We see Kitty’s sister arrive, fit in. Fall Fling is planned. Preppy meets Hippie Bitch again, resolves that. GG needs more attention. Slut has an insight. Tuesday Night, clit night.
“Hey, um, Hippie! This is Dick, from Meta Mu!”
“You can say it; it’s ok.” She spoke in a resonant musical voice, sounded amused.
I braced myself, started over. “Ok. Hippie Bitch? This is Dick. I’m the latest RA here, we talked earlier? The Dean suggested we get together, share RA notes and ideas, maybe coordinate Fall Fling activities?”
“That’s interesting. This is a new house, with no traditions. And not a lot of resources. What kind of activities do you envision?”
“I understand if you are hesitant. I’m not sure what to expect; I’ve never been to Fall Fling. I’m a post-graduate researcher with no social life.” As long as we were being honest, laying our cards on the table.
That got a chuckle out of her. “That can’t have lasted long, not at Meta Mu. Those women are amazing, frustrating, brilliant students, with interests at every level.”
“I’m learning that! So far, so good, I’m happy here. Made some friends, had some hiccups. I’m thinking of bringing a house member over, maybe this week? Meeting with you and whomever you nominate, talk about what we could do together?”
She didn’t answer immediately. Good. Thinking it over.
“What is your goal in this?”
Good question. “As an RA my goal is health and safety, and academic progress. Only those first two would apply here, to a festival.
“Personally though, I’m looking to work out some of the kinks that have…”
“Festered, is the word you may be looking for?” She was not going to make this easy.
“Ok. Your package did a lot to reset thinking around here. Your weaving is hanging on our front door, not my doing, GG did that. To remind us all to be our best selves. Your letter was well received, made folks rethink a lot of things.”
I heard a long breath; was she as nervous about this process as I was?
“I’m glad to hear that. Good for GG, she’s really a great person, I’d like to get to know her better.”
“The Dean actually suggested, um, someone else to be liaison on this.”
Another pause, not a good one. “Preppy, of course. The Dean would choose her. Only Nixon could go to China, as they say.”
My turn to laugh. “You may find her a different person this time around. She was the… most affected by your sincere gift. You’d have to take her as you find her of course. But she’s changed at any rate.”
No comment on that; fair enough, she’d have to make up her own mind.
“I can talk to my house, see if there’s any interest. I can’t even guess what response I’ll get. My folks have had various experiences in the general University population. Will they want to make an impression, become examples to the student body?
“Or will they say Fuck It, let them throw their own parties.”
I agreed, that was a reasonable response. “I’m thinking of it this way. We can help make the experience safe and interesting for the general student body. While exposing them to alternate lifestyles, different life choices. Maybe help ourselves, while we’re helping others.”
“Good slant; but my people are smart, maybe as smart as yours. Any BS, any whitewashing, they’ll smell it. They’ve heard it all.”
“I can’t tell you how others will respond. I’m personally open to all lifestyles as long as they are consensual, not unhealthy, and safe. By unhealthy I mean no bodily injuries nor hatred. Good vibes all around.”
She drew a long breath, bracing herself.
“I’ll get back to you, maybe tomorrow? Thanks for calling; I have a lot to talk about over here.”
She broke the connection without another word. Not big on pleasantries. Noted.
Now to broach the topic with Preppy.
“Hey!”
She didn’t look up from making a sandwich. “Hey.”
“I’m, um, going over to that new house maybe this week. Check in with the new RA, compare notes.”
Absently, “Um hm…” Slicing a tomato.
“So, um, the Dean suggested we get them involved in the Fall Fling, planning, stuff like that.”
She looked up, curious. “What new house?” Dawning comprehension.
“Oh, no. I’m … no.”
“Nothing definite yet; she’s talking with her people, see if there’s any interest.”
Plating the sandwich, shove the ingredients back in the fridge.
“Take GG. She’s into that stuff.”
“Dean suggested you.” There, all my cards on the table.
She tried to leave the kitchen, she really tried. Carrying her plate, breezing to the door, almost broke the plane before her step faltered.
Playing the Dean card was not fair, but I was in a bind too. Apparently Preppy had similar compunctions where the Dean was concerned.
She stopped, shoulders down, closed her eyes, took a deep breath.
Finally, “For her. The Dean. Not for you; not for … that other RA. Understood?”
I nodded like an idiot, showing I had basic understanding skills.
“I’ll let you know when. If it even happens. Thanks!” Keep it short, now that I had consent don’t overplay it, stop talking.
