Meg should have noticed, when they left the bathroom, that all four of the other women seemed to have something to do in the dining room, but she was too busy trying to act completely normal. <br><br>

"I see you fared a little better tonight," said Mavis, looking at Meg's dress, an odd look on her face.<br><br>


"Yes, Bobby is a good boy, and learns very quickly," said Meg.    She saw Sally looking oddly at her too, one eyebrow raised, but ignored her rather than ask what was troubling her.   Instead she went about finding Bobby's night shirt, which she'd purposely put in the wash so it would be in the pile.  She got it on him and took his hand.<br><br>


"I'll go with you," said Sally suddenly.<br><br>


"Oh" said Meg.  "All right."<br><br>


Bobby led the way, climbing the steps, turning the corner and climbing another flight as the two women followed him.  Sally followed Meg as they entered his room with the lantern she had picked up.   They didn't use electricity unless they had to, due to the war.<br><br>


They tucked Bobby in and Sally watched as Meg leaned down to kiss him on his forehead.   Then, to Meg's surprise, Sally leaned over and kissed him on the cheek.   Sally wasn't one to exhibit feelings like that.<br><br>


When they left the room Sally went first and was waiting for Meg.<br><br>


"What happened in the bathroom?" asked Sally, her voice low.<br><br>


"Whatever do you mean?" asked Meg.  She was glad it was dark, because she was blushing.<br><br>


Sally's finger came up and pointed at Meg's chest.  "Your dress was properly buttoned when you went in there," she said simply.<br><br>


Meg looked down and was horrified to see that she had missed a button, and the top three were in the wrong holes.<br><br>


"Surely ... you're mistaken," said Meg weakly.<br><br>


Sally folded her arms under her meager breasts.   "I'm not mistaken Meg.  Your dress was not buttoned like that when you went into that room."<br><br>


Meg felt her stomach knot.   She was in trouble and she knew it.   She threw herself on Sally's mercy.  <br><br>


"It's just that he splashes so much," she started, wringing her hands.  "And I just thought that ... if I took my dress off then it wouldn't get ruined, and I wouldn't have to change into a new one ..."   She stared at Sally, for some sign that her story was being accepted ... or at least understood.<br><br>


"You let him see you naked?"  Sally's voice rose above a whisper.<br><br>


"He's such a good boy Sally, so sweet and helpless.  And he's been so abused.   It didn't hurt anything.   Why he barely even responded."  She bit off that last part.  She hadn't meant to say anything about his response to her nudity.  But her tongue had run away with itself.  It always had, and it had always gotten her into trouble.<br><br>


"But he DID respond ... didn't he Meg?" probed Sally.   She knew what that response was too.<br><br>


"Well ... yes ... a little," admitted Meg.<br><br>


"What did you do?" asked Sally.<br><br>


Meg was confused.   Sally never talked about anything for long ... never probed like this ... asked so many questions.  This was a different Sally than the one Meg knew.<br><br>


"Please, Sally, I didn't hurt anything.  He's just a poor boy.   Don't tell Mavis.  She'll throw me out Sally."<br><br>


"What did you do, Meg?" asked Sally again.   "You touched him, didn't you?"<br><br>


"Sally..." Meg pleaded.<br><br>


"Did you touch him?" asked Sally, her voice low.<br><br>


Meg dropped her head and shook it, not wanting to have to admit this to this strange woman.<br><br>


"Don't lie to me Meg.  I may be quiet, but I'm not stupid, and neither is Mavis.  If you don't think she saw your dress buttoned wrong then you're a silly goose!   That boy's ... penis ... was limp as a noodle when you brought him out of there.   If you didn't do something then it shouldn't have been limp like that."<br><br>


Meg knew it was over.  And that made her mad.   She knew that what she and Bobby had done was wrong, at least by the standards of this house, but she hadn't hurt him, and it had been something wonderful and warm and lovely for them both.   She believed that.<br><br>


"What I did in there is my business," she said, raising her head and standing tall.  "I did not hurt him or coerce him in any way.  If you feel compelled to take this to Mavis then I suppose you will.  But I'll not let you make me feel like I did something wrong.   Everything that happened in there was good, and sweet and full of love."<br><br>


