She pulled herself up again and took another deep breath. My heart was thumping. Around us, birds were chirping, and somewhere on the far end of the property, the grounds people were beginning to mow grass and trim bushes. The monotonous hum of their engines sounded like hives of bees.
"I was very close with a girl in my class, Gail Browne. She was practically my only close friend. Almost from birth, she had poor eyesight, and she was wearing glasses by the age of two. I was far prettier than she was. Almost any girl was, even some of the boys. It wasn't even a contest when it came to our facial features, even though, as I told you, I was a somewhat late developer myself.
"Unfortunately for Gail, she took after her father, who was a big man with a thick nose, iron jaw, and heavy lips. She wasn't that bad, of course, but her features made her look plain, actually masculine. And under those glasses, her eyes were always teary and red. However, she did have beautiful hair, which other girls thought was a complete waste framing a face like Gail's. She didn't even take as good care of her hair as most of the other girls did, much less do anything about her rough complexion.
"She knew nothing about cosmetics, in fact, and her mother did little to instruct her. She looked uncomfortable wearing lipstick and always chose a shade that did little for her. She was messy about it, too, always going too far in the corners and even smudging her chin.
"I became friends with her because she was such a good student, and I enjoyed the way she followed me about in school like some puppy dog. I was her celebrity friend in her eyes, I suppose, and it made me feel good to have someone look up to me. I could depend on her to help me with my homework, and whenever we did study together, I got better grades on tests. Nothing distracted her from the work like so much distracted me.
"Anyway, not until the last half of our junior year in high school did she develop any sort of womanly figure, and when she did, it literally seemed to happen overnight. At least mine came along gradually and sensibly. You can imagine what it was like for a girl like her who was flat-chested to suddenly have a much bigger and better-shaped bust than most of the other girls, and her rear end puffed out so that all her pants and shorts became impossible to wear. I remember her mother telling my mother how much she was costing them in new clothes all of a sudden.
"Boys noticed, of course, but because she was so unattractive, their interest was purely prurient, lustful. They made up dirty jokes about her and teased her whenever they could. They called her a double bagger. The only way to make love to her, they said, was to put a bag over her face and then over your own. She was that ugly, they claimed. It was a terribly mean joke. Disgusting and cruel, that's what they were.
"Gail was embarrassed about her voluptuous new body, and because of the way these boys were treating her, she did all sorts of things to detract from it, including wearing bras that were more like straitjackets and oversized one-piece dresses to hide her curves.
"I was going through this great period of doubt about myself about the same time, and I was quite interested in how she dealt with all of this, too. Soon our study sessions became more personal. She wasn't as shy as she appeared to be when it came to talking about intimate things. She revealed to me that she wasn't just putting on a mature body. She was in some inner turmoil with her new feelings.
"She even admitted to having spontaneous orgasms, sometimes, even in school. Since that hadn't happened to me, I was very intrigued, of course, and our discussions grew bolder, more intense.
"One night, when we were supposed to be studying for an upcoming literature exam, she told me about her masturbating. I remember feeling absolutely mesmerized by her description. I told her I had not done that, and she looked at me skeptically. 'You should,' she said. 'It's not as unnatural as you might think.' She went on and on, describing some of the books she had read and the things she had learned.
"Of course, I was rapt. Living with parents like mine, especially a mother like mine, and not being as chummy with the girls at the school as I would have liked, and not yet having any sort of real romance with a boy, I was hanging on Gail's every revelation.
"Finally she put down her notebook and proposed that I do it right then and there. I remember feeling as if I had stepped into a gigantic bowl of hot honey. Just the mere suggestion of doing such a thing made my body tingle and warmed my private places. I felt as though my arms and legs were stuck together.
"'It's just like an experiment,' Gail said, 'with yourself. It's not that big a deal.'
"I started to shake my head, and she said, do it, too.'
"'First,' she said, 'we should undress.'
"I watched her stand up and begin to disrobe, unbutton her blouse and unzip her skirt. She paused and looked at me. 'Well? What are you waiting for, Ami? You're not afraid, are you?' she taunted.
"I was afraid, but I wouldn't admit it, and I hated myself for being afraid. So I began to undress, too. When Gail removed her bra, I was shocked to see how big she really was, but she had a flat stomach and nice hips. In other words, it all did seem to fit together to form a body every girl at the school would desire, even me.
"I won't go into every detail about what followed, but I became so self-conscious and felt so foolish, I stopped. Especially when I saw how she was watching me, looking at me. 'Why are you stopping?' she asked. I told her I felt foolish, and she took on this look of great concern.' 'You've got to get over it,' she said. She was so caught up in being the teacher when it came to these things. It was her way of lording it over me, you see.
"I hated feeling so insecure and so inadequate. Even Gail, the double-bagger, was ahead of me when it came to these things. That's what went through my mind.
"And then. . ." Amy paused. She put her hand on her chest and looked like she was struggling to breathe. She took another deep breath before continuing.
"And then, Gail said she would help me."
I held my own breath, listening to her story. The world truly seemed to grow silent and very still. Even the mowers and trimming machines became mute.
"And I didn't stop her," Ami finally blurted. She paused to see my reaction.
When I said nothing nor changed expression, she thought I didn't understand, but I had already pictured the scene she was describing and anticipated what she was about to tell me. For me that made the actual hearing of the words less traumatic. It had always been this way for me, and most people interpreted my reactions as lack of interest when in fact I was merely thinking ahead.
"I let her touch me, excite me," she confessed. "Afterward, she kept reassuring me, telling me I should think of it as just an experiment, but I couldn't ignore the fact that she enjoyed it as much as I did.
"While she was exciting me, she excited herself! We were, in fact, having sex with each other.
"I didn't sleep that night. I was filled with a mixture of guilt and memories of pleasure. I thought I could never look at Gail again. I even thought I had better stop being her friend.
"But I did look at her, and I didn't stop being her friend, at least, not for a while longer.
"I didn't want to enjoy it, and I didn't want to do it or be with her, but I was. It just seemed to happen spontaneously, and of course, every time it did, we did, I went through these deep depressions of guilt, my sleep filled with twisted nightmares. I was convinced something was now seriously wrong with me. And then. . . a terrible thing happened."