's progress.  She appeared much more butch after 
her haircut, and he found that especially arousing.  Sara and one 
of the Bulgarian girls appeared to be getting very "friendly," and 
his imagination began to invent various scenarios around that.

    At 5'5", 126 pounds, and 34B-25-35, Sara was a woman, compared 
to the Bulgarian girl (albeit a "girl" with a magnificent pair of 
legs).  But Sara was about to acquire a rival.  A big woman -- a 
couple of inches taller, perhaps 20 pounds heavier, and at least 
a dozen years older -- had been glaring at Sara and her girlfriend 
for a few minutes.  Now she moved over to the pair and was clearly 
asserting her prior claim.  Dr. Johnson surmised that she was 
attached to the Bulgarian team, perhaps a coach.  She was swarthy 
and heavily pock-marked, with a hooked nose, bad teeth, and a 
square jaw.  Her 35C-28-38 was an intriguing conrast to Sara and 
the girl.  

    Johnson began revising his fantasies, incorporating this new, 
dominant character.  In some scenarios, the girl was on the bottom, 
being eaten out by Sara, and the big woman was on top, fucking Sara 
with a strap-on.  In others, the girl and the coach had traded 
places.  But Sara was always the meat in the middle of the sandwich.

    From time to time, he would pause and mentally chastise himself 
for his prurience, but then he'd see something alluring down below 
that would inspire him to brush aside three centuries of Puritan 
heritage and sail off on a new cycle of fantasies.  

		******************************

    Someone blew a whistle, and Sara's group was rounded up and 
herded through a door in the side wall, urged forward by frat 
boy "orderlies" gleefully snapping towels. 

    Johnson moved along the mezzanine railing in that direction, 
around Terri London (who seemed bewitched into immobility as she 
watched the depilation process).  Next door, he overlooked one 
of the school's swimming pools, now drained of water, which was 
being filled with Sara's batch of naked females.  Armed with green 
canisters and now wearing respirators, the boisterous "orderlies" 
surrounded the pool and began spraying.  The women's shrieks echoed 
off the tile walls and carried easily up to Johnson.  A moment 
later, the spray's stink reached him, too.

    After being thoroughly drenched from the top down, the hapless 
women were made to kneel down, with their butts high and cheeks 
held apart, so that their assholes could be sprayed...at length.  
Then they had to lie on their backs, with their legs raised and 
spread, while their cunts were treated.

    Any who flinched or broke position had their cunts and/or 
assholes re-sprayed for an even longer time.

    Enraptured, Johnson was only vaguely aware that Terri had 
followed him at last.  He was staring at his out-of-control 
wife, who, like a number of others undergoing this treatment, 
was masturbating furiously, tormented by the spray.  He was 
ecstatic, and his one misgiving was eliminated when he glimpsed 
the camcorders.  He knew then that he could obtain a record of 
the show (especially Sara's part in it) for repeated viewings at 
his leisure...preferably with Sara by his side.

    He felt himself blushing at his own temerity. 

		******************************

    When Sara and friends were finally shooed back into the exam 
area, Johnson returned the way he had come, through the partition 
to where he'd originally been standing.  Once again, he left Terri 
behind, though neither of them noticed. 

    In the interval, the orderlies had dragged about a dozen exam 
tables from the periphery to the center of the room.  And the med 
students were hard at work, visually -- and digitally -- examining 
the first ones back from the delousing. 

    Johnson scanned the room below.  He passed over many normally 
fascinating sights without a pause, for he was hunting for one 
in particular, and quickly found her.  Sara was already in the 
stirrups and wriggling on a med student's greasy fingers.  Her 
toes were curling and flexing, her teeth clenched, and her eyes 
squeezed shut.  Johnson imagined that he could hear the sounds 
of her cumming.  She was shameless!  Well, maybe not totally 
shameless, though.  Even while she was cumming wildly, she was 
blushing all over.  Perhaps, he thought, the shame was part of 
the kick -- perhaps a major part.

    He flashed forward to his next extended fishing trip.  He could 
take Sara with him to Arkansas and introduce her to some of the 
hillbilly guides as a promiscuous, bi-sexual slut.  Six weeks in 
the great outdoors, just him and Sara and 3 or 4 horny hillbillies 
-- or 5 or 6...a slide show began running in his mind.   

		******************************

    Down below, Sara was squirming like a pinned butterfly on the 
med student's talented fingers and wondering if Ivana or the coach 
would be as skillful.  This boy was almost as good as Officer 
Williams.  Almost.  She opened her eyes then and found herself 
staring up into the lust-flushed face of her husband.  And she 
was sure that, when the quarantine was over and she was back home, 
she and Donald would have a lot to talk about....

    Up above, Johnson shook himself, but the slide show continued, 
even while new images were continually crowding in.  Finally, he 
somehow summoned up the will to physically push himself back from 
the railing.  His marriage was going to be much different from now 
on, he knew.  

    As he was turning away, his gaze swept over the room below, 
just in time to see Terri London enter.  She was wearing nothing 
but a towel.