The phone rang that evening. I answered, sure of who it would be.
“Hey! Meta Mu, Dick here.”
“Hi Dick! So, my people are interested. Go figure, right? Monday afternoon? I can have a quorum, meet with you and your Liaison, have a Q&A, figure this thing out. Ok?”
I nodded, remembered I was on the phone, “Sure! I think that works for us. See you say 11:30?”
All good, signed off. Got a Goodbye! this time. Better! A positive attitude. I was pretty sure Hippy Bitch faced everything with a positive attitude if at all possible. Her psychology training would tell her that was important.
I could take a lesson. I was frankly dreading this, like a dentist appointment. It was sure to start out tense, and from there who knows. But communication was the beginning of reconciliation! It all started with talking.
Preppy took the news stoically, just nodded curtly. Best I could hope for.
Monday
Preppy was available. Her interview had gotten cancelled for a business outreach, no excuses left, she had two hours Monday, right in our window.
Butch insisted on going. The Fall Fling was a big deal to her apparently. She’d been involved since her first year, in the ‘security’ area whatever that meant.
Preppy was relieved. I imagined having Butch to buffer any unpleasantness helped her feel more secure. And knowing Butch had her back was comforting.
We walked over; quite a hike! Clear across campus, into the woods, down a marginal road a quarter mile to a sort of ranger-camp. It had been lots of things, including visiting-professor housing.
And now it was a house for the Dean’s special cases, her outliers that needed a safe place to thrive in the University. Like Meta Mu, but weirder if that’s possible.
The new occupation showed – flowerbeds planted, some new paint, windows washed, a couple old vehicles parked here and there. I’d only seen the place in passing before, empty, neglected and sad.
Now it was very pleasant! Hippie Bitch was out front, talking with another woman. Both were dressed in peasant dresses, barefoot, flower in the hair, very new-age. Preppy snorted when she saw but held her tongue.
I don’t know what she had to feel superior about. She was dressed in a suit and tie despite the rural setting. I had on board shorts and a t-shirt that said ‘Aloha!’ And Butch. Well, Butch. Leather bike pants, worn leather half-boots, wife-beater t-shirt, leather biker hat with rivets and an eagle embroidered on the front.
Butch was oblivious to any tension, hailed the women from a distance with a wave and a smile.
We arrived. “Meta Mu folk, this is Witch Woman! Witch Woman, this is Butch, Preppy and I presume Dick!”
I nodded, held out my hand. Witch Woman took it gently, turned it palm up, looked at it, then stroked it with two fingers. Felt intimate, provocative! Probably intended it to.
“I’m glad to meet you! You look honest and empathetic.” All from palm-reading?
“I like what you’ve done with the place!”
They turned, surveyed their houses with evident satisfaction.
“Physical Plant was glad to lend us paint, tools. Grateful for anything we’d do on the old place. Yeah it’s looking pretty good.”
“Come around back! Let me show you my gardens!” Witch Woman was gleeful, flitted off. Hippie Bitch looked after her tolerantly.
“Not a lot of attention span in that one. But Goddess! she gets a lot done.
“Come along back, we have some patio furniture back there, something to drink.”
Sounded good to all of us. Butch led the way, talking about the team, their prospects, the likelihood of a win on Fall Fling day.
Preppy lagged, clearly not enthusiastic. Her pumps weren’t quite up to the softer ground either; she picked her way along the old broken sidewalk, trying not to sink in.
The back yard was a riot. Garden beds planted in a confusion of things, mostly looking like weeds. Also some was actually weed, the aromatic kind. Origin of Butch’s bud?
Flowers planted here and there, no obvious pattern. A fire ring, enormous! Clearly a popular deal, from the ash piled, the split wood stacked head-high between two oaks.
Some worn wicker chairs were arrayed around a wood table, not meant for outdoor use but holding up ok, water-stained and warped a little.
A pitcher of murky amber liquid in pride of place on a tarnished tray, some odd collection of mason jars and chipped coffee cups set out. Witch Woman was pouring, muttering, sprinkling something into each cup from a packet in her hand.
I raised an eyebrow. Hippie Bitch just shrugged, grinned.
I sat, Butch sat, Preppy perched on the edge of a chair, uncomfortable, ready to flee.
Witch Woman picked up a cup, offered it to Butch, watched her drink, smile. I got one, sipped to be polite. Sharp, astringent, aromatic – nice! Not lemonade but somehow satisfying.
Preppy declined the offered cup, got a sad face in return. I let it happen; not my place to tell any of them how to feel.