She started to push around Sally, who lifted her hands and placed them firmly on Meg's chest, above her breasts.<br><br>


"Stop" she said.<br><br>


This CERTAINLY wasn't the Sally Meg knew.   Sally didn't have an assertive bone in her body.<br><br>


"I want to know," said Sally softly.   "I just want to know what it was like.  That's all."<br><br>


"I don't understand," said Meg.<br><br>


"Meg, look at me.  I know I'm not attractive, like you.  No man has ever even kissed me, much less anything else.  I know I'll die a spinster, never knowing a man's touch or ... what you did in there.  At least let me hear what it's like to be fully a woman."  Sally dropped her hands.<br><br>


Meg's eyes grew round and white in the dark.  "We didn't do THAT!" she whispered loudly.   "Please believe that I wouldn't do THAT with him.   He's just a boy!"<br><br>


"But you did do SOMETHING" Sally probed again.<br><br>


Meg took a breath and nodded.<br><br>


"Will you tell me about it?" pleaded Sally, leaning forward.<br><br>


Her attitude was so yearning that Meg believed her.  "Yes, but not now.  They're probably already wondering what's taking us so long.   I'll tell you, but later.  I promise."<br><br>


"Done!" said Sally.  She grinned, also something that came strangely to her face.<br><br>


When they got downstairs Donna and Prudence had already gone home.  Mavis was sitting and darning socks by the stove.  She looked up at the two women.<br><br>


"Well, took you long enough.  How much tucking in does one skinny boy need?"   She arched an eyebrow.<br><br>


"Oh!" said Meg.   "He's been in bed a while now.  Sally and I were just talking."<br><br>


“That’s nice.” said Mavis, looking back down at her mending.  “I thought you’d have fixed that dress by now Meg.”<br><br>


Meg’s hand went to the buttons immediately and her shoulders slumped.  She’d completely forgotten about that during Sally’s interrogation.  She waited for the questions she knew Mavis was now going to ask.<br><br>


But when Mavis looked up all she said was “Off to bed with you.  We’ve an early morning tomorrow getting them all off to school.”<br><br>


That night, the Umpelty Oog struck again.  This time it was in Jenny, Emily and June Bug’s room, and it was Emily who screamed out her horror in the night.  Meg got there first, since she stayed in the room next door.   Patrick and Terrence were next, and then Bobby arrived from upstairs as Sally ghosted down the hallway, belting a robe around her.<br><br>


Emily cried that, when they’d scared it out of Patrick’s room, it came to hers and was hiding in HER closet now.  June Bug huddled under her blankets, her head firmly covered.  Jenny was in the same bed as June Bug, but peeked out, the covers up to her chin.<br><br>


Meg was cross.  With all that had happened, she didn’t need this foolishness, and she didn’t feel like screaming again at the top of her lungs.<br><br>


Bobby held up a finger though, and everybody looked at him.  He squared his shoulders and then began dancing around, throwing boxer’s punches at nothing.   Then he straightened up again, and pointed to himself, and then at the closet.   He took Meg by her arms and moved her close to Emily’s bed.   He shooed the two boys out into the hallway.<br><br>


Then he marched to the closet door, opened it, stepped inside, and slammed the door closed.   He felt immediately for the stick he had hidden there earlier.  Once he had it in his hand he began banging the walls with it, and throwing his body around inside the closet.  He laid the stick on the floor, opened the door and thrust himself out into the room, falling to the floor and rolling.   There were screams from Emily and the boys.   Bobby hauled himself up and went back in the closet, leaving the door halfway open this time.  He retrieved the stick, bounced himself off the walls a few more times and then broke the stick over his knee with a sharp crack.<br><br>


Bobby stuffed the broken pieces of the branch up under some clothes on the top shelf.  Then he walked out of the closet, dusting off his hands, slapping his palms together and smiling widely.   He stopped, and put his hands on his hips, like he’d seen in a picture of Peter Pan in one of the books downstairs.  He looked at the women first.  Meg was covering a smile with her hand.  Sally looked on, her mouth open.  Mavis had arrived during the incident, and Meg had one hand on her arm, restraining her.<br><br>


“What happened?” asked Patrick in a squeaky voice.<br><br>


Bobby pantomimed boxing again, and then made the same motions he would as if breaking something in half with his hands.  He let his head flop sideways and made his tongue hang out, slumping.<br><br>


