THE GYNUTOPIAN SORORITY
by Marlon G. Silversteel



THE GYNUTOPIAN SORORITY

1 Introduction

In every society, every culture, there are some things that are classified as
"taboo." Such are not spoken of in polite company. They are avoided by the
masses, shunned by the popular majority, and those individuals who dare to
challenge the validity of these taboos, either by word or practice, are soon
labeled as social misfits. I say this not to discredit the content of my
writing, but to explain why up to this point there has been so little, if
anything at all, said about what I am prepared to reveal.

A fairly large percentage of taboos in nearly every culture world- wide is
focused on the area of gender and sexual identity. Aside from the obvious
physical differences, every society on Earth has some rules which determine
what makes a man a "man," and what makes a woman a "woman." Some of this
concerns emotional and psychological expectations, the "inner" make- up, so to
speak. But quite a few of these rules govern the way a society is supposed to
view and interpret the physical differences between men and women. For
example, a man is expected to be physically stronger than a woman. Another
example is the standard of beauty applied to each sex in various cultures.
Traditionally in the western world, long hair was considered appropriate for
women, but not for men. Long hair on a woman was viewed as adding to her
"femininity," while short hair was "butch."

As there have been in the past, this work is an attempt to challenge some of
these taboos. Its purpose is not to threaten, but to inform. It is not, by
design, intended to be controversial, but by its very nature there can be no
doubt that it will provoke and even offend many. As one privileged to be
brought into confidence with regards to this matter, and to have been given
license to reveal some facts concerning this, I too have had to reconcile my
own prejudices with reality, and have found inspiration and delight in
learning what I have come to know as truth.

What I speak of is a very special group of women, known in their totality as
the Gynutopian Sorority. Until the time of this writing, no formal work
concerning their existence had been released to the public. You will soon
discover the reasons why! I only ask and hope that as you read and discover a
world that has long been kept secret from the cynical eyes of the status quo,
that you will open your mind and your heart, and appreciate, as I do, the
wonders and potential for modern society that this truth can bring.

1.1 History Of The Sorority

This is the most difficult part to reveal, for no personal experience can be
drawn upon for reference, and very few written records are preserved. I have
had to rely primarily on oral tradition, passed down by members of the
Sorority, and some needed conjecture on my part.

1.1.1 Early History

There is nothing to substantiate for certain the existence of such women
before 500 B.C. However, it is likely that such women did in fact live, and
there are some interesting historical accounts that quite possibly support
this claim.

Even in ancient Sumerian records, found in the region once known as
Mesopotamia, in modern day Iraq, there are references to women, usually those
of noble lineage, who were said to perform incredible feats of strength. One
such legend suggests that a woman, depicted as a goddess in disguise, was
solely responsible for completing the building of a massive temple, when the
king's workers were unable to finish it before deadline. The legend claims
that the wife of the king's foreman went in the middle of the night, on the
eve of the deadline, and finished the construction relying on her superhuman
strength to aid in lifting large blocks that would normally require scores of
men to move. Because of her efforts, the temple was finished, and her
husband's, and all the workers' lives were spared from execution.

Another example, which has earned some re-interpretation by modern day
feminists, is a Biblical account found in the book of Judges in the Old
Testament. It tells of the story of Samson, an Israelite leader, who is said
to have been blessed by God with amazing strength. According to the scriptural
account, Samson was given the gift of great strength as a child. His parents
were told that he must never cut his hair, so long as he lived. It is said
that Samson was able to kill a lion with his bare hands, slay hundreds of
Philistines, the sworn enemy of Israel at that time, at once, and even lift
the massively heavy gate of the city Gaza and carry it off! Due to trickery by
a Philistine woman named Delilah, Samson fell victim to a scheme in which he
was blinded, his long hair was cut, and he was left powerless. However, it is
said that while a prisoner of the Philistines, Samson's hair began to grow
back, and his strength returned. His final act was pushing against the pillars
of a Philistine temple, while inside, thereby killing a multitude of
Philistines, plus himself.

The story of Samson makes complete sense, given the patriarchal orientation of
ancient Middle Eastern culture. However, given what we now know to be true
about the Sorority, it could very well be that the person Samson was in
reality a woman! This would not have rendered an acceptable or credible
account in that era, so it is likely that some details were changed, and the
super-strong Israelite heroine was written as a man. Another account in Judges
affirms this possibility, the story of Deborah. Apparently, Deborah served as
Israel's only woman judge during that period of time. It is possible that
later editors re-wrote the events and put the character of Samson in Deborah's
place, thereby creating a tame and less controversial role for the woman.

It should also be said that most legends have their basis in fact. It seems an
odd coincidence that nearly every ancient culture on Earth has some sort of
"flood" story that bears resemblance to the account of Noah in Genesis.
Likewise, legends concerning women who were unusual physically and who
possessed great strength could very well be tied to actual cases. One such
example is the Amazon Women, a legend that portrays fierce, warrior women in a
female-dominated society, most often on the fringe of traditional
civilization. Tales of such women are found in many cultures, and support the
idea that women possessing the gift of the Gynutopian Sorority may have, in
fact, existed long before the conception of the Sisterhood.

1.1.2 Formal Beginnings And The Golden Age

The true origins of the Gynutopian Sorority can be found in ancient Greece.
Here we see the beginnings of the Sisterhood, defined as such, with some
degree of organization and the creation of a hierarchy. Although the Sorority
found its place first in Greco-Roman society, it has since been discovered
that the ancient cultures of India, Egypt, and possibly even Native America
had loosely-knit groups of their own.

In 497 B.C., the Grecian city-state of Sparta, at its height of military
power, attacked the nearby town of Damora. Damora had no walls, little in the
way of defense, and was taken rather easily by the superior Spartan army.
Damora's ruler, a prince named Euclides, was captured, and taken to Sparta as
a prisoner. Euclides' brother, a regent named Aello, was left to care for the
ruined town. Euclides' wife, a woman named Rhea, was also left behind.

Aello and whatever men he could muster made several attempts to move against
Sparta, in order to reclaim their prince. Such attempts were futile, however,
as Sparta had thick, high walls, an impervious gate, and enough archers to
fend off any assault. Frustrated, Aello tried to appease Zeus, the king of the
gods, in hopes of gaining divine support and the ability to be victorious
against the mighty city.

Sacrifices were made. The priests of Damora worked and prayed tirelessly in
order to gain Zeus' favor. But the god wouldn't listen. He made it clear to
his brethren on Mount Olympus that Damora was to be taught a lesson, and that
Sparta was the instrument of that lesson. The gods heeded their king's words.

There was one person in Damora, however, who was not praying to Zeus. Rhea
made her own petitions to Hera, the wife of Zeus, knowing that she might hear
her cries, and intervene on her behalf. The goddess was sympathetic to the
bold mortal woman, and went to her husband, pleading that Zeus might
reconsider and allow for Euclides' return to his home and family. Zeus would
not listen.

Aello made one last attempt to bring his brother back. This time, Rhea herself
went to her brother-in-law, demanding that she be allowed to march with the
small army. Of course, Aello refused, claiming that her place as a woman was
at home, not on a battlefield. Rhea was a strong- willed woman, however, and
conceived a plan that she might outwit Aello.

She got some of her husband's clothes, and worked to fit them for herself. She
then allowed the hair on her body, particularly on her legs and armpits, to
grow out, making it easier to pass as a man. When Aello's army marched, Rhea
went with them. She was discovered halfway to Sparta. Her brother-in-law
rebuked her, whipped her, and sent her back to Damora. The army went ahead and
attacked. They failed, as expected, and lost most of their fighting men. Aello
himself died in the attack.

On Mount Olympus, Zeus was watching the spectacle below, smiling. Hera was
watching as well, though hardly smiling! Determined to help Rhea, but afraid
to confront Zeus directly, she secretly summoned a meeting with two other
goddesses, Athena and Diana. The three agreed to help Rhea, behind Zeus' back.

That night, Diana appeared to Rhea in a dream. The goddess instructed her to
go to Sparta the next morning, by herself, and free her husband the prince.
She was told that she would receive a special gift that would aid her in her
task, and that no man would be able to prevent her from fulfilling her
mission.

Rhea awoke the next morning. She had not shaved the hair that she had grown
earlier for her deception. She also found that she had incredible strength.
Afraid, but determined to rescue Euclides and obey the goddess, she left
Damora secretly and traveled to Sparta, in disguise.

The gate of Sparta was locked and barred. The guards on watch saw Rhea
approach, recognizing her as a woman, but unaware of her newly-given power.
They laughed as she demanded to be let in, not even considering her a threat.
Rhea proved them wrong, as she took hold of the massive, solid, iron gate, and
ripped it away from the city wall with a single pull!

Amazed even at her own strength, Rhea proceeded to find her husband locked
away in a cell. The men of Sparta made a valiant effort to stop her. More
Spartans died that day at the bare hands of Rhea than all those from Damora
had during the various attacks. She found Euclides, broke into his cell by
bending bars and breaking locks, and freed him from his captors.

Euclides had also had a dream the night before. Athena had appeared to him,
telling him of what was to happen the next day. He was warned not to tell
anyone of Rhea's gift. Only Euclides knew and witnessed the power that his
wife displayed. Those Spartans who saw did not live to tell a soul. Hera had
arranged to distract Zeus that morning on Mount Olympus. The king of the gods
saw nothing.

Euclides and Rhea returned to Damora. The town rejoiced at the rescue of their
prince, but were befuddled as to how. They were told that a terrible plague
had struck Sparta, and that Euclides, being kept in prison, wasn't affected.
He was able to escape. None of the Damoran men learned the truth.

On Mount Olympus, Zeus was furious at what had happened, but couldn't discover
the reason for such an upset. None of the gods could explain, and the three
goddesses who had orchestrated the event remained silent. He stormed for
several days in anger, but soon forgot about Sparta and Damora, and all was
well again.

Meanwhile, at the direction of Hera, Rhea undertook a special pilgrimage. She
was told to journey far to the east, to the mountains which would one day be
known as the Himalayas. She traveled for days, weeks even, her strength still
with her, her body still unshaved. She came to a place high up in the
mountains, and there, along with a few other women who shared her amazing gift
and had come from other regions far and near, formed the Gynutopian Sorority.

On the mountain, in a secret headquarters known as Gynutopia, a Sisterhood was
founded. There were 13 charter members, women who had received the gift and
had come from Europe, the Middle East, India, and North Africa. Rhea was named
the First Sister, head of the Sorority. A charter was developed, with guidance
from the Greek goddesses, and a pact was made, never to make known the secrets
of the Sisterhood, except in special circumstances.

The Sorority grew during the next millennium, the Sisters receiving other
women who had been given the gift. Several women of prominence and position in
Greece and Rome were members of the Sorority, their strength and membership
kept secret, of course. In addition to Gynutopia, the Sisters maintained safe
houses in Rome, Alexandria, Athens, Antioch, and Damascus, at various times.
The city of Ephesus in the first century A.D., with its active and devout cult
of Diana, proved to be a popular place where Sisters could meet.

With the Fall of Rome in 476 A.D., the Sorority suffered a major setback.
Several of the Sisters were killed, being mortal after all. Those who lived in
the Mediterranean region either fled to the east, or went into hiding,
dissolving local alliances with other members and limiting the use of their
power even more than before. Several members, in fear for their lives and not
wanting to be discovered, shaved their bodies, thereby violating the pact and
losing the gift. The advent of the Dark Ages in Europe also signaled a dark
age for the Sorority, one that would last for nearly 1,500 years.

1.1.3 Medieval Times

There is hardly any mention of activity by members of the Gynutopian Sorority
during the period of time known as the Middle Ages, at least not in Europe.
With the rise of Islam in the Middle East and North Africa, and the role
imposed on women in that religious and cultural structure, even less is known.
There are references to some unusual events in India during this time,
however, and it is believed that the Aryans are largely responsible for
keeping Gynutopia and the Sorority alive during this era.

In Europe proper we have only a little evidence that the Sisters were active
and working. It is well known among members of the Sorority that Joan of Arc
was a Gynutopian. History has not done her justice, however, and the real
reasons for her burning have been re-written in the books, in order to
preserve what the majority considers common sense and to protect the
Sisterhood. Joan could have done far more to save her own life. Instead, she
sacrificed herself for the Sorority. She is truly a martyr, both in terms of
Christianity and Gynutopia.

There is one significant development that took place in Europe at this time,
however, and it truly made its mark on the Sisterhood, and even in other forms
of legend and folklore as well. The Norsemen, or Vikings, were a group of
people who lived in Scandinavia, and who managed to colonize and conquer a
portion of northern Europe and even venture into Iceland, Greenland, and
Canada around 1000 A.D. History has some things to say about Norse heroes such
as Erik the Red, and Leif Ericsson. The heroines of this land aren't quite as
prominent in written history, but their deeds are known, and their legacy
lives on through Norse Mythology and modern day legends.

