Tami Beethoven

"Why, yes." The g-string was a little awkward. She thought that was to be expected. But with it taken in like that, it fit her like a second skin.

"I think the bra could use more room in the cups, and a smaller band." She let Tami's fingers gently tug at the lace so that her breasts jiggled a bit.

"Oh that's a shame, this cost a hundred dollars."

"What! Oh... a hundred Canadian?"

"Oui."

"You don't have to buy another. This can be altered. Look, why don't you let me do it? I can do it tomorrow. You can stay another day."

"Merci. Thank you."

Tami looked up at the clock. It was seven and getting dark.

"Cold outside," Yvette said. As if Tami wouldn't know.

Tami looked down at her nipples. "Yes, it's going to be clear and cold the next few days. Below freezing." She looked at Yvette with a smile. "I bet Homer's flooded the rink. Want to go skating?"

"What? Skating?" She looked down at her glass heels, then at her boots that she had taken off in the hall, then at Tami's bare feet, then up at the rest of Tami's bare body. "I'm not sure..."

"You're Canadian, for goodness sake. You MUST know how to skate!"

"Well..." She had skated as a kid but it had been a long time.

"C'mon, you can rent skates there. I'll get mine. Get dressed. Let's go!"

A few minutes later, she watched Tami fling what looked like a little sandal bag into the back seat and cringed as she saw the bare buns settle onto the freezing vinyl of the front seat of the Volkswagen. They were headed into town. Just like before, only now it was nighttime. She remembered that bright snowy morning, walking with this naked girl down the main street, the naked girl who proudly showed her newly pedicured toes to that old lady and her professor friend, spreading them as they sparkled, encrusted with snow, in the bright morning sunshine, then opening her pussy lips and making her little thing jump in the cold winter air as everyone watched. Weird, but happy. A happy woman, this Tami was. She wondered why she had seemed so depressed a while ago.

As the outdoor rink came into view, all lit up with lights strung around it and a crowd of skaters circling round and round, Tami said, "Yvette, I'm glad you came!" Yvette smiled, feeling good about herself. Tami was like that. She made you feel good about yourself.

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The roads were horrible up in the mountains so it took Rod a long time to get home. By the time he dragged himself into the kitchen his eyes were so tired from peering through that salt-sprayed windshield that he had to get to sleep right away. He only barely read the note from Tami on the table, saying she was going skating with Yvette. Yvette? Was she back? Another Tami project, rescuing wayward strippers. As if just being a stripper wasn't wayward enough. At least it looked like Tami had gotten out of her funk. With hardly another thought he stripped off as much of his clothes as he had energy for and hit the bed face-down.

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They were in between songs in the big practice room and Sarge, up on his stool, looking down at his stand, itched behind his ear with his baton as he read from the papers in front of him. Rod sat in the trombone section, looking across the sea of black faces and the occasional white one, especially Brigid in the clarinet section, trying to catch her eye. She was very fetching today, no jean jacket, but a purple sweater over a white collared shirt. Some girls looked good no matter what they wore. The strands of Brigid's red hair, long and loose, played over the shoulders of the fluffy sweater.

Alas, Brigid wasn't looking at him. Her attention was fixed on Sarge as he went over the new invitation. "Now, this is a big step for us, the Winter Carnival at Killington. We've never been at an event like that before. We'll be doing straight marching, but the affair is kind of, how shall I say it, glitzy. You notice the uniforms are gone," he said, motioning to the empty coat racks around the perimeter of the room. "Some shiny piping is being put in. But we won't be doing any different moves, just what we did basically at the Patriots pregame in Foxboro.

"Now, this is at night, the middle of winter, up in Vermont. It will be cold. The thermal underwear that some of you were wearing in Foxboro, well some of it was too bulky. A couple of you looked like you were about to explode." There was some laughter; everyone knew exactly the kids he was talking about. "So the school has decided to spring for streamlined thermals, made especially for marching bands. We have to get the orders in right away. Let me know now. Who is going to be wearing thermals?"

He looked up and saw almost everyone raising their hands. He counted. Now Brigid's hand slowly rose to join the others. Sarge laughed. "Not you!!", and good-naturedly waved her hand down with his baton. Brigid put her hand on her lap and stuck out her lower lip in an exaggerated pout.