“You KILLED HIM?!” squealed  Emily.  “You KILLED the Umpelty Oog?!”<br><br>


Bobby straightened up and dusted his hands again, smiling.  Then he went to the closet door and swung it wide, as if to show them it was now empty.<br><br>


Patrick edged into the room, craning his neck to see.  “Where is he?” he asked, holding on to Mavis’ night dress in a grip that threatened to pull it off her shoulders.<br><br>


Bobby had thought of that too.  He stuffed imaginary things in his mouth, chewed and swallowed, and then rubbed his stomach.<br><br>


“You ATE the Umpelty Oog?!” squealed Emily.   She bounded out of bed and threw herself at Bobby, hugging his legs fiercely.<br><br>


“Wow.” said Patrick in a hushed voice.  He looked up at Mavis, who was holding her nightdress on.  “He killed the Umpelty Oog.” he said, his voice hushed.<br><br>


“He most certainly did.” said Mavis, her voice loud in the room.  “And I, for one, am glad the ugly beast will trouble us no more.  At last we can get a good night’s sleep.   Off to bed children.  School starts again tomorrow.”<br><br>


Mavis took charge of the two boys and herded them toward their room.<br><br>


Emily looked up at Bobby.<br><br>


“I could kiss you Bobby.” she said, mimicking something she’d heard an adult say one time.<br><br>


“Well” said Sally, coming across the room.  “I’ll kiss him for you, and you get to BED!”  She reached down to swat Emily’s backside.<br><br>


Emily squealed and laughed and ran, jumping up on the bed and burrowing under her covers.<br><br>


Sally looked calmly in Bobby’s eyes and pulled his face down for a kiss.<br><br>


Sally had never kissed a man.  She’d kissed her pillow, and a few dogs as she was growing up, before she realized that men weren’t interested in her.   And she’d kissed the babies and cooed at them.  So she knew, in theory, how to kiss.  She pressed her soft lips to Bobby’s in an attempt to tell him how powerfully thankful she was for what he’d just done.<br><br>


Bobby, having already decided that he liked this kissing business, kissed her back.  He kissed her the only way he knew how to kiss ... the way he kissed Meg.<br><br>


Sally’s world changed forever in that kiss.  It left her weak-kneed and gasping for breath.  She was suddenly quite sure she’d have been a lot happier if she hadn’t done it, because now she knew she’d never be happy unless she had a man to kiss her like that whenever she wanted to.  But she took what was offered, as she did in the rest of her life, and enjoyed it to the maximum.   When she finally sank back down on her heels and turned around, her glazed eyes took in the three other females in the room, all watching her intently.<br><br>


Meg stepped forward.   “And I will kiss him for June Bug and Jenny.” she said.  <br><br>


She reacted to that kiss much as Sally had.   She hoped, more than she had hoped for many things in her life, that she’d get the chance to kiss him again.<br><br>


The girls, however, were having none of it.   <br><br>


“I can hug him myself.” said Emily, sitting up in bed and holding out her arms.<br><br>


Bobby went over between the beds and hugged the little girl, planting a quick kiss on her lips.  Then he turned to find Jenny and June Bug standing up in their bed, holding out their arms too.   June Bug hugged him fiercely and planted five or six kisses on his cheeks and lips before dropping like a stone and getting back under the covers.  Jenny, being older, gave him a quick hug and a peck on the lips, and joined her bedmate.<br><br>


Then, walking very normally, Bobby went past the two women, turned and went toward the stairs.<br><br>


“You HAVE to tell me!” whispered Sally, her hand gripping Meg’s arm.<br><br>


“I will.” said Meg.  “I will.”

