Midnight-Pearl

Chapter 1 – The Undergraduate

"Okay, light brown half-cast white and negress, five-feet-eight-inches tall, 120 pounds, thirty-eight double-D-cup tits, twenty-three around the waist, and thirty-eight around my bum. And, yes, you can believe that my nipples as well as my tits are really and truly that big. Two-inch diameter brown-pink aureole, since you're asking. And, no, I have never had enhancement of any sort at any time. All you see is beautiful bountiful me: me strictly only as nature generously made me. Nor would you run a mile from my mile-long legs, because my stupendous legs can run a mile faster than yours can. And, anyway, you would want me to catch you wouldn't you?!"

Strangely, most of the compliments in the emails to my website had been about my high cheekboned face, my seductive mouth with its full negress' lips and shy smile, my short shorn curly brown hair, my intelligent sparkling dark-brown eyes, or even my pretty little ears. "Prof", as I still call her, had added the heading quoted above to my Frequently Asked Questions ("FAQ") page. She wanted to spice the site up, she said. What she wrote was no more and no less than the truth. It worked too. Starting from my amateur website I was, in time, to be talent spotted and become the very highly paid glamour model I am now. But there was an intervening life-changing destiny I was to endure, and it is that that is my story.

"Prof" was Alena ******. She was to be my tutor-counsellor from the day I started university aged eighteen, till my bachelor degree graduation, aged twenty-one. By the time I was twenty-one, I would therefore have been under Prof's care for three years. By the time I was twenty-one, I had also been under Prof for three years in another way. Alena and I had been lovers of a sort almost from the very outset of my college life.

For both Alena and I, it had been love at first sight. But what a first sight I must have been for Alena. It had been "freshers' week". The "getting-to-know-you" week when the new students assemble at English universities to settle into their accommodation, find their way around campus, meet their tutors for the first rime, and say hello to their fellow new students.

No productive work was expected from the students during freshers' week, which was just as well. Most of the students were away from the restraining control of their family homes for the first time in their young lives. Dedicated drinking was expected, and that expectation not disappointed.

When Alena first came across me I had indulged in a lot of drink with my new found pals around the local town. It was three in the morning. I was staggering back alone to my room when I bumped into Alena. Alena, a professor at twenty-eight, was not so long from having been an undergraduate student herself as to have forgotten the joys of getting rolling drunk for the very first time.

For me this older tall slim ice-cool blonde English white girl, whom I was yet to meet formally and be introduced to as my personal tutor, looked knock-dead gorgeous, even in the sodium-yellow lights that dimmed the walkways of the college campus at three in the morning. I took one look at her and I entirely purposely, entirely literally, fell entirely into her arms.

Alena swears to this day that I greeted her with a very slurred, "Hello gorgeous", with breath that reeked of beer and whisky a plenty, and then kissed her, totally uninhibitedly, full on the mouth.

Both you and I will have to take Alena's word for that. I was so drunk that night I can recall as much about it now as I could the morning immediately after: absolutely nothing.

What I do recall for certain though, was that the morning after, I awoke for the first time, around 10.00, in a strange bed, and with the swinging rear view of a very pretty older blonde white girl preparing black coffee beyond the open kitchen door of what must be her apartment.

"You were talking in your sleep all night", called this girl whose name I did not yet know to be Alena.

"I've always found the musical lilt of the Welsh accent incredibly lovely. What part of Wales are you from?"

I made no answer, but as Alena came back into her bed-sitting room, I suddenly leapt out of Alena's bed with one hand cupped over my mouth the other clutching my lower belly, and a querulous look in my panicked eyes.

"Through there!" Alena laughed, as she pointed, and I ran into her bathroom to be vomit heartily, crouched over her lavatory bowl, thereby paying that morning the price for my over-indulgence in alcohol since the morning of the previous day.

The first phrase I actually recall saying to Alena is: "Please may I have a glass of water?"

I felt decidedly the worse for wear. So ill did I feel, that any marching tambourine tapping temperance tempter would have recruited me for the rest of my natural life had one been passing through Alena's bed-sitting-room at the time.