It is certain that women of the Barbarian tribes of northern Europe were as
much recipients of the gift as any other. The problem, however, is that there
is no mention of them as being members of the Sorority. That changed about 500
years after the Fall of Rome. A group of women who had long been isolated in
the far north from those like them made a journey to Gynutopia. They found
women who possessed the same power, and who shared the same experiences. These
same Norse women returned to their native land, full-fledged Sisters, and
became what legend has termed the Valkyries.

1.1.4 Same Story, New World

With the beginning of the Renaissance in Europe, a renewed interest in ancient
art and philosophy emerged. Although this revolution affected much of the
western world, the Gynutopian Sorority saw few changes. The dominance of
Christianity in the west and Islam in the east left little room for the
Sisterhood.

Societies and cultures on the fringe of traditional civilization are always on
the look out for opportunity. Such opportunity came in the 16th Century with
the age of exploration. Until that time, there had been no contact between
peoples of the western and eastern hemispheres. Except for an isolated visit
from the Vikings on Canada's northeastern shore 500 years earlier, the New
World was an untapped resource. With Christopher Columbus' voyage in 1492,
this all changed.

With the first ships from Europe to the Americas came members of the Sorority.
When the Pilgrims landed at Plymouth, a couple of Sisters were with them.
These women were soon pleased to discover that they had friends long unknown
in foreign lands, the American Indians. This ancient culture had within its
own ranks a group of women who possessed the gift. Although few in number,
these new Sisters found allies in the wayward Sorority members. One Native
American Sister even managed to find her way into the history books. We know
her as Pocahontas.

As the decades passed in Colonial America, more and more women received the
gift. It was a difficult time, as the Christian colonists shared the
prejudices of their European brethren. Having little contact with Gynutopia,
being so distant, some of the younger Sisters in America began using their
power excessively, attracting unneeded attention. In the Boston area
particularly there was a group of young members who used the gift carelessly,
inviting suspicion, paranoia, and a lot of trouble. We understand this today
as the Salem Witch Trials.

As the Colonial Era faded, and as industrialization began, pre-modern thought
gave way to a more "enlightened" way of thinking. While the gift was still
received by women, social and intellectual pressure persuaded many to discard
their power. Many chose to shave their body hair, or in some cases, believed
themselves to be ill or bewitched. The Sisterhood in the Americas nearly
dissolved, and by the 19th Century, membership in the Sorority was scarcely
higher than it was in the beginning. It would be another hundred years before
cultural tides began to turn, and a Gynutopian Renaissance of sorts took
place.

1.1.5 A Post-Modern Rebirth

Several things happened in the early 20th Century that caused membership in
the Gynutopian Sorority to blossom once again. The first was that western
society as a whole experienced a new fascination with ancient mythology.
Although the Sorority had remained secret even in those days, the interest in
fantasy and metaphysical phenomena encouraged women to recognize their gift
more easily as such, and not so much as a form of possession or mental
illness.

Another influence was the effect of urbanization. As technology improved, and
as more and more people moved to the cities, it became easier to stay in
contact with one another. Distances that were once impossibly far to traverse
became manageable through trains, cars, and eventually airplanes. A telephone
call could connect two people across a continent. Sisters found that keeping
in contact was so much more practical, and the Sorority began to find niches
in the modern world.

The third and perhaps greatest influence was the change in women's role. The
1920's brought a new look, and a new way of thinking. In the United States, we
had the Flappers, younger women who challenged the traditions of society.
Although shorter skirts and sleeveless blouses gave rise to a perceived need
for shaving legs and armpits, many women were willing to defy these artificial
standards of feminine beauty, and the Sorority found itself a more favorable
environment.

As more and more men became comfortable with the changes that women enjoyed,
and as the traditional gender roles began to blur a little, the Sorority
allowed some flexibility with regards to who learned their secrets. As the
second millennium came to a close, the Sisters became more tolerant towards
the few men who were privileged to be let in on the deep, ancient secrets. The
Sorority was not betrayed, nor were the Sisters disappointed in their
decision. In fact, they found some useful and devoted allies. If it were not
for this change in recent years, I would certainly not be writing this now.

Today, the Gynutopian Sorority continues to maintain a secret Sisterhood. The
gift is still manifest throughout the world, and women of all races and creeds
are still initiated. Their numbers have grown, although it is impossible to
pin down an exact figure. Little has changed in their charter, and despite the
closing of frontier after frontier on nearly every continent, the location and
nature of Gynutopia, the secret headquarters, remains unseen and undiscovered
by outsiders. The Sisters are, in many ways, our last connection to an ancient
mystery, and a rare tap into forces that despite modern technology remain
elusive and wonderful to behold!

1.2 Membership In The Sorority

In this section, I will attempt to explain some about who the Sisters are, and
what makes them unique. It is important to remember that not every woman who
refuses to shave her legs and armpits is a member! This is a very select
group, and there are other distinguishing features.

1.2.1 How Does One Become A Sister?

The first requirement is quite obvious: a member of the Sorority must be a
female. It is unknown as to how women are selected to receive the gift. Not
even the Sisters themselves understand this. It seems to be given randomly,
and without prejudice. There are some noted tendencies, however, things that
might indicate a pattern or certain preferences. The majority of members are
of Caucasian, Hispanic, Middle Eastern, and East Indian origin. No one knows
why this is the case. Blacks, Asians, Pacific Islanders, and Native Americans
only make up a small percentage. It also seems that far more women living or
growing up in urban areas receive the gift, compared to those in rural areas.
This could simply be because the majority of the world's population now lives
in big cities. It might also explain the ethnic preferences, as the Americas,
Europe, and western Asia tend to have more urban regions. It also seems that
more brunettes are members, compared to blonds and red heads. Again, given the
ethnic balance, this would be natural, as the vast majority of Middle Eastern,
Hispanic, and East Indian women have dark hair. Even in the Caucasian group,
more brunettes receive the gift than do lighter-haired women.

A girl usually receives the gift shortly after entering puberty. One night,
she will have a dream, in which she is told that she has been chosen to become
a Sister. Some basic explanations are given, mainly those that concern her
strength and the need to remain unshaven. She is also told to seek out a
senior member of the Sorority for guidance. This information is provided,
usually a woman in the same geographical area. This woman, whoever she happens
to be, also receives a dream telling her of the new initiate, and where to
find her. If a senior member is not available in the region, then the girl
will continue to have recurring dreams, in which further instruction is given
to her.

An initiate is coached, either in dreams or by a senior member, in the charter
of the Sorority, and in how to use her power. A new member does not receive
her full strength at once. This would be overwhelming. Instead, her strength
increases gradually, so that by the time she is 16, her powers will be at
maturity. The age varies, however, since the onset of puberty varies in women.
In recent years, as girls have entered puberty earlier and developed quicker,
it is not uncommon for a young Sister to have her full strength by the time
she's 13 or 14.

The rules regarding hair are as follows. A Sister is not allowed to shave any
portion of her body hair. This includes legs, armpits, stomach, and pubic
region. The reasons for this are steeped in the founding of the Sorority, when
Rhea had to grow her body hair in order to impersonate a man. Sisters continue
to honor this tradition, as a sign that a woman doesn't have to remove what is
natural in order to be beautiful, nor is being a woman tantamount to being
weak. A Sister is permitted to cut the hair on her head as necessary, in order
to keep it manageable, and not get in her way. A woman who shaves any part of
her body is deprived of her strength and expelled from the Sorority. This is
the most common way that a member leaves the Sisterhood. There are a couple of
others (see "Leaving The Sorority"). Sometimes, the social pressure is simply
too great, especially in the United States. There are some instances as well
when a new member, still in her adolescence, decides to reject the gift. This
is mainly why the gift is withheld at its full potential for a time, in case a
young woman pursues another path or is found to be abusive with her power.

The new Sister must also receive the mark. The mark is nothing more than a
tattoo, but it serves a valuable purpose in helping members to recognize each
other in an unobtrusive way. The tattoo is a diamond shaped image, with the
lower case Greek letter "gamma" in the center. An initiate is told about the
mark in her dream, and explained how it should be worn. The tattoo can be
placed on the back of the shoulder or on the outside of the thigh. These two
places can be visible in mixed company in most cultures, and are easy spots on
the body for tattooing. They are also places where little, if any, body hair
is found. If for some reason there is some hair in either of these places that
will interfere with the tattooing process, the girl is allowed for this
situation ONLY to shave the area in question. This is only allowed once, and
the hair must be grown back.

It is understood that in some cultures, tattoos are not socially acceptable,
particularly on women. The Sorority recognizes this, and is lenient on how and
when the mark is received. Some girls might not be allowed by their parents to
get a tattoo while still a minor. Others might have to get it done in secret,
due to cultural stigma. The Sisters are flexible, but it is expected that by
the age of 21 at the latest, a member should have had the means and
opportunity to receive the mark.

The third requirement is that each and every member of the Sorority must make
at least one journey to Gynutopia during her lifetime. It is hoped that this
can be accomplished within the first ten years of Sisterhood, but it can be
done at anytime. Members living in the Middle East, India, and other parts of
Asia can usually do this with little hindrance. It often takes Sisters
elsewhere much longer.

1.2.2 The Charter

When Rhea and the twelve other original members of the Sorority founded
Gynutopia, the Charter was conceived and written. The Charter is a loosely
structured set of commandments and guidelines that govern the way in which the
Sisters are to be organized and how they are to use their power. Each member
must swear to abide by the Charter. Failure to do so can result in discipline,
the severest of which is removal from the Sorority and the stripping of power.
The Charter is as follows:

The physical strength that we as Sisters receive is a gift. We have been
chosen. This gift is never to be abused. A Sister may never use her strength
to promote or support wickedness, treachery, malice, self-serving needs,
showmanship, or unnecessary death and injury.

The secrets of the Sorority must be held in the strictest of confidence by
each member. No Sister can reveal her strength or knowledge of the Sorority to
a non-member, except in the most unusual circumstances (see "Allies" below).

All Sisters must abide by the two physical markings of the Sorority, described
as such. Sisters cannot shave the hair on their bodies. This includes any and
all body hair. Sisters must also wear the tattoo, signifying their membership
and availing themselves of recognition by fellow members.

The headquarters of the Sorority is designated Gynutopia. Like other aspects
of the Sisterhood, its location and description are to remain a secret.

The Sorority is made up of free-willed and autonomous individuals. However, in
order to preserve a sense of leadership and help maintain some degree of
accountability, a hierarchy is established as follows: The members will select
from among themselves a First Sister, who will act as final judge and arbiter
of all disputes, and who will administer discipline if necessary. The First
Sister can be chosen in any manner seen fit, but she must not be a novice (at
least 15 years in the Sorority), and she must be able and willing to reside
and conduct her affairs in Gynutopia. The First Sister will be assisted by two
counselors of her choice, who will advise her in matters concerning the
Sorority. These two members must likewise not be novices (at least 10 years),
and must also be able and willing to live in Gynutopia.

From time to time, there have been additions and clarifications made to the
Charter, pertaining primarily to some details mentioned in other sections of
this writing. However, the original five articles of the Charter cannot be
altered or amended.

1.2.3 Leaving The Sorority

Although this is an undesirable event, it happens on occasion that a Sister
either decides to leave the Sorority, or is required to leave as an act of
discipline. In either case, the ex-Sister must take a vow of silence regarding
the secrets of the Sisterhood. Failure to keep this vow will result in the
ex-Sister being hunted down and brought to justice. This usually means death.
It is one of the very few times in which a life is taken by the Sisters as an
act of retribution or punishment.

Should a member decide that she no longer wishes to be part of the Sorority,
all she has to do is shave her body hair, either legs, armpits, pubic region,
or a combination. This act removes her power from her, and she is once again
rendered a woman of average strength. This is a permanent act. Once shaved,
the woman can never again receive the gift, or regain her membership.

If a Sister requires discipline for violating a portion of the Charter, there
is the possibility that she will be expelled and her powers revoked. The
Sister in question will be brought before the First Sister and her counselors.
There is a trial of sorts, in which the Sister is allowed to present her
reasons. The First Sister, with the help of her counselors, will then decide
the member's fate. Her decision is final. It cannot be appealed. If expulsion
is warranted, the wayward Sister will be shaved down in a rather humiliating
ritual by her fellow Sisters. Her powers will then be gone, and her membership
annulled. As in the case of voluntary dismissal above, the ex-Sister can never
again receive the gift, or claim membership in the Sorority.

To some, this might seem harsh, but when you consider the extreme need for
confidence and secrecy, given the nature of the Sorority's power, it makes
sense. The Sisters simply cannot take a chance of being discovered by anyone
other than those very few allies, which is what will be discussed next.

