Macinac has two meanings in the Chippewas, Native American language and they are synonyms. The first meaning is an alternate form of Manitou, the Great Spirit. The second meaning is, The Great Turtle, a label the Chippewas and other tribes gave to the Great Spirit. The Great Turtle who carries the world upon his back.
Looking at Macinac Island from above it has the shape of a giant turtle.
My first book, Maginaugh, had for it’s primary locale, an island at the top of one of the Great Lakes, as it existed 9,000 years ago. It was ancient Macinac Island. The main protagonists of Maginaugh were a prehistoric Native American girl of the “Pewa” tribe named Nammi
and a blond-haired alien girl with slightly pointy ears named Sashegh.
The protagonists of Macinac Full Circle, are a Native American Chippewa girl named Cathy Berryhill
and a blond haired girl of Finnish descent named Jenni Vertanen.
The story is told in first person, entirely from Jenni’s point of view, which is a departure for me. It was something I have always wanted to try ever since reading my first editor’s book Destiny Bound, by Giulia Napoli. I hope it will provide readers an opportunity to identify on a deeper level with a particular character.
There is a temptation to think that books written in first person are autobiography but I want to make clear that Macinac, Full Circle is not an autobiography disguised as a novel. I am not blonde, not Finnish, and wasn’t born on Macinac Island. I was born in Manistique, Michigan, 90 miles away, and happen to know a lot about Macinac Island, both present day and the history of it.
I also want to make clear that Macinac, Full Circle is not a sequel to the five novels of my completed epic fantasy series, The Fair and Fey. None of the characters in that series reappear and it’s not a continuation of the plot. The Fair and Fey has been completed and is finished. There are some interesting ties between the series and this new work however, as pointed out in the above paragraphs.
I don’t want to give you a summary of the plot in this post. I like my plots to begin as a mystery and reveal themselves gradually to my readers. I don’t want to spoil the surprises you will experience as you read it.
I will post here below, the first two chapters, to give you a taste. I hope you will leave me some comments and let me know if it interests you.
Chapter 0: Note to Readers of My Diary
Macinac Island has always been almost entirely free of crime — until recently. It’s such a peaceful place; I don’t think it appeals to your typical criminal types. I looked up the statistics when the recent rapes and killings started last week. There have been three already and that’s more than the average number of rapes for an entire year here.
We’ve had zero murders and an average of two rapes per year ever since such statistics started being collected. Plus there have been zero robberies or arsons. The rapes haven’t resulted in murder – until now. To be frank, it’s usually some tourist who thinks he can molest a local girl and get away with it. The victims almost always know their rapist. There have not been any unsolved cases of rape – until now. Our small, single deputy police force has not been very busy – until lately. I used to feel safe here. At present there is a team of three investigators from the Michigan State Police’s Field Services Bureau, assigned to assist our Deputy Sheriff on this case one case. This awful perpetrator, whoever he may be, is a murderer as well as a rapist and he tortures girls to death!
There is evidently a serial killer and rapist roaming the island. Each of the three cases has the same profile. He leaves few clues. Evidently he uses condoms because no semen has been found inside his victims even though there was evidence of sexual trauma to the vagina and anus of these three women. He also cut their fingers off, perhaps keeping them as grisly souvenirs and at the same time preventing their fingernails from being investigated for traces of his skin if they fought him.
After he raped them, he tortured them. Somehow he managed to get them up to high ground at night, to a place where no one would hear their screams. It appeared to investigators that he raped them first, then tortured them using a portable propane welding torch, pliers, and a knife. The women were beaten, burned, cut with a knife, and had their breasts tortured with a pair of pliers. They had ligature marks on their ankles and wrists, indicating he must have tied them up before torturing them. Judging from the extent of the torture, our Deputy Sheriff, Doug Carlson, thinks the perpetrator took hours to kill each of these women.