The phrase "the evil of drink" did not, for me at that moment, need to be preceded by "beware". It was too late to warn me. I had succumbed and how. And how I regretted it too. My head was fuzzy, my eyelids heavy, I was sure my eyes must be badly bloodshot, and my tongue felt like Velcro.

"You'd better drink lots of water, Emma. It is 'Emma' isn't it? You're dehydrated I wouldn't be surprised", Alena commented and enquired in the friendliest of "one-girl-to-another" tones.

It was only then that I realised I was standing in what must be this young woman's apartment, because it was definitely not my student dormitory, in a state of total, but total nudity.

Alena laughed again. "I'm sorry Emma, it was the look on your face. I had to undress you, you were in no fit state. You'd puked all down your top and jeans. I threw all your clothes, and the sheets you made a mess of when you were sick again later, in the washing machine. If it wasn't for the reward of the look on your face just then, I'd give you my bill for room service!"

"You might as well take a shower while you're dressed for it!" Alena joked with another attractive smiling laugh. "Fresh towels coming up for her ladyship right now!"

Despite my post-alcohol haze and hangover, the smile and the laugh of this lovely girl, what would she be, twenty-eight perhaps, set me smiling too, and I joined in the joke, by dropping her an exaggerated curtsy, after I had caught a huge soft warm bath towel she had thrown me.

Moments later, in Alena's bathroom, I soon had the powerful flow of hot water pummelling fresh vigour into my gorgeous soft light-brown skin.

If the world of good was ever done by the shower in the cliché, that shower did me the world of good. I hoped Alena would not mind if I "borrowed" some of her shampoo, and I gave my body the head-to-foot recharge that only hot water in strong jets at high speed can bring.

The shower cured the worst of my hangover. It was now climbing toward eleven in the morning, and I was just beginning to arrive at the freshness claimed for daisies, or do I mean dew, in an earlier part of the day.

Having read this far, you may express surprise that I would throw myself into the arms of another girl in the way I had on my first night at university.

To be perfectly honest, on that next morning, so was I surprised. My drunkenness must have loosened more than inhibitions. I certainly had no cause to believe that I was a girl for girls. I must have been so drunk that I had mistaken identity. I would have just as eagerly thrown my arms around and passionately kissed a boy wouldn't I?

I patted myself dry with Alena's wonderfully huge soft bath towel, and then wrapped my lower half in another drier smaller towel Rather than walk back into Alena's bedroom, bare chested, I wished I could also find something to cover my naked breasts. In the end, I resorted to putting her bath towel around my neck so that it hung over my more than ample bosom.

I opened the bathroom door shyly. A voice called from the kitchen, "I've put your laundered clothes on the chair beside the bed. They may still be a bit damp. Sorry they're not pressed, I'm lousy at ironing. ………Come through here when you're ready……… Can you face breakfast? Even if you can't, I've lots of fresh orange juice here and that'll do you the world of good".

As I dressed in panties, bra, my jeans and t-shirt and the cowboy boots I had worn the night before, smelling and hearing bacon on Alena's grill, I called out: "No. No thank you. No breakfast. I don't eat meat."

My laundered clothing smelt wonderfully fresh and, yes, they were a little damp.

"I know" called Alena again. "About the meat. Might have been something you said in your sleep see. If it was, it was one of the few intelligible things you said. Better than all-night TV you were though. Better for a complete insomniac like me."

I began to wonder what else I might have revealed in my sleep, and exactly where Alena had been in relation to me whilst I had slept in her bed.

Her voice, loving and pretty at the same time, became softer in the instant, as I soft-wiggle-glided into her kitchen.

"Well" she said, smiling at me, "You look spick and span but for the creases in the t-shirt, I'm….."

"…..Useless at ironing", I gently echoed from her earlier calling out to me, and we both laughed.

"Fresh orange juice: real oranges, or so it claims on the label", she prompted, pointing toward an opened carton, "Sit yourself down Emma, and make yourself at home"

"You said I said I was 'Emma' in my sleep, right?" I enquired, between sips of pleasingly sharply pallet-zinging orange juice.

"There's grapefruit if you prefer….", Alena answered to the look on my face.

"The orange is fantastic", I said, "I really am grateful….."

"You kept sleep-talking in a voice imitating someone telling someone else off, 'Emma this', and 'Emma that', so I guessed your name or someone you knew must be Emma."