1.3 Allies Of The Sorority

There are those rare instances when a man (or woman) of normal strength
becomes privy to the Sorority's secret. This usually happens when someone is
witness to a necessary demonstration of a Sister's power. Members of the
Sorority obviously try to keep this to a minimum, but in those circumstances
when it's unavoidable, it becomes necessary to recruit an ally.

An ally is someone who discovers the strength of one or more of the Sisters.
Sometimes, accidental displays can be passed off. The Sisters are encouraged
to do so if possible. But when it's clear that discovery is evident, the
witness must become an ally. To do otherwise would mean that the Sister would
have to kill the person or people in question, and this is discouraged unless
ABSOLUTELY necessary!

The man or woman who becomes an ally must take a vow never to reveal their
knowledge of the Sisters, similar to the one required when a member leaves or
is expelled. He or she is then given a special symbol by the initiating
Sister. This symbol lets other Sisters know that the person is indeed an ally
and is privy to the secret. The symbol is usually an earring or some other
form of jewelry with the Sorority's mark. It must be worn by the ally, and it
must be visible.

An ally is not expected to do anything special with regards to the Sorority,
but there are some fringe benefits usually associated with their status. An
ally can visit Gynutopia, with the permission of the First Sister. This is a
very special privilege, and many allies take advantage of it. An ally must
usually be an ally for some time before receiving such an invitation, and he
or she must be escorted to the headquarters by a member of the Sorority. An
ally is given certain preference in the area of assistance by the Sorority.
Since the ally already knows of the Sisters' power, he or she usually gets to
see demonstrations of strength from time to time, especially when such
demonstrations aid in preserving his or her own life and safety.

Finally, an ally, particularly a male ally, usually develops a special
relationship with the Sister who initiated him. This relationship can be
anywhere from occasional acquaintances to lovers. A Sister who gains an ally
generally understands the responsibility and confidence required by her newly
found friend. She will usually make it worth his (and occasionally her!)
while.

It's important to understand that the Sorority is not a private club offering
sexual favors to VIP's. The relationship between Sisters and allies is one
based on deep trust. Allies are in a position to do some incredible damage,
and the Sisters are in a position to destroy every one who has any knowledge
of their organization. As you can imagine, this kind of arrangement has the
potential to create intimacy. If it were not for this intimacy and
understanding that allies like myself have with these remarkable women, a work
such as this would have never been possible.

1.4 Some Final Remarks

In this day and time, often referred to as the Information Age, the keeping of
secrets can be a tough and dangerous game. We have the technology available to
render most any piece of information public, and to expose nearly anything
that anyone attempts to conceal. This is frightening in a way, if you think
about it. The fact that there are some things in this world that are still
mysterious and difficult to grasp should offer us comfort, not drive us to
paranoia. The Gynutopian Sorority is one such comfort, not something to be
feared, rather something to be appreciated and respected.

Contained in the following pages are some chronicles of my own experiences
with the Sisters. These stories will likely seem incredible and the product of
pure fantasy. I will let you judge these things for yourself. In order to
protect their privacy, names have been changed in nearly every circumstance.
The events and details, however, are quite real. I hope that you enjoy reading
about these amazing women as much as I have enjoyed seeing them in action!

2 Chapter 1: My First Encounter

It was 1985. I was an awkward 13-year old in the 8th grade at Fairdells Junior
High in the town of Fairdells, a small out of the way place in Northern
California. It was in this transitional environment between the playgrounds of
elementary school and the athletic fields of high school that I received my
first kiss, went to my first dance, and had my first unforgettable experience
with a member of the Gynutopian Sorority.

I was somewhat of a nerd in those days. I was tall, kind of lanky, and I wore
glasses. I wasn't much into sports at that time, and I had one of the highest
GPA's in my class. These were prime ingredients for nerd- dom in junior high,
and I fit the bill pretty well. I got my share of name- calling, and the
occasional threat by a bully or two, but I had avoided an all-out fight, until
one autumn Friday after school.

It was later in the afternoon. The students were gone, anxious to get their
weekend started, while Fairdells still enjoyed the last remnants of warm
weather. The few teachers still on campus were in their classrooms finishing
up and doing last minute preparations for Monday. I had stayed late after 6th
period gym interviewing the instructor for an article in the school paper for
journalism class. I had changed back into my regular clothes, and was walking
towards the bicycle rack to get my 10-speed to ride home on, when Doug Nelson
and Scott Richardson pulled up on their dirt bikes.

Doug and Scott were 7th graders, but they were older for their class. They
were big, stupid, and two of the worst bullies in the school. I had endured
their taunts for the past couple of months. It was the end of a long week, and
I was tired. I really wasn't in the mood to put up with another round from
them.

The two boys stopped their bikes directly in my path, blocking my stride.
Trying not to look them in the eyes, I side-stepped, trying to go around them.
Both of them got off their bikes, throwing them down on the grass, and walked
towards me.

"Where do you think you're going?" Doug asked, menacingly, stopping me with an
outstretched arm in front.

"I'm getting my bike," I replied, trying not to seem afraid. I could feel my
legs trembling slightly, however.

"Whatcha got there, Four-Eyes?" Scott demanded, reaching out and grabbing my
backpack from off my shoulder. Before I could say or do anything, he had
opened the zipper and taken out my interview report.

"Oooooohhhhh!" he said, grinning. "Nerd work!" He waved it in front of my
face.

"Give it back!" I said, trying to grab it out of his hand. I got a corner, and
jerked it. The page tore. Doug responded by giving me a hard push, which
knocked me back and on the ground.

"You want your paper?" Scott asked, sarcastically. He started ripping it up in
little pieces right in front of me.

I might have just sat there on the ground in resignation under normal
circumstances, but I had spent a lot of time on that report. I got on my feet,
my fists clenched, angry, and glaring at the bullies.

"Stop it!" I yelled, trying to take what little was left of the paper back
from the maniacal shredder. Doug tried to stop me, taking me by the arm. I
yanked it away, knocking him in the shoulder as a result.

"Oh, you wanna fight?" Doug fumed, as if an accidental poke was exactly the
excuse for a rumble that he was waiting for. He pushed me again. Scott dropped
the paper bits, and took a step closer.

It was clear that a fight was inevitable. I was in a tight spot. To my right
was a long fence. It was made up of thick, black iron bars, the boundary of
school property. The bars were too close together to squeeze through, and too
high to jump. They were parallel, vertical, and at least an inch in diameter.
Impossible to climb! To my left was the side of the gym and locker room. The
door was now locked. And in front of me.

I felt trapped. Worse than that, I was pissed off. I had taken enough of this!
I didn't try to retreat. Instead, I lashed out, hitting Doug in the jaw.

This seemed to provoke a chain reaction. The two boys went ballistic. As soon
as Doug had gotten over the shock that a smaller, puny nerd had just taken a
swing at him, he charged, swinging at me with all his strength. Scott rushed
me as well, and the two of them had me pinned in a couple of seconds, and were
punching me in the face and stomach.

I couldn't get up. The wind was knocked out of me, and I could barely breathe
much less cry out for help. I could feel the blood on my face from their
merciless hits. I wasn't sure if I was going to walk away from this intact,
and then I saw Kelly.

Kelly was an 8th grader like me. We had known each other for years, since
Kindergarten. She was tall for a girl, well built and in all the right places.
She was the same age as me, 13, but had developed nicely for a girl. Her hair
was long, dark brown, and thick. She had beautiful brown eyes. She was also
smart, which was a big turn on. We were in the same Algebra class. She sat to
my left, two rows over. She was very attractive, and I would sneak a peek at
her from time to time. She was obviously keen enough to know when a guy was
checking her out, because she caught my gaze occasionally and smiled at me.
She never wore shorts, even in hot weather, and I didn't have gym with her so
I never caught a glimpse of her legs, which I was sure were gorgeous. She
often wore tight T- shirts, however, and I always enjoyed admiring her lovely,
well-rounded curves.

I caught her out of the corner of my eye while being held and pummeled on the
ground by Doug and Scott. She was walking on the other side of the fence bag
in hand, as if heading home. I knew it was a futile effort, seeing that even
if she could stop the bullies, she would have to run all the way around to the
bike entrance fifty or so yards away to get on this side of the fence. At
least if she saw me, perhaps she could run and get some help.

I tried to yell out, but it was useless. I closed my eyes, trying to bear the
pain. I only saw what happened next in a blur, but what I saw had the
potential of taking my breath away more so than the beating by my tormentors!

Kelly did indeed see what was going on. She rushed to the edge of the fence,
dropping her pack.

"Hey, knock it off!" she called out, trying to get the bullies' attention.

Doug and Scott briefly redirected their efforts long enough to see who it was
that was trying to interfere with their blood-fest. They smirked then
continued on with the beating.

"I said, LEAVE HIM ALONE!" Kelly yelled again, more forcefully, finally
realizing that this wasn't simply a case of juvenile horsing around, but that
someone, namely me, was getting seriously hurt!

Doug turned towards her and yelled back to her. "Fuck off, you skank- ass
bitch!"

He and Scott laughed hysterically, and turned back towards their victim. Kelly
got red in the face, and took a quick look around to see if there was anyone
nearby. Not a soul. She placed her hands on two adjacent bars of the sturdy
iron fence in front of her, blocking her from the hideous sight that she had
stumbled upon.

With her long fingers curled around the two bars, she began to pull outwards,
bending the bars near the middle of their vertical length. An inch thick and
solid iron, the bars bent easily under the incredible force of her strength.
First the two which she held, then the two adjacent as they bent under the
pressure of the expanding metal, and then two more, until she had cleared a
space wide enough for her beautiful form to slip through.

Doug and Scott heard the sound of bending iron, but didn't turn until Kelly
had nearly completed her awesome feat of physical prowess. They saw her bend a
final inch or two, and then her stepping through on to the grass on the other
side. Their jaws dropped open, as they slowly got to their feet, forgetting
that a bloody, badly beaten nerd was at their feet.

Kelly strode directly up to the two bullies, her eyes fiery with anger, her
fists clenched, and her lovely strong arms flexed. Doug and Scott began to
back away. Doug made a partial recovery, as he nearly stumbled over his fallen
bike on the grass.

"Shit, she's just a girl!" he shouted, sounding as if he was trying to
convince himself more than anyone else. He picked up his bike, and with a
surprising amount of strength for a 14 year old, threw it at Kelly as she
approached.

The bike hurled through the air at shoulder height for about seven or eight
feet, just enough to knock Kelly over had she been someone else. Not swerving
in the slightest, and barely blinking at the oncoming projectile, she
intercepted it with a single arm, grasping the frame in her hand, and holding
it steady in mid-air.

As Doug and Scott watched in horror and awe, Kelly took the frame of the dirt
bike in both hands, and began twisting it effortlessly. The solid metal
crumpled and contorted as if it were mere aluminum foil. She grabbed the
handlebars, yanking them off then tossed the mangled piece to her side. Doug
and Scott stood petrified.

Kelly stepped forward after discarding the now useless bike and grabbed both
boys by their necks, one in each hand. She lifted them a good foot off the
ground, and pinned them against the wall of the gym. She glared at them both,
her gaze piercing.

"That's right, I'm a girl," she said calmly, her fingers clenching their
throats, allowing them just enough air to remain conscious. "And unless you
want to have to explain how a girl just kicked both your asses, you'll keep
your mouths shut, and NEVER pick a fight with ANY other student here again!
Understand?"

The two boys couldn't answer, but Kelly was satisfied that she had
successfully made her point. Doug and Scott were shaking uncontrollably. They
had lost control of their bladder functions, and both had large wet spots on
the fronts of their pants. Kelly let them down and released her grip. Within a
second, the white-faced, sweating, and shaking boys were backing up and
high-tailing it out of there as fast as their legs could carry them, leaving
backpacks and twisted bikes behind.

When the frightened bullies were out of sight, Kelly walked back to the fence.
Two by two, she straightened the bars once more, returning them to their
intended position, leaving no trace that they had ever been tampered with.
Then, she walked over to me.

I couldn't really speak. I could barely move. Kelly knelt down next to me, and
put her strong yet gentle hand on my face, trying to determine how badly hurt
I actually was. I tried to reach up to her, but I had no strength at all.
Then, I passed out.

When I came to, I was lying on a cot in the instructor's office in the gym,
next to the locker room. Kelly was sitting in a chair next to me, using a warm
wet cloth to wipe the blood from my face, neck and shoulders. My shirt had
been removed, and was at my feet in a wad. I was feeling dizzy, disoriented,
and utterly confused. Then, I remembered.

I tried to sit up hastily, almost in a panic. I felt Kelly's palm against my
chest, firmly yet tenderly lowering me back down on the cot.

"Shhhh," she whispered, although there was no one else in the building. The
janitor had already cleaned and had gone home. She gave a final wipe with the
cloth and set it aside.

I looked up at her. Her eyes were soft and doe-like, not at all filled with
rage as they had been earlier. She scooted up a little closer, and smiled.