I’m very scared. I knew all these girls. They were all waitresses. I worked with them and lived with them in the waitress’ dormitory. Although none of them were close friends – I only met them a few weeks ago when the tourist season started on Macinac Island, I did get to know them fairly well. In addition to them all being waitresses at the Grand Hotel, the other thing they had in common was they were all young, thin and pretty. When you spend almost 24 hours a day in close proximity to a girl in the same one room dormitory at night and the same dining room during working hours, you get to know them. I even saw some of them naked in the shower sometimes because we had a communal shower in the dorm.
It seems he’s targeting girls like me. I could be his next victim. Could he be upset about getting bad service from a waitress? Or did one of the waitresses spurn his sexual advances? We get our asses pinched a lot. It’s an occupational hazard. I hope the police will catch him before he can rape, torture, and kill another girl. I came back to Macinac this summer to have a good time, not to worry I might be the next waitress to be raped and murdered.
The island is crawling with reporters now. It’s kinda funny to see how frustrated they are with our transportation system — no cars you know. It’s the law on Macinac: no cars allowed except for emergency vehicles. Snowmobiles are allowed in the winter. If it was winter the reporters could rent snowmobiles to get around fast, but right now there’s no snow and there won’t be any for months to come.
If the reporters want to go from downtown to the Grand Hotel, they have to take a horse-drawn carriage, rent a bicycle, or walk. None of them ever walk. If they want to go to the scene of the crimes, it’s either a bicycle or a long walk and it’s all uphill. Because of this, most of the reporters are young and fit. The out of shape ones soon give up and ask to be replaced by another reporter.
There’s not much to see at the crime scene. The three bodies have been removed and are in our tiny morgue inside the Deputy Sheriff’s office, awaiting the coroner’s arrival from the mainland. He will perform autopsies on the three bodies and record the official causes of death — as if that’s not obvious to the naked eye. Now all there is to see up there at the crime scene are chalk outlines where the bodies were found, and yellow tape surrounding the scene. No one is supposed to go inside the tape, but I know the reporters do.
I appended this note to the inside cover of my diary because I thought you should know about these rapes and murders before you start reading the main pages of my journal.
Chapter 1: Back Home
Good morning to you, whomever may be reading this diary after I’m gone. I may be leaving this world soon. My name is Jenni Virtanen and this is my diary which I have kept since I was eleven years old. I’m going to leave only the pages starting with what happened to me this summer for people to read after I’m gone. The earlier pages would be of little interest to anyone but things got a lot more exciting this summer – in both good ways and bad ways.
I’m 19 now and have come back to Macinac Island for the summer, the place I lived most of my life. I lived here with my parents until I graduated from the Macinac Island Public School last year, a school so small (less than 100 students) that two grades take the same classes in the same rooms at the same time.
I spent the summer after graduation working here as a waitress at the Grand Hotel. That’s what I’m going to be doing this summer too. In the fall I enrolled in college as a freshman at The University of Texas in Austin. During the school year I worked nights in a massage parlor in Austin to pay for college expenses and to be able to live independently. I shared a three bedroom apartment with two of my co-workers from the massage parlor.
I moved to Austin with my parents after my Dad got a great job as the orchestra director at Stephen F. Austin High School. I make a lot more money working in the massage parlor than I will make here this summer but I love Macinac Island and sadly there are no massage parlors here. Someone should start one.
Up until I graduated, my Dad was a teacher at the Macinac Island Public School. He taught music, English, and was a sports coach. During the summer tourist season he drove a horse-drawn carriage, carting tourists around the island. My family is Finnish on both sides going back as far as anyone can remember. Lots of Finns live in Upper Michigan.
My Mom made money on Macinac cooking popular items for the tourists, different varieties of fudge and pasties. She sold them at wholesale prices to the shops in town and they marked up the prices to sell them to tourists. Macinac Island probably has the most fudge shops per square mile of any city in the world and more total fudge shops than most cities. When tourists disembark at the ferry docks, they climb into a carriage and ask the carriage driver, “What’s the best fudge shop here?” For this reason, the locals, especially the carriage drivers, call them fudgies, a disparaging term.