"Bronwyn Emma Jones" I said, "But I prefer the Emma, and I don't know……"

"Alena" answered Alena. "If you want the whole lot, I'm Professor Alena *****. But I can't get used to the 'professor' bit. It's so stuffy. Please call me Alena, or 'Prof' if you prefer. One of last year's failing students started calling me 'Prof' behind my back. I rather like it though."

"And, I know a lot about you, not just because you're a chatterbox when you're sleeping, but because I have a file on you. In fact I have a file on fifty of you and your fellow newcomers, because I'm your counsellor: the tutor appointed to be your guide and helper throughout your university career. You're one of only three Afro-Caribbean girls on my list. Sorry to mention that. Don't get me wrong. But that picture on that file obviously had to be you now I've seen you in the flesh, if you'll pardon the expression! That's why I could be pretty sure you must be 'Bronwyn', or rather, 'Emma' see? Actually, did you know that your picture is even prettier than you are for real!?" she said in a tone meant to convey a compliment through the silly joke.

I loved the compliment, and felt a hot blush as I smiled at this delightful older girl.

Even with the quick glance to find if there was truth in her eyes when she indirectly told me I was pretty, my eyes snapped an agreeable mental photograph of this lovely blonde girl with middle parted hair swept back over her shoulders, hair that looked lovely, but not as if she often saw a professional hairdresser. Her ice-cool heart shaped intelligently pretty face, with blue-green eyes, petite nose, small chin, and pretty little mouth, were a delight to look at. What was she, five ten tall, but shapely. She could almost be a model if she were to take more time and trouble with her appearance.

"Whereabouts in Wales are you from Emma?"

We then got into a long conversation about me, and I told "Prof" about my never knowing my parents, and the orphanage, and foster parents because I had no living relatives, and my luck that someone spotted I had brains, and how I had been granted a bursary to fund my final secondary education through a private school with a very high academic reputation, and my sporting prowess, particularly where running long distance was concerned, and that, like all Welsh girls, I could sing, and had always taken the solo parts at school choir festivals.

"Your Welsh lilt is adorable" Alena smiled.

"Your dad was English and your mum from Wales?"

"I know what you want to know", I smiled, "They all do. 'Why are you coffee coloured then?' is one of the nicer ones they ask. It missed a generation. Grandda came from Jamaica. Grandda was a sailor on merchant ships, till he settled on shore in Cardiff."

There was a pause in the conversation. Then, for no apparent reason Alena said, "Nothing happened you know".

She was spot on target with that comment. It was exactly what I had wanted to hear. I wanted to hear it, but I would never have asked, and I was upset for the embarrassment for poor Alena in her having to tell me, though it was very honourable of her to do so.

"It's difficult to say that I'm going to be straight with you Emma, when the truth is that I am gay", said Alena, attempting another bad joke.

"I would hate for there to be gossip about you, but you had better beware Emma. I know some people do not like gay people. I do not want to give you a bad name. For the record, you slept alone in the bed, and I kept an eye on you from the chair. I don't sleep much, so it was no hardship. And someone who has drunk as much as you had, silly girl, needs an eye kept on them in case they choke. It's not nice to say, but some drunks lying asleep on their backs, choke to death on their own vomit……."

"Erhgh!! Thank you very, very, much for telling me that Alena!" I joked in order to make the tone of our chat lighter again.

"How about a very pretty girl like you then Emma: lots of boyfriends?" Alena asked almost as if she was resigned to the inevitable "yes".

"No, not that many…….. Well….. none really", I answered, "But I'm not………."

Alena just smiled, "And I should hope not!" she joked.

"More orange juice, or hows about a coffee".

"Only decaffeinated for me", I answered.

"One decaffeinated coffee coming up for madam!", Alena announced.

I helped Alena with the washing of the breakfast ware, and found where she kept her crockery and utensils.

"I'd better get back to my room" I said, "I've not even unpacked yet".

"Are you sure you can find your way in broad daylight?" Alena ribbed me.

"Yes thank you very much!" I responded with mock indignity.

"I'd better go then", I added.

Then we both spoke at one and the same time, "I….", we both began and then both abruptly halted in confusion.

