Dr. Hooters Pt XXIV


The  VanderLeer  Equestrian  Academy was as isolated as a lepers'
colony, but far more comfortable.  Nestled away in the Blue Ridge
Mountains in the extreme north-west corner of North Carolina, the
Academy had played hostess to three generations of young,  upper-
crust, Southern womanhood.

Sherrie was quickly given an idea of what the summer had in store
for her.    As soon as she got off  the  bus  from  Raleigh,  and
stepped  into the van, she saw there were two other girls inside.
One was a pale blonde with a blue vein running across  her  fore-
head,  the  other  an anorexic brunette with her nose buried in a
magazine.

"Hi!", said the blonde, "I'm Marilyn."    She  extended  her  arm
minimally,  making Sherry cover most of the distance between them
to shake it, then she withdrew it almost immediately.   Marilyn's
voice  was  reedy  and nasal, very disagreeable.  Listening to it
all the time would be worse than hearing her baby brother Rodrigo
massage a balloon, Sherry thought.

"I'm Sherry Rodriguez", she replied without enthusiasm, "from Mi-
ami".  The two  girls  in  the  van  exchanged  a  knowing  look.
"Charmed", intoned the other girl, a lanky brunette with no chin,
who returned directly to her magazine.

Feeling it necessary to fill Sherry in on at least the  rudiments
of  what  the  Academy  was all about, Marilyn began speaking, as
much to the other girl as to Sherry.  "It's wonderful that we get
a  few of you people here each summer on scholarship.  It adds so
much diversity to the Academy..."

Sherry felt the blood rising to her cheeks.  "My father paid full
tuition  and board for my stay, thank you.  All fourteen weeks in
advance."

This made the brunette look up form  her  magazine  in  surprise.
Good,  thought  Sherry, a ten-week girl pretending to be planter-
class.  Probably a Baptist to boot.  Well, this is  gonna  be  an
interesting summer.  She turned to the snarky blonde.  "What kind
of horses do they have here at the Academy?"

"Tennessee saddle horses,  certainly",  replied  Marilyn.   "What
kind  of horses do you-all ride in Miami?"  She pronounced it My-
am-uh.

"My father has a stable of prize paso finos.  My  sisters  and  I
ride 'em a lot.  They're descendants of the horses the conquista-
dores brought over from Spain", Sherry replied proudly.

"Lovely", replied the brunette  noncomittally.   It  was  obvious
that  neither  Marilyn  nor  the Baptist wanted to discuss equine
blood-lines with a girl from a city they didn't even consider  to
be  part  of  their country.  Sherry turned around and stared out
the window at the mountains until Mrs. Vanderleer, a grey-haired,
all-business  woman  of  fifty-plus, returned, introduced herself
quietly, and started up the road out of Mercer to the Academy.

Sherry felt her chest burning again, like it did on the  airplane
from  Miami to Atlanta, except worse.  She folded her sweater, so
useless in torrid south Florida, but so necessary here, over  the
affected part, and rocked slowly to make the pain go away.

"Do they have a lot of drug dealers in Miami?", asked the blonde.

Sick of the shit, Sherry responded sarcastically.  "Yeah.  My dad
made  his  stake  in  flake  Peruvian cocaine, and mom was a gun-
runner for the Contras."

The Baptist lifted her head up from the magazine.  "You've got  a
sense  of  humor",  she droned.  "That's good.  You'll need it at
the Academy."

**************************************************************
Opening  the door to the cabin, Sherrie threw her bags inside and
stepped in.  Her cabin-mate was  hunched over her bed, ass in the
air, rummaging through something on the other side.  Sherrie drew
her breath in at the sight of the  jeans-clad  ass,  one  of  the
finest she'd ever seen, and continued to stare in astonishment as
the owner of that splendid  ass  drew  herself  up  to  her  full
height, and turned around to greet the newcomer.

Sherrie's  cabin-mate was a tall black girl, towering over Sherry
by at least a foot.  "Hi there!", she  yelled,  thrusting  out  a
great  hand and grasping Sherrie's own.  "I'm Veronica.  Veronica
Talbot, from Virginia Beach."  Sherrie stood pumping her  arm  in
disbelief.   Not  only  was  Veronica the tallest girl she'd ever
met, but also one of the most beautiful.  Her rich  cocoa-colored
complexion  was  even  and  flawless.  Her jet-black hair fell in
natural waves over her sculpted  shoulders  and  down  her  back,
without  a  trace  of processing.  Dark, almond-shaped eyes glis-
tened above a rich, generous mouth, and  her  cheekbones  flaired
slightly, giving her face an oval shape and an Asiatic flavor.