After he had taken the count, Sarge said, "OK, enough talk. Let's get to 'National Emblem'." He raised his baton and waited for the shuffling of sheet music until everyone was ready.

His baton still up, Sarge covered his eyes and said, "Sorry, I just had a vision of our band being led by a majorette in long johns." He shook the thought out of his head as some of the kids laughed. Then he looked at Brigid. "Don't worry, it won't be a long march. And not like that last game. No standing still in the freezing rain while some old guy gives an endless speech."

Brigid, remembering, momentarily dropped the clarinet from her mouth to say, "Zhhhh!" and shudder. Debra and Virginia and some of her other girlfriends giggled in sympathy.

Baton still up, Sarge said, "By the way, we'll be marching on packed snow, so the majorette's footwear is being revised to be more secure. Also, some other uniform changes."

Tentatively, Brigid said, "Like what?"

"Well I understand they're doing away with the circlets. Okay, let's go!"

His baton went down for the first beat.

"Thhhhbbbvvvvssshhhzzz!!!"

It was a spectacular flub, from the suddenly dry lips of the trombone section.

The room burst out with laughter as if it had been the world's loudest fart.

"Goodness that was horrible," Sarge said, cutting off the tune. "Let's try again." He raised his baton. "Let's go!"

Part 53

Once again, Acting Dean Anthony Noyes looked out the big bay window of his ninth-floor office, this time onto a campus white with the aftermath of the annual April blizzard, and once again beheld Tami Smithers, the all but certain valedictorian, this time hanging from a bare tree whose branches were thick with white. Her legs crooked back over the branch, red toes wiggling, she was conversing with some friends who were standing around, apparently in the process of climbing down when they arrived. Her short plum-colored hair hung down a bit, her face a little flushed as one would expect. Her breasts, tight and hard as always, tended ever so slightly downward in their upside down position. Her arms hung down to the ground, fingers playing in the snow. In her stretched out position one could see her firm, concave tummy, the secret envy of every woman on campus.

Presently she flipped her feet forward and somersaulted onto the ground, snow up to her ankles, with the nonchalance of a trained gymnast. Now, bookbag slung over her bare shoulder, casually skiffing the snow ahead of her with her toes, she continued chatting with them as they made their way down the concourse.

It was poetry in motion, the beauty of the feminine form at its utmost, the true essence of femininity, the spirit expressed in flesh, that had inspired DaVinci, Velasquez, Renoir...

"Look at those titties! Lord Almighty!"

Noyes closed his eyes in quiet toleration as he heard the not-unexpected babblings of the college lawyer.

The "new" college lawyer, that is. After the departure of Henry Ross the Hiring Committee, shell-shocked by the revelations, had overreacted. They hired an old friend of Professor Emeritus Jan Latimer, one George Halifax, who was to Henry Ross as matter is to anti-matter. Or maybe the other way around. They wanted to turn the page on Henry Ross, secretive, wiry and thin, always impeccably dressed, with a background as a prosecutor, and a maze of complicated and, it turned out, evil thoughts behind his Sphinx-like face.

George Halifax was grossly overweight, and was always stuffing himself with pretzels or potato chips, many of which could be found between the couch cushions in his cluttered, disgusting office. His tie always rebelled at staying tied around his bulging neck, his shirt at staying tucked. He babbled constantly and sometimes incoherently at anything that might cross his mind, usually not touching anywhere near his legal experience, which had been mostly in entertainment law.

He also talked very often and very fondly about his wife Ethelinda, whom Noyes had met at a luncheon once, as she and George crowded everyone out from the buffet table. Ethelinda weighed only slightly less than George. Try as he might, Noyes could not help contemplating the logistics involved in their sex life, which George referred to often, and which, Noyes concluded, must require some kind of winch-like device.

"Man, those nips must be rock hard in that cold! What a super woman! Isn't she a babe? You got to admit -- "

"Yes, she is attractive, George," Noyes said limply, trying to shut him up. What could he do? George Halifax had one thing in common with Ross, and that was that knowing what he did about the Tami Smithers affair, he was basically unsackable. And he had a good heart (being the Anti-Ross) and seemed to know enough about the law to -- well, as Noyes said to Professor Girardo at a faculty party, "He'll do for now."