</p>
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Miss Rachael Templeton slogged through the door of her two room schoolhouse, stomping the snow off her feet and going to the stove to get it going.  Once she had a blaze of wood burning, she fed it some coal and closed the pot bellied stove up, adjusting the draft so it wouldn’t smoke too badly.   <br><br>


Next she went to the sink and looked inside.  Sure enough, there was a glaze of ice in the bottom.   She tried the pump handle, and sighed with relief when she heard the gurgle that meant it wasn’t frozen up.<br><br>


There wasn’t anything else to do until the children arrived ... if they arrived.  She normally had fourteen students, the vast majority of them from Mrs. Milleson’s orphanage.  Other than them there were the twelve-year-old Halsted twins,  Patsy Brown, who was fourteen and too old to still be going to a combined school, but did anyway because it was the only school available within twenty miles, and Mike Simpson, who only came to school when his father didn’t need him on the farm.  That occurrence was rare, even in the dead of winter for some reason.<br><br>


She left her coat and gloves on, as the room wouldn’t warm up for an hour or two.  She had stuffed rags in the chinks around windows, and had managed to get the town fathers to supply heavy curtains that helped a little.  But all there was between them and the cold, cruel world outside were clapboards nailed to studs.  The whole place shook in the wind if it was strong enough.<br><br>


She wandered over to the rope that hung down in the center of the room and grasped it, putting her whole weight on it as she pulled downward.   She heard the doleful tolling of the big brass bell up above and knew that it was being heard all over town.<br><br>


Then she pulled up a chair next to the stove and sat, huddling, wondering yet again how she had ended up in Hampstead Nebraska in the middle of the coldest winter she'd ever seen in her life.    It wasn't supposed to happen like this.   Rachel came from a good family back east, in Philadelphia, where things were civilized, even during the war.  Her role models had been the beautiful and talented teachers who taught there, women who were respected and revered.  She had looked at her teachers, dreaming about being one of them who, with the wave of a hand, could have a boy taken out and paddled.<br><br>


Rachel had gone to college to be a teacher.  She did that mostly because that's really what she wanted to do ... to make a difference in young people's lives.   But she also did it because she saw what other choices women had.   She happened to have entered college a year before Pearl Harbor was attacked, which gave her precedence when things started to get tight.  She shuddered at the thought of what she'd be doing if she hadn't been in teacher's college.   She'd heard of women welding, for pity's sake, carrying heavy things, building airplanes and getting filthy.   So she applied herself to make sure she got that sheepskin, and one of those cushy jobs back east.<br><br>


Except that it hadn't worked out that way.  What no one told her was that there were very few cushy jobs any more, for teachers or anyone else.  And for the cushy jobs that DID exist, there were twenty ... fifty ... a hundred women lined up who would do anything to get them.<br><br>


Rachel could have gotten one.   All she'd have had to do was sleep with Horace Vandermeister.   But his knowing sneer and his fat belly when he told her "the facts of life" left her so nauseated that she actually cursed at him.   He had promptly, somehow, arranged for her to be assigned to the Hampstead Nebraska Consolidated School.<br><br>


She had appealed to her father to get her out of her assignment, but she couldn't tell him the real reason why.  He had harrumphed and told her that adversity built character, and that pressure made diamonds and probably six or seven more worn out cliché’s before she quit listening and resigned herself to go to Nebraska.   Besides, wasn't middle America just full of strong, tall men who worked the earth and were windblown and sun-creased and handsome?<br><br>


That stereotype had bitten the bullet as soon as she stepped off the train and had to carry her own bags.  No one met her.  She was expected to find her way around, arrange for her lodgings herself and introduce herself to the superintendent of schools, Hiram Hochstedder who, when he wasn't conducting extremely important school business, ran Duffy's Tavern over on "B" street.   "These hicks," she had muttered to herself, "can't even name a street, much less treat me with the respect a school teacher deserves."  She conveniently failed to remember that she had absolutely no experience at all in actually teaching.<br><br>


That first day had been tough on Rachel.  When she asked around for the superintendent of schools, she was referred to a saloon, which no lady of any standing would think of entering.  But she had to, because she had no money, and needed a place to stay.   Her "room" was out back of that very same saloon in a tidy little building with three actual rooms, including a tiny kitchen.  The whole place smelled faintly of manure, but it was somewhere to hang her hat, so she settled in.   It was six months before someone told her she was living in what used to be the stables.<br><br>


But by then, she had learned a large number of important life lessons, chief among them that, if you aren't nice to people, then they very well may shit on you if they have the chance.   And there was a LOT of shit in this town.   She had adjusted slowly and painfully though, and even though she wouldn't have thought it, she was a better person for what she'd gone through.   It was soon clear that she had no hopes for bagging a rich man in this town, or even a young one.   <br><br>


