Jordans Metamorphosis Continues

Please don't reproduce this copyrighted work without written permission.

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Of course, all the actors in this script are of legal age.

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This story continues with the characters and the plot introduced in an earlier story entitled Jordan's Lesbian Metamorphosis. I recommend that you consider reading the original story first.

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I stood and tried to make myself presentable, but after a few minutes I realized that task was much too formidable. Then I slowly headed over to Debbie's classroom to find out all I could about those two incredible women.

"Holy shit, what happened to you, Jordan?" Debbie asked incredulously, as I knocked twice and slowly entered her classroom, barely remembering to close the door behind me.

As I entered the classroom Debbie stood up and walked towards me with a genuine look of concern on her face. As her eyes slowly surveyed what appeared to be left of me, it was clear by her expression that she had no clue what sort of assistance to render. So she just stood there helplessly and watched, totally mystified by the appearance of the woman now standing before her.

How in the world could I really answer a question like that after the incredible experience I just had, I wondered quietly. I knew that I really didn't have the energy to stand there holding myself up while answering her questions at the same time, so I slowly staggered past Debbie to a desk in the front row and literally poured myself into it without saying a word.

I let out an audible sigh as my body finally stopped sliding and my ass hit the rock hard seat, a sensory reminder that I could have easily done without.

"Debbie, I really need a minute here." I begin slowly, taking a breath between words as often as proper grammatical syntax would allow.

"This has been . . . a very strange day for me and I don't think I could talk very well right now if my life depended on it. Can you cut me some slack for a while and finish telling me what it is you know about Lisa and Erika. For some strange reason I haven't been able to get those girls out of my mind."

I guess if I had been in the mood for a really good laugh, I would have thoroughly enjoyed the priceless expression that I now saw consuming Debbie's face. I could tell that the curiosity was simply killing her, but she honored my request and fought the urge to interrogate me further. She slowly retraced the steps to her desk and sat down, never once removing her eyes from me.

"Okay . . . okay!" Were the first words out of her mouth after she sat down at her desk. "I'll agree to that Jordan, but here's the quid pro quo. Whatever it was that happened to you . . . "

I swallowed hard waiting and hoping against hope that when she finished that sentence she would try to be somewhat kind.

"Shit Jordan, I don't know whether to call the school nurse, the Sheriff's Department or a fucking beautician; you look terrible. Before this day is through you've got to tell me everything that has happened to you and I don't want the Cliff Notes' version either – understand! I've been teaching here for twelve tears and it's always been so terribly mundane; you show up and on your very first day on the job, you . . . "

She paused without finishing her thought, but I knew she really didn't have to say another word; I knew exactly what she meant. I had known this woman for many years and we always seemed to have a connection on some level and on rare occasions that connection even seemed to transcend our usual student–teacher relationship. But I could definitely feel something going on between us now. There was certainly the usual run-of-the-mill curiosity in her expression to be sure, but in her voice I could also sense that she was genuinely concerned about me and I knew I was really flattered by that concern.

I just closed my eyes and nodded at her or at least I think I did. I think I even tried to smile at her, but I'm not certain that I was able to pull that off any more effectively either. In any case, she sure as hell could not have caught me in a more relenting mood. In fact, at that moment I would've probably agreed to anything she asked of me, or I would have willingly signed any document she placed in front of me.

I was still feeling incredible from my afternoon delight and I wanted to continue to savor that feeling without any major distractions, either until I died or until it was finally time to leave the school. At that moment I thought the smart money was on my imminent demise.

So I tried to find a comfortable position on that very uncomfortable plastic seat, which was definitely not an easy task after the kind of afternoon Erika had just inflicted upon me. After about a minute I sadly realized that no position was gonna work for me for, so I squeezed my thighs together as hard as I could in an attempt to try and diffuse the pressure from sitting on my swollen happy place.

