Nolan Trilogy (9 page)

She looked down at Handy Hannah resting against her hip, curious.  What would it feel like?  Would it get her there faster?  Already the man on screen was pumping hard into the blonde on the bottom and the women were kissing, sucking each other’s tongues.  She took hold of the handle, thrilling at the way it vibrated in her hand.  She was a little afraid, but curiosity and sheer lust outweighed her hesitation, and she pressed the little, soft suction cup between her swollen, wet lips.

The sensation was so intense she pulled it away immediately, gasping out loud.  Her whole body came alive with feeling and, unable to resist, she did it again, finding the shockingly sensitive little morsel with the vibrator.

“Oh! God!”  she cried, watching the scene on the screen through half-closed eyes, being carried away by the glorious torment between her thighs.  She had never felt anything so marvelous! Her nipples hardened the moment she touched the vibrator to the spot at the top of her crevice and she used her other hand to rub them through her blouse, moaning softly as the feeling between her legs intensified even more.

On screen, the man thrust hard into the blonde, grunting and straining with the effort, and all she could think about was Mr. Nolan stroking himself right here in this very spot, his body wracked with pleasure as he backed up this scene, right to this very moment.  There it was—the man pulling himself out, groaning, and aiming himself right for the dark-haired girl’s smooth mound.

Leah moaned, the growing itch between her legs full to bursting as she watched the man on the screen explode, white hot ropes of semen shooting between the girl’s spread open lips.  Leah closed her eyes, the image of Mr. Nolan pumping himself and exploding filling her head.

He had called her name.  He’d been imagining her, she was sure of it, and she fantasized about him kneeling between her legs, pressing the head of his member right there, just where she was rubbing the vibrator.

“Come all over me, Mr. Nolan,” she whispered, imagining the thick and creamy, steaming hot, rhythmic blasts between her legs.  She couldn’t hold back anymore, and Handy Hannah buzzing between her legs, pushed her over the edge.  Moaning, her whole body went stiff, the delicious tightening and release happening again and again as she rubbed herself with the vibrator.

“Mmmmm, I bet that felt good.”  Erica’s voice was right next to her ear and Leah yelped, flinging Handy Hannah onto the bed and pulling her skirt down and panties up.  Erica was kneeling next to her, wrapped in a towel, her hair wet.

How long had she been there?  Had she heard the words Leah had whispered?  She couldn’t tell—Erica’s eyes were veiled, but she seemed different somehow, and was definitely looking at Leah in a way she had never seen before.

“You switched reels huh?”  she remarked, walking over to the projector and rewinding the film.  “I never saw one with sound before! Where did you find it?” 

“I… just...”  Still breathless, Leah struggled to find words, inflamed with both excitement and embarrassment.  “It was...” 

“Ohhhhh,” Erica breathed, moving toward the bed as the movie began to play again.  It was the part where the guy was licking them both. 

She picked up the vibrator, still buzzing and wet with her friend’s juices, and lifted it to her mouth.  Leah stared as Erica licked the suction cup that had been pressed against her cleft just moments ago.

“Have you ever tasted yourself?”  she asked, crawling up next to Leah on the bed.  She shook her head as Erica stretched out on a pillow and opened her legs, the towel parting to reveal the soft blonde fuzz there.  She had never seen one up close, not even her own, not like this. 

“You should try it,” she whispered, moaning as she slid Handy Hannah up and down between her lips.  “God, look at how good he does that… watch his tongue… back and forth like that… right there...” 

Leah nodded, but she wasn’t looking at the screen, she was watching Erica, the vibrator moving up and down her slit and then focusing right at the top as she rubbed it, like his tongue, back and forth.  Erica’s gaze was on the screen, and Leah could watch her without her friend really paying attention.  Erica spread her legs wider, the towel opening up to her navel, and she could see her working the buzzing toy between her legs.

“Do you ever put your fingers inside?”  Erica asked, not looking towards Leah as she licked her lips, her gaze glued to the screen.  She didn’t answer her, but she watched as Erica slid the fingers of her other hand down between her lips.  Leah’s whole body burned as her friend’s fingers started to disappear between them.  She was putting them inside of her!

“I bet it feels even better to have him in me,” she whispered as she moved her fingers in and out of herself.  “God, I want it.” 

