She heard a movement in the bathroom and scurried out into the hall. She'd have to be careful that Abby didn't steal the necklace back. Or denounce her. Now there was a new danger, voices of other girls coming up the stairs to their rooms on the upper floors. It wouldn't do for them to see her with the Gypsy. But where could she hide it in her neat side of the room? Outside her room would be better.
Her eyes fell on Salt and Pepper. Salt and Pepper were two wood figurines that had graced the ancient dark wood table in the third floor hall for thirty or forty years. One figurine was the head and shoulders of a woman made of blonde wood. That was Salt. The other was the small statuette of a man made of darker wood. That was Pepper.
They were part and parcel of the Delta tradition, but no big deal. The artist, some forgotten Delta girl of the Thirties or Forties, had not been very good. So they sat there through the years and the generations of girls tolerated them like you kept around a beat-up old keepsake at home even if it were ugly.
They were about twelve inches high and from the distance looked a little like salt and pepper shakers, thus the name.
Cheryl upended Salt and saw that the figurine was hollow. Quickly she fed the necklace into the interior. She jammed it in, nice and tight so that it wouldn't fall out. By the time the chattering girls reached her level she was empty-handed, smiling politely, and Salt was back in her accustomed place. If the figurine hadn't been touched in thirty years, it ought to be safe for another night or two. Cheryl hugged herself with delight. Perfect! Now if Abby missed the Gypsy, she had only to deny any knowledge and they could search her room and her person forever… not that she expected Abby to make a public fuss. After all, Abby had stolen it to begin with.
As Cheryl stepped back into her room as if just coming in for the first time, she began to bubble with good feeling. For the first time since coming to Brighton she felt really great.
"Hello, roomie, did you have a great date?" she asked Abby, who emerged from the bathroom combing her long silken red hair.
"Fair, only fair," said Abby. "How was your evening?”
Cheryl not only felt good; she felt aggressive toward Abby, now that she'd pulled the plug on the girl's power over her and her father.
"Interesting. I saw a film classic as a part of my Film Appreciation course. It had a wild scene in it, a girl masturbating herself on a soccer ball. Talk about crazy.”
She thrilled to the pretty blush that rose in Abby's cheeks. "That-was crazy-" murmured Abby.
Cheryl pressed on. "I thought I might try it myself sometime. I thought I saw a soccer ball around our room somewhere. Or did I imagine it?”
"I-think there's one around." Abby sat on Cheryl's bed and stared at her. "It must've really turned you on. Your pants are wet.”
For a second Cheryl felt embarrassed confusion. She'd forgotten all about her hot time in the closet, which had left its own stain on her tight slacks, almost dry now, but still damning evidence.
Still she felt too good to be brought down by that crack. She was still high from the masturbation and further exalted by getting back the Gypsy. Now was the time to push Abby a little, to get her mind off things like necklaces.
"I'm all sticky; I could use a shower," she said airily. "Are you through in the bath?”
Abby seemed to sense something odd and different in Cheryl's mood. "I was going to shower myself," she said. She sounded almost sullen.
It was great to see her roommate as an equal, not an upperclassman to be kowtowed to as Cheryl had felt she had to do up until now.
She marched up to Abby and took her by the arm. "We can both shower at once," she said lightly. "I always hate to do my back, and none of these gadgets work.”
She didn't really expect Abby to shower with her; she just wanted the victory of scaring the glamorous redhead a little. But Abby got up obediently and let herself be walked into the bathroom, almost trotting alongside Cheryl.
“I always thought you were… nervous about being seen na-undressed," said Abby.
"Oh, I like naked females," answered Cheryl, her demons pushing her. "I like my own body and other girls." She knew she blushed, but kept on. Somehow she had to shock the girl who thought her stodgy. "Kind of dangerous in a sorority, huh?”
She threw her arm about Abby's shoulders and the two roommates faced each other in the bathroom mirror. In her bubbly mood, Cheryl thought Abby looked absolutely ravishing and she looked good, too. They were a couple of really hot looking "broads" when you came down to it.
"Oh, it's all right to appreciate another woman's body, if you don't touch," said Abby. Her blue eyes gleamed softly.
Cheryl felt the warm contact of Abby's body and became aware of a subtle, insistent rising sexuality. Her masturbation had not satisfied her; it had only turned her on. She would have to be very careful. It was one thing to have lesbian fantasies while a boy made love to her. It was quite another to touch, to seduce forbidden flesh. Yet the heat in her loins rose and her face felt moist. She still wanted some kind of victory over Abby, who was a year older, at twenty, and an upperclassman, while she was only a freshman.
Heart thudding in her chest and hands trembling, she undid her blouse and took it off.
"I don't have to worry about being seen nude," said Cheryl. "I'm not that good looking.”
"That's a lie!" said Abby, feeding her the compliment she wanted. "You're about the best-looking girl in the Deltas. Look at that long shining hair. Like rippling wheat, as they say. I envy blondes.”
Cheryl blushed and shook down her long mane of glory. "I know I've got pretty good hair."
"Your face, fabulous," Abby went on. "Those big green eyes and that golden skin. Mine's too white, too fine. You have a kind of beauty gleam, and a perky nose, better than mine. Full lips too, but not too thick. Mine just barely make it, I hate thin-lipped people.”
"Me, too," Cheryl glowed, studying her face and trying to see it as Abby did. Maybe it wasn't too bad. In fact it was pretty good, as Abby said.
Excited, Cheryl slipped out of her half-bra and exposed her breasts, kneading them in the sweet release from their confinement.
"Those breasts are the best I ever saw!" cried Abby.
"Oh, come on. You've got a pair that would shame a movie star.”
"Mine are round," said Abby. "They're okay. Yours are more cone like so they stick out farther. Shaped just right. Deeper, not a bit of sag.”
To prove her point she pulled her robe open to expose her own breasts. Both girls stared at each other's beauties in the mirror. Somehow it was okay, if they looked at both pairs at once. What Abby said was true. Hers were rounded, classical, full. Cheryl's were deeper, with a better cleavage. Cheryl was taller by an inch, but the taper of her torso was no less elegant than Abby's and her golden skin looked as good as Abby's white, fine-textured counterpart. Both girls had deep indentations to enhance the flatness of young, nubile bellies.
Cheryl felt light-headed. She felt a compelling, burning heat to explore the dangerous, unknown world that played so often in her fantasies. Her cunt flowed in her pants again and her breath became short. Best of all was that incredible, delightful sensation of sexual anticipation. Here was a chance-maybe the only chance of a lifetime-to touch another woman sexually.
Yet it was a tremendous risk. Abby might scream and run. Bring the whole house down around them with hoarse accusations. Cheryl would kill herself if something like that happened; the shame would be too great.
She hesitated-and saw the incredible, tight lock of Abby's nipples. There was a sheen of moisture on the redhead's face, and her eyes looked a little dazed as she drank in Cheryl's half-nude body. There was a fast pulse in the graceful throat. Why, Abby was as sexed up as she was, frustrated by the loss of her boyfriend, by that necking with Tom and the masturbation with the soccer ball.