“So what’s this big event? Some of the residents have been; I haven’t. I just get confused reports. Like blind philosophers describing an elephant, each experience is apparently quite different? All involving a bonfire?”
Butch launched in, a topic dear to her heart. Described the huge bonfire, built by the Engineering school, two stories tall, whole tree trunks involved, flames sixty feet high.
She then described the music – some local groups, nothing organized, the stage was the trailer that brought the wood. All acoustic; no electronics allowed! Just line up and take your turn.
Then the theatre aspect – minstrels, fortune tellers, spirits, macabre dancers. Some wandering, some with tents they set up, make-shift theatres roped off between trees. Spontaneous sing-alongs. Sweets and drinks, some fundraisers for School or Community causes, some free. The local grocer was a big University supporter, donated a dozen large coolers of local craft beer and soft drinks, free.
Witch Woman was getting excited. “Can anyone be part of that? Could I, uh, bring my own drinks? Incense to share at the fire?”
Butch nodded assent. “None of it is organized! That’s the great part! It’s every school, every department, every house for themselves! And brutally inclusive. Every league, alliance, club on campus does something.”
Hippie Bitch looked confused. “Then what’s our part? Not organizers; then what?”
Preppy spoke for the first time. “We’re there to make sure everybody has a good time.”
All heads turned to her; it was the first words she’d spoken. She looked stubborn, continued. “Folks can get wild; folks can get dehydrated, low blood sugar; folks can get careless. Some guys get aggressive, need some cooling-off. The fire is dangerous, later in the night folks can try stupid things.”
Hippie Bitch was getting it. “So we monitor auras? Look out for dehydrated people, loud people, restore their balance, redirect their energy?”
Preppy wouldn’t have said it that way. “If you mean, hand out water bottles and condoms, and collar wild freshmen then yes.”
“I’m concerned about the security aspect. Is it campus police doing it? Are folks hauled off if they cross the line?”
Butch was the expert on this. “I’ve got a crew of buds, we take care of most of it. Unless somebody is seriously blasted, in need of serious medical aid or gets violent, we handle it.”
Some dubious looks, not sure how that would work.
“The campus cops are there keeping randos from crashing our party. They turn a blind eye to anything but immediate safety hazards. Fire out of control; fights. Me and Treetop, Slash, Roadkill handle everything else. Watch the fire, keep kids from running around with it. Collar the kids before they hurt themselves, mellow them out.”
That sounded better. Witch Woman was curious about Butch’s friends but held her questions. Those were probably from the biker bar? I’d have to ask about them later, but I trusted Butch for now. With those names they sounded … effective.
“Meta Mu has some particular activities beyond security.” Preppy again, in lecture mode. “Kitty distributes mini water bottles to revelers, flitting around like a dryad, in costume. Peeks under blankets, into tents, makes sure everybody is drinking, consenting and happy. She’s so fey and inoffensive nobody minds!
“GG was all about condoms last year, from ‘regular’ which means small, guys are touchy about that, up to Magnum. Student health provides them. She can tell the size of a guy’s dick from a glance! Give them something that fits the first time.”
That was impressive. A neat party trick!
“I manage a first-aid tent. Donations for the women’s’ center, but nobody is turned away. Burns, cuts on feet from the wood chips everywhere, contraceptives. Lotion for rug burn, chafing. Sanitary napkins. Douche and sunscreen. Examine for ticks. Made a couple hundred last year from donations.”
“What gaps do you foresee?” This from Hippie Bitch, attentive and respectful. Preppy was gaining confidence, answered her without any hesitation.
“The theatre department had brought blankets from housekeeping, pads from the gymnasium, rented them for the night, a couple bucks each, for their program. But they got a big donation recently,”
That was Kitty’s father, throwing his weight around.
“So they’ve indicated they won’t be doing that this year. You have a favorite cause, any connections with housekeeping or the gymnastic program, you could take that over?”
Witch Woman interjected “Dan! They tumble; that’s why they’re so flexible.” She smiled to herself at that, some intimate knowledge? “Maybe they could do mats! And HB, what about Manny? He has a job in custodial services?”
Hippie Bitch (HB?) nodded, “We’ll have to ask, see if they have a cause they’d like to support! Do two good turns in one night!”
Butch agreed. “That’s kind of our whole thing. Do good for the student body, while doing good elsewhere. My thing is outreach for gay bikers. Folks meet me and my buds, get to know us, they smile when we meet around campus on our bikes. More aware of bikers, keep the roads safer for everybody.”