"You go first Prof" I mock instructed, with a new found confidence in the friendship I unconsciously knew I was striking up with this girl.

Alena suddenly looked a little serious. "Emma, I had better tell you right now, that I did look over your face and your body".

I hung my head blushing. I was not sure that I wanted to hear this, and began to leave Alena's apartment in the hope of quitting it before Alena embarrassed herself, let alone me.

"I was searching all over your face and body for the label", Alena ventured, in a voice that told of an overwhelming desire not to upset me, but to get out what she wanted to say before I was escaped and her chance might be lost forever.

I confess that I was intrigued, puzzled even, and I turned toward her. I did not want to hurt this gorgeous girl by anything I said or did either. I had caught the tone in her voice, the tone that told of fear of rejection.

"'Label'?" I asked as gently as I possibly could, "What do you mean 'label'?"

"The label that would say 'made in heaven'!" Alena answered.

"Thank you" I whispered, avoiding Alena's eyes, and closing her door quietly

I then dawdled to my dormitory, pleasantly mystified and yet also very happily flattered by the compliment and, above all, surprised at the damp patch in the gusset of my panties.

………….

Back in my appointed rooms, I must have spent as long as maybe two-minutes unpacking one of the many boxes I had brought to the university from my school dormitory, before I found myself wandering back to Alena's apartment, strangely hoping and praying to find her still there.

I knocked on her door.

"Come in whoever you are!" Alena called.

"Oh, it's you Emma", she smiled, as I entered, "……….I haven't come across anything you might have forgotten….."

All the way on my way back over to Alena's, I had planned what I was going to say to her. It included thanking her for the compliment, how I was not gay, but that I was not sorry that I had kissed her, if I had indeed kissed her, and how nice, no, how pretty she was too.

Perhaps a girl who talks in her sleep is also prone to having her sub-conscious mind take over her tongue, for I can never forget nor can I ever explain why I said what came straight out of me next, as I looked Alena in her lovely blue-green eyes:

"I'm still a virgin" I said.

Alena, caught my note of seriousness and obviously sensed my arousal and my confusion that I was finding myself so passionately attracted to another girl.

"That makes you even more beautiful Emma. And believe me you are exquisitely beautiful", Alena coaxed.

"I've never ever done anything with anybody, see…" I stumbled on.

I could not believe what I was coming out with. But I had gone this far, and my subconscious seemed to be in charge of me:

"Would you like to be the first to take me to bed?", I asked shyly but surprisingly boldly.

"Well, I would have to think about that for all of less than one-billionth of a second", Alena joked.

Strange things were happening to my nipples and inside my panties as I spoke to this girl in this completely open and submissive way. I somehow felt a desire to surrender myself, almost to demean myself, the more I gave myself to her, the more aroused, sexually aroused, I seemed to become.

The look on Alena's face told me that she knew what I was experiencing and, furthermore, that she knew why and yet furthermore that she sensed a special conquest was at the end of her metaphorical fishing line.

"…..It is just that, some girls Emma….", she began, and then halted, as if her mouth was giving voice to thoughts that had shot through her brain too quickly and thus become disordered, or that needed couching in a less direct way….

"How can I put this…….." she continued…..

I hung my head assuming Alena was trying to find the kindest way to turn me down flat, and also though, and oh so strangely, feeling yet greater arousal, almost enjoyment, no, definite enjoyment at the anticipation of being turned down.

I had asked if Alena wanted to take me to bed, because I had wanted to surrender to this older girl. Yet, strangely, and completely perversely, I was now feeling as if I wanted her to turn me down, to reject me, even to eject me from her apartment.

This was not because I had changed my mind in the conventional sense. I had not suddenly realised what I had just said, and become overwhelmed by desire to withdraw it. I was not even hoping for Alena to say "no" to save me having to say I was sorry and had been stupid, or that I had not meant to say what I had said.

I had said what I meant to say: my subconscious desire had spoken truth from my gorgeous lips. Yet, though it seems idiotic in the extreme, I wanted to be turned down by Alena, because it would hurt me. The certainty I had at that moment that Alena would laugh at me and mock me and send me away dismissively, was turning me on even more.

