Mai Corns Tale

This is the tale of a witness to the events chronicled in the tale of Miss Pepperidge, parts one and two. It occurred in the world of Templeton College, so compellingly described by Charles Petersunn. This tale is told with the approval and support of author Petersunn.

== == == == == == == == == ==

Mai Corn stumbled a little as she walked from her plain-sight hiding place to her room. She wasn't drunk. Indeed, she hadn't had anything to drink all evening. But she was excited, more excited than she could remember at any time when she hadn't been involved in sexual activity. She didn't think of herself as a voyeur but she was certainly turned on by the complex scene she had just witnessed. Her cunnie tingled with sympathetic excitement. She had to admit to herself that her hand had helped, reaching between her legs through the unbuttoned skirt of her dress. Still, she had been surprised to find that she was fingering herself, unconsciously echoing the excitement of the scene. As she walked, though, she carefully kept her hands at her sides. It was one thing to indulge in a little self-stimulation while no one was looking and another entirely to do so while walking through an open park. The grassy area, punctuated by a few stands of trees and bushes, was normally a restful place to walk. The cast bronze figures scattered through the area gave the impression that groups of people were always there, adding to the restful ambiance. But what had started out to be a quiet walk had turned into something much more stimulating.

"Good evening, Miss," the cop greeted Mai as she approached her motel room door. He stood so he didn't quite block her path but it was clear that he intended to talk with her more than just the greeting. "I'm Officer Clifton Starr of the police department. What's your name?"

Mai was shocked, or at least surprised. Most people tended not to notice her, particularly police officers. This was a skill she had cultivated. For him to notice her, he had to have something or someone in mind. It was not good that a cop noticed her, particularly now. As excited as she was, talking with a policeman was way too much like being doused with a bucket of cold water. Well, she had to admit that he was cute, but he was still a cop. It was good that she had kept her hands at her sides. Maybe she could get away from him before her excitement faded completely. Her mood and her excitement were worth trying to preserve.

"Yes?" she signed with quick motions of her hands. He didn't respond so he probably didn't know how to sign. She nodded in acknowledgement and regret. If he couldn't sign, any discussion she had with him would take a lot longer. Her odds of preserving her delicious tingle went way down just as her disappointment and frustration went way up. She fumbled with her planner and pulled out a business card. She handed it to him silently.

Officer Starr read her card with her name, "Mai Z. Corn, MA." So she had an advanced degree as well. Hopefully, he would find that her observations and intelligence would help his investigation. He pulled out his own business card to give to her. "Is your first name pronounced May?" he asked. He liked to get acquainted with witnesses before asking too many questions. And people felt much better if he pronounced their names correctly. It made the conversation go more smoothly and productively. Now that he saw her more closely and in the light in front of her room, he realized that she was quite attractive. She wore a simple brown dress, buttoned up the front, that was fitted from the waist up and hung to several inches above her knees. He looked more closely and decided that brown was the wrong description. It was more rust colored and had a metallic sheen that was quite pleasing, highlighting her shape nicely. Her legs, what he saw of them, also looked quite nice. Her shoes matched her dress and her planner fit right in.

Mai nodded, happy that he cared enough to get her name right. Too many people couldn't even get a simple three-letter name right. Maybe he wouldn't be as arrogant and inconsiderate as some cops were, at least in her experience. She had experienced too many who assumed she was stupid because she didn't speak. She tired of their minds like steel traps, snapping shut at the slightest provocation and remaining firmly closed in spite of efforts and evidence to the contrary. This cop had two things going for him, so far. He was cute and apparently considerate.

"Good," he acknowledged. He was normally quite careful about pronouncing people's names correctly and it looked like it would pay off again. It showed respect and helped people believe in him. "I can't help noticing a little joke in your name. Were your parents inclined to puns?" This was a bit of a reach. Some people enjoyed jokes based on their names while others disliked them in the extreme. But this one seemed so obvious, Mai Z. Corn, indeed. If the question worked, they would have the joke as a basis for their communication.

