Tami Beethoven

Part 16

Melissa, the new TL, smiled as she sat down at one of the chilly concrete tables in the Student Union courtyard. Tall, blonde, beautiful, she looked like a model and instinctively dressed like one, this time in a black carriage coat with blue scarf, black snow cap, straight leg jeans and long black boots. Every passing guy gave her a long look, but she was used to that and ignored them, focused on the object of her desire and thanking her luck.

It had become cloudy and a bit windy, but the courtyard was still filled with students and faculty during this lunchtime hour. Some were sitting at the round tables, some were standing, but none were at the table in the middle except Tami Smithers, lying on her back right on top, arms and legs spread out, snoozing.

The morning had been sunny and gloriously warm, a preview of the spring that was still some weeks away. Melissa had heard that Tami had taken an early lunch with some friends, sitting cross-legged on the table as she often did, and then as they left dropped off into one of her famous midday naps. When Melissa heard the news, the sun had disappeared, the clouds had come out, the temperature dropped. She had rushed over. Fortunately the cold hadn't awakened Tami yet.

This was not an unusual scene and the people in the courtyard took the naked slumberer in stride, almost as if she were a sculpture of a naked woman that was always there. They drank coffee, ate, chatted about their business, only a few glancing at the naked form, mostly passing guys who stopped by on a pretense but were careful to get going lest they be thought gawking. A few brave persons began to sit at Tami's table, careful not to be too near a bare foot. In the process of turning in her sleep, Tami had been known to kick over sodas and worse, one fine autumn afternoon having upturned a plate of spaghetti into a professor's lap. All the while without waking.

She was bound to wake up soon. Continuing to nap in this chill would be impossible even for her. Melissa watched, entranced, at the sight of pubic hair being ruffled by wind in the midst of the crowded courtyard. Tami stretched and turned onto her side, facing her. Her nose twitched, then little twitches of the hands. Tami's pinky toes extended. Her breasts trembled ever so slightly, the stiff nipples pointing right at Melissa. Tami must be dreaming. What was she dreaming of? There was always speculation. Maybe she was dreaming of running. Maybe of gymnastics, her old sport. The most common speculation, oddly, was the most ridiculous: that she was dreaming of wearing clothes and shoes.

Now Tami lay on her back again, legs straight out, arms stretched over her head, sticking out from the end of the table. Her nipples poked up to the sky. It was hard to believe that she could sleep like this, bare skin scraping against cold concrete, but everyone knew she had slept on all kinds of rough surfaces during her legendary cross-country journey. Now her legs separated again, one knee slightly bent. Melissa could see the lower lips parting ever so slightly, perhaps the nub of her clit showing, she wasn't sure. Tami's mouth opened and Melissa suppressed a giggle as Tami started snoring. There were other smiles too. On the inhale Tami sounded like a revving motorcycle.

Now that guy in the wheelchair from the administration, whom everyone called Homer, wheeled up with a tall guy in a suit and with Assistant Dean Congi. All were wearing overcoats, Congi in suede gloves. They stationed themselves in front of Tami, practically between her spread legs, and chatted, then turned to her as if expecting her to wake.

Wake she did, cutting off in mid-snore, opening her eyes, blinking back into a consciousness of her surroundings, then lifting her head to say hi to the three with a total lack of surprise. With her legs still spread, she spoke a little in that position, just her head lifted. To look her in the eye they probably had to look right past her open pussy. Yet Tami made no attempt to close her legs or change position until a minute later, when she laid her head back, stretched like a yawning cat, then sat cross-legged to continue the conversation. Midway through she gave Melissa a thril by idly scratching one of her big, dark brown, permanently erect nipples, making her breasts dance for a second.

The exchange was obviously cordial, though Melissa couldn't make out what they were talking about. Soon Homer, Congi, and the tall guy left. It was time to make her move.

She decided not to be hokey with any "my Queen" business, it being her first time. "Hi Tami," she said, standing next to the table. She slowly extended her hand, being unable to resist a quick glance down at those nipples whose sensitivity made further words unnecessary. Tami smiled a royal-looking smile and allowed Melissa to help her off the table. As Tami stood up she brushed bits of concrete grit off her butt cheeks. Then Melissa led her from the courtyard, up toward the library walkway. Tami kept up with her as they went up silently.

