They were getting out of the car now. A tall woman in stylishly bohemian clothes and stiletto heel boots stopped by. Next to her was a much older woman with a cane, in a big fake-fur coat and a green flowery hat.
“Hi, Tami,” Assistant Dean Vanessa Congi said.
“Hello dear,” the lady in the green hat, Professor Emeritus Mildred George, said in her scratchy old voice.
“This is my friend Yvette,” Tami said graciously as she shuffled around the back of the Beetle to turn off the bypass switch. Yvette shook hands with each, a little ladylike clasp. As the naked girl came around to where they were, Professor Congi said, “That’s a beautiful shade of hair, Tami.”
“Oh thanks.” Tami looked down at her pubic patch. This made Yvette half cover her eyes.
“I see your nails all match your hair color,” Mrs. George said admiringly.
“I did them myself.”
“It looks professional.”
“Gee thanks,” Tami said, blushing over and above the usual flush from the cold. As they looked down she lifted a foot and spread her toes. The plum-colored toenails, graced with crystals of fresh snow, sparkled in the bright morning sun, a strange and beautiful sight.
Professor Congi looked a bit further up. “Did you also color your clitoris?” She remembered what Tami had been like as a sophomore.
“No,” Tami laughed, looking down there with the rest of them. She spread her labia with her thumbs. “That’s just my lips. See, on cold days she stays inside.” The little pink clitoris, lighter in color than the lips or the hair, poked out wetly and tentatively in the cold brightness as the two older women, bundled in their winter clothes and boots, looked appreciatively, Mrs. George leaning on her cane.
“Hi!” Professor said playfully with a little wave.
“Hi hi,” Tami said in a high-pitched singsong, with little jerks of her internal muscles making the clit jump up and down twice. The older women got quite a kick out of that.
Yvette, feeling faint, stood up and looked at the blue sky and took a deep breath. After some minor chit-chat the two grown-ups left.
As they were getting Yvette’s bag out of the car, her mind returned to the main subject of her curiosity. “And this fourth winter?”
“You said how you dealt with going through the first three winters. This is your fourth. How is it?”
“Well,” Tami said, standing next to her. “Now -- it’s -- fun!!”
She kicked snow up with her toes, pressed it down on the other foot, then all in the same motion with a soccer player’s skill kicked the little snowball right into Yvette’s face just as she said “fun”!
“Eeeek!” Yvette brushed it away but it was followed by another. She ran behind the car, laughing, and decided retaliation was necessary. When she emerged a big sloppy snowball hit Tami right on her tanned concave tummy. This elicited a left-handed curveball that hit the shoulder of her coat.
The two young women ran around and around the Beetle, Yvette clumping around in her boots, bits of snow flying back from Tami’s toes. It was not a fair fight, of course. Tami seemed to be a natural pitcher, and could produce an “eeek!” whenever she hit Yvette’s face or neck. Landing snowballs on Tami’s naked skin, already used to the cold, did not have the same effect.
The Quebecois girl was flushed and disheveled when Tami brought her into the help center, but was cheerful and smiling which would make her easier for the case manager to work with. “Thank you, thank you, merci,” was all Yvette could say as she said goodbye to her naked new friend, hugging her tightly, enjoying the soft feel of the breasts crushed against her coat, and even betraying a sniffle or two, only partly from having been out in the cold.