Mai smiled. A few people caught the joke but not too many. She opened her planner, to the sketch pad she kept there. She quickly drew a family of four and labeled three of the group, the father and two daughters. She showed him the sketch and labels.

"I guess the jokes go back farther than your parents," Officer Starr confirmed. "Your father is Jimmy C. Corn. The C must stand for some version of cracked, right?" His question had been right on target. Jimmy Cracked Corn was, indeed, an unusual name.

Mai nodded her acknowledgement, then pointed at the younger girl. This one was more subtle, probably because Mai had berated her father so much for her own name.

"Luna Gloria Corn," Officer Starr read. He paused in thought. "I'm sorry, I don't get it." This was obviously another pun or Mai wouldn't have pointed it out. But he was stumped.

Mai drew a moon, then rays outward from the moon. She showed the drawing to Officer Starr.

"Ah, yes, I get it," he acknowledged. "I apologize for being so slow tonight. Luna Gloria Corn is Moon Shine Corn." It was really unfortunate how some parents stuck their kids with names that could be used to tease them. In this case, the father seemed to have passed on a burden he had received from his own parents. The strangest things got propagated from generation to generation.

"I'll try not to detain you unnecessarily," he said. "Have you been walking around the park this evening?" The simple elegance of her appearance and the planner suggested that she might be in town on business. If so, her age, apparently about the same as his, and her advanced degree spoke again for her intelligence. She also appeared a little flushed. Was that natural coloring, embarrassment from being approached by a policeman, or something else, like seeing the flashers who had been reported? He had witnessed all of the above, with many variations of "something else."

Mai nodded. She could have spoken but words were not her forte. She thought in images and shapes. Visual and tactile media came naturally to her. Spoken language, on the other hand, required her to translate her thoughts as though to a foreign language, one concept or word at a time. That was why she learned how to sign. Signing was like sculpting in the air and she found it quite natural. Written words were as difficult for her as spoken words. Each letter and each word was like a picture. She could compose a memo to communicate but it was a complex visual undertaking for her, with rules that seemed arbitrary and couldn't be translated from visual or tactile relationships. And the results, being more like a montage than a letter, tended to confuse those who read them. Her art and sculpture, on the other hand, flowed from her fingers like a playful, babbling brook from a spring. Indeed, she made her living as an artist and was in town to arrange for a showing of her work at the arts center of Templeton College.

Officer Starr noticed her lack of verbal communication, of course. He was even more observant than most police officers. "Do you have difficulty communicating, Mai?" he prompted, carefully using her name and pronouncing it correctly. He knew he would only get the information he needed if he could establish some common means for talking.

Mai was amused and a little unhappy with his question. Even though she was used to people believing she was unintelligent because she didn't use words fluently, she often regretted the efforts she had to expend to project her abilities. "Of course I can communicate, you idiot," she signed with a flourish. She quickly regretted her derogatory address, excusing it with the frustration of losing her sexual excitement. She hoped that he wouldn't recognize the slight. She grimaced, thinking about the patience she still struggled to master.

"Ah, you sign," he acknowledged. "Unfortunately, I don't sign. Is there another way we can communicate?" He hoped she understood his question. He always found it frustrating when trying to communicate with someone who didn't understand English. They would nod and smile and not understand anything. And he would learn nothing. He hoped for more from this attractive young woman. So far, her responses had indicated a good grasp of English.

Mai smiled, recognizing his honest attempt to find a way to communicate. She opened her planner to use her sketch pad again. She quickly penciled two drawings, one a mouth with sound waves and a universal negation sign, the other of a sketch of a police badge. She showed him the page and saluted him with a little grin. She thought he was cute and enjoyed teasing him just a little. Her previous excitement might be nearly gone but she could still have some fun in the situation.

Actually, it was in Mai's nature to tease a lot. Some of the charm of her work came from the subtle jokes she put in each piece. Ever since she discovered the hidden images in Bev Doolittle's work and the signature cats in Randy Souders' paintings (except the one of a winter scene that Souders believed was too cold to contain a cat), she found ways to incorporate multiple layers of images in her paintings. And her sculptures always contained details that teased the viewer with additional meanings. This was so much of a trademark for her that many of her fans would study each new work for hours, trying to determine if they had discovered all of her embellishments.