By the way, if you don’t know what a pastie is, it’s a delicious meal wrapped up in a flakey pastry crust, served hot. Inside the crust is ground beef, potatoes, carrots, and mild secret spices. It’s even more delicious than it sounds, practically my favorite food, and my Mom makes the best ones. In England they’re called Cornish pasties but the ones my Mom makes are Finnish pasties which are way better and are the only kind you can buy in Upper Michigan.
My parents came back to Macinac with me this summer, by the way. My Dad doesn’t teach in the summer so he’s driving a horse-drawn carriage here again until school starts in the Fall and my Mom is making her fudge and pasties for the tourists again. They rented a small one bedroom apartment in Harrisonville, the village where most of the local residents live. They love Macinac as much as I do so we all came back together. My little sister Sandi came with us too and she’s living with my parents in their apartment, sleeping on a rollaway cot. We took a series of connected flights from Austin to Escanaba, Michigan and a puddle jumper prop plane from Escanaba to St. Ignace where we took the ferry to Macinac Island.
This summer I’m not living with my family. I’m asserting my independence, living in a dormitory with the rest of the waitresses. We sleep in bunk beds, fifty of us in one big room. We take our meals in the hotel’s kitchen. Most of us don’t actually receive a salary. We get room and board and whatever tips we can make serving the tourists. Some of the waitresses are local girls who live year ‘round in Harrisonville. They get a small salary instead of room and board. The hotel has a huge main dining room, seating 400 guests. Many tourists come to the hotel for a fancy meal and a chance to experience the famous grandeur. There are other newer dining rooms in the East, West, and Millennial wings of the hotel too and in total the kitchen can serve 600 diners simultaneously.
The hotel is over 120 years old, built in the late 1800s and was the location for the 1980 movie Somewhere in Time starring Christopher Reeves. To me the subject of the movie is another one of the magical things about Macinac Island. The plot of the movie has to do with reincarnation and a love spanning over two lifetimes. I believe in reincarnation. I’m sure you will believe in it too after you finish reading my diary.
I’m very happy to be back on Macinac Island, despite the horrific recent incidents of rape and murder. I feel at home here, even though my permanent residence is now Austin, Texas. I like Austin too by the way. It’s a fun town, a party town, with lots of good clubs and lots of good music. To paraphrase Roger Bacon, if a person can’t have fun in Austin, they should check their pulse — they might be dead. However, Mackinac Island, although there is only one bar and it doesn’t have live music, is a magical place to me.
Where else in the world are cars not allowed? This gives the place a timeless feel. If you go there and then go again 20 years later, you won’t notice many changes. Also there’s skull cave to think about. Archeologists have poked around the high ground in the middle of the island and found other caves containing skulls dating back 9,000 years ago — a burial ground of sorts, using limestone caves as tombs. I wonder what sort of people lived here back then. Ancestors of present day Native Americans perhaps?
I’m anxious to meet up with my best friend Cathy Berryhill and my boyfriend Kal Leino this afternoon. Cathy is a Native American of the Chippewa tribe and Kal is Finnish-American like me. I haven’t seen either of them in almost a year now and we haven’t written or phoned much either. We sort of moved on, each with our own lives. I phoned them both when I arrived on the island yesterday and asked them to meet me in Great Turtle Park for a picnic lunch in the pavilion today before my shift starts at the hotel. I’m bringing goodies snitched from the Grand Hotel kitchen. The head chef there likes me so he doesn’t mind what I take as long as I flirt with him first.
Kal and I started going steady when we were only 14. He’s the only boyfriend I’ve ever had. It was young love and teenage hormones at work. He’s very handsome. He’s an athlete with the wiry muscles of a basketball player. He’s slightly over six feet tall and has curly flaming red hair. It fascinated me to discover that his pubic hair matches the hair on his head.