These were new feelings to me. This girl not only attracted me to her in the way that I thought I should really only be attracted to boys, but I also, though it did not have acceptance at the forefront of my mind as of then, found that I wanted her to take charge over me.

I was only too aware of my feelings as I lightly bit my lower lip, and strained not to let go a little fart indicative of girly sexual arousal, when out of the blue, Alena shocked me with:

"Do you agree that naughty girls should be spanked Emma?"

"No!!" I gasped with astonishment, looking up at her suddenly and seeing her smile and the loving look in her eyes, a look that said she knew exactly what I needed, precisely how a beautiful girl like me should have love made to her, indeed the only way a truly beautiful girl should ever have love made to her.

Then I felt further love juice seeping into my already soaking girl-wet panties….

"Yes" I sighed with my head submissively down.

"I sometimes beat pretty girls when they don't do as they are told Emma", Alena announced to me in a quiet tone, like a whisper, or as if she did not want, or could not afford to be overheard by her neighbours, as would be entirely understandable.

"Girls as lovely as you are, are so overwhelmingly provocatively sexy. You light up the world by the delight you bring into dull life. You are heaven on earth. You turn heads, transfix eyes, and compel us to look at you in admiration and awe, filling us with overwhelming pleasure and desire. The beauty of girls like you outweighs that of any other creature or flower, or mountain, or stream, or the sky, the sea, the sun, the moon or all the stars in the heavens."

"Girls like you are life affirming. Just to catch a glimpse of your faces makes life worthwhile, and tomorrow a pleasant prospect after all. Given only conventional love, you may forget that your duty is to maintain your incredible desirability at all times at its absolute peak. You therefore need to have the fact that you are beautiful beaten into you."

"Conventional love will never ever satisfy you. You are, of course, free to leave here right now and look for conventional love. Return of your free will, and I will introduce you to the particular way that you should lead your life. You have a particular destiny Emma. You were born for it, and you have lighted upon the beginning of the pathway that will lead you to that destiny."

I looked up at Alena with total surrender in my eyes, and then cast them down again.

"I will not take you to bed Emma. You must think about what I have told you. You don't have to come back here again if you don't want to…."

"If you do, Emma, I will expect you to surrender to a very special kind of love. Come back here any time you like. I will certainly be hoping and praying you will. And Emma, please understand that just because I have said what I have just said to you, it does not mean I think any the less of you. You truly are an incredibly lovely girl. I mean that. You are truly incredibly lovely. It is just that there are two ways that love should be made to a girl as facially, physically and mentally as beautiful as you are: the tepid and the strong. You, Emma, need strong love. You deserve strong love."

My mind and my body were transfixed by this pronouncement. "Dirty talk" some would call it. I had my choices given me and I would think about them. I would in fact think about nothing else all day.

Alena and I went on to talk about clothes and shopping and where best to go for my hair. Despite the seeming evidence of her not taking overmuch care with her own appearance, Alena had recommendations for all my beauty needs and definite views as to which emporia it was the best for me to use.

Although she recommended the university gymnasium, she pointed out how crowded it was likely to get, and invited me to go swimming at a privately owned pool in the home of a very wealthy local woman.

"There is also a running track there Emma. It is very important that you build up your strength and stamina," Alena told me. Alena told me this, but I had no idea why it was supposed to be so important I have strength and stamina, in my running.

"A minimum of three miles every day" Alena almost instructed, "and you must be doing at least five-mile runs at weekends, both days. Best to do five each weekend day, so you can do four thereafter with ease" she concluded.

I looked at her quizzically. I would willing do the running she sought. I loved to run and was already well capable of greater distances.

"You have divinely beautiful legs Emma" Alena said in answer to the query on my face, and as if it explained everything.

After this, the strangest interview in my life, I returned to my own rooms. Once there, and with my door locked, I slipped out of my tight jeans and pulled my soaking wet panties down my glorious legs, scenting as I did so, the overwhelming aroma of my love musk.

I was a young girl with an adventurous spirit and powerful curiosity. Whatever it had been that Alena had been talking about I would go along with it, at least some of the way. What other evidence did I need that my desire was aflame from the talk Alena had given me, than the fact that I was forced, on my return to my own rooms, to change my girl-juice saturated panties?

The sign to Alena that I would comply with her wishes for me, would be my return to her rooms.