Tami had nothing with her. She kept her things in a locker in the Union with a combination lock, walking without carrying anything whenever possible. Nobody knew why this was. Maybe it reminded her of her journey across the country with no money or clothes or things, just her bare body. It just added to her reputation, the icon of female strength that the TL's all but worshipped.

Melissa had planned it well and the area turned out to be deserted. It was the series of concrete tables on the edge of the big plaza outside the upper library level, near what was technically the main entrance but rarely used because the whole plaza was so out of the way. She guided Tami to one of the tables and sat Tami down at it while she herself sat on the bench.

Tami's pussy was at her eye level and she looked up as if asking permission. Upon seeing the silent smile Melissa began. She kissed the plum-colored forest, the opening to the royal palace, then stood up to kiss and then tenderly suck each nipple. Tami closed her eyes, her head back, and began to breathe deeply. Melissa grabbed one bare foot in each hand and intertwined her fingers with the rough cold toes. The toes clasped back with amazing strength.

Now a gentle series of kisses down the tan, concave midriff, on the navel, and down the thickening forest. A hot breath on the lower lips. Melissa's hands wrapped around the taut butt cheeks and her breath quickened as she inhaled the first scent of Tami's secretions. Her tongue inserted, at first pointed and now flat against the inner lips, and she got her first taste of the famous nectar. Not sweet, not bitter, a mellowed yet distinctive essence, grown-up womanly and frisky girlish, so hard to describe yet so immediately recognizable, this essence of female. She burrowed deeper, remembering what she had learned, flat tongue side to side, regulating her own breathing, and now, an occasional swipe of the clit, rewarded by the little gasps above.

She continued for a couple of minutes before a slight grinding of Tami's pelvis told her it was time to "take her up". More determined, deeper burrowing, now up and down to include the clit, the nerve-rich uniqueness of the female, the only body part devoted exclusively to sexual pleasure, and now Tami found her own rhythm, and the two women synchronized their breathing, together in the ancient dance, and the naked goddess now cried out over and over, gasping as if for air but also to the skies and to the earth. Now the bare feet braced against Melissa's thighs on the bench and the great arching of the pelvis, the inhaling of air between clenched teeth, and now the great waves beat upon the shore, one after the other. Melissa was with her all the way, spasm after spasm, holding on for dear life, as if hugging a little motor boat bouncing across a choppy sea, as Tami took her up with her. The last irregular spasm spent itself, and now Melissa slackened just a bit, then returned to the flat tongue rhythm, keeping the naked girl on the plateau.

They were together up in the sky, whirling around this axis of tongue and clit. Now Melissa darted in, way in, and pulled the butt cheeks apart and in toward her, and her Queen moaned continuously as the tongue melded into her femininity, as if the tongue reached all the way in to snake around each ovary to caress and stimulate it, to secret itself into the cervix and all the way up the uterus, to the essence of the female and her gift of life. Melissa felt a hot sweat on her face, hotness under her many clothes, privileged to be present at this sacred moment, as Tami crested again and exploded with a loud cry.

Tami and Melissa traveled through the ages, looked down on empires and civilizations as they rose and fell, the projects and intrigues of men, while they themselves flew on, ageless and all-knowing and indestructible. Their joy was the joy of the universe, the pulsating, orgasmic surge of life. They were the sun and earth, earth and moon, and now they were a double sun revolving around each other, setting the universe ablaze with light, spiraling out radiation and hot sun spirit. . . Tami caressed Melissa's hair, her supple feet wrapped around and caressed the coat and scarf around her shoulders and back, the embrace mutual.

Thousands of years went by, and countless eruptions, as like a volcano Tami quaked and subsided and quaked and subsided. Now Melissa felt the call of ambition. She inserted her fingers way, way in, then gently hooked upward, finding the little twin grapes and pressed them toward her tongue. Tami lurched. "Ohh!! Y - yes!" Melissa tongued the clit, then pressed, working the clit and G-spot like a see-saw, as the pelvis shook and shook some more in unbearable escalating tension.