HB leaned back, drained her glass. “I think this could very much be our thing. So far we’ve just retreated from the University life, kept to ourselves, licked our wounds and kept apart. But we have lots to offer! I want us to start being seen.”
They were hooked, it was obvious. Such a constructive, healthy contribution was right up their alley!
Butch smiled. “Loud and proud! That’s the idea! All of us being our true selves, without reservation. You do something for somebody, they have a hard time not being grateful, glad to see you next time.”
“I’ll hit up Lacy, see if they have some ideas. Costumes, roleplaying are their thing. They could work that in somehow?”
I suggested “Maybe Kitty could brainstorm with them, come up with a theme?”
Everybody was relaxed now. Maybe that tea? Who knows, but we were seeming more like a team.
I thought it was maybe enough for now. “We’ve come a long way today. There’s weeks to go! Can we meet again, say twice a week? Encourage each other; share ideas; fill in with knowledge and skills where needed?”
The table was in agreement. We chose this same time slot, plus a Thursday morning hour, meet with whomever was available, compare notes.
Witch Woman began clearing the table. Butch had to be somewhere, shook hands, headed out. Leaving me, Preppy and HB.
I cleared my throat. “If there’s more to be said, some water under the bridge to mop up, I can, well, make myself scarce for a bit. I’d like to compare notes RA to RA, but that can wait.”
“Stay!” HB and Preppy simultaneously, emphatically. So I stayed.
HB tried to begin, but Preppy cut her off.
“Hippie Bitch! I want to apologize for being a first-class asshole. There wasn’t anything in my treatment of you, that I can remember without shame. I was self-centered, sensitive and petty. I wish it had never happened.”
HB was stunned, everything she’d prepared to say forgotten. She stood, her chair falling over, went around, pulled Preppy into a hug. She was resistant at first, but suddenly melted, hugged her fiercely back.
It took a long time; a lot to hug out. When they separated Preppy was in tears, wet-faced and red. She tried to speak, stopped, tried again.
“It wasn’t you; it was never you. I was triggered by something that happened. Nothing you need to apologize for; you’re entitled to be you. But I wasn’t ready for it; I was still hurting from something, surprised by how it much it still hurt. And when that button got pressed I lashed out.”
HB was just shaking her head, not sure what it was but clearly upset by her part in it. “I could have asked you; I should have talked to you. I didn’t. I knew you were upset, but I kept bleating out my personal vision without considering…”
Preppy wiped her face with the back of her hand. “Nobody’s telepathic. Well, Dick is, sometimes. But just him. Not me, for sure.”
“Tell me about it.” HB braced herself, was ready for whatever Preppy wanted to dish out.
She was hesitant, then made up her mind. “I wasn’t raised in a normal house. I was a foster kid, with all that means.” She looked at me, shamefaced, I don’t know why. No censure here! I nodded, encouraged her.
“I’ve been made to fit into somebody else’s life, all my life. Never anything for me; never any consideration for what I wanted. Be who they wanted; do what they wanted, live where they said, go where they took me. Stay out when they said Stay Out!
“Until Meta Mu! I had a place here, my own place, my own things. I belonged, I took up space. They had to make room for what I needed, accommodate my preferences.
“So when we got excluded from your life, your interesting fascinating completely fresh life, I didn’t…I felt…”
The psychologist in HB understood; the newly-remodeled Hippie Bitch was touched. “You felt that old pain, like a knife. I was making you feel used and small and pushed around like a little girl again.”
Preppy broke down a second time, needed that hug again. HB held her, looked stricken, just kept repeating “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Oh honey I’m sorry,” crying herself now.
It took as long as it took; I had nothing more important to do, nowhere more important to go. The little girl in Preppy needed all that said, needed to feel loved and important. And forgiven for being her flawed self.
I had nothing to contribute except to bear witness, so our house could be helped to understand, later, what had gone on here.
…
We got back, made some late lunch. Preppy had a study group, departed. Different now; no longer so reserved, so pensive. And strangely unconcerned with the state of her tear-stained blouse, her dirty shoes. That was change, maybe improvement?
My data collecting was done, experimental runs complete. I was down to statistics, significance analysis, then wordsmithing to make it into something publishable. Which seemed small now that I knew what Alani was doing, how important and groundbreaking her work was. Still, I had to justify my existence at the University.
Sitting in the living room at the couch I heard somebody come in but paid no attention. P-values are tricky and if I get them wrong then my work will be for nothing.