"You're beautiful", stammered Sherrie.

"Thanks",  Veronica  responded, sitting down on the bed.  Sherrie
noticed that Veronica's hair just brushed the mattress  when  she
sat  down.   "But  I  can  see why they put us together.  Let the
brown girls stay together.  Hmm.   Did  they  think  you  were  a
scholarship case, too?"

Laughing,  Sherry  repeated what Marilyn had told her on the van.
Veronica winced.  "Half these white girls up here with  the  fine
names  are  here  on scholarship!", she laughed, "Either that, or
they're six-weekers or ten-weekers.  I'm here for fourteen weeks,
myself,  courtesy  of  my father James E. Talbot IV of Talbot Mo-
tors, Virginia Beach"

Unpacking her suitcases on her bed, Sherrie continued her  story.
"My  folks  paid  for fourteen weeks up here.  Papi said it would
give me a little polish."

"Oh, it will, it will, honey", exclaimed Veronica.  "Mrs  Vander-
leer's  big  on polish.  You'll learn how to dress at dinner, how
to hold your fork, how to  curtsey,  all  that  important  stuff.
But,  if  you're  darker than buttermilk, as they say in Virginia
Beach, you'll learn a lot of other stuff here as well."

"Whuddaya mean?"

Veronica stretched her impossibly long legs out, covering her en-
tire  cot.   "These white girls, their families have been sending
them up here for three generations.  They're Old South, very  old
school.   Mostly  they  come  here  to put that little varnish of
hypocrisy over the multiple layers of snobbery  that  passes  for
character in their circles."

"Trouble  is,  the  bloodlines  have been getting a bit thin, and
Daddy's bank account's getting a bit low, so they let a few  rich
young  savages like you and me in each summer.  Then they use the
money to bring a few of their impoverished relatives up on schol-
arship,  and they make a big deal about the fact that the Academy
allows scholarship girls up at all 'to foster respect for differ-
ences  and diversity', and hey presto!   Everyone assumes that us
darkies are here on scholarship and the secret is safe for anoth-
er generation."

"The bitches!", exclaimed Sherry.

Veronica  laughed,  revealing  a smile so white it almost glowed.
"Don't let it bother you.  By the way, what's your name?"

Sherry.  Sherry Rodriguez."

"Don't let it  bother  you,  Sherry-berry",  Veronica  continued.
"This  is my third summer at the Academy.  Most of the girls mean
well, even if they say some incredibly stupid things from time to
time.  It comes from having a limited view of the world.  The re-
al snoots are usually pushers from families on their way  up,  or
bare-elbow gentility on their way down."

"And they do have some beautiful horses here", she added.

***********************************************************  That
evening, Sherrie sat with the other forty-odd girls in the Acade-
my's elegant dining room, as Mrs. VanderLeer gave the invocation.
White linen blouses, white gloves, blue skirts and  blazers  with
grey  woolen  stockings  were required, and Sherry felt as out of
character as if she had been wrapped in a tarp and  kidnapped  to
the circus. She glanced over to Veronica, sitting with the third-
year girls.  Veronica winked back at her.

Sherrie's chest began to tingle again, this time pleasantly,  and
Sherry almost giggled as wave after wave of sensation crested in-
side her, as though she were being massaged by  a  thousand  tiny
hands.   She stared up at Mrs. VanderLeer, all staid and serious,
and thought how funny she would look if that  proper  blue  skirt
were suddenly lifted up over her head...

When  suddenly,  from  nowhere,  a random breeze blew in from who
knows where and did just that very thing.  The solemn atmosphere,
of  course,  was entirely destroyed, and Mrs. VanderLeer sent the
girls away early, after a brief prayer.

My God, Sherry wondered to herself, did I do that?

*********************************************************

The next few days, with the  vivacious  Veronica  as  her  guide,
Sherrie  fell into the round of activity at the Academy.  Morning
chapel was, naturally, a burden to be  borne,  but  most  of  the
girls  felt  this  way, and it was soon over, followed by morning
saddle exercises and riding.  There was keen competition for  the
finest  horses, and Sherrie, as a first-year girl, had to make do
with what was left after the others got their pick.  Most all  of
the horses at the Academy, though, were of a uniformly high qual-
ity, and Sherrie didn't have to suffer a nag more  than  once  or
twice.  Also, she distinguished herself early for her horsewoman-
ship, and the other girls made certain that she had a mount  wor-
thy of her.

There were Western-style and English-style riding classes.  Sher-
rie enjoyed them both; Western for the playful  rough-and-tumble,
English  for  the elegance of the habit. But best of all were the
barrel races.  The feeling of such raw animal power  between  her
legs and under her control amply compensated Sherrie for the lack
of boys at the Academy.