Now Tami's legs shot out straight with terrific force as if dealt a death blow. She shrieked as the first jolt hit, the first of a new and stronger series, and Melissa wrapped her arms more fully around her butt in a looser yet more all-encompassing embrace. Shriek after shriek echoed off the cold concrete architecture of the big deserted plaza. Melissa could not keep count but imagined someone might be watching, counting the contractions of this prolonged orgasm with awe and envy. With each jolt Melissa felt herself shooting up to the heavens with Tami like an astronaut in a rocket.

After it was over Melissa looked up, tongue still inserted in its home, to survey the quietness of Tami now lying back in rest on the table, breasts heaving with the recapture of oxygen, sweat drying, her body a strewn landscape after a violent storm. Now for a little comedy. Melissa flicked up to the clitoris to see Tami's whole body jolt upward. Another flick, another jolt, making Tami giggle, her belly and breasts jiggling. More flicks, in a steadily quickening rhythm, and now Tami's body jerked and jerked and she laughed and trilled like a bird, and the Queen bestowed her last orgasm on her subject like that, light-hearted trilling and laughing as she went up and then came down, like the last act of a Shakespearean drama, after all the heights and depths of drama, a little comedic epilogue to make the audience go home happy.

Melissa rested the side of her head on Tami's forest, like a child at her mother's breast. Now she separated, lying back on the back of the bench. Her tongue was sore, but only a little, and her whole body, recovering from the experience, was pleasantly tired and a little sweaty. She became aware of the chilly wind again and was grateful for the coolness. She held her hand up to her nose to whiff the drying scent. She had never felt so satisfied, so... fulfilled.

Now she found Tami hugging her. "Thanks," the naked Queen said softly, "I'm glad you came." After a tender moment Tami separated and said, "What time to you have?"

"Uh... Five minutes to two." It seemed like but moments but in fact they had been in commmunion for almost half an hour.

"Gotta get going. See you around." And with that Tami sprinted off across the plaza, pumping her arms like an athlete, her soles a sandpapery whisper on the concrete. She passed a few people coming this way and waved as they waved back. Just before she turned out of site at the far end, her fingers scraped the back of her head, as if to unstick hair that had gotten sweated on. And then with a final flick of an upturned sole she was gone.

. . . .

Marianne watched, more or less helplessly, as Tami hefted the big trunk onto the top of her little BMW. At least she was of some assistance when it came to tying it down, holding the rope down with her thumb as Tami did the knots. Soon the loading was done and Marianne, up until now a TL, stood there in her sweater coat and jeans and sneakers, car keys in her hand, looking down at Tami's bare feet and legs on the wet gravelly shoulder, then again at her car, aimed down High Street in the direction of the interstate ten miles away.

"It still seems odd to quit in the middle of your last semester," Tami said.

"It's what I should do, Tam. My mother needs me at home."

"She has the nurse."

"Yes but she needs ME. I should be there. I think of all the times she took care of me when I was sick, all those years as a single parent, just me and her. Now it's my turn to take care of her."

That her mother would likely recover from her latest relapse was known to both of them. Of course Tami did not point this out.

"It was you who put me in a place where I could make this decision, Tami," Marianne said, deciding this was the time to look her full in the face. "When I first came here I was a spoiled kid, only interested in myself. To make any kind of sacrifice was just not something that would have occurred to me."

Tami did not correct her, tactfully, because both of them knew it was true.

"But with you I learned selflessness. At first I thought Georgene was some kind of New Age airhead for talking about the mysticism of licking you. But as I got better at it, and more into it, and you took me up with you to see the whole world at a glance, all around us, without having to turn, with you holding onto me to keep me from falling, my perspective expanded. It went way beyond sex. You taught me how to give of myself. How one gets more out of giving than out of taking. Any good mother knows that. As I now realize. And it is high time I become a good mother to my own mother."

"Best of luck," Tami said. "Stay in touch. Tell your mother I said hi and we pray for her."

Marianne reached around Tami's bare shoulders and gave her the biggest, teariest hug she ever gave. "Bye, my Queen," she said with a chuckle and a sniffle. She got in the car and turned the key and then stuck her head out the window to say a few more words.

She saw Tami waving in the rear view mirror and then the road curved and her permanently naked friend was out of her line of vision. Fortunately as she reflected on her long drive home, down past Brattleboro and Springfield and Hartford, the words she left Tami with, well-rehearsed, remained the exact words she had wanted to say. They were the words of a 21-year-old who was trying to be profound but was utterly sincere. "If we are lucky, we meet someone who shows us who we are, what the really important things are in this life, and how to pursue them in a way that is honest and worthwhile. It is hard to say in words because it cannot be taught in words, just by example. In the life that happens to be mine, that person was you, Tami Smithers."

