Tami Beethoven

"Also, it is recommended that you expose yourself to cold as much as possible. I know that, after that second April blizzard the other day, it has finally gotten warm, but try to roll around in whatever snow you can find that hasn't melted. The status orgasmus itself will be attempted up on Mount Washington, in subfreezing temperatures, and the clothing immersion will be into a preheated, full-length imitation fur coat and preheated insulated boots. The idea is to sharpen your body's desire for clothing and warmth, as well as sharpening its desire for orgasmic release. Again, the ramping up to the first violent contraction will be very slow and controlled. Excruciatingly slow, from your perspective. I apologize for all of the above, but we have to maximize the chances for success.

"I have to repeat, as I did in the handout, that there are risks. We are on untravelled ground here. Tami might not be able to achieve status orgasmus, or her reaction to clothes might not be what we hope. There is always the possibility of anaphylactic shock. An EMT will be on hand.

"But, as we know, this is something that Ms. Smithers has requested and, given her family situation, something that has to be done. Tami," he said, turning to the naked girl, "we are all in support of you. We dearly hope to help you."

"Yes!" the TL's said almost at once. "Amen," Rod said. "We love you Tami!" shouted out Spica. This made Tami smile for the first time. Spica hopped up and hugged the bare shoulders in her jacketed arms.

"Are there any questions?"

Barbara tentatively raised her hand. "I don't want to sound pessimistic... but... Tami is in a very stressful point in her life right now. Isn't it unrealistic to expect her to be in the right... mood... for a status orgasmus?"

Blandly, as if nothing strange was about to be discussed, Dr. Kantor said, "Gentlemen, ladies, I think this concludes the orientation into what you will be observing. I thank you for your time. We will just have a little chitchat now."

As if as a matter of course, the faculty and interns got up and left, leaving Dr. Kantor, Dr. Abu Jamal, Jen, the TL's and Sessu, Rod and Gretchen.

Of course, something like Barbara's question had been on their minds. Tami looked over briefly at Dr. Kantor and then at the TL's. She twisted her big toe against the floor, then scratched a nipple, signs of uneasiness. Then she said: "I have... a lot of experience in... coming... over and over... when my heart wasn't in it."

Dr. Kantor let silence sink in for a few moments. Then he said, "Ms. McIntyre has a few things she will explain to you about Ms. Smithers's freshman year experiences at the Chalfont Institute. Tami, do you want to stay?"

Tami thought and said, "No, I'd rather not. Thank you all." And she left with Rod and Gretchen.

Jen got up and waited until they were gone. Then she stood up and faced the TL's, and Sessu, who had sat down with them. In her quiet, graceful voice, she said, "This will take a while. I'm going to tell you a story. About how Tami got to be naked and how she got to be multi-orgasmic. It is really a horrible story..."

Part 65

The purple, tired face of the unconscious man was clearly visible through the thick plastic of the oxygen tent. There were tubes in his nose, an IV in his arm, and monitors all along the side of the bed. A nurse checked his chart and the readouts, and spoke quietly to the frightened woman in the chair on the other side. Now, a doctor fiddling with his name tag came by to speak to her. They were a lot more calm than she was. Because the time of emergency was over? Or because they'd seen it all before?

Now the frightened woman, about 45 or so, got up and held the man's clammy hand. Now she let go and nervously paced. Then chanced a little trip out to the ICU lobby.

Her brother was there, and her niece, a skinny girl of about 20 with trendy clothes on. And a chubby young woman of about 22, with a hispanic-looking man her age who looked to be her boyfriend. All yet in their coats, and sweating, not having thought to take them off.

The doctor fiddling with his name tag came out. In response to the unasked question, he said, "He had quite a close call. But he's stable now, finally. He'll be OK but reoovery will be slow. He's GOT to rest for a good while. And lay off the fatty stuff."

"He hates doing that," the brother said.

"Well he has to. No other way."

Now a commotion in the ICU and the scrambling of nurses. A gurney was quickly pushed into the operating room. No -- that was another patient...

The frightened middle-aged woman, obviously the sick man's wife, crossed herself and closed her eyes and prayed. After a moment's thought her brother closed his eyes too.

Into his gathering of white Rhode Island Catholics entered a tall young black man with a shaved head, neatly dressed in a business suit, holding his hat and coat. Instead of closing the door behind him he held it open, waiting for someone to enter.

