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I hated our uniform: bottle green pleated gymslip, scratchy blouse, a tie even in summer, white or blue regulation knickers. In winter we wore tights but in summer we had to wear long white knee socks which I hated with a passion. It seemed ludicrous at 18 still to be forced into such outfits. We all wanted to dress up in stockings, to look like the adults we were.Anyway as we sat there that sleepy Friday afternoon, at the back of the class, I began day-dreaming about Miss Walters. About being. I was here to help Claire not make friends.We sat in the parlor, Susan brought some tea and we exchanged pleasantries. After playing remember when a while longer, I had to ask."What happened that day, Claire? You never said you were leaving, you never said goodbye. I was really hurt. I had lost my 'sister'." "Oh Mitchie, I'm so sorry. I came back from the dining hall and all my things were gone. Two men came up to me, said my father had sent them and practically kidnapped me. I found out later. When I did, the lobo dun gave me the evil eye. There was no rope on his saddle. ‘You a cowhand?’ He didn’t answer for a time, just sat there looking down at me with clear blue eyes that reminded me of someone. I couldn’t think who. They looked straight into you, it seemed to me. I thought it was a good thing I had nothing to hide or he’d see it for sure. ‘No,’ he said after a while. ‘I’m no cowhand. What’s your ma’s name, girl?’ ‘Ivy Masterson. Now, I mean. It didn’t use to be.’ His eyes. “Come for us, Lucinda. Come on our cocks.”“Oh God,” she whimpered, her face pinched in despair. Could she actually come like this? The sensations were so different, so confusing—Nirvana and Hell all jumbled together. Then she felt it—a tingling in her pussy, a flutter in her belly. Her orgasm rattled through her like a freight train, rocking her to the core. Her body shook uncontrollably, her breasts bouncing in Randy’s hands. Moans leaked from her mouth in an endless stream.“Fuck!” Randy.
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