Miss Judith's Girls

Chapter Two

Chapter Two

There had been some last-minute problems at home and so Hannah had been two days late for her first semester at St Swithin’s College. When she arrived at the sorority house she found she was sleeping in a room with three other girls. This was surprising; she had been sure that she would get her own room, or at least have only one room-mate. But when she mentioned it to one of the other girls, she was told, “Oh, no, it’s the same for everyone, your first semester is in a big room. So you can get to know everyone.” Hannah decided to say nothing more; she didn’t want to be thought of as difficult, still less a trouble-maker. She wanted to fit in.

When she went up to the room to sleep, she found the other three girls all in bed and the lights out. Hurriedly she undressed, put on her pyjamas and got into bed. It had been a tiring day and she fell asleep almost immediately. But some time later she was awakened by noises, soft whisperings and shuffling sounds and then what sounded like a slap and a whimper. She lay in bed, not daring to make a noise herself, pretending to be still asleep. The noises came from the bed in the far corner. It was very dark and she could see little, but she was sure that two of the girls were out of bed, and they seemed to be half-kneeling or lying on the other bed. There were frantic whisperings, none of which she could understand, and then more slaps. What was going on? Was one of the girls unwell? Having some sort of fit? Or were two of the girls doing something to the third one? Were they hurting her in some way? But why?

Hannah didn’t dare say a word. It was none of her business, surely. And whatever was going on, she didn’t want any part of it. The noises went on for some time, but at last she could see movement, and it looked like two of the girls were getting back into their beds. The one in the corner bed was making sniffling noises.

“Shut up, Mary Ann,” one of the girls said in a loud whisper. “Or else it will be worse next time.”

There was silence after that and Hannah drifted off to sleep again. In the morning Mary Ann wouldn’t catch her eye. While the other two girls, Judith and Felicity, were in the bathroom. Hannah asked Mary Ann if she was all right.

“Yes, of course,” Mary Ann muttered. “Why wouldn’t I be?” And then she did look Hannah in the face, as if to say, what of it? Mind your own business.

Hannah had a German class later that morning. Judith and Felicity were there too, even though they were sophomores. The class was given by Frau Ledermann, a woman of about forty. Though Hannah thought women of that age should be beyond any interest in fashion, Frau Ledermann dressed well. She wore tight-fitting skirts, grey or black, which outlined her shapely but elegant behind. The hems were just above the knee, nothing daring, but underneath she wore what looked very much like sheer stockings, not tights, with seams, and always heels. She had a selection of white and grey silk blouses, through which you could just see the outline of her bra, supporting her well-formed breasts. Her hair was cut short, but stylishly.

There was nothing immodest about her dressing, but it seemed to Hannah to be more focussed on making the most of Frau Ledermann’s admittedly good figure than was proper given her age and her status. And Hannah noticed that she always wore make-up, which many of the female staff did not. Frau Ledermann favoured bright red lipstick and some eye-liner.

Her title indicated that there must be a Herr Ledermann somewhere, but if so he never appeared. Frau Ledermann’s private life was opaque, which led to endless speculation. “She can’t be a lesbian or she wouldn’t be married,” one girl said in the café after class. “She could be,” Judith retorted. “She might be bi.” Judith prided herself on her knowledge of the world and its ways, particularly its s****l ways. “I think she dresses to attract men,” Felicity said. “What men?” Judith protested. “There’s no one but gardeners and janitors round here. And old men like Professor Jackson.”

The girls all giggled. “There’s only one way to find out,” said Susan, a girl from way down south with long dark hair and a sensual mouth which Hannah found a little disturbing.

“What’s that? Judith said.

“Well,” Susan replied. “You know…”

“What?” Felicity demanded.

“Someone must try to seduce her,” said Meredith. They all turned to look at her. Meredith had a boyfriend whom she had s*x with, lots of s*x according to the accounts which she delivered to the other girls after every college break. She had even smuggled Tom into the sorority house one night. Girls had gathered outside her room to listen to the sounds of s*x: grunts and groans, some sighs, and once a cry, whether of pain or pleasure.

“Are you volunteering?” Judith said.

“You know I don’t do girls, darling,” Meredith said. “I would have thought it’s more a job for you.” She gave Judith a sickly-sweet smile.

Hannah was shocked, not just at the direction of the conversation, but at the revelation that Judith was that sort of girl. At least, that was the implication.

“She’s a bit old for me,” Judith said. “I like them young.” She looked directly at Mary Ann, who blushed and looked away. So, Hannah thought, that was what was going on. She’d found herself sharing a room with a nest of lesbians.

“I dare you,” Meredith said to Judith. “I bet you fifty dollars you can’t do it.”

Judith felt her credibility as a figure of some authority was on the line. “How could I prove it?” she said.

“Show us a pair of her knickers,” Meredith said.

“But how could I prove they belonged to her?”

“They’d smell of her. You know that perfume she uses. And they’d smell of her cunt too.”

The girls giggled at Meredith’s daring. She loved to shock. And Hannah was certainly shocked. She had expected a group of friendly girls, helpful, supportive, eager to learn. In the small mid-west town she came from the idea of girls who liked to play around with other girls was something people may have heard of, but Hannah was sure nothing like that actually happened there. River Falls was not San Francisco, after all. But nor was Lincoln City such a big place. And yet the atmosphere here was totally different. At least, it was at St Swithin’s.