Her steps were unsteady, her breathing labored. She wore nothing but three-inch-wide coral blue pasties over each nipple, and a tiny matching thong bottom held on by barely visible threads that crossed her hips and disappeared between the cheeks of her bare butt. On her feet were nothing but string-held flip- flops, the soles paper thin. The young black man helped her into the lobby. The doctor could not but notice her entry, and approached. Such minimal clothing would normally be unacceptable in a guest to his unit, of course, but he had been advised. The young woman was fighting an allergic reaction but had insisted on being as clothed as possible.

They all hugged, hands clasping Tami's bare shoulders and bare back gently, though her own hugs were firmer.

Her concave tummy quaking with discomfort, she brushed back the strands of red hair that had shaken across her forehead. She said, "D - doctor -- P - perini? H - how is m - my Dad?"

The doctor quietly repeated when he had told the others. "He was working too hard, I told him that last time I saw him."

"C - can I... see him?" She shook and her companion steadied her, placing his hand on her bare hip.

Rod let Tami go and be alone with her father. Then he went in and joined her, holding her hand. He watched as she contemplated her father's face, with a serenity that was remarkable.

When they got back to where her family was, her mother and Uncle Robert and her cousin Amaryl, and Tami's old friend Charlene and her boyfriend Carlos, and a handsome young priest walked in.

"H - hi Father George."

In measured tones, he said, "I'm awfully sorry about this. Your father's a good man, I think he'll pull through. Your family is lucky to have you, Tami. They look up to you. And to your brother."

"Th - thanks."

"I see your allergy is being treated bit by bit." Father George surveyed Tami up and down. He was gay, a carefully kept secret, but could not help but notice.

"This is... all I can wear. At the moment. I've got to g - get a job as soon as I g - graduate."

"I'm sure you'll have no trouble with that. You'll be the valedictorian, as I understand. Congratulations."

"Th - thank you."

Father George went on to talk to the other family members. Rod and Tami sat down.

Tami crossed her legs. The quivering caused by her allergy caused her foot to shake. It caused the papery flip-flop to fall off. With a lurching motion Tami bent down to put it back on, clumsily threading the string between her toes.

"Babe, you don't have to have all that on. Take it off. They'll understand." She was supposed to stay naked as the beginning of her "status orgasmus" preparation, but had insisted on being as clothed as possible here.

"N - no."

"At least take your shoes off."

"N - no."

They sat in silence and then Tami, unable to keep still, stood up and listened to the conversation between Father George and Tami's mother. Rod watched, seeing Tami's total nakedness from the rear, interrupted only by the little strings sloping into her butt crack, amid the heavy clothing of the others. He thought of his marching band dreams and imagined Sarge, the band director, had had a heart attack during a parade and the rest of the band, having found out that he was going to be OK, were chatting in the hospital lobby. Frigid Brigid in her micro- uniform, respectfully listening to the fully-clothed grown-ups. The other Tunemasters were no doubt nearby.

So Tami's premonition of bad things happening had been correct. First her brother gets his tour extended in Iraq, now her father has a heart attack. With a shudder he thought of the old saying that bad things happen in threes. What would be next?

He thought of Joe getting a hardship discharge. Of course it should be tried. But from what they had heard this was not the kind of situation that would qualify these days. No children involved. And her mother was around to take care of John Smithers. Unfortunately Martha knew nothing about running the store. Tami had, but obviously could not do that naked, or nearly naked. It would cause a riot on Chalkstone Avenue. He could picture cars honking and a traffic jam as everyone rushed to get a look at the naked chick behind the parts counter.

Once again, Rod felt helpless, inadequate. He wished he could do more than just stand around and be a shoulder to cry on. He wished he could make Tami's problems go away. He wished he knew how to run a hardware store. The thing to do was just to sell it. But without John Smithers around they would probably have to close it down and see if they could get out of their business lease. Who would buy a defunct hardware store? They'd be reduced to selling the stock for ten cents on the dollar.

Tami had worked out her thoughts on the three-hour drive down here, once she had collected herself after the first shock. "In high school I used to do his books. I could do that again, and the ordering, and payroll. I'll go down on weekends. Friday night, after hours." Of course, they both knew the store hadn't been doing well. Having to look at those books would distress Tami even more.