The favorite horse at the Academy was, far and away, Silversheen,
a  powerful  grey stallion who was kept as a stud at the Academy.
He had racehorse blood in him, and he was uncommonly intelligent.
Since Silversheen was far more valuable as a stud-horse than as a
saddle horse, Mrs. Vanderleer limited the amount of time  he  was
available to the girls for riding.

One day, Sherrie surprised all of the girls one day by coming out
in her corte sevillana, a traditional Spanish riding fashion from
Seville.   After seeing Sherrie in her Spanish riding habit, Mrs.
Vanderleer decided to mount her on Silversheen  for  some  promo-
tional  photos, so that Sherrie was able to spend the better part
of the day with the beautiful animal.

A bond formed quickly between the grey stallion and the girl from
Miami, and Sherrie found it possible to guide Silversheen without
using the reins or bridle, using a mere tap on the his  flank  to
turn  him  or  stop  him.   By the time the a couple of weeks had
passed, Silversheen started to become restive each  time  he  and
Sherrie  were  separated,and  wouldn't  let anyone else ride him.
Finally, Mrs. Vanderleer saw no alternative but to allow  Sherrie
to ride Silversheen regularly.

Naturally,  this  enraged the other girls at the Academy, who saw
no good reason why 'that little spic' from Florida had  exclusive
riding rights to the most beautiful horse at the Academy.  If she
had been making some headway against  their  ingrained  prejudice
with  her  vitality and outgoing nature, Silversheen's attachment
to Sherrie united all of them against her.  Fortunately, Veronica
proved  to  be  a good friend, and a loyal defender, although she
was as disappointed  at  Silversheen's  'defection'  as  everyone
else.

"You  sure  made  a hit with that horse, Sherrie-berry", she con-
fessed one night. "I wouldn't mind knowin' how you did it".

"It wasn't anything I did", Sherrie responded, "I just seemed  to
make a link with him.  Silversheen's a very smart horse".

Veronica  turned  out  the light, but the cabin didn't darken for
Sherrie.  Her eyes adjusted, and she could see as clearly  as  if
it were day.  It made it difficult to sleep, until one day, Sher-
rie realized she no longer needed to sleep.  She  remained  awake
the entire night, reading in the dark, and felt no weariness  all
the next day.   Experimenting, she continued the next  night  and
the  next day, and found she no longer had any need whatsoever of
sleep.  Since night was the same as day  for  her,  she  took  to
slipping out of the cabin and spending the night in the surround-
ing forest.

One night, a brilliant full moon-lit night, Sherry was sitting in
a clearing in the woods, and she created a glowing wheel of ener-
gy.  It formed in the air at her  mental  command,  strengthening
and growing as she continued to will it into being.  Astounded by
her new abilities, she didn't notice  that  Veronica  had  stolen
away from the Academy and followed her into the woods.

The  tall  black  girl, clad in jeans and a white midriff blouse,
stepped into the clearing.  "My  God,  Sherrie",  she  exclaimed,
"Did you do that?"

"Yeah.   Don't  ask  me  how, though."  Sherrie stepped up to her
friend's side and watched as her wheel of energy turned slowly in
the middle of the grove.  It looked like a miniature galaxy, mil-
lions of tiny lights all rotating in a tight spiral, shifting and
changing  colors  as it turned.  "Its beautiful", Veronica admit-
ted.

Then Sherrie looked at her friend.  At her  mental  command,  the
tiny  lights  dissolved  away from the spiral and drifted through
the air in a swarm, to surround Veronica in a  mantle  of  fairy-
light.   A  diadem of brilliant diamantine lights twinkled in the
black girl's hair like a princess's crown.

"I can control it, Ronnie", Sherrie told her.  "I made it  and  I
can  control it.  And that's not all.  I've been two days and two
nights without sleep, and I don't feel in the  least  bit  tired.
Not  only  that,  but I can see in the dark like a cat.  Its like
noon out here to me!"

Veronica pulled a bill out of her front  pocket.   "How  much  is
this, Sherrie?"

"Its a ten, Ronnie"

Pulling  the  bill  close  to  her  face  to inspect it, Veronica
gasped.  "You're right!", she exclaimed.  She pulled another bill
from her pocket and held it up in the night air.

"That's a one", Sherry said.

Veronica  fished around in her jeans, pulled out a forbidden pack
of Newports, and stuck one in her mouth.   Sherrie stepped  close
to  her  and  lifted her index finger.  A tiny point of light ap-
peared at the tip.