After all the moving around I did I finally looked over at Debbie, who was watching me intently as I kept squirming around in the chair, and then it was over and I was finally ready for her to begin.

She dragged her chair out from behind her desk and positioned it several feet in front of me, as she seemed to visually survey me one last time. Then as she was just about to begin, there was a knock at the door and then it opened wide enough so that Ms. Blake was able to lean her body into the room without actually entering.

"Good afternoon ladies," she said, brandishing a smile at us.

We returned her smile, but before we had time to respond, she continued with her monologue.

"Jordan, I thought I'd probably find you here. I just wanted you to know that I've already had some really positive feedback from a couple of your female students regarding the first Anatomy class. They both told me that they're very excited about the potential the class seems to hold. Thanks again for taking that class for me; you were obviously the perfect choice. See you tomorrow ladies."

Then Ms. Blake leaned back out of the room and disappeared, closing the door behind her.

I stared at the closed door for an instant, knowing what was waiting for me just four feet away. When I finally returned my attention back to Debbie, she was staring at me once again and I could immediately sense that she was about to renew her interrogation. I just held out my hand with my palm side facing her, the universally recognized symbol in the civilized world for 'stop!'

"Later; I'll tell you about all of it, but later," was all I needed to say to derail that freight train one final time.

"Okay, later it is." She said softly, echoing my word back to me with an obvious tone of reluctance in her voice. Then she sighed deeply and I could tell she was collecting her thoughts.

"Alright, let me tell you what I know about those two students." But as she was about to start her narrative she glanced up at the clock on the wall, which was now reading nearly three forty.

"Damn, I have my dog over at the vet's office and they have some bizarre hours over there on Wednesday. They close by four o'clock so I need to run over there and get him now or I'll be stuck with a very pissed off dog and a boarding fee, but I don't want to put this discussion off until another time. Why don't you ride over to the office with me to get my dog in my car, then we'll head over to my house and pig out on some lasagna. I went a little crazy over the weekend and made three large pans and I could really use some help eating it or I'll be looking at it every night this week. I can drive you back for your car later on – what do ya say?"

As I mulled over the many other offers that were on the table at that very moment, the decision didn't seem terribly difficult. Besides, I didn't have time for breakfast this morning and all I had for lunch was a granola bar that tasted more like sawdust than granola – or maybe they were actually one in the same, I have to remember to finally read that label.

I could certainly head home and see what my mom was cooking, but living at home was not any more exciting for me the second time around than it was the first, so once Debbie actually dangled a meal in front of me with the prospect for some really great company, the decision was frankly a no-brainer.

"Debbie, thanks so much for the invitation. I think your offer sounds wonderful." The expression on her face when I accepted made me tingle, without exactly understanding why.

We picked up the canine, a massive black German Shepherd and Wolf mix named Satan – no joke that was really his name. The beast must have out-weighed me by at least twenty-five or thirty pounds and each time I looked at him with his hindquarters resting on the center of the back seat and his head lunging forward less than two feet from my face, I was waiting for his piercing eyes to turn an eerie shade of blood-red.

I could easily see why leaving him at the vet's office for an additional night was simply not going to be a do-able option for Debbie. I damn well wouldn't want this dog angry at me either.

Debbie and I made small talk during the twenty minute drive to a different part of suburbia, an area that I hadn't been to before. During the entire drive I could feel Satan's breath on the left side of my face, all the while wishing I had some sort of a weapon in my purse. I knew if Debbie and I were to become really close friends I would have to find a way to deal with this dog by becoming friends - or else I'd probably have to kill it. The friend's route was probably my first choice and I suspect it would have been Debbie's only choice - if I had bothered to solicit her vote, that is.

Debbie's house was in a newer subdivision, newer that is compared to the house I grew up in. It even looked as big as or even bigger than our house, which impressed me, since she was the only one living in all that space. We drove into a spotless double car garage. There was not one power tool or yard tool or any other such thing. I realized it was truly a woman's garage and I just loved it immediately.