I didn’t date much my freshman year at UT because I worked nights at the massage parlor and gave so many massages to so many guys that the last thing I wanted to do on my nights off was to spend an evening with some guy. I only had three dates the entire school year and none of them were any good. Those guys didn’t measure up to my standards. I don’t mean to sound conceited; they simply weren’t as good as Kal. I spent most of my days off studying.
Since beginning my job at the massage parlor in Austin I’ve had the opportunity to see lots of male pubic hair. Most times pubic hair doesn’t turn me on but Kal’s does. The color of it is so interesting. I don’t know if men who frequent massage parlors are typical but I found none that had as nice a body as Kal’s. I’m not sure I love him though. He’s not much of a conversationalist. He didn’t apply to college. He’s content to stay here on Macinac, working as a carriage driver for the rest of his life. He’s a warm hearted but simple sort of guy. I like him a lot and sex with him is always good but I don’t think it’s love.
Cathy on the other hand is a brilliant conversationalist. She and I talk about all sorts of things: music, books, movies, politics and philosophy to name a few. We talk about boys too of course. Cathy had three different boyfriends while we were in school. We enjoyed comparing our boyfriends. Yes, girls kiss and tell too, just like boys do, at least Cathy and I did. We can tell each other anything. I would trust her with my life. I want to make sure to let her know I don’t want our friendship to fade just because I don’t live here anymore. I want to come back to Macinac every summer. It draws me back.
I know there are more exciting tourist venues than Macinac. I guess what makes it special to me is the feeling I get in certain places of having been here before in a past life. The Grand Hotel is not one of those places. Unlike the movie, Somewhere in Time, I think my past life happened long before the Grand Hotel was built. My special places include Skull Cave, Great Turtle Park, and the harbor where the ferries dock. Fort Macinac is iconic and it does give me a feeling of deja vu also but it’s more the look of it than the actual location. Something about the fort’s watchtower seems familiar.
I’ve never discussed my feelings about having a past life with Cathy or Kal. Teenagers want to be seen as cool and talk of reincarnation seems crazy rather than cool. Cathy seems very open minded though. I’m tempted to talk to her about this and see what she thinks. I just wrote a moment ago that I could tell her anything, right? So I will.
I never even discuss reincarnation with my parents. I know it goes against their religious beliefs, even though their religion says that life goes on after death, that death is just an illusion. But for some strange reason, they don’t take that as being an endorsement of reincarnation. I know, it’s confusing right?. I don’t really want to write about their religion here in my diary either because I don’t really understand it well enough to talk or write about it. It hasn’t been my religion for many years now. They allow me freedom of choice and I love them for that more than anything else.
People reading this diary might wonder what religion I am. I don’t have a religion. There, now you know. I don’t go to church and don’t support organized religion of any kind. If you say that makes me an atheist, I reply I don’t think so. I believe in something of a religious nature; I just don’t know what that something is. I’m very young though and have plenty of time to figure it out. Whatever it is needs to make sense to me. My parents’ religion doesn’t.
I went down to the main part of town on my bicycle this morning. I went to Doud’s Market to pick up a few things for the picnic to supplement what I snitched from the hotel kitchen. Doud’s is one of two stores that sell food on Macinac Island. The other is a small general store in Harrisonville. Doud’s is no giant supermarket either but most basic food items can be obtained there.
I didn’t get anything fancy — three ready-made roast beef and cheese sandwiches, three bags of potato chips, and three cans of diet soda. Then I peddled up the path to Great Turtle Park with the picnic things in a small cooler sitting in the wire basket attached to the front of my bike. The interior of the island is hilly and peddling up the hills keeps my long legs in good shape. Coasting back downhill is more fun though.