Part 17

Homer Winant wheeled himself into the Recreation Center atrium, the big, high-roofed arena that held all the center's equipment, the weight machines, the gymnastics area, the pool, and the volleyball court, with an oval track running around everything. He liked to come here every once in a while, as he did now on this cloudy late winter evening, to see if everything was in order, the equipment in shape, the heat on.

He wheeled with his hands, hating those mechanized wheelchairs, and wore his trademark "Grafton Transmissions" baseball cap. But he was still in his suit, being a college bigwig now. He was the Assistant Dean for Administration, in charge of the physical plant, the dorms, the meal plans. As he put it, "I keep the lights on around here." Actually he was just the "Acting" Assistant Dean; he did not have the advanced degree for a permanent appointment, despite having been encouraged to get one. Sitting in classes always bored him. And his job was not in jeopardy. When old Hicks finally retired, they were forced to admit that Homer Winant, who had been doing most of Hicks's job anyway, was the logical replacement. He knew the campus inside out. And he "knew where the bodies were buried".

Tonight the rec center was a sweaty cacophony, the thumping of sneakered feet along the track, the grunts coming from the weight machines and the clanking of metal, the soft patter of chalked hands and feet from the gymnasts on the parallel bars and on the mats. Homer wheeled up toward the most arresting feature of the rec center, set up on a raised platform overlooking everything else: a double treadmill of the kind once used for water power, with bars added overhead for the hands to push up on. The little sign called it the "full body flexer", but to the students at Campbell-Frank, it was known as "the Beast".

Tonight there was a small cluster of students hanging out in front of the treadmill, Georgene, Myra, Spica, Melissa, Sessu, Jeane and Tom. All dressed in the sweats, socks and sneakers required here. Homer wheeled up to them.

"What's up?"

It was apparent that they were having a conversation which ceased when Homer approached.

"Not much, Homer," Tom said with easy familiarity. "How are you?"

Homer glanced back at the weight machines. "I might try some dumbbell work later on," he said. "You, why don't you use this? It's a fine machine, if I do say so myself." Which was true. Originally trod by Tami Smithers for that electricity generation project three years ago, the treadmill was designed by him to also provide a full-body workout.

He still congratulated himself on getting Hicks to agree to move it to the rec center. Better than have it gather dust in the Dixon Mill to look like evidence against him after the Tami Smithers situation blew up. He had also noticed that Ms. Smithers, at the time a sophomore, was developing a bit of a tummy and was freaking out about it. It got installed, and after some hesitation she became the most frequent user. And, along with everyone else, he noticed that the naked girl's tummy quickly slimmed back down, for which she could only have been grateful. Again, a stroke of genius on his part.

He now appeared to have her trust. He was aware, through his extensive grapevine, that her husband considered him a "clever creep". But the husband was graduated and off campus. Someday Tami Smithers would be too.

"It's pretty hard work to get this thing moving," Jeane said.

"There's a dial, you can set it for as wimpy as you want," Homer said, waving to the controls he had installed.

"It's still hard," Myra said. "That's why we call it the Beast."

"Weenies. And don't call it that, you'll hurt its feelings," he said, looking up to it as if pacifying a huge, well, Beast. "I'll see you, I've got to do real man things like sit in front of a TV and drink beer," Homer said. As usual, he amused his audience. In fact he wheeled toward the rec center office, to shoot the breeze with the attendant.

Tom, a tall, skinny kid with wild hair and an attempt at a beard, leaned against the treadmill and looked up at the bars. Jeane looked at him and said, "Well, my manly man?"

It was not that the treadmill was hard to turn, at least not on the lightest setting. Few admitted it, but most students were just too bashful for it. It was the setup of the thing, two treadmills three feet apart, with bars over each for the hands to push on. It stretched you into an "X" and pushed your chest and crotch forward. And it was on a platform to boot, easily seen from any point in the atrium. Even through sweats and underclothes, it exposed a guy's -- or girl's -- endowments, or lack thereof, to the whole world.