And so, her cherished virginity was perfectly safe and intact ... and in Hampstead Nebraska she didn't see much of an opportunity for that to change.<br><br>


Well, actually, she could probably lose it at the drop of a hat, but it would be with a man over forty-five, probably a farmer and quite likely someone who had a window in his mouth when he smiled.<br><br>


That Rachel's virginity was intact was a thing of sadness to most of the men in town, including the married ones.  Rachel came from fine Swedish stock, with that clear skin, blue eyes and golden hair that makes men's scrotums tighten.  She was a healthy girl too, with bulging breasts and wide hips.  Her lips were full and dark, even without the makeup women had to give up during the war.   Rachel was a walking, talking baby machine, from the men's point of view.   That the machine was still brand new and had never been taken out on the road seemed a horrible waste.  There was pretty much a consensus among the men too, that it was just too bad that she set such damn high standards for herself.<br><br>


So, since Rachel didn't have to spend much time on managing men,  she turned all her energies to her students.<br><br>


To her everlasting amazement, Rachel found out she loved teaching, and was actually pretty good at it.   She loved "her" children and, during the autumn, actually gave serious consideration to staying here.  The war couldn't last forever, and she knew that some thirty young men from Hampstead would be returning when it was over.<br><br>


Then winter set in and Rachel decided that she had to do a good enough job to get transferred to somewhere civilized.

</p>
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By the time it was warm enough to take her gloves off, her first student had arrived.  Patsy stomped into the room like Rachel had, trying to get enough snow off her footwear to make sure they didn't get too wet when the rest melted.  Patsy was an unimaginative girl who, fifty or sixty years ago would have been married already, with one baby on her hip, and another in her belly.  She didn't see the need to learn anything, but was so lazy that she went to school so she didn't have to stay home, where she'd be expected to work.<br><br>


Then there was general pandemonium as Mrs. Milleson's brood flooded in through the door, accompanied by two of the women who worked there.  There was a man with them too, which was surprising.   She looked more closely as the man took off a ridiculous coonskin cap.  No, he was a boy, maybe Patsy's age.  Two of the Milleson girls were hanging off of him like Christmas ornaments, and he bent over to help them out of their coats.   She started to tell him to stop, because it was too cold in the school house yet, but the women were also removing the coats of the other children.   They didn't look like they were cold and she shivered.   If she ever lived here long enough to get used to this kind of cold she was going to find a pistol and blow her brains out.<br><br>


One of the women stood up.   What was her name?   Hortence?  Paula?  Oh yes ... Prudence.   Her husband was off at the war.   Rachel smiled at her.<br><br>


"This is our latest acquisition," Prudence said, indicating the boy.  "His name is Bobby, and he's mute."<br><br>


Rachel sighed.   Another one that didn't talk.   She already had that odd little girl with that odd little name.  Who in the world named a child June Bug?   If she'd been named June Bug she wouldn't talk either.    On the other hand, June Bug had a knack with numbers, and with a pencil and paper, she could do things that a lot of much older children couldn't do.<br><br>


"Do we have any idea of his capabilities?" asked Rachel.<br><br>


"Only that he can write ... at least a little," said the woman.  "We're not sure.  We thought he was simple-minded, but he's a little too quick at picking up some things for that to hold water in my opinion."<br><br>


"Well, then, perhaps we have something to work with," said Rachel.   The boy was staring at her.   All males stared at her.   She corrected her estimation of his age upward.  But his gaze wasn't lustful, like those of most men.   He was just looking at her ... with a look that was more like "just interested" than "wishing you were naked".<br><br>


She walked over to him, smiling the smile she used with men when she wanted them to pant and beg to please her.<br><br>


"Well, Bobby is it?   How nice.   I'm happy to meet you Bobby.  My name is Miss Templeton, and I'll be your teacher.   Prudence tells me you can write.  Is this correct?"<br><br>


He nodded.<br><br>


"And can you read?" she asked.<br><br>


Another nod.<br><br>


"How about numbers.  Do you know anything of math?"<br><br>


Yet another nod.<br><br>


"Well, we'll see," said Rachel  "Let me get the little ones to practicing their letters and I'll give you some tests."   <br><br>