"You're safe now," she said again. "Those boys won't pick on you anymore, I
assure you."

"Thanks," I replied, weakly, not really knowing what to say. My mind went back
to last things I saw before losing consciousness. Was I delirious? Had I just
imagined at all? Perhaps Doug and Scott had damaged far more than just my
flesh and ego!

"You're welcome," she said. "I'm so sorry I had to make such a scene. I was
just so angry. I couldn't bear to see those guys hurt you so badly. I had to
do something."

"Wha.?" I started to say, thinking for a moment that she was going to
reinforce my belief that I had been hallucinating. "But. the bars. the bike."

"I'm really sorry," Kelly exclaimed again. "I didn't see any other choice.
It's okay, I fixed what I could, disposed of the rest, and I'm quite certain
that those fellows aren't going to say a word!"

I just looked at her, shocked. It was true then! I had just witnessed the
impossible.

"You. you're." I tried to get something out. I wasn't sure what needed to come
out, if anything at all. Kelly was very patient.

"I know," she said, placing her fingers on my mouth, trying to ease my fretful
utterance. "I had no intention of you or anyone at school finding out, but."
She paused for a moment. "I'm glad it was a nice guy like you, and not some
creep."

I continued to lay there, in silence. Kelly got up from the chair and sat down
on the cot beside me.

"I'm going to share something with you," she began, with a very pleasant, yet
sober tone in her voice. "This is something that I've never shared with
anyone. I know that those two bullies won't understand. They don't deserve to,
nor are they likely to say anything either. But I trust you, John. You're a
sweet, caring guy, and I want you to be a part of this secret, okay? Do you
promise not to tell anyone?"

I wasn't sure what she meant, but I was in no position to ask questions or
debate anything, not after what I had seen. I nodded in affirmation.

"I noticed something start to happen when I was in 5th grade, actually," Kelly
began to explain. "I was eleven. My body started changing, you know? I got my
first period. I was a little nervous, but my mom sat me down and had the usual
talk. Then I had the dream. I didn't know what to think. It was so strange!
Some of it didn't make any sense at the time, but I did what I was told. I
didn't shave my legs or my armpits. I got some weird comments from my mom and
older sister, but I just ignored them. It was soon after that I noticed my
strength."

"You mean. like how you bent the bars and stuff?" I asked, getting really
absorbed in her story.

"Yes, exactly!" Kelly continued. "But it didn't happen all at once. I first
noticed it when I was helping my dad in the garage one day. He was changing a
tire on the car. He had put the jack in place, and had it cranked up. Then, my
mom called to him, saying he had a phone call in the house. I stayed with the
car. A few seconds after he had gone inside, I noticed the jack starting to
give way. I kind of panicked, knowing how much my dad liked that car and took
good care of it. I don't know why I did, but I reached out with my hand to
grab the fender. I guess I wasn't thinking. I didn't expect to be able to stop
the front end from crashing down, but I did! I took hold, and lifted it up
without much effort. I was totally amazed! Then, I remembered the stuff I had
been told in the dream. I put the jack back in place and set the car back down
on it before my dad came back out again."

I was astonished. Looking at Kelly, I could scarcely imagine that a girl as
gentle and as beautiful as she was could be capable of such a feat, let alone
what I had seen earlier. The thought of her having so much power was kind of
frightening, but exciting at the same time.

"Have you ever had to use your strength any other times?" I asked her, wanting
to hear more.

"Well, after the thing with the car, I was really careful," Kelly replied. "I
tested myself occasionally, you know, bending horseshoes, lifting a car if
nobody was home, that sort of thing. I noticed that I got stronger and
stronger as the months went by. I remembered what the dream said, so I really
watched myself around other people. In gym class, I got teased some for not
shaving my legs, but I just shrugged it off. I had to resist a couple of times
from showing off my strength in gym when I got teased."

"No wonder you don't wear shorts," I commented, more to myself than to Kelly.

"Yeah," she laughed, rolling up the cuff on her pant leg. "I guess I am kind
of hairy, even for a girl!"

I looked at the dark, slightly curled hairs on her shapely legs. I could feel
my heart thumping. I wanted so much to reach out and run my hand along her
gorgeous calf muscle, and up past her knee to her lovely thigh.

Kelly must have been reading my mind. "You can touch me if you like," she said
softly, smiling. She reached over, taking my hand, and placed it on her bare
leg.

My fingers made contact with her flesh. I felt the soft follicles tickling my
palm. It was like nothing I had ever felt before. Her leg was so incredibly
beautiful, and yet I could almost feel her awesome strength radiating from her
skin.

She guided my hand further up her calf, allowing me to feel the inside of her
knee, and then the soft hair and rock hard muscle of her thigh. My breath
quickened. I had never touched a girl like this before. It was exhilarating!
Kelly smiled at me as I explored.

"Here," she said, removing my hand from her leg and standing up from off the
cot. She began to remove her blouse. The lifting of her skin- tight shirt over
her head revealed the most beautiful belly I had ever seen. Her complexion was
creamy and delightful. I could see a dark, slightly thick trail of dark hair
running from the line of her jeans up to her navel. She was wearing a black
silk bra, which did very little to conceal the lovely curves which outlined
her well-formed breasts. Underneath her arms, now exposed with the removal of
her top, I could see the thick, lush fur which grew in her pits, the scent of
which having been unleashed with her partial undressing was close to
intoxicating.

With her blouse removed, and she standing there in front of me more beautiful
than any goddess I could imagine, Kelly turned her right shoulder towards me,
and moved aside the strap of her bra.

"This is my tattoo," she explained, showing me the small diamond with a funny
looking symbol in the middle.

"It's the mark of the Sorority," she said. "I had it done during the summer,
when my sister took me down to Monterey for a weekend."

I looked at the strange mark. It was located a few inches below her right
shoulder blade, in a spot where her bra strap or the back of a swimsuit could
cover it easily.

"My parents don't know about it," she said again. "They would probably flip if
they found out!"

Kelly turned back to face me. I couldn't get over how awesome this all was.
Here I was in the presence of a. superwoman? I didn't know how to explain it.
All I knew was that I was obviously privy to an amazing secret, and that
Kelly, my friend and classmate, had chosen me above anyone else to confide in.

She was not oblivious to my reaction. Kelly could tell how much I was admiring
her body, and the power that her beautiful frame concealed. She sat back down
next to me.

"Would you like to feel just how strong I really am?" she asked me, almost in
a whisper.

I blushed, a little embarrassed for making my desires so blatantly obvious to
her.

"Here," she said, taking my hand again, this time placing it on her arm. She
curled her elbow, and began to flex, allowing me to feel her bicep.

I can't really explain the sensation. Her skin was so soft, so smooth. But the
tension I could feel beneath was nothing less than dynamic! Her muscle was
like a ball of steel, almost pulsing with power. She guided my hand with her
other hand, running my trembling palm and fingers along the beautiful,
rounded, and firm contours of her arm.

I looked up at her pretty face. Our eyes met. She knew from our gaze that I
admired and respected everything about her, and that I would never betray her
secret.

"I want you to have something," Kelly said to me, releasing my hand. She
reached behind her neck and unfastened the necklace that she had been wearing.
She took it and handed it to me.

"This is a symbol of the Sorority," she explained. "I got it made when I went
to get my tattoo. It's a way for the Sisters to know that you know our secret.
It's what sets you apart from nearly everyone else in the world."

I took the necklace. It was gold. The chain was fine-linked, and the pendant
was the same symbol that I had seen on Kelly's shoulder. She reached over and
took it from me.

"Here," she said, turning me around gently and putting the chain around my
neck, fastening it from behind. The feel of her hands on my neck and shoulder
almost made me melt.

Kelly finished and turned me to face her once again. She leaned in closer, the
tips of her breasts nearly touching my bare chest. Her hair brushed against my
cheeks. She put her lips to mine and kissed me softly.

"From now on," she explained, "you're an ally of the Gynutopian Sorority. And
most importantly, my very good and special friend."

She took my hands again and helped me up off the cot. I stood next to her,
looking her in the eyes, our gaze nearly level with her height. She put her
arms around me, and hugged me. I could feel the warmth, the gentleness of her
embrace, and at the same time, her formidable strength, restrained and
controlled like a lioness that waits patiently before springing to the hunt.

Kelly released me, still smiling, and handed me my shirt. "Better put this
on," she said lightly. "You don't want to walk home half-naked!"

She laughed gently, her eyes gleaming with affection and tenderness. She
walked with me to the entrance of the gym. She opened the door that she had
forced open earlier with a single pull, letting us both out. Once outside, she
twisted the metal bolt back into place, and closed it again. I could hear the
door lock securely.

Kelly walked with me to the corner, then said goodbye as she turned and headed
home her direction. I watched her as she walked away, her long dark hair
bouncing behind her as she went. I smiled to myself, and slowly fingered the
small pendant now around my neck.

Kelly and I remained good friends through the rest of 8th grade and well into
high school. What's more neither Doug nor Scott, nor any bully ever picked on
me after that. She and I never dated, and we never spoke of our encounter
again. But every time our eyes met in class or in the hall, and we exchanged a
flirtatious smile or a brief touch of the hands as we passed each other, I
knew that I had someone truly special in my life.

It would be several years before I had another experience with a member of the
Sorority, but I would always remember my first encounter with Kelly, and my
life would never be the same from that moment on.

3 Chapter 2: Family Reunion

Kelly moved away from Fairdells during the summer between our freshman and
sophomore years of high school. I didn't have any other experiences with
members of the Gynutopian Sorority during my years at Fairdells High. Of
course, I didn't live in a very big town, and I simply wasn't looking for it.
I was quite busy with varsity Water Polo, swimming, and chorus. I dated a
little bit, went to the prom like any teenage guy, and had the worst case of
"senioritis" imaginable!

High School graduation was June 15th, 1990. I turned 18 two days later. My
parents had been planning our summer family vacation for some time, and the
day finally arrived in August for our trip to Santa Fe, New Mexico. My
mother's extended family held reunions every four years. We had gone to Sea
Ranch on the northern California coast in 1986. This year, my mom and her
brothers had scheduled the reunion to coincide with the Annual Native American
Art Festival that took place in Santa Fe every summer. Mom and her family were
big into American Indian art. She and her brothers had been raised in
Tahlequah, Oklahoma, the heart of Cherokee country. Our living room was
adorned with quite a few pieces that she had collected over the years.

So, my folks, my brother, my sister and myself all made the long drive out to
New Mexico for a week of fun, sun, and family. Family reunions for us were a
big deal. Everyone was so scattered around the country nowadays. Reunions were
the few occasions where many family members got to see each other. Most of my
cousins were several years older than myself. My cousin Jeff was the only one
close in age to me and my siblings. He was 19, and in college at Arizona State
University. My brother was 16, about to begin his junior year in high school.
The three of us were bunked together in one of the rooms of the large house
that had been rented for the week.

My aunts, uncles, and most of my other cousins were there. We were all a
little surprised, however, when we were introduced to my cousin Paul's new
fiancée, Tracy. Paul's parents had met her earlier, but this was her first
introduction to her future family of extended in-laws. This had been done a
couple times before at reunions, one of my cousins bringing a boyfriend or
girlfriend along. It usually meant something serious was in the works!

Tracy, as I soon discovered, was from Pennsylvania. She was 23, and had
recently graduated from college. She and Paul were looking at a wedding date
within the next year or so. She was a truly beautiful woman, with long,
straight dark hair, pretty hazel eyes, and a nice tan complexion. She was
tall, standing about 5'9", only a couple of inches shorter than my cousin
himself. In her tight khaki pants that hugged her round, curvy thighs and cute
butt, it was very difficult to keep from staring!

Having not thought of such things much in a few years, the observation that
Tracy avoided wearing shorts in the hot New Mexico weather didn't strike me as
odd, at least not in a way that would make me wonder. It really didn't even
register that for three whole days she never took advantage of the cool,
refreshing swimming pool that we had access to in back of the house. But my
desire to see her in a swimsuit got me thinking about it!

I finally got my chance the third night we were there. The window of the room
that Jeff, my brother, and I were staying in faced the pool. It was well after
midnight, and my roommates for the week were already sacked. I was lying in
bed, unable to fall asleep. I was thinking about several things, going off to
college in another two or three weeks, the possibility of selling my old car
from high school and getting something newer. and Tracy.

A shadow passed by the only half-covered window. It was Tracy. I could see
that she was in a swimsuit, and carrying a towel! She was headed for the pool,
quite possibly for a late night solitary swim. My heart raced, as my late
teenage mind conceived one of the best plans ever.

I waited until she had passed, then quietly, as to not wake my cousin and
brother, got out of bed, put on my shorts, and slipped out the door.

Tracy was several yards in front of me. I kept a safe distance, being mindful
of my step. She stopped at the gate to the pool. I moved aside, squatting
behind some bushes along the path, maintaining an excellent view. I could now
see in the pale moonlight her most incredible figure. She was wearing a
bikini. However, the tiny, revealing pieces of fabric did nothing to conceal
the fact that she had the physique of a goddess!