"My God, Sherrie", Veronica almost shouted, "you're E.T.   You're
one  of  them!   I'm outta here!"  She turned to run, but Sherrie
put her hand on the black girl's shoulder.   "Please,  Ronnie!!",
she pleaded, "Don't go.  I need you here".

"You're  a space alien, just like in the magazines in the grocery
store say!"

"Please!  I'm a girl, same as you.  Please stay with me!",  Sher-
rie begged.

Veronica  calmed  down  when it appeared Sherrie was not going to
eat her, vaporize her, or carry her away in her flying saucer.

"Amy and Brittany, there back in the camp, are still awake",  she
explained.     Sherry  heard them giggling and making plans for a
clandestine  visit to town as she ratched up her auditory senses.

"You can hear them from here?", asked Veronica, moving closer.

"Yeah",  replied  Sherrie.  "I can hear as well as I can see now.
At first, I couldn't hear anything but the crickets and the owls,
but  I've learned to filter it."

As Veronica moved across the grove, Sherry felt a familiar hunger
move over her. She had known for some time that she was as power-
fully  attracted to girls as she was to boys, but Sherrie labored
diligently to     suppress these urges.  Her Catholic upbringing,
the disapproval of her family and friends, the general clumsiness
of early adolescence all militated against the easy expression of
her  feelings.   Only  once  or twice with Marsha Sanchez had her
passionate nature overwhelmed these barriers and impelled her to-
wards  the  gentle  fury of girl-girl sex.  Only with Marsha, she
thought, and that damned Amanda Quinteros, who had burst into her
life and changed it forever.

Watching Veronica, Sherrie felt the desire rise to move her hands
up those smooth black legs, up under the nightgown to those slen-
der,  yet well-muscled thighs, up to the hidden center of Veroni-
ca's emerging womanhood, to reach  around  to  those  incredible,
free-  standing, self-propelled hemispheres of Veronica's remark-
able....

"Hey, homegirl!", Veronica accused, "You lookin' at my black  ass
again, Aint ya?" The two girls sat down on a fallen tree trunk.

Her  cheeks  burning  with  embarrassment, Sherrie felt hot tears
rise as she beat back the urge to  fall  on  Veronica's  perfect,
sculptured  neck and shoulders, and cover them with burning kiss-
es.

"I'm sorry, Ronnie", she confessed, "is it that obvious?"

Playing idly, Sherrie began to conjure up small, brilliant points
of  energy,  like  miniature stars fallen to earth in the Academy
courtyard.  as soon as she got one glowing properly, sherry  sent
it  drifting over to settle on Veronica's nightgown, adorning her
hair, her shoulders, her bosom, her  waist.    before  long,  the
porch  was bathed in the opalescent radiance of Sherrie's artifi-
cial stars, and Veronica was clothed in diamantine light, like  a
princess in a fairy tale.   "Veronica", Sherry whispered huskily,
"you're the most beautiful girl I've ever met,  inside  and  out.
You're  also as good a friend as I've ever had, or am ever likely
to have.

Veronica turned her doe-like eyes on Sherry, blinking  in  amaze-
ment at the witch-light that illuminated her nightgown, casting a
hundred tiny shadows on the porch and beyond.  The homegirl swag-
ger  disappeared,  and  the beautiful black girl began to tremble
with mixed fear and astonishment.

The conjured starlight vanished instantly, and  the  darkness  of
the night closed around them again, locking them into an intimacy
that transcended the physical.

Sherry sat at the edge of the grove, drinking in the fresh scents
of the pine woods on every side, pulling down on her white tennis
shorts so the rough wood wouldn't scratch her cheeks.   Suddenly,
Sherrie doubled over, and began pulling her shirt off.

"Sherrie!", yelled Veronica, "What's wrong??"

"My  chest!", Sherrie replied.  "It feels like its on fire".  She
stripped her shirt off and stood naked to the waist in the  moon-
light.  Her small, pert, baseball-sized breasts stood out in full
relief, with her nipples erect in the night air.  "They're  burn-
ing up!", she moaned.

Veronica  put  her  hand on her friend's small, hard left breast.
It was hot to the touch, but there was no sweat.  Sherrie put her
hand  over  Veronica's  hand.   "Ronnie", she said to her friend,
"have you ever done any girl-girl stuff?"

Veronica swallowed hard.  "No", she admitted.

"I'm going to ask you to do something you probably won't want  to
do,  but if you love me, and if you don't want me to hurt, you'll
do it."

Thoroughly spooked  but  intrigued,  Veronica  nodded  her  head.
"What's going on, Sherrie?"