To hell with unpacking, I thought. I needed to think and in order to think I needed to run. Somewhere in this pile of suitcases and boxes were my trainers and running shorts. I came across the trainers, and some summer shorts, rather than the ones I sought. They would have to do. I put on my training bra, an absolute necessity for a fulsomely-breasted girl like me, and jogged out into the early October sun, my mind in a whirl of confusion and mixed messages and possibly misunderstood apparent understandings.

Outside, I did some on-the-spot chest bouncing jogging in order to warm my muscles up, and then took a gentle trot around the university grounds. It would be a means for me to learn my way around, and the wolf-whistles from the girls repairing a roof over what I realised was the gymnasium, were very pleasing.

By my return, after jogging gently for an hour, I had made up my mind.

I showered and got stuck into my unpacking with a purposeful will.

Having unpacked and distributed my belongings more or less where I would have them be, I showered again, and dressed to go over to Alena's.

I wanted this older girls admiration. I adored her compliments. I would dress, as I judged, to please her. I was always a t-shirt and jeans girl. But I had a crop-top t-shirt that was "torn-off" so as to leave my flat belly bare, and jeans, that constantly threatened to show the tops of my panties. I wanted to look as if my body was falling out of its clothing, as if I did not belong in clothing. I was in two minds whether to wear a brassiere, but decided I could not be so daring as to leave it off. Three-inch heeled booties completed my simple outfit. I was ready.

………….

I was ready. It was 5.00 in the evening I took a deep breath, fixed my money-belt at a sloping angle loose on my hips, and glided my delightfully girly-bottom-undulating-way to Alena's rooms. Once there, I knocked.

Once outside Alena's door, I knocked, but there was no response. I suddenly felt a return of all the tension I thought my afternoon jog had fully relieved. And with that tension, doubt and fear that I was being made a fool of, and the question whether I was doing the right thing. What was Alena on about when she talked about, what was it she said, a destiny, a fate, and an inevitability for me? Had she not said that it was something I had been born for? What on earth could she be talking about?

I could, of course, have walked away right then. I was a free human on the verge of starting a course in the sciences and mathematics with reasonable expectation of a good degree, according to my very supportive schoolteachers. Attending an all-girls school had helped, even if my education in love, where boys are concerned, was thus made so narrow as to be non-existent.

I could, of course, have walked away right then, but instead, I put my back against the wall of the corridor outside Alena's rooms, and slowly slid to a "resigned-to-waiting" crouch, leaning on my back against the wall, my arms outstretched, elbows on my knees, legs in a squat.

The degree to which I had made up my mind of my own free will, can be judged from the fact that I squatted there for at least forty-five minutes, with only the sound of the traffic on the main road outside the block in which Alena had her apartment, for my entertainment.

The only human company I had was another tutor I assumed, a woman of around forty-five, coming to the neighbouring apartment.

"Are you alright there sweetheart?" she asked me in the kindest of voices.

"Yes. Yes thank you", I responded on reflex.

She had already turned the key in her door. "Oh, a Welsh accent, how lovely. Have you signed on for the university choir? They're doing auditions all this week for an oratorio at Christmas. ………..Sorry, that's a silly assumption about you Welsh always being fantastic singers…."

"Yes…… Well no actually", I nearly lied. "I do sing. I love to sing", I truthfully told her.

"Would you like to wait in my place, till Alena comes, I'm dying for a coffee myself……..Oh there she is now. Lovely talking to you. Hope we'll see you at choir practice. There are Welsh boys there too!" she smiled.

As Alena approached with heavy bags of food shopping I rose slowly to standing.

Alena then exchanged greeting pleasantries with her neighbour, before turning to me.

"Emma, how nice", was all Alena greeted me with.

"Take a couple of these bags whilst I get my key, would you please" she commanded, gently.

Alena clearly assumed I had come to take up her offer to be shown a way of love that she had already made absolutely clear, unless it were just dirty talk, might include my being beaten. And indeed, my curiosity and the compelling attraction I had to Alena, had made me come back to see her entirely of my own volition.

"Are you hungry?" she enquired.

"Yes, just a little" I lied. In fact I felt famished, but was two polite to say so.