Halifax popped a pretzel into his mouth (he had a batch in his jacket pocket) and munched as he watched Tami as intently as if he were 18 again and watching a peep show in Times Square.

"Now George -- "

"Really a super woman," Halifax continued. "Popping off 136 times in a row! Can you imagine that? I know it wasn't her idea, but even now, I bet she could rattle off a few dozen between classes, with the help of her army of pussy lickers. Girls just have it all over us guys. Me, my record is three, and that took all night. E (his shorthand for Ethelinda) tried and tried to get another but I was limp as a wet noodle and half dead."

Again, Noyes thought of winches. He tried once again to interrupt these observations, the likes of which Halifax had made many times. "George!"

"What?"

"George, we have to talk about this new development."

"What?" Halifax spat out a speck of pretzel as he spoke, his eyes still glued on Tami.

"The unfortunate news about her brother."

"Oh, man," Halifax said, wiping the pretzel flecks of his jacket as some hit Noyes -- "sorry" -- then he observed, "That's rough, ain't it. What a dry socket that hellhole is. What a monumental f***up! And most of the world saw it coming!"

Noyes nodded.

Halifax continued, "At least he's not a casualty."

"No, thank God for that." Noyes looked out over the horizon. "Almost four thousand dead, fortunately not yet including Joseph Smithers, age 20."

"Not so fortunate for the four thousand... This will be a big blow to her." Halifax made a futile effort to straighten his tie, something he did automatically about 500 times a day.

Noyes quickly reviewed, "He was supposed to return in May, to help with the father's hardware store, which is struggling. The father's health isn't too good either."

"Yes, he drinks a lot of beer, probably in heart attack country," Halifax said, without irony.

"So what can be done?" Noyes said.

"I looked into it like you said. Not a good idea to make this known before the news is officially out. But then we can send a signal to the International."

"Is that all? Can't we get her home before the semester ends? Give her her degree early?"

"Don't you think that would raise eyebrows? I mean, be honest."

Halifax was right. Noyes had been thinking of how to avoid the commencement, only six weeks away, with the very naked Tami Smithers on view for the local cameras and, horror of horrors, finally attracting the national press. The local press had been tactful, but the national press was full of vicious armchair masturbators... The name of Campbell - Frank would be synonymous with "radical nudist college"...

But, George was right, trying to avoid the commencement situation was probably impossible. So maybe angling to get Ms. Smithers a (bare) leg up on the International was the best hope.

Consuming another pretzel, which was his idea of a diet (his usual pocket-stuffer was cookies), Halifax said, "It's safe to talk to Girardo about amending her application."

"Oh, good. That's very good." Somehow Halifax had gotten Professor Albert Girardo, Chair of the Fashion Technology Department, to play ball. Which Noyes had never been able to do. Give Halifax that much, he could be a successful schmoozer. Maybe because he was so honest about his intentions. Another stereotype about lawyers, shattered.

"Should we do it on our own?" Noyes said. The application had a separate section to be filled out by the sponsoring institution, which the candidate did not see. They could put the words of Tami's family hardship there.

"Yes, from what we know of her, she won't want any special consideration." Munch, munch, swallow. "Best keep it secret from her."

Noyes shook his head. "She might need such special consideration, with those weird designs of hers."

"Albert said something which I think is right. She's been naked so long, she probably forgot what clothes feel like. I hear she doesn't even think of herself as starkers. She thinks her pussy hair and her head hair is her clothes."

Noyes winced at the language. Despite all he had been forced to witness the past three years, he was still a churchgoer. Not like Halifax, who bolted from the Catholic Church years ago.

"When she gets back into clothes, it'll be a shock."

"You think so?"

"I KNOW so." Another pretzel. "The Chalfont people figured that out a while ago. The deal is, she gets her rocks off so much while naked, her body now thinks that clothes mean pain. This week they've finally started a program to desensitize her."

Noyes's eyes widened. For a long time Abu Jamal had refused to tell him what was going on over there. "Why didn't you tell me that?"

Halifax shrugged, causing the tail of his shirt to finally pop out. "You never asked me. Uh oh, here she comes."

Tami, having taken leave of her friends, was heading toward the administration building. Whatever reason Tami had to come to them, they dreaded having to face her, while keeping secret the bad news about her brother. It was impossible to lie to Tami Smithers. Even keeping something unsaid would be detected somehow, through those extra-sensory nipples.