"There's  a  lot  going  on,  Ronnie my dear, Ronnie my precious.
More than I know, even, and I'm still guessing  a  lot.   But  my
guess  is  that I'm going to grow an enormous set of tits here in
the next few days."  Sherrie began  moving   Veronica's  hand  so
that  it  gently  massaged her aching breast.  "I'll tell you the
whole story, but only if you do what I ask", she promised.

But Veronica's other hand had already strayed to Sherrie's  other
breast,  and  was stroking in gently.  Sherry moaned with delight
as Veronica's cool fingers caressed  the  tight  hotness  of  her
breasts.   Veronica  moved  in closer, and Sherrie reached behind
her and began massaging her tight, high, jeans-clad ass.   "Touch
my nipples, Ronnie my heart, my dark goddess", she implored.

In  answer,  Veronica  bent  down and extended a remarkably long,
pink tongue to the tip of Sherrie's left nipple.  Sherrie inhaled
sharply,  and  thrust  her  chest  upward  into Veronica's hungry
mouth, which closed over the rest of her breast and began sucking
furiously.

 "Ronnie!  Ronnie!",  Sherrie gasped, as Veronica's fevered suck-
ling began to cause the tightness and heat in her breasts to dis-
solve  into an indescribable sweetness.  She passed her hands un-
der Veronica's  jeans and began to grab  great  handfuls  of  the
black girl's generous ass.

Sherrie  moved  her crotch into Veronica's upper thighs and began
grinding it against her.  In response, Veronica dropped her hands
from  Sherrie's  breasts down to inside her shorts, where Sherrie
released one hand from Veronica's ass to guide  Veronica  to  her
throbbing  clit.  "That's it, Ronnie love", she whispered hoarse-
ly, "Right there!"

Together they tumbled to the forest floor, where they grappled in
a  bed  of soft pine needles.  Sherrie moved her free hand around
tot he front of Veronica's jeans,  where  to  her  surprise,  she
found  that Veronica was sopping wet.  With a practiced hand, she
inserted two fingertips into the  wetness,  extracted  Veronica's
love muscle, and began feathering it with her fingertips.

"Sherrie!  Sherrie!   Oh  God!",  Veronica  began to moan, as she
whipped her long thick mane across Sherrie's face.  Having pulled
away from Sherrie's breasts, she sought out her mouth, burying it
in famished kisses.  She bucked roughly on Sherrie's  inquisitive
fingers and redoubled her efforts on Sherrie's clit.

Sherrie  felt the pressure in her chest give way in tidal wave of
sweetness and pleasure.  Tingling as if from the prick of a thou-
sand  tiny  needles,  she convulsed in Veronica's arms.  She felt
Veronica contract roughly too, as she spasmed in  orgasm.  Sheep-
ishly the girls kissed, and fell apart in each other's arms.

*********************************************

"That  was a sin, Sherrie-berry", said Veronica, still cradled by
Sherrie's left arm in the delirious moonlight.

"I know", whispered Sherrie softly.  "I'm Catholic enough to know
that, but not Catholic enough not to enjoy it when it happens."

"How long has it been since you've been with a boy?"

"Since two weeks before coming to the Academy"

Veronica sighed deeply.  "I broke up with Justin just before com-
ing up here.  We made love one last time just before  I  left.  "
She sighed again with the memory.  "I should think they would ex-
pect this sort of thing to happen, keeping  us  up  here  in  the
mountains, miles from the nearest swingin' dick."

"Nah",  Sherrie replied, "I don't think these little gringas even
have cunts.  Just cash registers down there.  They seem to  spend
all  their  time  trying to scoop enough money together so's they
don't have to have anything to do with guys  and  can  afford  to
spend the rest of their lives shopping."

By  the position of the stars, it was getting very close to dawn.
Sherrie shook Veronica awake, and they walked arm in arm back  to
the Academy.

Tossing  her  long  black  tresses over her shoulder and down her
back, Veronica laughed infectiously, her  brilliant  white  smile
flashing even in the pale moonlight.  "Ain't you some shit, Sher-
ry-berry?", she laughed.  "I mean, who would  have  thought  that
Supergirl would turn out to be a lezzie?"

"I'm  not Supergirl", Sherry responded darkly, "and I'm __NOT__ a
lesbian!"

"Oh yeah?  Well, who else can light cigarettes with  the  tip  of
her finger, hear people whispering in the next county, and see in
the dark like a cat?"

Sherrie tucked her friend in, then showered and  dressed  herself
in  her  Academy  uniform  as  the first light of day filtered in
through the cabin window.

She'd have to manufacture some lie for Mrs.  Vanderleer  so  that
Veronica  could  spend  the  day in bed, but Sherrie herself felt
wonderful, even after her third sleepless night.