She reached out to open the gate. It was obviously locked. I knew that only a
couple of people, my mom and my uncle, had keys. The fence surrounding the
pool for safety was no less than seven or eight feet high, with thick,
vertical iron bars preventing even the smallest of children access by slipping
though. I was devastated! My hopes for getting the best peep show of my life
seemed dashed.

I was about to turn and tip toe back to my room when I saw Tracy put her towel
down. I hesitated, and continued to watch as she placed her two lovely hands
on two adjacent bars just to one side of the gate. Her shoulder muscles
flexed, her arms tensed, as she began bending the bars, pulling them aside as
if they were mere strands of taffy!

My jaw dropped, partly out of amazement, and partly out of delight, as a wave
of memories came crashing down upon me, and as I watched this remarkable,
amazingly strong and sexy woman, who could only have been a member of the
Sorority, perform a feat of which likes I hadn't seen in nearly five years!

A slight tinge of fear crept upon me. Part of me wanted to slip away before
the chance arose of me being discovered. But my desire to stay and watch was
so much more powerful.

Tracy finished creating for herself a big enough hole for her to slip through.
She eased her way into the pool area, and set her towel down on one of the
lawn chairs. I took a risky opportunity to move closer, silently crouching and
crawling to a spot behind a bush, no more than ten feet from the parted bars.
I could see perfectly!

I continued to watch and marvel as Tracy then put her hands behind her back
and removed the top of her bikini. My heart nearly stopped as I saw the lovely
roundness and perfect shapeliness of her breasts. She then dropped the bottom
half as well. And it was then, in the stream of illuminating moonlight, that I
saw it.

Tracy had the fullest, most beautiful bush that I had ever seen. It was dark
brown and thick, like a soft bear rug. What's more, I could see the hair on
her legs, starting as high as her waistline almost, and trailing evenly down
to her ankles. She had a well-defined fuzzy patch around her navel, and when
she lifted her arms to stretch before entering the water, I could clearly make
out the dark tracing of hair beneath her pits. She was truly a Gynutopian! The
reason for those long khakis was now clear.

She entered the pool, taking the steps slowly down into the shallow end. I
continued to watch, mesmerized by her graceful movements, her delicate strokes
as she swam. She was nothing less than a mermaid in her beauty both under
water and on top. I must have gazed upon her for nearly a half hour before she
stepped out, drying herself with her towel, and putting her bikini back on.
She walked back through the gap she had made earlier then bent the bars back
into place from the outside.

I shifted slightly in my position in order to conceal my presence from a
vintage point along the stone walkway. Tracy made her way back up the path,
quietly. She passed within five feet of my carefully hidden posture. I held my
breath. She walked by, apparently unaware that a young man had been watching
her, admiring her for the past several minutes. I waited another couple of
minutes then inched my way out from behind the bush and walked back to my
room. Tracy was nowhere to be seen, apparently having returned to the room
that she was sharing with my cousin Rachel.

I crept back into bed exhilarated, wired even more than I had been before my
midnight voyeurism. I don't remember when I finally fell asleep, but when I
did, I dreamed the sweetest dreams!

We had breakfast in the commons the next morning. I was tired, but feeling
remarkably good. Perhaps it was the knowledge that there was yet another night
to come, and possibly another chance to see Tracy! She sat across from me at
breakfast. I was uncomfortable actually, trying to avoid eye contact with her.
I knew she couldn't have suspected. Still.

We made eye contact at one point during a lull in the conversation. Her hazel
eyes came up for a moment and met mine. She smiled, in a way that wasn't
exactly seductive, but not simply "all in the family" either. I remembered
that smile. I had seen it once before, in a school locker room, several years
earlier.

I tried as nonchalantly as possible to look away quickly, without making it
seem too obvious. As I lowered my eyes to my plate, I noticed the outline of
something around my neck. My necklace! The one Kelly had given me! I had
seldom removed it in five years, except when I swam or played water sports
competitively. I still wore it. She had seen it. I knew it! Had she seen me
the night before, and simply looked the other way?

My mind was racing, nearly as fast as my heart. I couldn't concentrate very
well the rest of the day. I tried to convince myself that another late night
viewing would be foolish! But I found myself waiting, yearning for the sun to
set, and for bedtime to approach.

I forced myself to stay awake, but I dozed at one point. I woke up, suddenly
alert. I looked at the clock. It was nearly 2:00 in the morning! Had I missed
her already? I grabbed my shorts, and quickly but quietly left the room and
walked towards the pool.

The gate was locked. There was no movement in the pool or nearby, and the bars
of the fence were straight and unmolested. Had she already come and gone? I
had half a mind to stay for a few minutes, just to make sure. But I wasn't
ready to risk it this time. I turned to head back up the path to my room, and
call it a night.

"Out for a late night stroll, John?" a voice said behind me.

I froze stiff, startled. I knew that voice. I turned back slowly, not knowing
how I could possibly explain this. My brain was in vapor lock!

Tracy was standing near the gate, apparently having just stepped into view
from where she had been obviously waiting, next to a tree at the corner of the
fence. She was wearing the same delicate bikini that she had worn the night
before. She walked towards me, casually, non-threatening.

"Did you come down here for a swim?" she asked, smiling as if she could read
both sides of my mind. "I don't see your swimsuit. Or were you planning on a
skinny-dip?"

Her voice was pleasant, not angry or accusatory. She looked at me not like a
mother catching her son with his hand in the cookie jar. It was gentler,
perhaps even a bit flirtatious.

I tried to open my mouth to reply. My jaw seemed wired shut. I couldn't get a
word out. In fact, I couldn't seem to move at all.

Tracy's expression changed as she apparently saw my immobilizing fright. She
took another step towards me, and placed her hand on my shoulder, caressing it
down to my elbow, tenderly.

"It's okay," she whispered, her voice soothing, her hand soft and reassuring.
I could feel a sense of relaxation come over me, but I was still nervous,
slightly shaken.

"Tracy, I'm." I was finally able to get out, stuttering.

She interrupted me with a brush of her finger upon my lips. She then let them
slide down my chin, resting at my neck. She gingerly palmed the symbol on my
necklace.

"So, you've met one of my Sisters before?" she asked, a little more casual,
and far less tentatively.

"Well. yes," I answered. I was wondering how much I would have to tell her,
and how much she already knew.

"I know you watched me last night," Tracy said, putting to rest what little
doubt I already had. "What did you think?"

I was rather stunned. "Well. I mean." I really had no idea how to answer her
straightforward question.

"Did you like what you saw?" she asked, more direct, still looking at me with
those lovely eyes.

"Um. well. yeah, I guess," I stammered. Part of me wished I could just vanish.
Another part wished her to take me in those powerful but gentle arms of hers
and hold me close.

As if she knew my inner most wants and desires, Tracy took both of my
trembling hands in her own, and put them on her soft, hairy thighs. Using my
fingers as her instruments, she guided her G-string down, loosening as it
dropped lower on her legs until it finally fell to the ground around her feet.

Continuing to hold my hands, she then brought them up again, this time moving
my palms along her tight, muscular stomach, upward along her sides, curving
around her breasts to her back. She closed her eyes, as if in a trance, and
used my fingers to gently undo her top. The tension of the fabric was
released, and it came off, sliding down her gorgeous bulbs, joining the
matching thong below.

Tracy's eyes opened. She took a step back, allowing her removed garments to be
free. Releasing my hands, she began walking backwards towards the gate.

"Come on," she said, beckoning. "Let's get those shorts off and go for a swim,
huh?"

I'm not sure how they came off, but they did. Within seconds I was as naked as
she was, standing next to her at the gate.

"But. we don't have a k." I stopped, remembering what I had witnessed the
night before.

Tracy smiled, and with one arm, leaned up against the bars quite casually.
With that single beautiful arm, she grasped the bar next to her hand and
pulled. The bar gave way as easily as I had seen it before, and there was soon
a gap in the fence.

"After you," she said coyly, and gently escorted me through.

We walked to the edge of the pool. Tracy went in first then reached out for my
hand. I gave it to her. I couldn't tell which was more soothing and pleasing,
the coolness of the water against my bare flesh, or her tantalizing touch. I
felt as if I was floating.

We stood facing each other in the shallow end, the surface of the water coming
to our waists. Tracy put her arms around me and pulled me in close. I felt
each and every ounce of her strength, gentleness, and affection pouring
through me like a funnel. She touched my face, and kissed me on the lips. Her
mouth was as sweet as a honeycomb, and her tongue softer than melted butter.

She slowly turned, taking my hands once again, and pressing her back to me. I
could feel the lines of her butt below the water. She wrapped my arms around
her, my hands on her muscled abs, and then gradually moved my palms up to her
breasts, allowing them to caress them. I could feel the hardness of her
nipples, the drops of water on her velvet skin.

She then let go, and slowly elevated her own arms above her head, crossing
them and resting her elbows atop. I responded by moving my hands upwards as
well, stroking the inside of her armpits, feeling the soft delightful fur
cupped within. My hands continued, running along her upper arms, feeling the
incredible power of her triceps and biceps contained within the most perfect,
most beautiful shell of her skin. My hands met hers at last, and they
descended together. She turned again, and we embraced once more. I was in
ecstasy.

We touched each other in this way for what seemed hours. Tracy allowed me to
enjoy what pleasurable delights she could offer me. We kissed, we caressed,
the moonlight being sole witness to our kindred union. The time came, and we
left the waters of my rapture, drying off, returning clothes to their proper
place on our bodies, and bars to their proper place on the fence. We walked
back together this time to our respective rooms, and said goodnight.

The reunion ended three days later. Tracy and I had no further rendezvous at
the pool, not then, and not any others after that. She and Paul got married
the following spring. He does not know her secret. Neither do their children,
of which now number two. They moved to Massachusetts sometime later. I saw
them again at reunions in 1994, 1998, and even recently in 2002. Tracy and I
do not discuss our encounter with each other or anyone else. But when we do
see each other at reunions, we smile, and we know. The bond of friendship and
communion in the Sorority unites us in a most unique and special way, and the
knowledge that I will never again know her body and feel her strength as no
other man can or likely will torments me to this very day.

4 Chapter 3: My Girlfriend's Roommate

College was quite a blast for me, as I soon found out. In the fall of 1990, I
packed my bags, loaded up the back of my Ford truck, and drove up to Redwood
State College in Santa Rosa. My freshman year was a time of making friends,
stretching my wings a bit, and adjusting to college life. I did what most
college guys did, studied a little, partied a lot, and kept on the lookout for
hot co-eds!

I declared a major my sophomore year, Religion/Philosophy, with Business
Administration and Political Science minors. I was thinking that I would want
to go into the ministry at some point. I also met Julie McKinley that year,
and we dated seriously for the better part of my college experience at Redwood
State. But it was Julie's roommate that year, Angela, who gave me the most
interesting experience of all!

Angela was a tall, pretty brunette. She was athletic, smart, and one of the
coolest girls on campus. Being her roommate's boyfriend, I got more chances
than the average guy to hang out with her and get to know her some. She was
from Humboldt County originally, and as such, was something of a granola. She
didn't wear make-up, although it really wasn't necessary as she was naturally
very good-looking. She also did not shave her legs or armpits. When I first
met Angela and noticed this, the obvious thought came to mind. I dismissed the
notion, however, based on a couple of observations.

First of all, Angela didn't seem the slightest bit worried about her
appearance. She wore shorts and cut-offs all the time, allowing her legs to be
plainly visible. She made no attempt to hide her underarms and often wore tank
tops. In fact, in some ways she seemed rather proud of her body, and didn't
seem bothered at all when she received the occasional stare from guys and
girls who were not accustomed to her natural preferences.

The second thing was that Angela never seemed to react to my necklace. I wore
it up at college. Julie had asked me about it once, and I had simply passed it
off as a gift from high school. Angela surely must have seen it as well, but
it didn't seem to have any effect on her. Had she been a Gynutopian, I would
have thought it might have provoked something in her, and she might have
spoken to me about it at some point. However, a whole semester went by before
I was confronted by Angela's true nature.

It was spring 1992. I was taking a weight training class that semester, as
part of my physical education curriculum. I must admit that I was a little out
of shape. It had been two years since I had worked out with the high school
swim team, and I had gained a few pounds. The class was harder than I thought
and I had to really push myself to get motivated and try to build up some
strength and endurance.

Angela was taking the class as well. This was part of the reason how I
remained motivated to come to class and try to perform well! Angela would show
up in the weight room in her gym shorts and tank top, after having changed in
the locker room. She was incredibly sexy! The hair on her legs did nothing to
hide the nice muscular curves of her calves and thighs. Her breasts were D-cup
at least, perfectly rounded, and firm- looking. Her arms were nearly as thick
as mine, well muscled and strong. She was truly gorgeous. I tried my best not
to stare, but it was tough sometimes!