On the screen, one girl was up on her knees, reaching around to open herself up, waiting to be filled.  The guy was straight-up hard as he rubbed it up and down her slit. 

“Yes, fuck me,” Erica murmured, and she pumped her fingers deep and hard, rubbing herself with Handy Hannah in the other hand.  Leah watched, stunned and fascinated, remembering how good the humming felt between her legs.  Her own sex was responding again, raw with feeling, and she slipped her hand under her skirt, shoving her panties aside to get to it.

“Oh that’s so good,” Erica whispered, hips careening on the bed, towel parting further as she twisted and rolled, falling off completely.  Leah had seen Erica naked a hundred times, but not like this, never like this.  Her pink nipples were pursed and hard, her breasts swaying as she thrust her fingers deep inside of her.  She reached up to play with one, pinching and tugging, biting her lip, eyes half-closing in her pleasure.  Leah could see everything, from the glistening wetness of her pubic hair and the soft down on Erica’s belly to the scar where she’d had her appendix removed when she was little.

Leah’s sex was swollen and the pair of Erica’s panties she had put on was soaked, and still she couldn’t stop touching herself, rubbing faster and faster as her gaze flickered from the screen to her friend, watching Erica fingering herself and imagining how good it must feel. 

“Oh look at that,” Erica whispered, not looking away from the screen.  Leah watched the guy pounding the blonde girl now.  The girl’s head was thrown back, eyes closed, as he slammed into her again and again. 

Erica rubbed Handy Hannah over and over between her legs, whimpering and moaning as she played with her nipples with the wet fingers that had been inside her.  Leah had an urge to lick one, and the thought made her feel faint, but she rubbed herself faster, breathing matching her friend’s, both of them gasping and panting.  The guy on the screen pulled out and just at his moment of release, his final explosion, Erica cried out.

“Ohhhhhh I’m coming!”  Erica shook the bed with her climax, her body trembling as she rubbed herself with the vibrator, her gaze never leaving the screen where the guy was pumping himself in his fist, shooting long, hot streams of white stuff.  It fell in thick strands, most of it beginning to drip down the crevice.

Seeing it dribble down, a slow river parting the folds of her sex, was too much for Leah.  She came too, biting her lip to keep from crying out as her body quaked with her release, dancing with it, her thigh brushing against the soft skin of Erica’s leg, making her orgasm even more intense. 

Erica turned off the vibrator and stroked her thighs with her hands, her eyes still-half closed.  Leah got up and stopped the movie, the sight now almost a visual assault, too intense in the wake of her climax. 

“You were right,” Erica murmured, looking at her friend.  “You told my dad we’d be good—but that wasn’t just good… it was fantabulous!” 

Leah pulled her skirt down.  “Listen, I should get home and change.” 

Erica frowned, leaning up on her elbows.  “You want to hang out later?” 

“Call me.”  Leah turned so Erica didn’t see how red her face was as she headed toward the door. 

The images she’d seen over the last twenty-four hours—the photographs, the movies, Mr. Nolan masturbating, Erica playing with Handy Hannah—flashed through her head as she walked home.  She knew she could never unimagine them—and the scariest thing was that she didn’t really want to. 

“Bless me father, for I have sinned...” 

Those were the words Leah was dreading.  She couldn’t say them. 

They had mass every morning at Mary Magdalene in the church with all the girls from the middle and high school and the little kids from elementary too.  The college itself was small, only half a building—the other half was used by the high school girls—in a block-long four-corner complex that included the church in one corner, the college and high school opposite, and the elementary and middle schools parallel to those.  In the middle was the rectory, where the priests lived, and beside it, the convent for the nuns. 

The church itself had always been a beautiful sanctuary for Leah, a place she had come to every morning of her life, crossing herself as the girls entered the first vestibule in a long line.  They would heap their coats and metal lunchboxes on the radiators before mass, the smell of tuna and egg salad rising around them as Father Patrick and Father Michael spoke strange but beautiful words in Latin, their backs to the congregation, who knelt on padded kneelers. 

She didn’t understand a word of the service—only boys were allowed to learn Latin—but the sound of it was like familiar music anyway, the motions of the priests and altar boys a beautiful dance.  It was nothing like the elaborate show on Sundays, of course, but it made her heart sing every morning all the same.  She would stare up at Jesus on the cross, the scenes painted on the walls and ceiling above memorized, stories taught to her in catechism and collected fondly in her imagination along with fairy tales and Dr.  Seuss, and feel a sense of peace and joy that settled something wild in her soul. 