I was startled by two arms sliding around me from behind, encircling my chest under my arms, kneading my pecs.
“H’lo lover!”
It was Alani!
I tipped my head up, saw her upside-down face overhead squinting at my work.
“What constitutes a meaningful result?”
“Sensitivity of the carboxylic acids to the use of Grignard reagent with CO2. The resulting ester is reverse-reacted with a base, and I measure…”
“The ratio of acid to anion. Hmm.”
She caught on quick. So much smarter than me. I’d taken a semester to noodle out this particular sensitivity test; she’d grasped it in two sentences.
“Are you using a standard-deviation test? Or comparison of means? The P-value you want, depends on the particular sensitivity you measure. How many controls?”
I’d done half as many control experiments as reactivity runs, since their results were so stable and predictable.
“Ah! So you have to adjust the deviations for statistical distribution, before doing the comparison? Because of the smaller sample size?”
It was obvious to her; I nodded like I understood and resolved to crack my stats book again before making a fool of myself.
Meanwhile she rolled over the couch back, flopped on the cushions on her back, coming to rest with her head in my lap. All thoughts of P-values were put aside for some serious kissing time.
We broke after my tongue got tired, and I noticed my neck was sore from bending over her.
“Hey! Breakthrough with Preppy!”
She looked interested. “Did you fuck her again?”
Shook my head. “We visited Hippie Bitch’s house, planning Fall Fling stuff.”
Her eyes wide, “Did everyone behave themselves? Sparks?”
“Butch was there too. She can be a very stabilizing influence.”
“So what did Preppy say?”
“She revealed why she had reacted so badly, had lashed out at HB, that’s what they call her over there, HB.”
“HB. HB. I like that!”
“So, some tears, hugs, more tears. Not healed but definitely learning to forgive each other, and more importantly, themselves.”
A wide smile. “I’m so glad. They’re both great women, deserve to be happy.”
“They can find a way, now, with that out in the open. With some distance from the trauma.
“It was about control, of course. Preppy felt manipulated, pushed around, forced. In her own house! By a newcomer! It hit her hot button, hard.”
Slut knew of Preppy’s past, suspected many old hurts lurking under the surface.
“This changes things. Changes Wednesday night.”
I nodded. “Maybe postpone? Call it off?”
She looked startled. “No! Double down! This is a chance to help her make real progress!”
I was floored. This stuff was very far from chemistry, my only area of expertise. And much harder.
She laughed, seeing my confusion, sat up, put her arms around me, looked me in the face.
“Trust me. This will be ok. What we’ll do is, enlist her in the process. Tell her what we’re going to do and why. So she can attend to her feelings, find those knots of pain, work them out.”
“By pressing on them? Riling them up?” I was incredulous. But Slut mistook my confusion as understanding.
“Right! You have a jammed toe, you massage it, overwhelm the hurt with other sensations. Rewire the brain to attend to the pleasure instead of the pain. Then the pain can become just soreness, then heal.”
If I didn’t trust Slut so completely, I’d be panicking now. But she was so sure, so smart, so tuned into emotional reactions. I gave myself over to her entirely.
“Ok. So a lecture first, before we start.”
Nodding. “We’ll put our cards on the table. Like, instead of the safe word ending things, it’ll just call time-out. So she finds another ‘hot button’ getting pressed she can regroup, process. Get her mental hands around the demon, throttle it. Then we continue to the next demon.”
It sounded like some mad therapy scheme, a balls-to-the-wall est-style scream-out-your-hurt emotional roller-coaster. For some reason I was getting excited.
Slut noticed. “You horndog! You do have a Dom hiding in there somewhere. Fuck me quick; I have to get back to the computer center, run some of my bio software on their big machine.”
She flipped her torn sweatshirt over her head, flinging it away. I was shy, uncertain about fucking in public, right in the middle of the house! But seeing those tits, that kind of melted away.
I squirmed out of my shorts, shoved my papers off the couch, went to slide down under her. She stopped me.
“On top. I want you to bang me like you own me, fast and furious. I need a screamer, get my head clear. This bio software is tricky, and I only have a one-hour window with the hardware.”
I could do that. We started with her bent over the back of the couch, me behind, doggy, dick just stuck through a rip in her sweatpants. I started slow but she kept hollering ‘Faster! Harder!’
So I really got into it, squeezing her hips hard, banging my pelvis into her butt, jamming my cock up her slot with all the force I could.
She was panting, thrusting back into me. Inspired, I twisted her hair in one hand, pulled her head back hard, cruelly.