"I hoped you would come back, so I went shopping on the off-chance, and I also hoped you would stay to eat, so I have set the table", Alena said.

I glanced at the table, noting in passing that two chairs were there, two place mats, but only one of the two place mats had cutlery beside it. Alena had been what appeared to be her usual undomesticated self, I assumed, as I smiled at the thought of that fairly evident side of her personality, thereby further confirmed.

Alena and I then chatted like old friends, but still with the exploration of each other's personalities and backgrounds to the fore in our questioning and answers. I made us both coffee, whilst Alena went out of the kitchen into her bedsit lounge-dining room, with two plates holding cold meals she must have prepared some time earlier and kept fresh in her refrigerator.

"You would be as well to start your degree…….." Alena began, as we chatted, both standing in her kitchen once more. "You are quite clearly a very intelligent girl. I think you are bright enough to do the degree in perfectly reasonable expectation of high honours: a first at least. But you are going to be offered a change of life. You need to be examined on whether you are worthy of it of course. Unfortunately, you will be not be able to pursue your degree as well as take up the other future we have in mind for you."

I immediately noticed the "we".

"'We'?, I enquired.

"Oh yes said Alena. The universities are a recruiting ground for us. We do not want just beauty we want brains. A beautiful girl is just a beautiful girl. A beautiful girl with high intellect is outstandingly beautiful. The universities are the most obvious repositories in which to find the outstandingly beautiful," announced Alena.

"Have no doubt about it Emma, you are outstandingly beautiful, indeed as the good judge you will just have to take my word for it that I am, I would say that without a doubt you are outstanding even among the outstandingly beautiful. Your face is astonishingly lovely and your physique naturally superb, your bright intellect self-evident". Alena spoke this to my deep blushes entirely matter-of-factly.

"At eighteen, though I see from your file in a couple of months you'll be eighteen, you are still a girl growing into the full bloom of womanhood Emma. We must work on your strength and stamina, to build you up, whilst not in any way making you unfeminine. If there is a god, she undoubtedly made you, and who are we to spoil her perfect work?"

"Please!" I called out in a croaky whisper of embarrassment, "All these compliments"

"When you get to know me better Emma, you will learn that, as of just now and forward of now, I only deal in facts."

My nerves were tingling with my deep down excitement I knew better than to break the spell by asking what was in mind for me. I took it as read that whatever it was I would have the right of refusal. And, what's more, my panty gusset was wet with my musk once more. If they were not compliments, then these "facts" being told me were turning me on. Even the most lovely girl in the world never ceases to enjoy being told she is adorable, and I was in the world, a girl, and being told I was gorgeous.

"May I deal in facts too please?" I enquired, with the hint of humour obvious in my voice and clearly acknowledged by Alena's gentle smile.

"Of course you may young lady!" Alena pretend scolded. "What fact do you wish to raise with your tutor-counsellor?"

I looked at Alena with huge pupils all but replacing the deep-brown irises in the eyes of the deeply sexually aroused girl I was, and ventured: "I hope it is a matter of fact that you are going to kiss me".

"Well Emma!" Alena teased, "I AM surprised at you……….. What took you so long to ask?"

The tingling in my finger tips was matched by perspiration from my extreme nervousness as Alena took my pretty hands. I closed my eyes in surrender as her lips approached my face. But, in another tease, she just gently kissed only the tip my nose. Then she pulled back still holding my hands in hers.

"I half-opened my eyelids and my absorption in my sexual wantonness was clearly to be seen in my dreamy-eyed absent stare. "Please!………" I begged, longing for her real full kiss on my lips.

"Let's eat", Alena announced brightly, letting go my fingers.

I was left in the kitchen recovering my senses, even more aroused by the non-kiss, if truth be told, than if our lips had caressed.

I splashed my face with cold water and used one of Alena's always wonderfully soft and fresh-smelling towels.

I had a naturally felinely feminine gait, but my flooding hormones now seemed to have increased even my superb girlness, and my damp panties added to my perfect snake-slow-slink as I glided into Jackie's bedsitting room, my fire only slightly dampened by my dousing my face with the cold water.

Then the flame flickered again as I saw that Alena was standing waiting for me to come to her table, and she was paying honour to my femininity, by holding my chair for me, as I moved between it and the table, and moving my chair gently under me as I sat.