Great Turtle Park is not as special as the name makes it sound. There’s a corny disc golf course and a covered pavilion with picnic tables and a big charcoal-only fireplace that’s hardly ever used for cooking or keeping warm. The picnic tables are well made and sturdy though. The name of the park comes from the fact that macinac means “great turtle” in the ancient pre-Chippewa legends. These legends speak of the great turtle holding the entire world on his back. Stephen King must know about this legend because he wrote about the great turtle in the last book of his Dark Tower series, hinting that sometimes these seemingly silly ancient legends have a truth behind them.
As for the park, my Chippewa friends on Macinac say that it’s one of two places on the island the Chippewas still hold as sacred grounds. The island of Macinac looks like a turtle from the air and Macinac has a similar meaning as “Manitou” (Great Spirit) does in other Native American languages. The other sacred place is a beach where Chippewa and Ojibwa Native Americans gather once a year to worship. The park is near some limestone caves where the Chippewas say their ancient ancestors had their burial grounds.
When I arrived at the park today I saw Cathy and Kal chatting while they waited for me. I guess I was late as usual. I hollered, “Hellooooo!” and they both hollered back, “Jenniiiii!”
Kathy was dressed casual like me, shorts and a top. Her top was made of deerskin by her by hand. Kal was wearing tan cargo pants and a T shirt with an MSU logo on it. I laughed inwardly, thinking, He’ll never go to Michigan State or any other college. I sat with them on one of the picnic benches and passed out the food and drinks. Kal complained. “What, no beer!”
I shook my head, “You know old man Doud won’t sell me any beer.”
“Yeah, just wishing.”
Cathy chimed in, “If wishes were fishes, I would have riches.”
We all laughed. Cathy’s adorable.
Kal said, “I was talking to Deputy Dog while waiting for tourists to hire my carriage. He said they have a lead on who the rapist might be.”
Both Cathy and I said “Really?” at the same time.
“Yeah he said he’s been interviewing locals in Harrisonville and has obtained several corroborating reports of this suspicious non-resident hanging around the waitresses dormitory, just watching the girls go in and out, looking creepy.”
Cathy asked, “If he’s not a resident, does Doug think he’s a tourist?”
Kal shook his head. “Deputy Dog doesn’t even know how this guy got here. The guy has no identification and no money. He looks like he’s worn the same clothes for weeks and smells like he hasn’t bathed in that long either.”
I asked, “So Doug interviewed him? He really thinks this guy might be the rapist?”
Kal shook his head again. “Yeah, no, he was brought in for questioning but Deputy Dog doesn’t have anything on him. He let the guy go with a warning to get a job and some identification or get off the island. Our enforcer of law and order doesn’t want any vagrants here. It’s bad for the tourist business.”
Cathy said, “Awww that’s mean. He’s probably hungry and just looking for a handout or for one of the girls to bring him some food from the kitchen. I just might do that.”
“Cathy! You better not!” I screamed. “What if he really is the rapist?”
Cathy shook her head. “Nah. If he was, Doug wouldn’t have let him go so fast.”
“Let’s talk about something more pleasant.”
I nodded. “Okay. Read any good books lately?”
Cathy grinned. “Matter of fact I found a good free book for my Kindle on Amazon.”
I’m always interested in free books. I love to read. I don’t have a Kindle but I have the Kindle app on my laptop. I know from experience though that lots of those free books are just a big waste of time, very boring and very poorly written. Cautiously I asked, “What’s this book about?”
Cathy waved her hands around in the air. “I think it’s about here — about Macinac, only it’s about a place like Macinac might have been thousands of years ago. And it has Native Americans in it too, as heroes. That’s why I love it so much.”
“Wow! That sounds like a book I have read. Is it called Maginaugh?”
“Yes! Isn’t it great?”
I smiled. “I liked it, yes. In fact I’ve read the whole series, all five novels.”
“Oh, it goes on then? That’s wonderful! Tell me what happens to her after she leaves Maginaugh.”
