We were at Young Life camp when the youth pastor caught us.  Mindy and I had been flirting for weeks.  We were the ones who snuck off to the woods to smoke when the others were off doing their little brainwash activities.  She was really developed.  Every chance she got she was leaning into me, brushing her tits against me.  Finally on one of our excursions, having lit our Camels, I got up the nerve and kissed her.  She kissed back like she had been waiting for it.  Unfortunately, we had scarcely begun before we were discovered and dragged back by the ears for a scolding and a call home to our parents.

We had The Talk that night, a version of it at least.  I told them the truth, that boys don’t do it for me.  Predictably they didn’t want to hear it.  In my mind’s eye, I can still see their indignant, cold faces and hear their ironclad theories regarding the Bigot on his silver cloud, stroking his silver beard, as he frets over the sex lives of his diorama of human ants.

Soon it was goodbye to the parental home and off to Camp Temperance.  I was furious of course at being sent off for “conversion”.  I had done my best to humor my parents heretofore but no longer.  My own budding inner nature, the essence of myself, was under attack, I now realized.  I saw it as a delicate flame and I was determined to shield it from every wind, however violent.  I thought with mockery of my “normal” Xanax-popping Mother and my emotionless father, neither of whom could express love.

After checking in at the front desk I was introduced to Mary Elizabeth, an instructor.  We went to her office for a “get acquainted” session.  She was only seventeen, my age, but claimed to have already conquered the demon hellbeast of lesbian desire through prayer, Bible study and a commitment to righteous living and helping others like herself.  

She was a strawberry blonde with beautiful, empty green eyes, copiously freckled, with that pale skin that only burns, doesn’t tan. She wore a dowdy, pink embroidered sweater, a knee-length beige skirt and opaque pantyhose, an ensemble fit for the hippest octogenarian.  A valiant effort but not quite enough to suppress her ample curvature. 

She told me of her sinful past.  She said her earliest memory of “it” was seeing a certain actress in a very steamy film role.  It sent her into a trembling fit and a fever that lasted several days.  Her parents even took her to the doctor, who said there was nothing wrong with her. I told her I’d caught that fever myself.  She told me, quite seriously, that she believed it to be a case of demonic possession.   Then she told me of her first girlfriend, the one she got caught with.  Had she been a minion of Satan too? I asked.

She ignored that question and took my hand across the table.  We bent our heads and she led us in prayer.  I let my thumb play with her hand a little.  She let me until the prayer ended then snatched it away, avoiding my eyes.  Then she showed me to my room in the dormitory.  

Strangely enough, all of the male inmates were kept separate from us.  You would think they would want us to mix, wouldn’t you?   All of us quarantined together doesn’t make a lot of sense for what they were trying to achieve.  But I don’t suppose those types ever think things through. 

I got my first look at the other girls next morning at breakfast in the cafeteria.  Looking for a place to sit, I saw a vacant spot across from a yummy blonde with thick, wavy hair, full pink lips and enormous blue eyes.

I sat down and introduced myself.  Her name was Kelly.  She introduced me to her friends.  At first, they were wary of me and distant.  As I tried to make conversation I scanned the crowd in curious fascination.  Then it hit me that I had never been in a room full of lesbians before.  I exclaimed to the others:  “This is fantastic!”  They all laughed.  That won them over.  I had luckily chosen the rebels’ table.  As we all talked I felt Kelly’s foot underneath, running along my calf.  I didn’t let on but I felt my face flush hot.

Mary Elizabeth taught our first class.  The goal was hetero-celibacy and the Bible was basically our textbook.   Once she said something like:  “I know it isn’t easy.  You can’t simply wave a magic wand.”  A few of the girls burst into giggles.  She pretended not to hear but it flustered her.  I wondered what it meant.

That night after curfew I crept out of my room and found Kelly’s.  I knocked gently and she let me in.  We didn’t say much.  She took my hand and we sat on the edge of her bed.  We both giggled from embarrassment.  We sat close and our legs rubbed together, as if by accident.  She stroked my hair.  My heart pounded.  I remembered when I had kissed Mindy, how she had responded and how I wished I’d done it sooner.  I saw her full chest rising and falling and knew she must be coming short of breath.  I took my cue.  I leaned into her and her lips met me halfway.  Our mouths opened wide in desperate hunger, our tongues tangled and danced, clumsily but deliciously, together.  We came up for breath with deep gasps, as if we’d been underwater. We would come apart to tear off an item of clothing or two and then cling together again in frantic lust, pawing and grasping.  

