Aside from still being flushed, she looked quite presentable, if rather exhausted. I took her by the shoulders, turned her around and had her stand in front of the mirror over my sink. I picked up her discarded panties from the chair and placed the waistband over her head so that she wore them like a hat. I arranged them so the yellow stain in the crotch was prominently displayed in front. When she saw that her flush deepened and she looked away, though she said nothing. I told her, “You’ll keep these on your head until you get back to your room. Understood?” She brought her gaze to meet mine in the mirror, and nodded, although her face betrayed her dismay. “And if anyone asks you why you’re wearing them on your head, you’ll say, ‘I have come dripping out of my ass and I didn’t want to get them dirty.’” Her face began crumpling into tears again. I said, “Say it. Why are you wearing those panties on your head?” She was sniffling again but managed to say, “I of my...a-a-ass...a-and. I started to pull out my finger. ‘No.’ she whispered, holding my hand still. ‘Freddy, you probably already know this, but I love you. You’re so much the man I want to be with. I’m sorry. You can sleep if you want, but I’d like you to keep your finger there. Is that okay?’ ‘Sure.’ I said, not understanding this at all. And so I slept. I don’t think she nodded off once. She just lay there, fully dressed, my finger up her dry vagina. Was she was waiting for arousal? I didn’t know. I had a distinct feeling that I needed to be patient with her. From the other side of the wall I could hear a soft, new-agey kind of music coming from Christie’s room. I fell asleep and dreamed of whales swimming in a dry ocean. Around midnight the bedroom door opened, and I could her the soft pad of Christie’s feet come into the room. She whispered, ‘Julie? You awake?’ ‘Yes.’ said Julie, softly. It was pitch black in the room. The mystical music still droned softly through the wall. ‘Is Freddy with you?’.
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