"Are you going to sleep with us?" one of the youngest girls asked, in a voice that sounded ready to break into sobs at any second.
"No, honey," Pat smiled with tenderness. "I have a little cabin of my own that I share with another Big Sister. It's very close to the large cabin where you girls will sleep, though, so don't be afraid of anything. I'll be close by, if you need me." Her eyes couldn't help straying in Mimsy Colberg's direction as she uttered the last words.
"Why can't you sleep with us?" the frightened girl sobbed.
"Because Mrs. Marchant wants you to develop a sense of being on your own," she explained, adding for Roxanne's benefit, "Under our supervision, of course, when necessary."
"But I've never slept in the woods before!" the girl cried, as tears began to run down both cheeks.
"What if a bear comes in our cabin during the night?" another of the younger girls sobbed.
"Or a snake?" a third chorused.
Sensing that in another minute she'd have full-scale panic on her hands and it would be hours before she could settle the girls down and get back to June, Pat quickly assumed her authoritative air.
"Don't act like such little babies!" she snapped. "The youngest of you must be at least twelve years old to be at this camp in the first place and when I was twelve I was already acting like a young lady. The next thing I know, you'll be crying because you don't have your doll baby or your teddy bear to cuddle up with when you go to sleep."
The psychology seemed to work. The girls who'd been on the brink of tears quickly wiped at their eyes and noses and tried their best to look suddenly grown-up. The girl who'd started the fuss, however, still wasn't entirely satisfied.
"Couldn't you just sleep with us this first night?" she pleaded. "Just so we see for sure there's nothing to be afraid of?"
"Not on your life, honey!" Pat thought to herself. "Not the way I'm feeling tonight! And definitely not with that cute little blonde puss over there sleeping in the same cabin!"
"No," she said aloud, gently but firmly. "Mrs. Marchant would be very upset with me if I did that. She wants you girls to become young ladies during the summer, so your parents will be proud of you."
"And so they'll send us back to this dump again next year, too," Roxanne snorted.
Several of the girls giggled behind their hands as Pat shot her an angry look. "If you're unhappy here so soon, Roxanne," she hissed, "I've already told you what you can do. Perhaps your parents can still get you in the camp they sent you to last year."
She noticed the girl's throat bob as she swallowed hard and once again shifted herself nervously from foot to foot. "I didn't say I was unhappy here," she answered. "At least not yet."
"Well if it all gets too unbearable," Pat cracked, "just let me know and I'll speak to Mrs. Marchant for you."
"What are we supposed to call you?" Roxanne asked.
"I don't understand what you mean. I told you at dinner; my name's Pat."
"Do you want us to call you Big Sister Pat?" Roxanne smirked. "Or just Sister Pat?"
"This is not a convent, Roxanne," she growled, squeezing her fingers into tight fists against her palms in an effort to keep her mounting anger against the girl under control. "You can call me Pat. Period."
"Okay," the girl smiled wickedly, "Pat Period."
Throwing her another warning glance as a second twitter of giggles ran through the group, Pat put her arm around the frightened girl's shoulders and began to lead her toward the shower cabin.
"All of you come with me now," she called. "Our group was scheduled to be in the showers five minutes ago, so we'll have to hurry. Mrs. Marchant gets very upset if one group holds up another for any reason."
"Are there any bears in these woods?" the young camper asked as she hurried alongside Pat.
"No!" she laughed. "Of course not!"
"Any snakes?"
"No! Only the harmless kind – the little ones – and they're more scared of you than you are of them. Nothing's going to come in your cabin, honey, except maybe a squirrel. You're not afraid of squirrels, are you?"
"No…"
"You're going to be a big girl this summer, aren't you? So when your parents ask Mrs. Marchant what kind of camper you've been, she'll be able to tell them a good one?"
"Yes." The girl nodded her head anxiously, looking up into Pat's face with an expression that was almost worshipful. It was a common thing for the youngest campers to develop an attachment for their Big Sister, Pat knew. The danger came when Big Sister liked little girls too much in return and wanted to move the attachment onto a physical level. There was no danger of that happening with this girl, but Mimsy Colberg was another matter.
"These are the showers?" Roxanne complained loudly, as soon as the group of girls had entered the cabin. "You expect us to take showers here?"
"What's wrong with it?" Pat challenged.
"Just look at the place! There's no privacy at all!" She motioned with her hand toward the gang showers on either side of the cabin. Six spray nozzles had been set in the walls opposite each other, enabling a dozen girls to shower at the same time. "At the camp I went to last year, they had tiled booths with curtains…"
"Are you ashamed to be seen in the nude, Roxanne?" Pat challenged, interrupting her in mid-stream.
"Ashamed?" For the third time in about ten minutes the girl seemed completely flustered and at a loss for words. "Why – no! Of course not! Why should I be?"
"Then why all the fuss?"
"Well, it just seems so – primitive, I guess."
"You'll get used to it," Pat muttered. "Now how about getting out of your clothes like the other girls are doing and getting yourself cleaned up for bed?"
"I'm not really dirty now, you know. I did bathe at home this morning."
"Good," Pat smirked, "then it shouldn't take you long to shower now."
With a heavy sigh, Roxanne began to unbutton the front of her blouse and strip out of her clothes along with the others. Pat leaned back against the wall, wishing more than anything for a cigarette but knowing how Mrs. Marchant felt about Big Sisters being seen smoking in front of their girls. "If you must indulge in such a filthy habit," she'd often told her counselors, "do it in your own cabins, where the girls can't see."
"That goes for a lot of filthy habits, Mrs. M.!" Pat thought, feeling once again the ripple of need running through her as she watched the pile of clothes accumulating on the floor and tried her best not to stare too openly at the lithe, smooth young bodies that had just shed them.
Her hunger was at a feverish pitch. Since her arrival at the camp that morning she'd been almost obsessed with the thought of making love to June that night. It had been months since they'd last seen one another; not since Christmas, in fact, when Pat went to Boston to spend a few days with June and her family during the college recess. The memory of how they'd made love to one another during that brief time was still so fresh in her mind she could almost taste the salty-sweetness of June's flesh on her tongue when she curled it slowly around inside her mouth.
Her hands tingled for the touch of June's sleek skin and the surprisingly thick bush of hair I between her legs. How she loved to have Pat stroke her fingers through that hairy pile and inch her way slowly into the deep, juicy hole it covered. She was a passionate lover and responded in every way to the demands Pat made of her body. When they were together again at last that night, there wasn't a doubt in her mind that they would make love like tigresses in heat. She was certain June's hunger would be at least as strong as her own.