Idly, he thought of his own mother. They should really stop by Roxbury and see her on the way back. No, it would be too late. And he and Tami both had early morning things to do tomorrow. That old house, how he would hate to see it go. But she just couldn't take care of it by herself, since his father died. She seemed about ready to admit things and put the "For Sale" sign up. The sale should set her up pretty well. The house was in good shape and the neighborhood had improved in recent years. Naturally she would give much of her windfall to Rod and Tami, and they could use it to help out Tami's folks. But that would be, at the earliest, months away.

Twenty minutes later they all tried to get Martha Smithers to come home, but she insisted on staying the night at her husband's side. A nurse brought in a cot. The group dispersed, Tami having gotten the phone number for the nurse's desk.

The drive back to Vermont was a silent one. Rod looked over at Tami as much as he could while keeping his eyes on the road. He thought of the first time they had made this trip together, how she had gotten into his old, drafty car, clothed only in a blanket, and sucked him all the way to Vermont. Happier times.

Tami had placed her "clothes" on the dashboard. She spent an hour contemplating them. In a delayed reaction, she cried. Rod patted her thigh.

It was around two a.m. when they finally pulled into their driveway. Tami sniffled and said firmly: "I need to make some big bucks p.d.q."

"Please DON'T go dancing at Teaser's."

Tami didn't answer. She was looking down at her bare feet, flexing her toes. She was tired but obviously wide awake.

As he got out of the Jeep, Rod said, "Think you can sleep?"

"I'm going to have to try. Big day tomorrow."

. . . .

George Halifax, General Counsel of Campbell - Frank College, swallowed the last bite of his doughnut and ambled across the quad to take in one of his favorite sights, Miss Tami Smithers sprawled out napping on top of one of the concrete tables like a lazy cat.

She must enjoy every ray of sunshine on this warm day, he mused, after that long Vermont winter with the two April blizzards. There was still melted snow in shady corners but the day was glorious. As was her body, arms and legs spread wide, her nipples lazily erect in the sun, her pussy lips slightly opened.

Her rest was fitful, though. He could tell that. The bags under her eyes, the lack of that gentle smile. One could hardly blame her for being sleepless.

She turned a bit, the concrete scraping under her bare back, opened her eyes, and squinted at the sky, with a sexy little tired moan. George felt his dick stiffening. Fortunately, it was well hidden by clothes and his sizeable gut. And now Tami sensed his presence and looked down at him, realizing of course that her pussy lips were spread wide in his face, knowing he could see right up inside her, but showing no bashfulness nor making any motion to close her legs. It was all a part of Tami Smithers's life, a part she had long gotten used to.

"Hello, Mr. Halifax," Tami said to him across her pubic hair.

"Hi, Ms. Smithers, Tami," George said. "I'm sorry to hear about your father. It's been all over the campus intranet."

"Thank you."

"I've come to show you something." Realizing, in his dirty middle-aged man's mind, how that sounded, he quickly revised it. "I mean, a document came in for you. It's in my office."

Tami sat up and stretched her arms skyward, her breasts riding up. George took a deep breath and suppressed the urge to grab them. It was almost irresistible. He thought of this Smithers girl over and over, during sex with his wife, it got him fired up. He was going to say something about it on his sex blog (lawyer.tonsoffun.com) but didn't want to blow his cover.

She got up and they walked together. On the path to Rossland Hall he said, "What happened to your outfit?" He had gotten turned on by those little pasties, and that clit strap.

"It's the treatment at Chalfont, with Dr. Kantor, I'm supposed to stay naked for now."

"Oh." He pretended ignorance. She waved blandly at a friend who passed by. Then as they passed a pile of snow she stooped next to hit and desultorily smooshed sloppy handfuls onto her breasts and into her crotch. "I'm supposed to stay cold too." The snow made her nipples poke out more than usual. As she stood up George had to look away and take a deep breath.

As they saw the sign to Rossland Hall, he thought of Henry Ross. He'd never met him, of course, his infamous predecessor, but he'd seen him on those secret Chalfont DVD's before he handed them over to Tami. God, that scene with her being pistoned to orgasm, again and again, looking so young and frightened, having to look Ross in the eye as he shouted insults at her family and racial epithets at her boyfriend. The agony and terror and unwanted ecstasy in her eyes... He had to admit it was an incredible turn-on. He was charged up with his wife for two weeks after seeing that. Did that make him bad?