Angela didn't have a steady boyfriend. Sure, she dated some, but she never
seemed to stay with a guy for any length of time. Guys would try to pick her
up all the time. Some of my fellow collegians would joke with me saying how
much they'd love to get her in the sack. "She must be a beast in bed!" they'd
say. "I'd love to take a shot at taming that tree-hugger!"

But Angela stayed clear of them pretty much. She did, however, hang around
with me quite a bit. I guess she felt that since I was her roommate's
boyfriend that I must be "safe." I think she trusted me far more than I
trusted myself! When the class had begun at the start of the semester and when
we were asked by the instructor to pair up for spotting on the free weights,
Angela picked me.

She proved to be a really good partner, actually. Despite the fact that she
was a girl, she was strong as hell, and could bench as much as I could,
possibly more. Her squat was excellent, and I have to admit that standing
behind her in position, my crotch just inches away from her lovely tight ass,
made me very excited. And I think she knew that I was a bit insecure about my
own neglected physique, and tried to boost my ego.

"John, can you give me a hand, please?" she said, choosing some weights for
the bar on her next set.

Angela selected a combined weight of 115 pounds for her side. I matched it
with two 45's and a 25. The bar itself weighed 45.

"Angela, that's 275 pounds," I commented, counting the weight. "Are you going
to be okay with that?"

"I feel like kicking a little ass today," she replied, smiling and laying down
on the bench underneath the bar. "Besides, that's why you're spotting me,
remember?"

I chuckled, and put my hands out, ready for the assist.

"Up!" she said. I gave her a little help with the initial lift. She
straightened up her arms, bar in position to begin her reps. She then lowered
it towards her chest, and began to pump.

Watching Angela lift was truly a pleasure. Her biceps and triceps rippled as
she pushed upwards then brought it back down. I could see sweat on her face,
and also the moisture of perspiration in the hair of her armpits. She began to
grunt softly, breathing heavier as the weight began to grow more and more
unmanageable.

She reached a point where getting the bar up was almost too difficult, but
then she cleared it. I thought she was going to stop, but she went down for
one more rep. She gritted her teeth, trying to push the bar up, but she
started losing it.

"Help!" she gasped under the weight of the bar, as she tried to balance it on
her chest. I reacted immediately, placing my hands underneath the bar, my
knuckles touching the sweat-soaked fabric covering her bra. I pulled up,
helping her lift the bar off of her, and get it back down on the rack above
her head. Angela sat up, panting.

"Thanks, John," she said, standing up and reaching for her towel.

"Anytime," I replied, walking around the bench to her. "I think next time you
ought to start with something a little lighter." I was feeling kind of proud,
and a bit macho, showing my prowess in helping her with a weight to heavy for
her to manage on her own.

"Yeah," she said, smiling, wiping her face. "Thanks for the spot. I'm glad
you're my partner." She leaned over and kissed me on the cheek before turning
and heading for the showers.

I just stood there for a minute, admiring her as she walked away, and having
my first real regret since last semester that I was going steady with someone
other than Angela!

The following weekend I had a date with Julie. I had told her that I was going
to pick her up at 6:00, before going to dinner and catching the movie at the
theater in town. I arrived at her dorm room and knocked.

"Come in," Angela said, from the inside.

I opened the door. Standing in front of me in the middle of the room was
Angela, stripped down to a black pair of panties and matching bra. She was
curling with her own personal set of dumbbells. She looked like a beautiful
Amazon Warrior Goddess.

"Umm, hey." I said, trying to keep my lower jaw from scraping the floor.
"Where's Julie?"

"Oh, she just left to take a shower and do her hair," Angela replied. "She'll
be back in a half hour or so."

"Yeah, that figures," I laughed, knowing full well how long it usually took my
girlfriend to get ready.

Angela put her dumbbells down and picked up her jump rope. "You can have a
seat if you want, John," she said. "Get comfortable. I'm just finishing up."

"Thanks," I replied, taking a seat on Julie's bed, feeling a little
uncomfortable about being in the room alone with Angela. Something just felt
different tonight.

Angela did some work with her rope for a couple of minutes. My eyes kept
diverting up to her chest as it bounced with each jump. I watched as she
twirled the rope with expert finesse, trying not to make it obvious that I was
totally in awe of her physical beauty and strength.

She finished and turned to put the rope up. As she turned, I saw it for the
first time. On the back of her right thigh, almost hugging her butt was a
tattoo, the Gynutopian Mark!

I inhaled sharply. I just hadn't suspected this! I mean, sure she was hairy
and quite strong for a girl, but.

Angela must have noticed my reaction. She turned back, observing my
discomfort.

"Are you okay, John?" she asked, taking a step closer.

"Uh, yeah," I responded hastily. I stood up. I really didn't want to be in
this position. She must know, I thought to myself. She must know about me, and
that I've seen it. What if Julie comes back?

"I think I ought to wait in the dorm lobby," I said, trying to make an excuse
to leave the room.

I took a step towards the door. Angela blocked my stride by putting her hand
out and gently touching my chest.

"Why?" she asked, sounding very innocent. But her tone had changed. It wasn't
quite the same rugged tomboy voice that normally characterized Julie's
roommate. It was somehow different, softer.

I could feel the blood rush to my face. Why was I embarrassed? I knew what she
was. She most certainly knew that I knew! What's to hide? But I felt awkward.
She was my girlfriend's roommate!

"Here, sit down with me for a minute," Angela said, taking my hand and leading
me back to the bed. She sat me down and took a spot next to me, her bare thigh
touching my leg.

"So, I assume you know," she said, looking at me with her deep blue eyes.

"Know what?" I asked, trying to sound naïve. Perhaps I could avoid all this!

"Oh, please!" Angela suddenly stated, her voice once again taking on her more
typical tough-girl tone. "Don't play dumb with me, John! I really hate that
stuff!"

Her sudden wave of aggressiveness caught me off guard. I could feel myself
trembling. I knew, after all, of what she was capable!

"Okay," I said in resignation. "Yes, I know, obviously. I saw the Mark. I know
who and what you are."

"All right," she said again, milder this time. "See? Now we got that awkward
little obstacle out of the way."

She smiled at me. Angela always did have a good sense of humor. And it really
wasn't any different now that I knew who she was.

"So, what are we going to do now?" I asked, a little easier now that some ice
had been broken.

"Do?" Angela asked, chuckling slightly. "What did you expect? That I was going
to give you a door prize for figuring out the truth? Or pull the Scarlet
O'Hara crap about 'sharing our little secret' and thanking you for your
loyalty and confidence and all that? Geez, John, get real!"

"No, I mean." I really didn't know what I meant actually. I had only had two
similar encounters before and they had both been somewhat. different than my
relationship with Angela.

"Look," she said, putting her hand on my knee. "You know now, and that's that.
You wear the necklace. I mean this isn't anything new for you. You know the
drill. You keep your mouth shut, and we remain friends. Simple as that,
really."

She got up, and walked back over to her weights. She picked up a very heavy
curling bar that was designed for two-handed use. It had at least 300 pounds
of weight on it, not including the bar itself. She began doing reps with her
right arm as if she was holding a coffee mug!

"Angela, can I ask you something?" I said, watching her movements.

"Sure," she replied.

"How long have you known that I." I gestured towards my necklace.

"Oh, I knew the first day I met you," she answered, putting the bar down and
coming back to sit down next to me on the bed. "I just never said anything. I
wasn't sure that YOU knew!"

"Well, I didn't actually," I said, laughing a bit. "I had no idea until just a
few minutes ago when I saw the tattoo. I mean, the thought had crossed my
mind, but."

"But what?" Angela asked. "I'm too much of a natural granola as it is anyway?"
She stood up, lifting her arms and turning around to emphasize her point.

"Yeah, exactly!" I stated, smiling. She really was something else!

Angela sat back down, and put her arms around my shoulders. I could smell the
musky scent from her body, like an intoxicating perfume. She pulled herself
closer to me.

"You're a really nice guy, John," she said, gently, more sober. "You know,
that's why Julie likes you so much. She's told me a lot. You know how to treat
a lady right. Most of the guys around here are just after one thing. I really
don't want to be bothered with it. Especially since they couldn't handle what
I've got!" She lifted her right arm, bending it and flexing it. The power of
her muscles almost emanated like a wave.

"But I know you're different," she continued, getting a little closer, leaning
her head in a bit more. "You wouldn't be wearing that necklace if you weren't.
She must have been a very special Sister." Angela touched my neck, fingering
the pendant.

"She was," I replied softly, blushing. "But not as special as you are."

Angela's eyes lifted, meeting mine. I wanted so desperately to kiss her right
then, to have her take me in her arms on the bed, and feel what I had only
felt twice before.

She must have been reading my mind. Her lips moved inward, and we kissed,
tenderly. My arms rose to embrace her. I knew that what I was about to do
would violate every bit of trust that Julie had in me, but at that moment I
didn't care. All I wanted was to feel Angela's power and sweetness envelope
me, and carry me away.

Angela suddenly stopped. I thought I had offended her, or gone over some line.
With anxiety, I looked at her. She only smiled, however, and proceeded to
remove her ebony bra. I looked upon her chest and saw the fullest, most
beautiful bulbs of delight, on the most perfect and powerful of bodies that I
had ever seen.

With a swift, deliberate move, Angela's hands were at my side, lifting my
shirt off and removing it. We hugged each other, bare-chested. I could feel
her warm flesh next to mine. I looked at her body. She had the most lovely
happy trail running up towards her navel. Her stomach was soft, creamy, yet
the abs behind that layer of silk were as strong as steel.

We lay down together on the bed, our hands touching each other all over. We
kissed, fondled, and caressed each other. With every brush and every stroke, I
could feel Angela's strength. She was so incredibly beautiful. I was about to
make love to nothing less than a divine being!

"What the hell is going on here?"

Angela and I bolted upright at the sound of Julie's voice. My girlfriend had
just entered the room wearing her bathrobe. She was standing there, shocked.

"Julie! Oh my God!' I cried, scrambling for my shirt, although I knew it was
futile. We had been caught!

"John!" Julie exclaimed, gasping.

"Oh, Julie!" Angela said, hopping up and walking towards her roommate. Julie
backed up a step, anger in her eyes.

"Angela how could you?" Julie asked, tears coming to her eyes.

"I didn't mean for it to happen like this," Angela exclaimed, putting her arm
out to touch her. "I'm sorry, I truly am!"

Julie broke down, crying. Angela took her, embracing her. I just stood there,
paralyzed.

"Julie, he knows," Angela said softly.

Julie looked up, first at Angela then at me. "John?" she asked, tentatively.

"What?" I asked, still in shock. "Look, Julie, I'm sorry. I mean, I understand
if."

"No," Julie said, interrupting me. "I mean, you know about Angela's strength?
About. our." She looked back at Angela. Her roommate nodded.

"He knows about me," she affirmed. "But, no, I didn't have a chance to tell
him the rest."

"What rest?" I demanded. I was beginning to think that Julie wasn't the only
wronged party after all!

Angela and Julie walked over to me, together. I backed up. This was getting
weird!

"John," Julie explained. "I already knew about Angela. I found out soon after
we became roommates." She stopped to draw attention to a small earring that
she wore in her left ear. It was a tiny stud, but it bore the mark of the
Sorority! I had never noticed it before. Julie was an ally as well, and I had
never known it!

"What you don't know yet," Angela continued, "is that your girlfriend and I
are more than just roommates." She turned to Julie, and I watched, partly in
horror and partly in delight as they kissed each other on the lips,
passionately.

"Oh my God!" I whispered.

"We were planning on telling you," Julie said. "Angela knew you were an ally,
but we didn't think you knew about Angela. We were hoping to make this moment
a little less awkward, but now that you know."

"John, you're not bothered by this, are you?" Angela asked, putting an arm
around both Julie and me.

"Bothered?" I asked, smiling. I had just discovered that the two girls whom I
loved most in the world not only loved me but had the hots for each other as
well! It was every man's fantasy come true!

"Are you kidding?" I laughed. "I love it!"

"I was really hoping you would," Julie said, smiling. "Because Angela and I
have been planning something for you, and for us, for a while now."

The two girls walked over to the bed. Julie removed her robe. She was
completely naked underneath. I watched with excitement as Angela leaned down a
bit and began to kiss her nipples. The two of them got on the bed together.

"Well?" Angela asked, smiling at me. "Aren't you going to join us?"

I felt a rush come over me that I had never felt before. I was on the bed with
them in an instant. What happened next could only be described as the most
fulfilling and satisfying experience of my life, Gynutopian or otherwise!

Julie and I remained together for another year or so. Angela continued to be
her roommate. We had several moments like this afterwards. Julie was happy to
share me with her roommate, and Angela never allowed it to get in the way of
my relationship with my girlfriend, or our friendship as a whole.