“Ow! You bastard! Ahh. Ahhh! Pull harder! Shit!”
Thank god that worked! I might have been in real trouble there. She was bucking now, struggling against my hold on her hip, her hair, thrashing against my hammering.
“You cow! Take my dick! Take my cum! Cum-bucket! Mine to dump in! Slut! Slut!”
That was enough; she was cumming, I was cumming, jammed into her, feeling her vagina convulsing on me, jetting my cum into her, not stopping for a second but slamming into her until I had spent half a dozen times, no more cum to offer.
I released her; she slumped over the couch back, breathing hard, coming down. I sluuurped out of her, flopped against my thighs, still half-hard. That was awesome!
Three long breaths, then she popped up, turned, pecked me on the mouth.
“Thanks lover! See you at supper! Kitty is bringing Mexican! To celebrate!”
She got up, searched around for her shirt, confused. I pointed at the light fixture, where it had got caught. Jumping up she snagged it, getting my softening cock to jerk from the sight of those tits jiggling as she landed.
Slipping it on as she dashed into the hall to our room, came back with a box of tapes and a binder, she gave me another peck, headed out. A wide wet stain on the back of her sweatpants where our cum was leaking from her cooch. Typical Slut.
It took me more than a few deep breaths to recover. I picked up my scattered papers, fetched my stats book, settled in again.
Kitty was bringing Mexican? Oh! Kitten! Her little sister was due in this afternoon. I hoped somebody was picking her up? I didn’t think Kitty would leave that to chance.
…
By the time folks started filtering back in near suppertime I had remembered to put my shorts back on. Want to make a good impression on the new girl! But not that kind of impression.
I heard the bike, then folks coming in. GG was glowing; so was Butch. Some rendezvous elsewhere? From the state of their goofy smiles I suspected as much.
Leon came in, welcome and comfortable, like a member of the house. Which I guess (s)he was by now, but didn’t live here. A small distinction of no consequence.
I packed up, had enough stats for the day. By this time I’d re-learned enough to understand what Slut had said. Tomorrow I could apply it.
Preppy was next, back from study group, looking tired. Leon fetched a beer, popped the top, handed it to her. She received it gratefully, flopped down on the end of the couch, took a long pull. It had been an exhausting day!
Slut was a little later, bringing her computer gear, dropping it by the door. She grabbed a beer and mingled. I noticed a new stain on her pants, in the front. Must have been a desperately difficult computer program, needing to get twice-fucked to sort it all out. No problem; she had plenty of horny comp-sci undergrads to take care of emergencies.
Kitty came home last, carrying bulging plastic takeout bags. Following her, a young woman carrying even more bags.
“Hey everybody! Meet Kitten! Our house visitor! My sister!” She clued everybody in, maybe Leon didn’t know the backstory.
Butch took the bags, all the bags, went into the kitchen to dish up. Very food-motivated, Butch.
GG stepped up, smiling, took Kitten by both hands, looked her over, moved in for a hug. Kitten was more than willing, gave as good as she got, snuggling in, hands on GG’s butt, smiling broadly over her shoulder.
“You have to be GG! I’ve heard so much! We have to talk!”
Next Slut greeted her, went to shake her hand. Kitten ignored it, put her hands on Slut’s shoulders, tipped her head up for a kiss. Slut obliged her, thoroughly, two hands on the back of her head, mashing lips, I believe some tongue. Ended by nuzzling her nose-to-nose.
“You’re cute! And a nice armful!” Slut was pulling no punches, playing her alter ego to the max.
Kitten seemed thrilled to be accepted so readily, really excited to meet the legendary Meta Mu crew.
Leon put a beer down, stepped up. “Kitten? I’m so glad to meet you. Leon! Kitty has told me stories! I see you live up to them.” Into a hug, more like siblings than anything, honest and welcoming.
A full head shorter than Slut, still taller than Kitty, something like Leon, the brown-haired girl was clearly a sister to Kitty. But different, lots different. Filled out, strong, bouncy. Full head of hair, obviously natural. Broader cheekbones, higher forehead. But the same nose, exactly, no missing that.
In style, nothing like Kitty. Peasant dress, embroidered. Actual flower in her hair. Painted nails, all different. Bindi dot on her forehead, though she looked nothing like Indian. Henna tattoos on both forearms. Barefoot, painted toes, real tattoo of something southwest on one ankle. Hairy arms, legs, a light down.
More like Hippie Bitch, to be honest! But more open, certainly friendly, totally non-judgmental from first impressions.