She ignored him then, getting out paper and pencils and the ragged forty year old texts she used to teach writing.   Most of the children were so young that all she did with them was teach them the alphabet, and work with them on writing the letters out.  With the older students she worked on arithmetic and reading, as well as cursive writing.<br><br>


Once she had set tasks for all the others, including the Halsted twins who finally tromped in through the door after all the others were already at work, she turned to Bobby.  She sat him down at a desk and gave him pencil  and paper.   She started out asking him if he could write his name, and if he knew how old he was.  Then, for lack of anything else she could think of she asked him if he knew how to spell the colors of the rainbow.   He had performed everything perfectly and she realized he was no halfwit at all.   She changed to math and set him some verbal challenges.   He scribbled on the paper and she saw that he had division and multiplication down pat.  She tried a bit of algebra, which bothered him not at all.<br><br>


Rachel looked at the boy anew.   "How long have you been going to school?" she asked him.   He scribbled for a minute and handed her the paper.  It said, in succinct and grammatically correct English that the had been in the orphanage system for as long as he could remember and, choosing to learn rather than be beaten, he had soaked up a little knowledge.<br><br>


Rachel looked at him surprised.   "And you read too?"<br><br>


Bobby listed his favorite books and authors, and Rachel's opinion of him went up another notch.  She paused, thinking like she usually thought.<br><br>


"Why didn't you just pretend that you didn't know how to read or write?" she asked.  "You had to know that if I thought you were a halfwit that I'd put you in a corner and leave you alone."<br><br>


Bobby scribbled.  "I'd have been bored to tears.  Besides, you sound like home.  Your accent sounds like Boston."<br><br>


She smiled.  "Well, at least you don't know everything.  I'm from Philadelphia, and we don't sound anything like those pretentious snobs in Massachusetts."<br><br>


Rachel went over to a shelf and pulled down a book.   She came back and showed it to him.   It was called A Connecticut Yankee In King Arthur's Court, by Mark Twain.    "Have you read this yet?" she asked.  Bobby shook his head and she handed him the book.   "You can read that until the rest of us are done.  I'll have to test you some more to figure out if there's anything I can teach you or not."<br><br>


Rachel spent the rest of the morning with her usual students, every so often glancing over at Bobby, who was reading at a rapid pace, his attention solely on the book.   He looked up when she took her coat off and she exposed her thrusting, well-filled bodice, but then went right back to the book.   She was both surprised and, to be honest, a little disappointed that Mark Twain seemed more important than her ability to mesmerize the males of the species.<br><br>


School only went until noon, since most children were expected to work at home, as well as go to school.   And, truth to tell, Rachel was going over the same things over and over again anyway.  She was going to start reading to them soon, and teaching them to read too, but that hadn't started and couldn't really until they had a good grasp of their letters.  Normally she was bored in the afternoons, and she saw Bobby as a chance to do something besides be bored.  When the women came back to collect the children, Rachel asked if Bobby could stay for further testing.  The woman, whose name she didn't know, looked at her intently, and then nodded her head fractionally.   Then she turned to Bobby and spoke to him.<br><br>

"Bobby, do you remember how to get back to the house?"<br><br>


Bobby nodded and a voice came from outside.  "Come ON, Meg, they're beginning to scatter."<br><br>


Meg looked at Bobby as he nodded.  "All right.  You come straight home after the teacher is done with you.  All right?"<br><br>


Bobby nodded again and smiled.<br><br>


Rachel had watched the whole exchange and, with a woman's radar, had seen something there that most women and almost no men would have seen.<br><br>


"You like her don't you?" asked Rachel.<br><br>


Bobby stared at her, his eyes going flat.<br><br>


"Now now, Bobby, it's perfectly normal for a boy to have crushes on a pretty woman.   And she's quite pretty in her own way, don't you think?"<br><br>


Bobby nodded fractionally and she smiled.<br><br>


They sat, Rachel asking questions, and Bobby writing his responses.  She found out he'd come from New York.  She was hungry for news, but  Bobby couldn't tell her much of that.  She asked him about foods he missed, and learned that he had never eaten outside an orphanage, and didn't even know about regional foods that were world famous.   He knew he had been a lot of places, but didn't know the names of them.  Finally she asked him about the children at Mrs. Milleson's house.  On that he was brilliant.  He wrote about what made them tick, and how he got them to do what he wanted them to do, even without talking.   He told her the story of the Umpelty Oog, and what he had done to kill it.  She laughed and clapped.   <br><br>