But mass this Monday had felt extra long, and every word sounded like a personal pronouncement that she, Leah Weldt, was going to hell.  She was filled with shame and guilt all day, and at noon before lunch, when the girls crowded around outside the confessional, talking in small groups and snapping their gum, those feelings had turned to a burning fever in her body.  The girls weren’t allowed to chew gum, even in college, but they did anyway, risking Sister Abigail’s wrath and tucking it between cheek and teeth whenever she was looking.

They were supposed to be standing in a quiet line saying the rosary, waiting their turn, but Sister Abigail had taken someone disruptive to see Mother Superior and they were momentarily without supervision. 

“I can’t do this,” Leah whispered to Erica. 

Her friend was sitting against the wall, knees up, a copy of
Peyton Place
tucked into her geography book.  The way she was positioned, Leah could see Erica’s underwear—which wasn’t unusual, in an all-girls’ school where they were required to wear skirts, they often got careless—but it made Leah remember what had happened in the worst way.  She had avoided the Nolans all weekend, surprising her mother by staying home and playing 45s on her record player all day and settling on the couch at night with her to watch
The Honeymooners
, but when she’d seen Erica that morning at mass, it had all come back like some strange, surreal dream.

“Do what?”  Erica didn’t look up from her book.

Leah nudged her friend’s hip with one of her saddle shoes, hissing, “Confession!” 

Erica looked up then, puzzled.  “Why not?  Swearing, lustful thoughts, self-flagellation, yack yack yack, thirty Hail Mary’s and ten Our Father’s later, and you’re all righteous again.  What’s the hang-up?” 

Leah stared at her, blinking and speechless.

“Well fine.”  Erica stood and brushed off the back of her skirt.  “Then let’s put an egg in our shoe and beat it.” 

“Cutting class?”  Leah groaned.  “Adding yet another sin to my growing list?  You’re not helping!” 

“Okay.”  Erica shrugged.  “So you’re ready to go in there and tell Father Michael about our little movie watching session on Friday?” 

“Shh!”  Leah put her hand over her friend’s mouth, looking over at the group of girls closest to them to see if they’d heard anything.  “You’re evil!” 

“Perfect timing.”  Erica glanced around.  “Sister Abigail’s gone, and I know I’m not up for one of Sister Helen’s usual lectures on the Church’s revisionist history—I don’t care what they say, Jesus was clearly a Jew.” 

The confessional door opened behind them and Leah sighed as another girl went in.  She couldn’t—she just couldn’t.  It wasn’t just knowing they had looked at the photographs and watched the movies, or even that they touched themselves together.  That was bad enough, but sitting in the dark and telling Father Michael the thoughts she was having about Mr. Nolan?  No way.  The prospect made her feel weak with dread.

“Okay.”  Leah grabbed Erica’s arm.  “Let’s split.” 

“Leah!”  It was Erica’s turn to sound shocked.  “Have you flipped?” 

Leah nodded, grabbing her book bag off the floor, saying loudly, “Let’s go to the bathroom.” 

Erica snickered as they left the church proper and went into the breezeway.  “Good cover.” 

“I’m no expert,” Leah agreed.  “So how do we get out without being seen, Houdini?” 

“Follow me,” she said, and Leah did, down the corridor and through a door.

“Where are we?” 

“Storage room.”  Erica made her way through a maze of shelves with all sorts of vestments, candles, candle lighters, and statues.

The whole Nativity scene was stacked into a corner, the baby Jesus wrapped in a shroud in the manger.  The oddest thing was the hundreds of boxes full of heavenly host.  Leah stared at them as they passed, looked at the stamped sides:
Cavanagh Communion Hosts 1 1/8”
, marked either with “white” or “wheat” flavor.

Erica grinned back at her friend when she saw Leah looking at the boxes.  “Do you think Christ was white or wheat?” 

“You are so going to hell.”  Still Leah couldn’t help grinning too.  They were nearing a door at the back of the room and Erica pulled it open, heading down a dark flight of stairs.

“Where are we?”  Leah felt her way down, holding onto the railing.