This was my first time.  I had never been naked with a girl before.  It made me feel, for the first time, not only comfortable and assured in my own body but incredibly sexy.  She spent a lot of time on my breasts, sucking them, teasing my nipples, mauling them, while I squirmed with pleasure, my legs around her, my heel tracing the supple curve at the small of her back.  

She swiveled around for 69 and spread herself, hovering, over my face.  I had dreamed of this in the lonely hours of night, in melancholy and silent boredom for so long, and been ashamed.  Now I wanted my tongue to make her moan.  I dove in, tasting her, parting her puffy lips and wetting my face.  Her heady smell made me giddy.  She cried out my name and took my hair, bucked her hips and smothered me, used me.  Then I felt her mouth down there.  Her tongue teased my clit with a rapid flicker.  I moaned as I licked and raked my nails over her plump ass. Occasionally I gave it a hard smack.  She loved that.  She talked dirty to me, calling me her little pussy girl.

She was obviously more experienced than me but I held my own.  We came together and came again and then collapsed in sweat and exhaustion.  We lay there for a few minutes silent.

Out of idle curiosity, I asked about the magic wand incident in class.  She told me the rumor was that the Hitachi vibrator of that name was Mary Elizabeth’s favorite toy.  Apparently, it emitted a loud buzzing, not to mention her moaning, which the thin walls of the dormitory always gave away.  I thought that was hilarious.  We laughed about it.  We wondered what she was into and which of the girls among us, she might be thinking about during these private sessions.  

In spite of our amusement, we had to agree she was a self-righteous hypocrite and needed to be taught a lesson.  To find her out, we devised a plot.

Michelle was the building’s concierge, an older butch who struggled mightily to resist the call of temptation.  She was in charge of checking in the new girls.  What little snail mail came for us was kept back of the desk and she had spare copies of all the keys in the dorm.  Fortunately, she had a huge crush on Kelly, who offered to spread her legs in the back office while I kept watch.  With contemptible alacrity, she led the way back.  While that was happening I found and pilfered the key to Mary Elizabeth’s room.  After ten minutes or so, Kelly emerged a bit disheveled but none the worse for wear followed by a grinning concierge with stinky fingers.

We found Mary’s room and let ourselves in, in search of a Holy Grail of sorts.   Kelly looked through her closet, while with the surety of instinct I rummaged through her panty drawer.  She had a wide variety, some of them quite risque.  I kept showing them off to Kelly, who told me to get down to business.  Finally, far in the back, I discovered not only her cordless Hitachi but a rubber dong of about 8 inches.  I raised them to the sky in my little fists with a cry of victory.  Kelly, from the back of the closet, cackled like a wicked witch and emerged, equally triumphant, with a stack of porno DVDs.  We looked through them: Beaverjuice, Dyke Hard, Where the Boys Aren’t, Star Whores.  She was into the classics.  We had her right where we wanted her. 

The knob turned suddenly.  We had no time to hide.  Mary took in the scene in one horrified glance and rushed at us, grabbing at her toys and movies with a cry.  Kelly looked ready to run but I put a reassuring hand on her and winked.  I slipped over and closed the door. 

“I’m reporting you two for breaking into my room and going through my things.” she sobbed pathetically.  

“Not so fast M.E.,” I said coaxingly, twirling a strand of her red hair in my fingers.  “If you make a big deal we all get into trouble, in fact, you’d end up in here with the rest of us.”

Kelly drew alongside, propped her bare leg up on the chair adjacent, and caressed its smooth, soft skin.  “Yes Mary," she said in a voice of honey, “wouldn’t you like to be friends with us instead?”  I bunched her hair in my fist and pulled it, not too roughly, just to show I meant business.  

With a gasp, her crying ceased. She looked from Kelly to me and back again and her face flushed a deep red.  Incipient ecstasy dispelled the dullness of her stupid face as a rising sun the mists of dawn.  I unbuttoned my blouse and put her hand to my chest.  

Soon I was wondering who, if anyone, was listening through the walls to the sounds of our moans, our cries and of course the buzzing of the Magic Wand.