Suddenly she put her hand over her stomach, which growled audibly.  She looked at a locket watch that was pinned to her dress.  <br><br>


"Oh my goodness, it's almost three.   You'd better get home.  And I need to go home and get something to eat too.   This was fun Bobby.   I'll arrange for us to spend several afternoons a week together if you like.  I can get the books you need to read.  You have no idea what kind of literature there is out there Bobby, but I'll teach you about it.  I'll speak to Mrs. Milleson.   Now, off with you."<br><br>


Bobby got up and shrugged into his coat before putting his ridiculous hat on.  Then he turned and his eyes swept from her face to her feet and back up again.  His eyes lingered on her breasts and she felt herself flushing beet red.   He smiled, waved and darted out the door, running pell mell toward the Milleson House.<br><br>

Rachel realized her heart was beating firmly in her chest.   His gaze had been so personal, so intimate, as if he could see clear through her clothes.  And yet, it had been friendly too, as if to say "You are naked and beautiful and a vision of loveliness - for which I thank you kindly ma'am."  It jarred her somehow to be appreciated so obviously, but so ... safely ... too.<br><br>


She shrugged into her own coat, banked the fire, and left, closing the door firmly behind her.

</p>
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Herding the children back home after school was the first time, Sally and Meg had had to talk privately.  The children wanted to make and throw snowballs, like they had seen Bobby do, and the women strolled slowly in the frigid air.<br><br>


"So now, tell me," ordered Sally excitedly.<br><br>


"There's not all that much to tell," said Meg, sounding grumpy.<br><br>


"Come on Meg, don't back down.  You promised," wheedled Sally.<br><br>


Meg looked over at her friend, who had changed so much in just hours.  She'd watched Sally kiss Bobby last night and experienced a rush of emotions, not the least of them, to her chagrin, jealousy.  And she was feeling that again, but for different reasons.<br><br>


"I'll tell you.  I'm just upset about HER."  She nodded over her shoulder.<br><br>


"The teacher?  What did she do to you?" asked Sally.<br><br>


"Nothing, but she's back there trying to get her hooks in Bobby.  I just know she is.   And Bobby, poor thing, probably doesn't have any defenses against a woman like her."<br><br>


"She is pretty," sighed Sally, who thought all other women were pretty.  "but she's just a teacher.  Surely she wouldn't see anything in Bobby.<br><br>


"I did," said Meg softly.  "I can't control myself when I'm around him," she admitted.   "Sally I've done things with him I never even THOUGHT about doing with any other man."<br><br>


"So ... TELL ME!" shouted Sally, scooping up a handful of snow and flinging it at Meg. <br><br>


So, while the children played, and they moved slowly toward the house, Meg confessed how it had started, and then how she felt, and what Bobby's penis felt like in her hand.   She hadn't meant to admit or talk about getting his semen in her mouth, but she was so excited remembering it that it just spilled out.<br><br>


"In your MOUTH!?" squealed Sally.   "Oh how HORRID!"<br><br>


"NO!" said Meg, while wishing she hadn't said anything about that.  "It wasn't like that at ALL!  It was wonderful!   It was delicious!   Sally I know it sounds strange, but I LOVED it!"<br><br>


"Really?"  Sally was intrigued.  She knew so little of sex that anything she heard was interesting and, since her parents' basic rule was that anything at all that had to do with sex was dirty and disgusting, getting semen in your mouth wasn't actually any more disgusting to Sally than anything else.   She'd just never thought about that.<br><br>


Meg could tell that Sally was neither disgusted or horrified, and that calmed her.   This new Sally was someone she WANTED to talk to.<br><br>


"Really," she confirmed.  "In fact, it was so delicious that I ... well ... last night ... I put my mouth on him and drank it all."<br><br>


She stopped and tensed, waiting for Sally to explode, and call her a slut, or a whore, or, at the minimum, a tramp.<br><br>