Her Jeep Cherokee SUV would be sharing this pristine space with a sleek Mongoose ten-speed road bicycle that was parked very carefully against the side wall. I knew a little bit about bicycles from college and suspected that Debbie had at least two thousand dollars tied up in that beauty. Certainly not a fortune, but at least now I knew why Debbie's body always looked so terrific.

I heard the automatic garage door closing behind us and I realized that my parent's house never needed an automatic garage door opener because the house had no garage. To poor little ole me, this was fancy living.

We all entered the house and before she even put down her purse Debbie fed the dog from hell. I was stunned to see her pull a can of food from her pantry that would have been large enough to feed a family of four in any emerging third world country.

Satan had the last trace of food gone within thirty seconds from the time the bowl first hit the floor and then immediately looked up at her, as if he was now expecting the main course. I couldn't determine whether I was impressed by his appetite or scared shitless to be in the same room with a one hundred forty pound carnivore named Satan. At that moment I certainly didn't feel like I was on top of the food chain.

"Why don't you sit out in the living room and get comfortable, Jordan. Let me change quickly and then I'll pour us a glass of wine."

I felt a little nervous when Debbie disappeared until I saw that the dog had followed her into an area of the house where I suspected the bedrooms were located. I walked out to the living room and sat on an over-stuffed sofa facing the fireplace. The sofa was the most comfortable thing I'd ever sat on in my life and it nearly swallowed me up.

I slipped off my heels and I tried to get comfortable, but now it had been more than an hour since my two orgasms in class and my pantyhose was starting to feel really cold and clammy against my pussy. I glanced towards the bedroom area to make sure that the coast was still clear and then I quickly slipped the pantyhose off and put them in my purse. Then I curled my legs tightly against my body and looked around at the tastefully decorated room.

The walls of the living room were done in a very pale yellow and there were silk flower arrangements located everywhere throughout the room. There was a baby grand piano in one corner and what appeared to be a very pricey stereo rack system against the back wall. I thought some music would be great, but there was no way I was getting off that sofa unless my life depended on it.

A large beautiful oil painting was hanging in the place of honor above the fireplace and it was easy to see why she had made the choice. It depicted an overcast sky over a desolate beach. The waves were pounding the shore just beginning to show their fury and the gulls were trying to get away from what appeared to be an impending storm. You could almost see down the beach for miles and miles and there was not a soul in sight. There was an inherent sadness or loneliness that was captured in that painting that really seemed to move me.

I had taken a couple of art classes in college and knew just enough about art to be dangerous, but I was amazed at how well the colors of the sky and the angry sea were blended in the painting and the use of color was simply flawless. I thought the painting was excellent and I suspected that an accomplished artist probably did the work. I looked for the painter's name in the usual location on the canvas, but I only saw the lower case initials 'dlj."

I was surprised but not disappointed to see that there was no television set anywhere in the room. Don't get me wrong, I'm not one of those pompous jerks who swears she never watches television, but this room was much too perfect for that mundane activity. This room was made for visiting, reading or listening to music. You could watch television in a garage or even in the bathroom and the experience would not be lessened a single bit.

As I continued to gaze around, it was evident that Debbie's artsy touch was everywhere I looked and I realized that I felt very comfortable in that room.

It's funny the difference that six years and two degrees make. If I were still a high school student, I don't think I could ever have been comfortable sitting in a teacher's house. But now everything was totally different. Okay, maybe I was still not entirely comfortable, but I was really getting there at warp speed.

Debbie had made every effort to make me feel comfortable around her and I was beginning to really appreciate those efforts. I was mindful, however, that I had to start reciprocating very soon or we'd never be more than what we were, a teacher and her former student. I wondered whether the bravado it took for me to remove those clammy pantyhose was subliminally some sort of a veiled effort on my part. I know it's weird, but all of these feelings were still so new to me.