Kal looked very bored with our conversation about books. I doubt he ever read a book unless it was required for a class. So I changed the subject and tried to include Kal in the conversation.
“I’m not going to tell. You’ll have to read it for yourself. You should get the second book too though, Maahilund. It’s also quite good and it will answer your question.”
Then I turned to Kal. “What are your plans for later tonight? Wanna hang out?”
Kal smiled. He knew what I was offering. “Sure. Where?”
I winked at him. “How about my bed in the dormitory?”
Cathy shrieked, “Jenni!”
Kal asked, “Won’t the other girls be upset?”
I shook my head, laughing. “Nah, many of them have their boyfriends in at night too.”
We talked and laughed with each other until it was time to go back to work. Kal had driven his horse-drawn carriage here so he gave Cathy and me a ride back to the hotel. I put my bike in the carriage and climbed on board, sitting next to Cathy. Kal flicked the reins and said softly to his horses, “Geeyup in there.”
We were off at a leisurely trot. These carriages are all of the same design. Most have two seats on each side of an aisle and five rows, giving a seating capacity of 20 passengers. The horses are big and strong, almost like Clydesdales and every carriage is pulled by two of them.
I forgot to mention — Cathy is a waitress at the hotel, like me. She tells me there was a time when Native Americans were not allowed to wait tables; they could only be kitchen help. Times have changed for the better. Cathy is beautiful and charming. The customers love her and she makes better tips than I do. The hotel was smart to change their racist policy.
We went to the dormitory first to change into our stupid uniforms. We have to wear the least sexy thing you could imagine. Both sexes dress the same: white button front shirts, a black bow tie, black slacks and a crisp white jacket with our first name on a tag pinned to the lapel. The hotel provides the jacket, bow tie and name tag. We have to provide the rest. If the jacket gets soiled (which happens fairly often) the hotel cleans it for us. They keep a big supply of such jackets in all sizes. I hate my uniform.
Kal has to wear a uniform too as a carriage driver. He went back to the carriage house now to change into his work uniform: a bright red coat with tails, a black top hat, a white formal shirt, black bow tie, white slacks and high black boots. He thought it made him look silly but I told him I thought it was kinda sexy and said he looked great in it.
Cathy doesn’t live in the dormitory. She’s a year younger than me and still lives with her parents in Harrisonville. The hotel pays her a small salary since she doesn’t get room and board like I do. She came to the park already dressed in her white shirt and black slacks, carrying her white uniform jacket. She came to the dormitory with me however and watched me change into my uniform. The way she watched me made me feel self-conscious. Her eyes roamed my body, lingering on my breasts and the place where my thighs meet, even though I was wearing a white bra and white full coverage panties. I wondered if she was gay. It happened that I would find out soon enough but not right now.
She cleared her throat. It sounded dry. “About that book, Maginaugh?”
“You said you read the whole series. I loved Maginaugh and I’m sure I would love the others too. I was a member of a book club consisting of some of the other female students during the school year. I was wondering if we could continue the club this summer and if you would attend and be a guest speaker. I’ll tell the other members to read Maginaugh and tell them you will be there to answer questions about it since you’re apparently an avid fan.”
“Oh!. That’s an interesting idea. I’ve never been in a book club before. I’ll think about it. How does it work?”
I had my uniform shirt and pants on now and Cathy was no longer leering at my body so intensely. “I’m sort of the leader of the club. I make reading assignments. When we meet I go around the circle of members and ask them questions about different things in the book we’re reading to get their opinions. If someone wants to comment on someone else’s opinion, they raise their hand and I recognize them.”
“Hmm, that might be fun. Okay, I’ll do it. When do you want to start?”
“I’ll call the members of the club tonight. They can download their free copies and read chapter 1 tonight. We can have our first meeting tomorrow at lunch time.”
“Okay, it’s a deal. When and where?”