Officer Starr smiled and returned her salute. This was good. She was apparently quite quick-witted and they should be able to communicate quite nicely. "Did you notice anything out of the ordinary tonight?" he asked. He had been called to investigate some reported flashers, in record numbers. Flashers were usually solitary individuals but the complaints indicated that there had been half a dozen just half an hour before.

Mai ducked her head to hide her embarrassment. She had indeed noticed something out of the ordinary. That was the source of her faded excitement. She hesitated, thinking about regaining her excitement and feeling some reluctance to let this cute officer in on her secret. But it wasn't really her secret, was it? He really wanted to know about the other people, not about her reaction. She turned the page in her sketch pad. She quickly drew a cluster of people, then individual people scattered around the park. After adding a few trees and bushes, she gestured around the park. Details in the small drawing were difficult to incorporate, with such a large area represented, but what could you do with such a small pad? She had seen so much that evening that it would take a mural to represent it all. Some of the tingle returned as she thought about what she had witnessed. This little pad just wasn't adequate but it was all she had at the moment. She grinned with the thought. A small pad brought back a small tingle. What would a larger pad do? Maybe she would sketch a few things when she returned to her room.

"I see the groups and individuals," he acknowledged. "But what was out of the ordinary?" He wanted to elicit any information she was willing to provide and didn't want to suggest anything that might bias her report.

Mai thought carefully. She could draw the individual people and their activities, but that wouldn't convey the big picture. Several times she lifted her pencil to start drawing, only to drop her arm again to her side in frustration. There was just too much to convey. The small pad wouldn't do, even to tell him what she saw. She realized that telling him what she witnessed would probably result in a resurgence of her excitement. That would leave her vulnerable. Hell, maybe that would make her eager enough to take the initiative. She struggled with her inner conflict. She wanted the excitement back. He was cute. But he was a cop. Still, she had nothing personal to hide and if he needed the information for his investigation, wasn't it her duty to help? Besides, maybe she could tell him about it all without getting excited again. Or maybe getting excited again would be a good thing. Her inner conflict was frustrating. She grabbed the officer's hand and pulled him to the door of her room. She unlocked the door and pulled him inside. Once there, she grabbed the larger sketch pad from the desk and started to sketch.

Office Starr was a little surprised when such an attractive young woman drew him into her room. As a police officer, he had been propositioned many times and he thought this might be the case now. But when she started drawing, he realized that she was just trying to answer his question. He looked quickly around the room, a standard motel room with a bed, fake headboard, cheap artwork over the bed, a desk with a chair, a low dresser with drawers doubling as a TV stand, an open closet and a door to the side for the tub/shower/vanity area. Although the motel was inexpensive, Mai's belongings were neatly placed in the room. The young woman obviously didn't lean toward being messy as so many transient residents did. He focused on the drawing, fascinated as the scene developed. He was no connoisseur of art but her talent was obvious.

Mai drew the same scene as before but out of proportion. The area was just too large for an accurate rendering. She drew the cluster of people to indicate that there were pairings within the group. Following the same impish impulse that led her to incorporate surprises in her professional work, she added a version of the bronze sculpture grouping on the hillock a short distance from the first group. She smiled as she also decided to include one significant detail for some of the figures. She drew most of the figures, five of the eleven in the group and all but one of the others, with protrusions in front. She avoided too much detail for the protrusions, intentionally teasing her audience of one. Would Officer Starr figure that out? She left the other bronze figures out, they would just muddy the communication.

"Is this all the people you saw tonight?" Officer Starr asked. He wondered if the protrusions were penises but that didn't match with the report of individual flashers. Did lack of a protrusion mean that the person was a woman? He would have to get more information to understand the drawing. How much would he be able to ask? He usually preferred to have witnesses use their own words. But words wouldn't work in this case. How graphic would he have to be to elicit her testimony? The thought left him uncomfortable, even as he thought how nice it might be to have an intimate encounter with her. He shook his head to clear it. This was not a time for prurient imagination.