But Sally didn't explode.   She did stare, as she thought about what boys did with their penises, and that wasn't too attractive to think about in terms of putting one in your mouth.   But, Bobby had just had a bath, so it was nice and clean, and that didn't seem so bad to Sally.  All Sally had ever thought about was the usual thing a man did with a woman ... where his penis went in a different ... orifice.<br><br>


"But you didn't let him ...?"  she couldn't say the actual words, but her meaning was clear.<br><br>


"No," said Meg, suddenly wondering why she'd never thought of doing that with him.   Then she realized she'd never thought of doing that with any man.   She'd thought about it in hazy fantasies, but, other than the feel of her fingers on her pudendum, she had no idea what it would feel like, so it was impossible to really think about.  "He only touched my nipple."<br><br>


"Really?"  That got Sally excited again.  Her own nipples were so sensitive that sometimes it drove her to distraction as they were scraped by her clothing.<br><br>


So then Meg had to describe how Bobby's naked hip had pressed between her leg, while his fingers pinched her nipple, and he kissed her.   Meg wasn't quite sure whether she'd had an actual orgasm or not.  She'd heard of such things, but never talked about that with any human being, so she didn't know quite what an orgasm was supposed to feel like.<br><br>


They both realized that they had stopped, facing each other, and that the children had drifted down the street.  They hurried to catch up.<br><br>


"Ohhh" sighed Sally.  "If only something like that could happen to me."  <br><br>


Meg walked, thoughtfully.   The green eyed monster still played in the back of her mind, but it was more associated with that blond school teacher than it was with Sally.   Sally truly was very plain and, until recently, so shy and retiring that no one thought she'd meet a man.  Meg liked this new, excited and talkative Sally.<br><br>


"What if you gave Bobby his bath next time?" she asked quietly.<br><br>


Sally stopped, her mouth open.  "Oh I COULDN'T!" she moaned.   Her pale face pinked up a bit in the cold air.<br><br>


"And why not?" asked Meg, suddenly wanting someone else to do the terrible things she had done and that she didn't want to be terrible any more.  If someone else did them too then it couldn't be terrible, could it?  Sally was one of the nicest women she knew, and maybe this would help her find some happiness too.   "I don't think Bobby will care one way or the other.  Didn't he kiss you back last night?"<br><br>


Sally's eyes glazed over.  "He sure did.   I thought I was going to fall down!"<br><br>


"See?" pronounced Meg.   "He already likes you.   And I don't mind sharing him."  She thought about that for a second.  "Well, actually I do mind, but I SHOULDN'T mind.  He's not mine or anything.   I just know how I feel when I think about going in there with him again."<br><br>


Sally's eyes came back into focus.  "Do you think you'd ever let him ...?"  She still couldn't say it.<br><br>


Now it was Meg's face that warmed up in the frosty air.  "How could you ask me something like that?!" she said, trying to keep herself from thinking about it.<br><br>


"The last time you tried to put me off you were hiding something," said Sally, her eyes narrowing shrewdly.  "Are you trying to hide something now Meg?   Have you thought about letting him ... letting him make ... love to you?"   She almost couldn't finish that sentence.<br><br>


"I don't know," said Meg, slumping a little.   "Until yesterday I'd have chased you down the street for asking me a thing like that.   But I can't do that now.   I get all ... itchy when I think about him and playing with ... it."<br><br>


"Maybe we should BOTH give him his next bath," suggested Sally.<br><br>


Meg shook her head.  "Mavis would never buy that.  You all are already busy putting the children to bed when I take him in there.  She'd know something strange was going on."<br><br>


"Have you forgotten what she said last night?" Sally asked incredulously.<br><br>


"OH!" yipped Meg.  "I actually HAD!   Oh Sally, what are we going to do?  You HAVE to do it next time.   Then maybe Mavis will decide it was just something simple that happened to my dress.   I mean she'd think I wasn't in a hurry to go back in there with him.  Wouldn't she?"<br><br>


"I don't know if I could do it," said Sally.<br><br>


"Just wash him and leave it at that.   He's just a boy.  Surely it doesn't get hard every single time he takes a bath," said Meg.<br><br>


"Well, I think I'm crazy for this, but all right," said Sally.  She felt an unexpected and unfamiliar excitedness that made her warm all over.<br><br>


That decided, they gathered up the children and hurried home.