“During the school year we met at the park in the pavilion during lunch time, regardless of weather. Let’s keep doing that. We call ourselves the Turtle Book Club.”
When we arrived at the dining room we were met by the manager, a matronly middle aged woman named Martha. She told us to come to the office with her. I thought we must be in trouble but couldn’t think of why. We both did good work.
It turned out we weren’t in trouble at all. She had a package for each of us. I started to open mine but she said, “No, not here. Take these back to the dormitory. They are your new uniforms. Change into them and wear them for your shift this evening. The head manager of the hotel has decided we need a change for the women’s uniforms. I don’t care for them myself but he’s my boss. I’m just carrying out his orders. Keep smiling and keep doing the good jobs you two have always done. Make me proud.”
Back at the dormitory we hurried to open our packages. We rushed because we were curious but also because our shifts had already started and every minute lost might mean a lost tip if a customer was shown to some other waitresses’ table. Inside the package was a short black dress and a tiny white apron. Plus there was a little white cap, fashioned to look sort of like a crown as the edges were turned up into little peaks.
Cathy asked, “Do you think we’re supposed to tie our hair up and stuff it inside these crowns?”
I shrugged my shoulders. “I guess Martha will let us know. For now I’m going to leave mine down.”
“I will too then.”
Cathy had long shiny dark black hair, her pride and joy, falling down her back half way to her ass. She stripped off her white jacket followed by her shirt and slacks. She wasn’t wearing a bra. Now it was my turn to stare. We had often changed for sports together in the girl’s locker room in school but I always avoided staring at other girls while they were dressing. All of us did.
Since she ogled me I thought turnabout was fair play. Besides her thong caught my attention. It was bright orange and it was the tiniest thong I ever saw — just a tiny triangle in front barely covering her vagina and only a string in back, covering nothing. She had a magnificent body. She was a runner, a track star, often winning our track meets with other schools. So she was slim but muscular. Also I noticed for the first time she had unusually large breasts for a runner. I wondered if they had grown since last year.
“Like what you see?”
“Ah — Umm.” I couldn’t manage to think of anything eloquent to say.
“Would you like to touch them?”
“I see, cat’s got your tongue eh? Well you better change too, we might be missing customers.”
Cathy wasn’t putting her new uniform on yet though and neither was I. I kept looking at her. I think she was enjoying this. I finally thought of something to say. “Do you always go without a bra?”
She shook her head. “Not always but I wanted you to see me like this tonight. I wanted to see your reaction. I’m glad I did.” I was still in just my bra and panties. “Why don’t you take your bra off too?”
“You might get better tips that way. These new uniforms seem pretty sexy. I bet the dress will look great on you without a bra. Please? For me?”
I looked her straight in her eyes. “Cathy, are you gay?”
She laughed. “You mean am I a lesbian? Boys who prefer their own sex are gay. Girls who prefer their own sex are lesbians.” She shook her head. “I’m not a lesbian and I know you’re not either. You have a boyfriend and I know you plan on fucking him tonight right here in the dormitory.” I felt my cheeks get hot and knew I must be blushing. She smiled. “You look cute when you blush. Now come on, off with the bra.”
I don’t know why but I felt compelled to do what she told me to do. I took off my bra. She stared at my breasts and I felt my cheeks get even hotter.
“Can I touch them?”
I didn’t say yes but I didn’t say no either. I said, “Ummm …” Briliant conversationalist aren’t I? Give me a break. I was nervous. I didn’t know what I was feeling. I guess she took my lack of negative response as consent because she placed a hand on each of my breasts and caressed them softly. Her touch was so much more gentle than a man’s. Kal liked to play with my breasts but his touch was rough, not so tender. I liked this and didn’t stop Cathy.
“Touch mine too Jenni. I know you want to.”
I did. I cupped her breasts and she leaned in and kissed me. Her tongue slipped into my mouth and danced with mine. I felt my pussy moisten. I was aroused. What was happening to me? Was I turning gay?