5 Chapter 4: Summer Camp

Two things happened during the summer of 1993 that were rather significant.
The first was that I turned 21. This is always something of a rite of passage
for a young man. I had partied my shared in college. But there was something
strange about reaching the age of majority. Drinking just wasn't quite as fun
now that I could do it legally!

The second thing that happened was Summer Camp. No, I'm not talking about
going as a camper, but as a counselor. I wasn't really thrilled about going
back home to Fairdells, only to spend a boring summer doing some minimum wage
job. And I didn't need summer courses at Redwood State. An opportunity came
when a recruiter came on campus in April, taking applications for camp
counselors at Shasta Summer Adventure up near Redding. So, I put in and landed
a job for 12 weeks.

Much to my surprise and delight, Angela had applied and had been hired as
well. I found out talking to her after the interview that she had actually
gone to camp there for a few summers when she was a girl (she was from
Humboldt County, after all). I had a feeling that this might very well turn
out to be the most interesting summer I ever had!

The semester ended in May. Angela and I loaded our stuff in the back of my
truck for the drive up north. I said goodbye to Julie for the summer. She was
going to be working for her father at his business in Tulare, her hometown. We
wouldn't see each other for the next three months.

The drive up to the camp was very quiet. Angela and I had both promised Julie
that we would behave ourselves. It was going to be a hard promise to keep. I
was thankful that we would be in separate cabins. She was a girls' counselor
and I would be working with the boys. I figured that might help keep things
from getting out of control.

But to be totally honest, the thought of spending a summer with Angela up in
the mountains was a huge thrill. Since that incident in the dorm room over a
year ago, I hadn't been witness to any further demonstration of Angela's
unique gift. The sight of her wielding a weighted bar that was a hundred
pounds heavier than me like a feather excited me to no end. I wanted to see
more!

We arrived at the campground and met the other staff, mostly college students
like us. The first few days were orientation. We got acquainted with the
facility, the schedule, and each other. We planned our activities and went
over rules and regulations. The Camp Director, named Carl, was a former
Lutheran pastor. He was an interesting fellow, and I was looking forward to
getting to know him better since I was thinking of pursuing the ministry
myself.

The staff numbered about 30 people, which included the cooks and other support
personnel. It was divided about 50-50 between men and women. I could tell that
the other male counselors were checking Angela out. It also made me feel
really good when I noticed that she pretty much ignored their flirtations and
stuck close to me!

Angela really wanted to show me around the trails and outback beyond the
boundaries of the camp proper. She had spent a few summers up here, and knew
the area better than anyone, save Carl himself. She didn't get a chance until
the day before the first group of campers arrived. It was a free day. The
staff was given a break from orientation and allowed some time to relax before
the summer rush began.

Angela pulled me aside right after breakfast.

"Come on, John," she said to me quietly, taking me by the hand. "I want to
show you something."

About half the staff was gone for the day. Those who lived within an hour's
drive or so away had taken off for their last day of freedom. The rest who
remained were sticking close to the cabins.

Angela and I started hiking that morning up one of the ridges just north of
the camp. There was a trail that winded up towards the summit of one of the
foothills of Mount Shasta. I wasn't used to the higher altitude, and had to
stop periodically.

"Whoa, slow down!" I panted, stalling alongside the trail. Angela was getting
ahead of me, maintaining a steady pace.

"Need a rest?" she asked, backtracking a bit. "Am I going too fast for you,
John?" She smiled frivolously, patting me on the shoulder with feigned
sympathy.

"Ha, ha," I responded sarcastically. "You might be Wonder Woman, but just
remember that I ain't Superman!"

She laughed and rested with me for a minute before we picked it up again. The
chaparral up here was breathtaking! I glanced back occasionally, partly to
reinforce the idea that I was indeed making progress, and also to see the
beauty of the valley behind us.

I kept my eyes on Angela most of the time, however. Up here, in the wild, she
looked like a gorgeous mountain goddess. She was wearing a halter-top that
hugged her chest as close as I wanted my hands to. Her mid- rift was bare,
showing that dark happy trail that I had grown to love. She wore cut-offs, the
fringe barely trickling lower than her tattoo on that lovely, muscular thigh.
Watching her legs bend and flex as she climbed was reward enough for
undertaking this venture with her!

The trail hit some switchback, and we found ourselves curving around the
hillside in order to avoid some rocky ground ahead. I could see a chasm up
ahead, a point in which the hill dipped into an unreachable gulf, and a hill
on the other side came up to catch the continuation of the trail. I assumed we
would have to cross a bridge.

My assumption was wrong, however.

"Oh, dammit!" Angela muttered as we came to the edge of the chasm.

I looked across. Sure enough, a bridge had once traversed the gulf. But I
could see the remnants of the wooden planks and rope that once held them
together dangling on each side of the chasm. It had broken some time ago. The
wood pieces were now warped and rotted. The rope was frayed beyond repair. The
chasm was at least a hundred feet wide. Much too far to jump, probably even
for a Gynutopian!

"That's too bad," I commented, turning around, assuming that we'd have to go
back.

"And just where do you think you're going?" Angela asked.

"Back down," I replied, pointing to the obvious stumbling block in our path.
"The bridge is busted."

"True," Angela said, nodding in agreement. "But that doesn't mean we aren't
crossing. I didn't bring you up this far just to turn back!"

"Okay," I stated, smiling at her. "What's your plan?" I was almost convinced
that she could work a solution here, and I was kind of excited to see just
what it would be! Besides, I knew full well that Angela never backed down from
a challenge.

Angela sighed, placing her hands on her hips and looking around. We were close
to the timberline. There wasn't a whole lot of shrubbery and even fewer trees.
Her eyes scanned the area, searching. A glimmer in her eyes and a curl of her
lips told me she had found a solution.

"What?" I asked, now very curious.

Without answering, she walked over to the edge of the trail and descended some
off the path. She stepped nimbly over rocky terrain, heading towards a rather
tall tree several yards below. I followed, carefully, watching her go ahead of
me.

Angela reached the tree. I wasn't sure what kind it was, possibly sequoia.
Whatever it was, it was very tall, most definitely over a hundred feet. It was
the tallest tree on the hillside. It was also massively thick, at least my arm
span in diameter. I was intrigued at what Angela was possibly thinking, and I
hoped I was right!

"You better stand back," she said, motioning to a spot several yards behind
her. I walked over to where she had indicated, and waited.

I watched as Angela placed her hands on the trunk of the massive arbor. She
planted her feet solidly in the soil near the roots, and began to push against
the base of the trunk.

My jaw dropped in amazement as the trunk began to give way, cracking,
splintering. The roots began to come up, unable to hold under the incredible
force of Angela's strength. To see this woman standing less than six feet tall
overpower this giant of a tree was indeed a sight to behold!

In less than thirty seconds the trunk had surrendered and the tree was lying
flat, horizontal on the ground. Angela stepped back, wiping some loose bark
from her hands.

"Well, what do you think?" she asked me as if this had been a typical event of
lumberjacking. "Do you think it'll make it across?"

I was speechless. True, I had witnessed some incredible feats of strength by
members of the Sorority. I had seen inch thick iron bars bend under the power
of a Sister's physique. But I had never seen the likes of this! It would have
taken industrial-strength logging equipment with tremendous horsepower several
minutes to take down a tree that size. Angela had brought it down
single-handedly using just the tremendous power in her body in a matter of
seconds!

"Ummm." I finally said, getting my speech back. "Yeah. I think it'll probably
work."

"Good," she replied, smiling. She walked over to me. "Okay, Paul Bunyan. I cut
it down. Now it's your turn to haul it up!" She laughed, putting her arm
around me, hugging me.

"Yeah, right!" I exclaimed, examining the gargantuan piece. "It would take a
team of tractors to haul that thing anywhere!"

"Well, we don't have a tractor, much less a team of them," Angela stated,
walking over to the front of the tree that faced uphill. "So, I suppose I'll
just have to make do."

She took hold of the mangled roots that were sticking out the bottom of the
trunk. She positioned herself legs braced, and began to pull. The sound of
wood and branches rubbing against earth echoed across the hillside as Angela
began to haul the tree several yards up to the path.

I followed, trying not to laugh at myself. My initial reaction was to give her
a hand. I just shook my head at the notion. How the hell could I contribute in
any way to the force that she was exerting necessary to move such an object?

Angela reached the top, and dragged the trunk out onto the path. She stopped
for a moment, surveying the scene. For a moment I thought she might actually
be stopping to catch her breath. Silly me! She checked the position of the
tree as opposed to the angle necessary to create a bridge that would cross the
width of the chasm.

"Stand back," Angela ordered. I didn't hesitate a second.

Taking hold of the trunk once more, defying every law of physics I could
remember from high school, she actually lifted the entire tree off the ground!
Standing close to middle point, using it as a pivot, she turned around. The
top of the tree brushed against the hillside, branches breaking as it swept
by. She made a ninety-degree turn, one end of the tree sticking out across the
gulf. Then, as I watched in utter amazement, she THREW the tree in its
entirety across the chasm. The far end crashed against the ground on the other
side, the end close to her thudding just a yard or so away from her feet. The
sound echoed far like a sonic boom. But she had cleared it! There was now a
tree-trunk "bridge" spanning the gulf.

Angela walked back to me and took my hand. "Are you coming?" she asked,
mischievously, "or am I going to have to throw you across too?"

I laughed in admiration and astonishment. We walked together, taking steps
carefully, and crossed the chasm using the mighty trunk that Angela had felled
with a single push.

We reached the other side. The path continued, winding back up towards the
summit. We reached it after another hour or so. I was winded, but exhilarated.
Angela stood with me up top inspiration point, and we gazed upon the panorama
before us.

Being a northern California native, I had seen many a sight that would amaze
the out of state viewer. But what I saw that morning humbled me in a way that
no other slice of creation could.

To my right I could see the top of Mount Shasta, rising unobstructed by any
other lesser hill or mountain. To my left, I could make out the rolling
foothills trickling south and emptying into the vast northern edge of the
Central Valley. Ahead, I could see the river as it wound towards a basin
below, running down from its headwaters far in the coastal ranges to the west.
As I took a glance behind me, I noticed the mountains fading in the distance,
forming a carpet of redwood-covered lumps.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" Angela whispered, putting her arms around me from
my side.

I turned to look at her, this incredible girl who I admired, loved and desired
more than just about anything else I could imagine. I pulled her closer to me,
forgetting in that moment everything except the splendors of nature around us,
and the woman in my arms.

"Not as beautiful as you," I whispered in return, and moved in, kissing her
warmly and passionately.

Angela returned my embrace, her lips drinking from mine as we stood atop the
point where earth ended and heaven began.

I don't know how long we stayed on that summit that day, and I didn't care.
The rest of the summer was fun. Camp was a good experience, and Angela and I
shared many wonderful activities together. But none of them could possibly
compare to that morning when a Gynutopian once again took my breath away, and
my heart as well.

6 Chapter 5: Special Reservations

My uncle died of cancer in August 1995. I was 23. He was my Mom's youngest
brother, and had only been in his mid-50's when he passed. He was also my
cousin Jeff's father, and that made it hard because we were pretty close to
that side of the family. Jeff and his mother, my aunt Carol, lived in Phoenix,
Arizona. With the exception of my Mom, we hadn't seen them since the reunion
in Santa Fe five years earlier. She had been there with her brother for
several weeks during the final phase of his illness. Now, there was a funeral
to attend, and the rest of us had to get to Phoenix.

It worked quite well for me, actually, because I was preparing to drive to
Texas in order to attend seminary that fall. I had graduated from Redwood
State and had spent the summer at home. I found out that I had been accepted
into West Texas Theological Seminary, a very prestigious school for training
ministers. The past couple of years had convinced me that the ministry would
be a worthy path for me to follow. So, I loaded up my Ford pick-up once again,
and headed for Texas, allowing time for me to stop in Arizona for a few days
and attend my uncle's funeral.

It was a strange time. I was excited at the prospect of attending seminary,
but I was also saddened at the recent tragedy in the family. There was a lot
going on that made me question my own mortality. Seminary seemed to be
something to look forward to. Perhaps I could get some questions answered.
Julie and I had broken up a year ago. Angela had transferred schools after our
summer together at Shasta. The Sorority was quite far from my mind. I was
beginning a brand new chapter in my life, and things like the Gynutopians just
didn't seem to fit in it. As such, I wasn't expecting anything unusual to
happen. This should have warned me right away, since the pattern of my
encounters usually coincided with the times that I least expected them!

Phoenix was hot and dry, a typical August in the desert. But the heat didn't
seem to bother us much. The funeral was a somber event. Most of the family was
there. I had a chance to talk to aunt Carol some, and offer my condolences. It
was interesting, really. She was the one who had first mentioned West Texas
Theological Seminary to me some time back. She was a Texas native herself, and
knew the school. When she heard that I was considering seminary, she
encouraged me to check it out.