I was getting up to greet her but Preppy beat me to it.
“Kitten! We’re going to be great friends! You’re taking my old room! I’ll show you everything after supper!” A European kiss, left-cheek, right-cheek, holding both hands, smiling.
“I’d love that, Preppy! Thank you! Wow, that outfit! I love those shoes! Mom has like 1000 shoes, she doesn’t have those!”
Preppy raised a foot, showed off her pumps, grinning.
Now I knew Preppy had changed. Gone was the sneering snarky critical Preppy. She had every appearance of accepting Kitten as she was, no superior airs about new-age dress or lack of makeup. Just happy to meet her housemate’s sister, genuine and comfortable.
My turn. Kitten looked me up and down, frowned, made a little pout. “I guess you must be Dick.”
I nodded, a little taken aback. Did she have a problem with guys? Kitty had not mentioned it.
Her frown broke, turned to a broad smile. “We have to talk sometime! I want to go into chemistry, and you’re the expert!”
Ok, she had been pulling my chain, teasing me. Not so different from her sister.
Did I have two super-annoying women to love now? Because Kitten was going to be easy to love, in a little-sister big-brother way. Her youthful enthusiasm was energizing.
“I’d be glad to. But be sure to get Slut’s side of things. Biochemistry is a whole ‘nother thing, she’s the expert there.”
“Oh I’m going to get into Slut’s head, for sure!” Teasing again.
Sigh, smile.
“Soup’s on!” This from Butch, sticking her head into the room. Holding a burrito in one hand, the size of my arm, a big bite out of it, sauce on her chin. Something brown in a cup in the other hand.
A general rumble as everybody headed for food. Monday was a long day for us, and getting fed was a real treat.
Passing Butch, “Burritos! Tostadas! Enchiladas! Carnitas! Horchata!” She was ecstatic. Took an enormous bite of burrito, smiled around the wad as she chewed, happy as a pig in mud.
She was not kidding. Every surface in the kitchen was loaded with takeout boxes, all the lids off, spoons and forks stuck where they were needed. A pile of burritos on that tarnished silver platter, stacked like a log cabin. A pile of paper plates, the silverware drawer open, plastic cups by a jug of whitish-brown murky liquid – the horchata?
I’d tried the carnitas the other day, so this time settled on a tostada camarones (shrimp!), an enchilada, half a burrito. Some of that horchata, turned out to be flavored, unlike the kind I’d had last time. Cinnamon? Explained the color.
We all parked in the living room, on the couch, on the floor, on the rug by the fireplace. Only the sound of eating for a while.
Kitten chose to sit on the floor by Butch on the couch. She ate slowly, mostly watching Butch eat, clearly impressed. Hero worship? Something like that. Must have heard stories, excited to meet the real deal.
It occurred to me, somebody was missing.
“Hey, GG? Haven’t seen Adam lately. Where’d he get to?” I was genuinely missing him. He was a riot, smart and friendly and full of stories.
She was chewing, took a bit to answer. “Internship. In Boston, some big hospital. New program, emergency medicine, exposure for undergrads, weed out the faint of heart.” She said all that around bites of those lovely carnitas. Not blaming her; this stuff was amazing.
“I don’t imagine Adam will be weeded out.”
GG grinned, shook her head No! while slurping the remainder of her horchata.
Preppy hopped up, spoke up. “Where is your stuff, Kitten? I can haul it to your room.”
Kitten got up too, leaving a generous amount of food on her plate. Saw Butch look at it, at her. Picked up the plate, handed it to Butch with a timid smile, got a huge smile in return. Those two were going to get along fine!
“Out front; Kitty rented a car to help make this work.” They headed out happily, chatting about skirts or some such.
Leon was collecting empty plates, cups, doing the tidying up thing. I declined, holding on to mine. Thinking about a second trip to the trough.
The two ladies returned, lugging two big suitcases. Butch jumped up, took the one from Kitten, led her and Preppy upstairs, bounding with that bag, the other two more slowly, still chatting.
“Butch seems nice!” I heard Kitten observe.
“She is a treasure!” Interesting, I had little idea what the relationship between those two was. Nice to hear a positive vibe.
“You pull a muscle, strain something, Butch can put you right in a jiffy! Physical therapy wonk, knows all the right moves. Loves to have somebody to practice on…”
Their voices receded upstairs.
Kitty was looking pleased, finishing her microscopic plate of supper, nibbling at a quarter of a tostada. Saw me looking.