Noyes and Halifax both exhaled as Tami turned to the right. Evidently she was going to the fashion building. And now a big soft snowball planted itself squarely into the bush of her plum-colored pubic hair. She dropped her bookbag and ran for revenge, her bare feet knifing through the snow, no doubt soon to overtake her booted and heavily clothed assailant as they both ran out of view.

"The kid in clothes doesn't stand a chance," Halifax observed. The two older men were about to turn away from the window when Tami re-entered their view, her flushed-skin nakedness prone and wrapped over the shoulder of a tall athletic hispanic girl, preceded by two other girls who carried one bare foot over their own shoulders. Tami's bare butt cheeks, wet with melted snow, glistened in the sunlight. It was like barbarians hauling off precious pillage after a raid, and their captive did shout and beat her fists against the hispanic girl's back, though her distress was only playful. They carried their naked captive out of sight, to a place unknown.

"There they go again," Halifax said, munching another pretzel. "What a sight. This is better than all that intense, graphic pornography. I tell ya Tony, I love this job!"

. . . .

Tahir Abu Jamal, M.D., Director of the Chalfont Institute, checked the attendance list for the meeting, a meeting for which he was late, which was kind of rude. Ms. Smithers and her six friends, who would help with her desensitization to clothes. Irregular, obscene in a way, but he agreed with Kantor, who was right behind him. Really, from a humane point of view, the best way to do it. Ms. Smithers' allergy was formed in the most invasive situation possible, a place of cold pistons and suction cups, surrounded by unfeeling, if not outright sadistic, strangers, older men. It should be undone in an atmosphere of friendship and love.

They hurried down the hall to Lab 4, which consisted of chemistry tables surrounded by high lab chairs, used in the old days for recombinant research. In these days of computer models, actual lab work was almost a thing of the past. He and Kantor opened the door and looked up --

"OHH... Ohhh... h - hello... d - d - doctor..."

Ms. Smithers was up on the nearest table on all fours, facing the two doctors who stood dumbstruck not three feet in front of her gasping face. Her nakedness was being attacked from every quarter. One of the undergraduate girls had her head resting on the table, facing up to suck on one nipple while her hand twisted and rubbed and stretched the other. The nipples could withstand such treatment, big and brown and permanently erect, having been mercilessly bristled and suctioned in this very building... Another TL reaching over with a finger in her crotch. Two others were seated behind her, each holding an upturned foot in her hand as she sucked on the toes. Another, standing up, was running her tongue over the lithe, muscular bare shoulders. Most jarringly, the sixth young woman was standing behind the table, separating the buttocks with her hands, while her tongue was noodling deep into Ms. Smithers's anus.

He had been expecting a seated audience, waiting for his presentation. He blinked and returned to eye contact with Ms. Smithers. Everyone was, of course, very familiar with her facial expressions while sexually aroused, and it was clear that she was approaching a climax, perhaps not for the first time.

"Y - yess... d - doctorrr -- OHH! OHH! H - how are yyyou -- OHH! T - todayyyy -- EEEE!!"

As her eyes popped open her body bucked like a bronco as her six friends held onto her, not allowing their ministrations to be detached for even one second.

He cleared his throat and decided to say what he had to say. He had heard that Ms. Smithers did not like for proceedings to be interrupted while her friends were licking her. From what he understood, it was an unspoken contest. As their knowledge of her body increased, they were determined to bring her to ever more intense orgasms, while she augmented her self-control by the same amount.

"Ms. Smithers, ladies," he said, briefly looking over to the quite preoccupied friends, "you have been given a rough idea of this project. Thank you for donating your time."

"Ohhhh... ohhhh..." As Tami's moans subsided into ragged breathing one became aware of the sounds of the TL's, breathing heavily and sucking and licking. The woman with her tongue in Tami's rectum, who was facing him across the top of the bare back, looked up him impassively, but the others did not seem to acknowledge his existence.

"After much study it appears that Tami's body has..."

Tami kept her eyes focused on him to the extent she could, though her twitching eyebrows betrayed the continued stimulation on all her sensitive areas. But her friends appeared to be trained on her body, not on his words. Finally he put his foot down.