As they entered his office on the ninth floor he realized how cluttered it was and how Tami had no clear place for her bare feet. Tami didn't mind as potato chips crunched under her soles.

He handed her a large envelope. "This is important, Ms. Smithers. It came in today by overnight. A government contract. Or, actually, one of the companies that supply the government. They want to mass produce your fabric."

Tami's bloodshot eyes widened as she held the envelope in her hands. "Mass produce?"

"Somehow they've heard of it and they've decided it might be useful as military outfitting. Which is what you wanted it to be, right? Suitable for both heat and cold, for our boys in Iraq?"

Tami looked down at the sealed envelope in wonder. "What does it say?"

"I don't know, it's really for you to look at. You and Gretchen Spaulding."

"Gretchten will let me sign for everything."

"Well, you then. Make sure a lawyer looks at it though."

"You're a lawyer, right?"

"Yes, but I'm only the college lawyer. I look out for the college. YOU need a lawyer to look after YOU."

Tami opened the envelope and drew out the twenty-page document.

George didn't want to say it, knowing where it would lead, but felt he had to. "Dr. Konrad, in the Fashion Technlogy Department, he's an intellectual property lawyer. BURRRRP!" He cleared his throat. "Sorry. Have him look at it, OK?"

Tami's tired, worry-lined face started to read. "OK. Thank you, Mr. Halifax." And she turned and left, stepping between crumbs, George's eyes following her with complicated thoughts until they fastened on her trim little butt cheeks.

He was startled when she came back ten minutes later.

"I've read it," she said, breathlessly. "I agree. It says the advance is a hundred thousand dollars, payable in 30 days."

"Wow." Actually not unheard of in that business, but to a naked 22-year-old college student... "Still, talk to Konrad --"

"I've already signed it. Do you have a fax machine?"

"Uh... sure... next to Miss King's office... but you should -- "

She ran off, her soles slapping against the tiles in the hall. And so Tami Smithers faxed a signed contract to a Texas phone number that in fact rolled over to a fax machine in Dubai. The contract had been carefully drafted by a recently hired lawyer in the Department of Defense, who had had some professional difficulties, including leaving a position hastily, and a more recent order of protection. But he had connections, so of course the normal vetting process was waived.

Part 66

Horace Konrad, Esq., Ph.D., tenured professor in the Fashion Technology Department, smoothed his ruffled cuff and glanced at the twenty-page document with the fax transmittal sheet, lying on his desk. Then he smoothed his other ruffled cuff. This trim, 55-year-old was the most "out" of all the gay professors on campus, the most foppishly dressed. One could even see the rouge on his cheeks, the penciling on his eyebrows. Today he wore a pink striped shirt, an orange ascot, and a Little Lord Fauntleroy blue jacket. His pants were purple velvet, his boots fake- snakeskin with sapphire studding. His gray hair was highlighted with blond streaks. With this colorful attire and makeup, an unkind observer would say he looked a little like a circus clown, lacking only the red bubble nose.

A sad, serious clown. He glanced at Mr. Rod Sykes, in his suit and engineer boots, sitting to the side. And then he studiously regarded the naked young woman standing in front of his desk, her pubic hair looming over the photo of him and his long-time partner that perched on the far edge. He had offered her a chair but she was too nervous to sit. Her big toe corkscrewed uneasily into the carpet. Her nipples, normally big and brown and erect, sticking themselves into everyone's face (Dr. Konrad was not enamored of nipples in general, at least not female nipples), were parched, receded, as if trying to go into hiding. Something not possible for nipples that happened to belong to Tami Smithers.

"Yes, as you point out, there is a huge advance payable in 30 days, but there are conditions that have to be met, before the 30 days starts to run," he said.

"Like what?"

Rod, having a side rear view of Tami, noticed her butt cheeks flexing and braced himself for bad news. This meeting was Tami's idea. She had tossed and turned through another sleepless night, wondering at what she had signed. Several times during the night she had gone over to the kitchen table to go over the contract yet again, trying without success to penetrate the legalese. There were also some references to "incorporated protocols" but no hint as to what those protocols were. Finally in the morning she called on Dr. Konrad to look at it. Just three hours later he asked her to come in at 5:30 p.m. Rod left work early to get here with her for support.