“I told you she was a peach!” Kitty was as happy as I’d seen her. Dressed in some school-girl outfit, suitable for airports I suppose. Clodhopper shoes, wool skirt with blazer, some goofy emblem of a unicorn on the breast pocket.
Nothing under the skirt; I’d seen her pussy flash as she sat cross-legged on the floor. Outrageously brief lacy shirt, barely a tank top, tight and scandalous. Her modest breast obvious through the negligible cloth, tiny side-boob showing through the arm holes. The blazer could be buttoned to make it family-friendly I imagine.
I agreed. “Maybe I can help her settle in?”
“Don’t bother. Those girls are bonding; lets leave them to it.”
Seemed sensible. And carnitas were calling to me.
…
They came down later, the crowd thinned, the leftovers packed away in the fridge. Leon was upstairs with GG, talking shop or something. I was watching something pointless on the TV, Kitty had selected it. Some girly dating show, full of fashion and gossip. I didn’t mind; the girls were cute anyway. And I certainly could learn more about relationships, so I didn’t constantly embarrass myself in front of Slut.
“The floorboard creaks right in front of the door!” This from Preppy, giving Kitten the downlow on house secrets. “You want to sneak in late, sneak a boyfriend into your room, you have to stand next to the door, big step over the threshold!”
Kitten laughed, charmed by the thought. She had changed from her traveling clothes. Now she had on comfortable at-home clothes, a halter top tied somewhere under her hair, tiny tiny shorts, bare legs and feet. Some flower transfer tattoos on the back of one hand.
Preppy had a transfer tattoo too! Imagine that. Doing girly things with the younger sister member of the house. Regardless of the impact on her perfect groomed image. I liked this new Preppy more and more.
“The window opens, but sounds like you’re murdering somebody! I just prop it open with a tin can when I’m there alone.
“The radiator comes on but squeals and bangs for the first half hour. You want it warm, maybe turn it up early so it can get all the complaining out before you try to sleep!”
Kitten was again charmed, laughed, her eyes crinkled up in the cutest way. Cute in a whole different way than Kitty. Gonna do well in college.
“Everybody settled?” I asked in my RA capacity.
Preppy nodded. “They helped me move my stuff into the double. That bed! So big! Room for a party!”
Kitten giggled, still new at the college sexy talk.
“It’s nice! So vintage! I see why you love this place.” That from Kitten.
Butch was just beaming, following the conversation but chill, content. All-you-can-eat Mexican plus cute new housemate seemed to agree with her.
They settled around the room, happy to watch the silly TV with us, commenting occasionally about some clothes or clever repartee. Butch mostly looking at the others, alert and aware to the personalities in the room, at ease. GG and Leon eventually came down, joined us.
When it was over Kitten asked GG shyly about her piercings. A favorite topic, GG was only too happy to show them off. The industrial ear rods; the nose hook. The eyebrow rings.
Each was removed, displayed, then the piercings examined closely, Kitten touching her holes tentatively, feeling the gaps. When GG stripped off her shirt to show those outrageous nipple bolts I knew Kitten was fitting in, accepted completely, privy to the intimate details of Meta Mu householders.
Kitten touched the bolts with a look of wonder, looked at GG, got permission. She unscrewed them, slid them carefully out, carefully maneuvering the threads through the tender flesh, marveled at them. Touched GG’s nipple holes gently, stroking, then boldly sticking her tiny finger through, tugging slightly, testing their resilience. GG was tolerant, smiled at her timid curiosity.
GG got up, got some bottle from the mantle over the fireplace, sat, showed Kitten. It was apparently some wax or oil, something to make piercings slide in without friction. Kitten learned to lubricate the bolts, spread the fluid with her fingers, screw the iron rods gently in without abrading, re-attach the fitting. Marveling at the whole process. Learning at warp speed, dumped into the deep end of college lifestyle choices. Adapting splendidly!
When she got to the clit screw I made myself scarce. I knew all about it, my dick had got scratched by it. But I didn’t want to stare, make anybody uncomfortable. Let them bond, explore without a guy lurking, ogling.
And I would have a hard time not ogling. Somehow little Kitten touching GG’s privates was terribly intimate, provoking. Now that she was all but naked, bare-chested, bare butt with shorts around her knees, my body responded as it always did when GG and I were naked together. In these board shorts that was vigorously obvious.
Slut was in her attic, doing daily watering chores. I left her to it, didn’t need me horning around. She’d come down if she needed cuddling. Fetching my research from the pile by the door, I retreated to my room.