“Church basement now.”  Erica waited for Leah at the bottom.  “Bobby meets me here sometimes.” 

“Oh my God!”  Leah mentally added her taking the Lord’s name in vain to her list of sins for the week.  It was a small trespass, considering.  “He’d be shot on sight if they found him!” 

“No one finds him,” Erica assured her as Leah followed her through the dark basement.  There were small windows near the top of the concrete walls that let in a little, shadowy light.

Around the corner, Erica pulled open another door and waved her friend through.

“What is this?”  There were cots all along each side of the long, narrow walls of the room they stepped into.

“Old storm cellar-slash-bomb shelter, I think.”  She started up the ladder to the left and pressed on the door above her head.  “Either that, or this is where they do all the experiments on the
really
bad kids.” 

Leah snorted, following Erica up the ladder and waiting as she pressed at the door.  They were in their uniforms, of course, and Leah could see right up Erica’s skirt from this angle and the flash of white made her remember what had happened on Friday.

“They leave this open?”  Leah winced at the brightness as Erica finally heaved the door open with a little grunt of effort.

“Bobby broke the lock.” 

Leah shook her head, incredulous, as Erica gave her a hand up and swung the door shut again.  They were standing just outside the brick wall surrounding the entire block, making it look like some prison fortress.  The storm cellar was a slanted thing made of long planks and painted brown to blend in with the brick.

“And we’re made in the shade.”  Erica grabbed her friend’s hand and swung it.  “Let’s go to my house and do something we’ll have to confess later.” 

“I’m boycotting confession.”  Leah glanced over her shoulder as if someone might be watching them. 

“Come on, there are yummy rewards for being bad.”  Erica squeezed her fingers.  “We don’t even have to miss the first fifteen minutes of
American Bandstand
today!” 

Erica had a point.  They made good use of those last few hours they should have been in class, stopping by Woolworth’s for a chocolate malt, taking home some moon pies and Necco wafers, a bag of Better Made potato chips and two Cokes.  Then the girls curled up on Erica’s sofa and made pigs of themselves while they watched the entire episode of
American Bandstand
without interruption.  It was a real treat.

Erica turned the television off and stretched, her blouse pulling out of the waistband of her skirt, revealing skin.  “What do you want to do now?” 

“We should do homework,” Leah answered, her head filled with the memory of watching her friend play with Handy Hannah.  Leah tried to push the thought away, but she couldn’t when Erica sat cross-legged in her skirt, her panties clearly visible underneath.

“Now what kind of fun would that be?”  She rolled her eyes.  “If you’re gonna skip school, you gotta make it worth it!” 

“Well… you could show me more of your dad’s collection.”  Leah couldn’t believe she mentioned it first.  She’d sworn she wasn’t going to even
think
about it, let alone ask about it.

Erica grinned.  “Now we’re talking.  Come on.”  They left their wrappers and empty bottles strewn all over the sofa and headed for the secret door.  Leah’s body was already buzzing with anticipation.

“What about your dad?”  The clock on Mr. Nolan’s desk read 4:05 p.m.

“Late night.  He said he had something to do at the church.  And Solie won’t be here ’til five”

Solie came to cook dinner every weekday except Friday, and on Tuesdays and Thursdays she was there during the afternoon to clean.  She didn’t work weekends though.

Erica unlocked it and slid the bolt on the door and they stepped into the secret darkroom.  Leah felt as if she was entering a whole new world, like some perverted, obscene version of Narnia.  “Here we are.  A veritable smorgasbord of naughtiness for your viewing pleasure.” 

“How long have you known about your dad taking pictures like this?”  Leah took one of the “art books” off the shelf in the eerie red glow of the darkroom light, flipping through the photographs with trembling fingers.  The pictures were still graphic and shocking—and unbelievably arousing.

“A little while.”  Erica edged around the table toward the other door.  “He keeps it pretty secret.  I don’t think he wants anyone to know.” 

“Of course not.”  Leah opened up to a page to find a woman kneeling in front of a man, her lips wrapped around his member, her hands bound behind her back with rope.  Her belly rolled at the sight, the familiar warmth spreading south.  “I mean, isn’t this illegal?” 

“Kind of.”  Erica opened the second door, turning on the light inside.  “I mean, the blue movies and stag films, we all know men watch them sometimes.  Someone has to make them.”