Kelly Ann had not been exaggerating about Katrina. She was evolving rapidly, and after the experience with Jackie London, she had returned home late in a state of feverish excitement. Her attempts to sleep had proved fruitless, tormented as she was by visions of beautiful women in every permutation of sexual congress. Nothing else in her young life had ever suggested to her that such ecstasy existed in the world. An infinite number of possibilities had opened up before her, and she was impatient to explore them.
Gripped by restlessness, she snuck quietly out of the house in the wee hours and wandered through the deserted streets. The air was warm and friendly and the moon was almost full overhead, bathing everything in a calm gray light. Katrina walked and walked without ever feeling tired or worried. By the time hints of sunrise began to show in the sky, she had decided a few things.
She had never really liked her name; it didn’t seem to fit her somehow, in a way that she couldn’t quite articulate. And then that stupid hurricane had come along and ruined it once and for all. It occurred to her that shortening it to Kat made a huge difference. Kat was short, sharp, decisive; that was what she wanted to be called from now on.
Second, she decided that the guilty feelings she had been having over her recent sexual adventures were stupid. She had long realized the hypocrisy of the town’s value system, which talked a good game about abstinence and saving yourself for marriage, but in practice turned a blind eye to certain kinds of premarital sex — like that between cheerleaders and their football player or other high-status boyfriends. It was tacitly recognized, though never of course spoken, that no teenage girl could hold on to a guy like that without giving it up to him.
It all seemed like a big lie to her now, and she felt with the clear certainty of the young that nothing that felt so incredibly good could be wrong. People could call her anything — dyke, slut, whore, bitch, cunt — but they didn’t know what she knew.
As the sun was rising she unexpectedly found herself outside Jackie London’s house. She knew the place well because of the many squad functions that Jackie had held there. Acting on autopilot, without really thinking about it, she walked up to the door. She tried the doorknob and found it unlocked; this was not too unusual in their town, which took pride in its low crime rate. She pushed the door open; the house was dark, except for orange-yellow light coming from the kitchen.
Without stopping to think, as if in a dream, she made her way into the kitchen. There was Jackie London in a white terrycloth bathrobe, standing over her coffee maker with her back to Kat. She had had a long night also; everything in her life had been called into question by her surrender to decadence at Jessica’s house, and she had a terrible hangover to boot. She had managed a couple of hours’ unconsciousness but was not at all happy to hear the alarm sound. Nonetheless, determined to maintain the routine that kept her sane, she had forced herself to get out of bed start her morning coffee.
So when she turned and saw Kat lurking in her doorway, she blinked hard several times. This had to be a dream; there was no way the blond, ethereal object of her long-standing, recently consummated lust was here in her kitchen at 6 in the morning. It just did not compute.
But the illusion did not dissolve. Instead Kat came forward into the light and took on substantial form. Her eyes were red, she looked tired, disheveled...and yet beautiful beyond words.
They wrapped their arms around each other and shared a long, warm, almost chaste kiss. Then Jackie sat Kat down and set about cooking eggs for the two of them. They shared breakfast and coffee in peaceful silence, not feeling like anything really needed to be said. Once they were finished, Jackie gathered up the dishes and took them to the sink. When she turned back around, Kat was standing right next to her. The blonde cheerleader reached down and undid the belt of Jackie’s robe, letting it fall open, and reached inside to caress one of Jackie’s breasts.
Jackie looked up at Kat. The cheerleader was taller than her teacher now; Jackie could remember when that hadn’t been the case. She such an amazing creature, a goddess, worthy of worship. Jackie sank to her knees and helped Kat out of her skirt, then her panties. That blond-fringed pussy, that fountain of delight, what a joy it was...Jackie reveled in its smell and taste, paid tribute to it with her fingers and tongue, until Kat trembled and nearly fell.
Then Kat laid her teacher down on the kitchen table and returned the favor, bringing Jackie to three magnificent orgasms as her juices dripped on the surface of the table. Afterward they showered together, soaping each other lovingly and reverently as the morning sun shone through the bathroom window. The day was just beginning.