I broke off the kiss. “We better get going Cathy. Martha will be angry with us if we delay any longer.”
Without waiting for her to say more, I put on the little black dress, without putting my bra back on. I’m on the tall side, 5’ 10” with very long legs. The dress ended mid-thigh on me. Cathy said, “Wow, you look hot in that dress. You’re going to make a fortune in tips.”
“Come on now, put yours on too and let’s go before we get in trouble.”
“Okay but just answer me one question first. “Did you like that kiss?”
During my shift, I got touched by the male customers a lot more than usual. I was used to getting my ass pinched now and then and never made a big deal about it. However it was happening a lot more tonight. I guess it was the dress. Sometimes they would run a hand up my thigh. Sometimes they even went under the hem of my dress. I backed away when they did that and cleared my throat, giving them the signal it wasn’t okay but not making a scene.
Cathy was right, the tips were coming in at twice the usual rate. I didn’t mind the attention either. Some of the men’s’ female companions glared at me but that didn’t affect the tip. Every waitress knows it’s the man who leaves the tip.
When our shift ended, we hurried back to the dorm, eager to get our high heeled shoes off. After being on our feet for eight hours our feet were killing us. We took off our dresses too, helping each other with the zippers. After that we both only had panties on and Cathy attacked me, kissing me again. I didn’t resist at first. I didn’t want to hurt her feelings and the kisses were nice — very nice.
She pushed me gently back onto my bed and got on top of me, kissing me even more passionately. I returned the kisses and I was feeling very good. Then she got off me and started to pull my panties down. “Whoa Cathy, slow down. I don’t think I’m ready for this. I thought you said you weren’t a lesbian.”
Cathy giggled, evidently not upset by being rebuffed. “I’m not a lesbian; I’m bi.”
“Bi-what? Bi polar?”
She poked me in the ribs. “No silly — bisexual.”
“Is that really a thing? It just sounds selfish. I mean why not stick with one or the other?”
Cathy looked serious all of a sudden. “Yes, it’s a real thing. I can’t be satisfied with only men or only women, I need both. It’s a legitimate sexual preference, just as real as being born gay or lesbian. Look, you said you didn’t think you were ready for this. There’s only one way to know for sure. Try it. I think you’ll like it. In fact I promise you will. You know they say it’s not really gay if you’re on the receiving end.”
We both broke out in hysterical laughter at that. Then I got serious. “Cathy, Kal will be here any minute. I don’t want him to see us messing around. Maybe I’ll experiment with you another time, okay? Raincheck?”
“Okay, Jenni.” She looked disappointed but at least she didn’t look angry. I was relieved to be off the hook. Then she asked, “Do you mind if I sleep here tonight? Is there any empty bed close to yours? I don’t want to go home yet. I’ll go before sunrise, I promise.”
I frowned. “You know I’m going to make love with Kal, right?”
“You mean you’re going to fuck him. Yeah I know. I want to listen. I’ll be masturbating but I’ll be quiet, I promise.”
“Cathy! When did you become such a pervert?”
“Ever since I decided I wanted us to be more than friends I guess. Can I stay? Please?”
“Okay, okay, that bed over there. You better be quiet though.”
She giggled again. “Thank you sweetie.”
She got in the other bed. It was one that was always empty. A few minutes later Kal came sneaking quietly into the dormitory. Other girls had come in too and were undressing for bed. None of them paid any attention to Kal. We were all used to guys sneaking into the dorm at night. Kal sat on my bed, leaned over and kissed me. I sat up to kiss him and he whispered, “Oh nice, you’re naked already.”
I whispered back, “No I’m not. I still have my panties on.”
“Hmm well, I’ll have to do something about that.”
He pulled the sheet off, tugged my panties down and off and went down on me. I couldn’t help moaning. I didn’t care who heard. I knew they would be hearing a lot more than soft moaning soon.