I heard Debbie enter the kitchen and then the refrigerator opened and closed a couple times and then I heard the oven click on and then I heard the winding sound of a kitchen timer being set. I also heard the clinking sound of long stem wine glasses being removed from a shelf and then Debbie came out to the living room carrying a bottle of wine in one hand and two long stemmed wine glasses in the other.

I sat there staring at the woman who I had always considered to be the poster girl for female fashion consciousness in our high school. There she stood barefoot wearing a plain light blue cotton dress with half sleeves, a scoop neckline that barely exposed the tops of her beautiful breasts and a flowing full skirt that fell barely to her knees. It seemed that she cleaned off most of her makeup and the girl I was now staring at looked closer to twenty years old than she did to thirty. She looked absolutely sensational and it was the first time I had a sense that I was actually seeing the real Debbie Masters.

As she entered the living room she saw me staring at her intently and responded in the same way any female would typically respond to a similar level of scrutiny.

"What?" She asked emphatically.

Is there anything more attractive than a woman who is totally unaware of her own beauty, I wondered as I stared lovingly at her.

Then she placed a bottle of chilled Riunite wine and the two glasses on the coffee table positioned in front of the couch and started inspecting herself carefully for something she might have previously overlooked.

Before she could finish her careful inspection, I reached over and lightly touched her hand to get her attention. It was such a simple gesture and I suppose I could have just as easily said something to her that would have accomplished the same purpose.

I really had no idea why I felt the immediate need to touch her at that particular moment, but when I saw her in that dress I think I was actually operating on autopilot. I knew I certainly enjoyed touching her, but I wasn't sure I received the response that I had hoped for. Of course, if I was perfectly honest with myself, I wasn't exactly sure what sort of response I had even expected.

My touch caused Debbie to stop scrutinizing her dress. She immediately redirected her gaze at me seated on the sofa just a couple feet away. It was, to say the least, a moment that seemed a bit more awkward than I had ever intended it to be.

I sensed that she was trying to determine what message I was trying to send her using such a tender gesture, but all I could do was to stare into her beautiful eyes and swallow hard. I was far too inexperienced to follow up on her inquisitive or maybe even inviting stare. So we awkwardly froze for a moment looking into each other eyes, trying desperately to respond in a way that would not result in our mutual humiliation.

"It was nothing actually," I began, not exactly sure how I'd follow up on such a creative opening line. "I feel a little embarrassed now to even say it, but I have to tell you that ever since I was in ninth grade I've always thought that you were one of the most beautiful women I ever saw. Oddly enough though, it seems that until this very moment I really had no idea how beautiful you truly are."

Did you ever find yourself in a situation at some point during your life where your body was acting in a particular way and you felt like you had absolutely no control over what it was doing? You might have said something to someone that was so incredibly stupid, you couldn't even believe that the words actually originated from your mouth, yet sadly you knew they did. I was feeling exactly that way right now.

With the exception of some rather passionate kissing I had done with my best friend Allie in our senior year, which we claimed was only practice for the dates we both knew we'd never have, and mutually masturbating each other over the outside of our panties a total of just three times, I had never thought that I might really have any sort of sexual attraction to women. I mean, can anyone out there tell me is that something you're supposed to consciously do at a certain age or do the circumstances just sort of thrust you into it unexpectedly? I wasn't sure of the answer either and I had no sibling to confide in or an experienced best friend to ask.

The way my body reacted today around Erika and Lisa had been a wake-up call of sorts and had caused me to think about those feelings and desires more than ever before. I knew that what I did with Erika in the classroom did not necessarily qualify me as a full fledged card carrying lesbian, yet it felt too incredible to try and explain it all away as a one-time occurrence and I wasn't inclined to do so anyway. I'd never felt that way before and I knew I was anxious to experience a lot more. I guess you can tell that at twenty-two I was still as confused as ever, yet as I spoke those words to Debbie I still had trouble believing that they came out of my mouth, although this time I certainly didn't regret saying them.