As I sat, I thanked her. I was of course thanking her for playing the role of the gentleman and paying me the honour that her own beauty could equally have commanded of me, were I the boy that in no possible set of physical circumstances, bar in an absolute and extremely opposite universe, could I in fact ever be.

This holding of my chair, was the first sign of the way the relationship between Alena and I was to develop. I had no objection to this: none whatsoever.

Other signs were stranger; more alien; less obvious in their founding, and, truth told, decidedly peculiar.

I was to meet with the first of these next. Sitting down before the meal Jackie had prepared, I immediately noticed, as she moved around to take her place opposite me, that I was on the side of the table that she had, in her usual forgetful way, failed to set with a knife and fork.

I began to rise from my chair to make good this shortcoming, thus saving her the trouble.

"Where are you off to?", Alena enquired quietly.

"Sorry Alena, I should have asked first, may I fetch one of your knives and a fork?"

"Sit down Emma" Alena commanded quietly.

I sat down once more, assuming that she wanted to further demonstrate her honour of my feminine charms, by being the one to fetch what had been forgotten.

"Let's eat, I'm starving, I don't know about you" Alena announced in the friendliest of girl-to-girl intonation, having made no effort to find cutlery for me.

"Am I to eat with my fingers then?" I asked with a giggle, to remind her, since she seemed to have instantly forgotten that she was to get me a knife and fork.

"No Emma. Just those lovely lips and your tongue", Alena replied sounding so serious I just knew she must be joking.

I began to rise from my seat again.

"Emma!" cried Alena, "I'm so sorry, you stay sat and I'll fix the problem." I smiled and slowly shook my head behind her back, at Alena's lovely scatterbrain sexiness, as she wandered to her kitchen.

"I had already fine-shredded it in the mixer" came Alena's louder toned voice as she called from the kitchen, among the sound of crockery rather than cutlery.

"Here they are", she called and came back to the table with two heavy pottery bowls shaped to my eyes like the bowls dogs or cats are served their meals in. To my astonishment, she then let my meal slide from the plate it was presently on, into one of these bowls, and poured some water from a jug that seemed to be only for me, into the other bowl.

"There", she announced, "That'll be easier for you. Curse me for a fool for not thinking and finding the bowls in the first place…….."

I looked at her amazed: astounded.

"Just your pretty lips and your tongue Emma. You need to learn to drink that way too."

"Why?" I asked overwhelmed by curiosity.

"Because you don't want to starve or die of thirst do you, silly girl? You'll have to have a change of diet too. Vegetarian definitely. That which is in your bowl is a mix of ingredients we'll keep a secret for now. …."

I looked at her quizzically once more.

"We are working on your beauty", she explained. "A girl as naturally beautiful as you are will keep that beauty longer if she eats strictly only what nature provides. All the ingredients of your meal are absolutely and totally organic. None has seen a factory let alone a packet or a supermarket. Even your water is fresh from the sky and not from the tap or a supermarket bottle."

"We must take you back to nature. Eat only with your lips and your tongue Emma: that is how you begin your return to nature…………"

If this was what turned Alena on, I would do it, and, anyway, I was hungry. It occurred to me to ask why she was eating a more routine salad and using a knife an fork to eat it with, but I was very hungry, and Alena did not seem to be wanting to converse fully till our hunger was somewhat more sated.

"If you finish up with any on the end your nose, I'll kiss it off!" she teased, between mouth-fulls of her own meal.

That was enough for me. I leant forward and curled my lovely pink tongue under a morsel. Thus I discovered that what was in the bowl was truly delicious. After my moments of doubt had been overcome, I set to and devoured the whole bowlful with my generously curled negress' lips and my slim pink pointy tongue and my full enthusiasm. I had been ravenous. I even lapped water from the other bowl. After eating, still avoiding use of my hands and since, unlike Alena, I had no napkin, I licked my gorgeous full negress' lips to clean them, and coincidentally moisten their beauty, watched with evident sexual arousal in Alena's stunning eyes. But, to my disappointment, there was no food caught on the tip of my nose…..and thus no kiss.

'Midnight-Pearl' (by Eve Adorer)