Mai nodded and smiled. He seemed quick to recognize what she had drawn. But how would she tell him what she had seen? She felt her delicious tingle growing in her cunnie.

"Can you tell me what everyone was doing?" he asked. "And what are these things on most of the figures?"

Mai nodded, then paused to think. Making her decision, she quickly drew a clearly recognizable penis in a corner. Actually, it wasn't a limp penis, it was a boner. The tingle was definitely back. She had just taken a giant risk, or might have. She could always explain that she had to tell the truth. But that usually required words and, in the movies, those words were almost always blurted out and misunderstood. With the effort it took for her to speak, blurting an explanation was out of the question. Well, done is done.

Officer Starr looked at the drawing and was amazed. If the drawing was correct, a lot more than flashing had gone on earlier in the evening. "Is this correct?" he asked. "Do you mean each of these were men with their penises exposed?" He flushed when he realized what he had said. "I'm sorry, I hope my language didn't offend you. But is that correct?"

Mai nodded and smiled. She felt relief that his embarrassment covered for any embarrassment she might feel. This might turn out nice after all. She liked the cute way he ducked his head when he was embarrassed. Did his sensitivity extend to his touch when he made love? She allowed the thought to grow although she didn't believe it likely that she would find out. Still, the resulting increase in her tingle was nice.

She quickly added a limp penis to her drawing, pointing to the hard version then gesturing to indicate that all the protrusions represented hard penises. It was cute the way Officer Starr blushed when she did so.

Officer Starr realized that he liked her smile. If she smiled each time he guessed her meaning correctly, he'd try very hard to understand as much as he could. "Were all these men flashing, even the ones in the group?" he asked. He had never heard of flashing on that scale before. Well, actually he had seen pictures of one large group of people who had a tradition of mooning a particular train when it passed. And some skydivers reveled in the practice of group mooning. But this didn't look like a group flash. The little group might be but the scattered figures probably didn't.

Mai frowned. She didn't like it when communication started down a wrong path. It was so difficult to correct bad assumptions once that started. But how could she make it clear? She thought of several options but only one seemed practical. She would have to take a risk, but how else could she handle it? She smiled at her own double meaning.

Her decision made, Mai moved to stand close to Officer Starr. She pointed to one outlying figure in the drawing, the one without a protrusion. She took Officer Starr's hand and rubbed it across his crotch. Ignoring the shocked look on his face, she quickly unzipped his trousers and reached inside to pull out his penis. She wrapped his fingers around his shaft and moved his hand to stroke himself. Then she pointed to each of the other outlying figures and looked into his eyes. She dreaded what she might see there. Making him rub himself and then pulling his penis out were huge risks. Even as she met his gaze, she realized that his penis had felt quite nice. True, it wasn't hard, but it still felt nice, resilient and meaty. Her tingle grew. As she continued to meet his gaze and he didn't withdraw, her hopes grew as well. If she got past this hurdle, she might show him more, much more.

Office Starr was shocked! Without warning, this attractive and clearly intelligent young woman had made him massage his crotch. Then, in an incredibly matter-of-fact manner, she had pulled out his penis and had him stroke it. This was beyond all of his experience. He understood that she had just told him that the outlying figures were playing with themselves, one way or another. She had identified the flashers, or maybe she had. Even more incredibly, her hand, her soft, gentle hand had felt wonderful when it touched his penis. And she was still touching his hand, encouraging him to continue stroking himself. He felt his penis hardening with the attention and the thought of her touching him. Would she be upset if he got hard? The questions became moot as he hardened in his hand. He struggled to control his wandering feelings. His job was to find out what happened in the park. To do so, he had to let Ms Corn present the information in her own way. As good as it felt for her to stimulate him, or to have him stimulate himself, he couldn't let that override his duty. But it felt so good.