I stayed in Phoenix a couple of days. My parents, brother, and sister were
heading back to California, but I said my final goodbyes and started driving
east on a late afternoon. I had a map with me. I saw that interstate 10 dipped
south through Tucson, and would get me to Las Cruces and El Paso beyond. But I
also saw highway 60, which seemed to cut through some mountains and connect
with I-10 in Lordsburg, New Mexico. I thought it might save me some time, and
being a sucker for out of the way routes and scenery, I couldn't resist the
temptation.

I passed through Apache Junction, and left the Phoenix metropolitan area. It
was beautiful country! Arizona had a lot of unspoiled range, buttes and mesas
rising in the distance, and the cactus and sagebrush. It looked like a scene
from an old western movie! The road narrowed a bit, and the towns grew
smaller, and farther apart.

It was sunset as I passed through a town called Globe. I figured I would
arrive late in Lordsburg and have to get a motel room. I checked my fuel
gauge. I had plenty of gas. I could cruise through the evening some and enjoy
the clear, cloudless, star-filled night sky.

It was nearly dark, and I turned on my headlights. In the distance, on the
road ahead, I saw a figure standing near the shoulder. I got a little closer.
It was a young woman, with her thumb stuck out as if she was trying to hitch a
ride! Surprised, but cautious, I almost continued driving past. It was not my
policy to pick up hitchhikers. I had a bad experience in the past, and I was
more careful now. But chivalry got the better of me, and I slowed down,
pulling over to the side. Call me chauvinistic, but I really couldn't stand
the idea of a woman having to thumb a ride in the dark, especially on a
desolate desert highway!

She saw me moving over, and put her thumb down. I stopped a few yards ahead of
her, and she caught up to me. She opened the passenger side door of my truck.

"Thanks!" she said, smiling, and hopped in. I turned back on the road and
started driving again.

"Where are you headed?" I asked.

"Home," she replied, as if that was answer enough. "I live several miles north
of here, on the San Carlos Reservation."

"Well, I'm headed towards New Mexico," I remarked, thinking how far off course
this detour might take me.

"I'm sorry," she said, seeming quite sincere. "I don't mean to put you out of
your way. You can let me off if you need to."

"No, no," I quickly stated. "You don't need to be out alone in the dark. I'll
get you home, no worries. Besides," I smiled a bit, glancing over at her,
"it'll give me more time to see this pretty country."

I took a moment to look over my passenger. She was a very pretty young lady,
no older than twenty, with a dark complexion, straight, long black hair, and
sweet brown eyes. I assumed her to be Native American, as many people in
Arizona were. She was wearing jeans and a T-shirt, covered by a tan leathery
jacket with fringe. Her shoes appeared to be moccasins.

"Thank you," she said, smiling back. "You're a real gentleman."

"No problem," I responded. "My name's John, by the way."

"Lorena," she offered, introducing herself.

Lorena and I drove on through the night. We talked quite a bit. I found out
that she was indeed half American Indian, Apache mostly. Her mother was full
blood, but had died giving birth to Lorena's younger brother. She was also
half Mexican, from her father's side. She hadn't seen him since early
childhood, though. She had been raised by her maternal grandmother on the San
Carlos Reservation, and still lived there with her. Her grandmother was
apparently very sick, and Lorena had spent the day in Globe picking up some
medicine for her.

"My grandmother and I only have one car," she explained, "an old Chevy truck.
Not as nice as yours." She laughed, good-naturedly.

"So why were you on foot?" I asked.

"I ran out of gas a few miles back," she explained. "I had to use the last of
my money to pay for the medicine. I couldn't buy gas. I was hoping I could
make it back, but."

"Well, I'm glad I could give you a ride," I said, nodding. "You're a very
brave girl, trying to hitch a ride after dark."

"Oh, I wasn't worried," she replied. "I know this area really well. I grew up
on the reservation. It's my home. Besides, I figured a nice guy would come
along and give me a lift!" She grinned playfully, and patted my knee with her
left hand.

Lorena pointed to a fork in the road a few miles later. I turned off the main
highway onto a smaller road that winded up towards the hills to the north. It
was now pitch black outside, save for the starlight above.

She began asking me some questions, wanting to know something about the fellow
giving her a ride. I told her I was from California, and explained the chain
of events that had brought me through Arizona on the way to Texas. She was
very sympathetic in regards to my uncle's death, and seemed quite interested
in my seminary plans.

"I could tell that you were a spiritual person," she stated. "I'll bet that
you'll make a really good pastor."

"Well, thanks," I answered, sheepishly. "It just seems like the best fit for
me, that's all."

"We all have a path to follow," Lorena said, sounding a little like a wise
medicine man or something. "I attended Catholic school for a while when I was
little. My Dad was a Catholic, though not a devout one. I didn't understand
Christianity. It just didn't make much sense to me. It wasn't the path I was
supposed to take. My grandmother taught my brother and I the old traditions.
She's a very spiritual woman. I look at things differently now, and I think I
understand the world around me better. It's simpler. I've learned to trust the
spirits, and rely on their wisdom."

"It sounds very different," I commented, thinking it to be quite weird and
superstitious, but not wanting to offend her.

"We were just raised differently, that's all" Lorena responded. "My culture is
very different than yours, even though we're both Americans and the same
generation."

"I suppose that's true," I said, giving some serious credence to what she just
said. Lorena was very insightful for a girl her age!

It was getting hot inside the truck. I didn't have air conditioning, and the
night air was quite warm. I wriggled in my seat some, but I was still
uncomfortable.

"Here," I said to Lorena, as I slipped my seat belt off. "Can you take the
wheel while I get my jacket off?"

She leaned over and took the steering wheel with her left hand, steadying the
motion of the truck while I worked on my jacket. I managed to wrestle it off,
throwing it at Lorena's feet. The T-shirt beneath felt much better. I adjusted
the pendant of my necklace some.

I didn't see Lorena's expression as I took control of the wheel again, and as
she leaned back in her seat. She had seen the necklace. But as I turned
towards her to thank her, her coy smile had faded, and I thought nothing of
it.

"So, anyway," I said, trying to restore the conversation, "tell me a little
more about your."

I was interrupted by a sudden jolt of the truck. I had run over something. I
adjusted the wheel to compensate, and then I noticed it. A tire had blown! I
could feel it, the front driver side. The sound and movement confirmed it. My
hand hit the dashboard angrily.

"Ah, dammit!" I muttered, not very becoming of a young man going to seminary.
Sighing, I steered the truck off to the side.

"What is it?" Lorena asked, a little alarmed at the jolt and my hasty
reaction.

"Blow out," I replied, stopping the truck on the dirt shoulder. I killed the
engine and hopped out. Lorena got out on her side as well. We walked over to
the punctured tube. It was totally flat. I leaned up against the body of my
truck.

"Well, give me a few minutes to change this sucker," I said to Lorena, walking
around to the back of the truck to get the spare and jack.

I got the spare from the bed of the truck, and started looking for the jack. I
couldn't find it. Then it hit me. I had let my brother borrow it a couple of
months ago, and had never gotten it back!

"Oh, crap!" I yelled, slamming the spare back down in the bed.

"What is it?" Lorena asked, running over to me.

"I can't believe it!" I exclaimed, telling her about the jack.

"How the hell am I going to change this tire?" I sighed, walking back around
to the front of the truck. "We're in the middle of nowhere, at night, on a
desolate road. And how am I going to get YOU home?" I gestured towards my
passenger.

Lorena came back around and joined me by the flat tire. Her demeanor was a
little different. She stood in front of me, smiling. She reached up to my
neck, gently fingering the pendant of my necklace. I was a little startled by
her sudden intimacy, but I didn't step back.

"I think I can help you," she said softly. She let go of the necklace, and
stepped back, removing her jacket and putting it on the hood.

I watched her there in the starlight, standing in front of me. I could feel a
very familiar power radiating from her, intangible, but there nonetheless. Her
thin T-shirt was pressed close to her breasts, and conformed tightly to her
flat, well-muscled abs. It was short, and her jeans came low on her waist. I
could see her navel in the dim light, and also the lovely dark hair, the same
color as that on her head, that trailed down on her stomach towards her
beltline.

"Oh my God!" I whispered under my breath, as it all came together, and as I
totally forgot my attempts at maintaining a seminarian disposition.

Lorena didn't say anything in response, as she stood in front of my truck next
to the driver side headlight. She placed her right hand underneath the bumper
and began to lift. Had I not put two and two together just seconds before, I
would have been astounded to see her lithe, feminine arm single-handedly lift
the ENTIRE front end of my full-size loaded pickup at least three feet in the
air!

Seemingly without effort, she shifted her weight a little bit as she steadied
the truck. The back wheels began to roll slightly backwards as the
front-wheeled end lost traction, but Lorena tightened her grip and the truck
remained stationary, held in place by sheer Gynutopian strength.

"Well, are you just going to stare, or am I going to have to hold this thing
until dawn while you decide whether or not to change the tire?" she asked,
looking at me affectionately and playfully.

I chuckled, partly in response to her humor and partly in amazement that I
could have been so naïve. I took the spare from out of the bed again, and
walked it over to the front end.

"And do you think that I doubt for one second that you COULD hold it up all
night?" I added, trying to keep the moment light.

Lorena laughed. "I knew you had a sense of humor, John!" she exclaimed.

I put the spare in position then sighed in disbelief. My tire iron was, of
course, with my missing jack! I wouldn't be able to unscrew the bolts.

"Um, Lorena?" I asked, looking up at her in amusement. "We have another
problem."

She thought it was hilarious. "Boy, am I going to have to do everything here?"

Keeping a hand on the bumper, she sidestepped over to where I was and knelt
down next to me. With the truck still elevated, she took her other hand and
unscrewed the tightly fastened bolts from the wheel with her bare fingers,
setting them on the ground at her side.

I went to work quickly, although it occurred to me that Lorena was under no
stress whatsoever. Still, old habits die hard I suppose.

I got the flat off and the spare on. Lorena did the honors once again of
screwing the bolts back on.

"Just not too hard," I jested, "in the event I have to get them off with the
iron at some point in the future!"

She smiled, and finishing her work, set the front end of the truck gently back
on the ground, resting now on a fully inflated tire.

"I can't thank you enough, really," I said, handing Lorena her jacket from off
the hood.

She diverted the jacket back to the hood, instead taking my hands in hers and
pulling me closer.

"You don't have to," she said mildly. "You gave me a ride, remember?"

She pulled back away, letting go of my hands, and took up her jacket. She then
walked back around to the passenger side and got back in the truck.

I got in my side and started up the engine, heading down the dark narrow road
once again. The next hour was silent as we road, until I finally pulled up to
the small adobe house up in the hills that Lorena called home.

"Here you go," I said, stopping the truck for a moment to let her out. "I hope
your grandmother's feeling better soon."

"Thank you, John," she replied sweetly, stepping out. She paused before
closing the door behind her.

"Why don't you stay the night here?" she asked, turning to me.

"Oh, no Lorena, that's quite all right," I responded, shaking my head. "I
don't want to trouble you or your grandmother. I'll be fine. I can drive for
quite a while longer. I'm sure I can get a room back in Globe or somewhere
else."

"No, I'm serious," she stated, with a lot of sincerity. "It's no trouble. My
grandmother's asleep by now. You won't be bothering anyone. And I'll need
someone to take me back down the mountain in the morning with a gas can for my
car. Besides." She paused, looking down for a moment before finishing her
statement.

"It would mean a lot to me if you stayed the night," she continued, with a
very sweet and seductive softness in her voice.

I was having a difficult time with this dilemma. I knew what this invite could
potentially mean, and as much as I wanted it, I was torn between feelings of
desire and thoughts of my near future in seminary. Fortunately, my dilemma
only lasted a few seconds.

"Thanks," I said, getting out of the truck and shutting it off. "I really
appreciate it."

Lorena smiled as she took my hand and led me inside. It was very dark. She set
her jacket down and took the medicine out of the pocket.

"Make yourself comfortable," she said. "I need to check on my grandmother."

I nodded and watched as she went behind a curtain into another part of the
dwelling. I looked around. It was a small house, with just a single room in
front that acted as kitchen and den. It was a little cluttered, for lack of
space, but quite tidy.

Lorena came back through the curtain after a couple of minutes.

"She's doing fine," she said, as if somewhat relieved herself. "I can't thank
you enough for getting me back home with the medicine."

She walked over to me, putting her arms around my shoulders. She was a good
six inches shorter than me, but arched up slightly, and kissed me on the lips
gently.

I felt an irresistible urge to return her embrace and kiss her with equal
tenderness as she had me. For some reason I fought it.

Lorena withdrew her lips from mine, as if somewhat confused. She looked up at
me, but didn't pull back.

"It's okay," she whispered. "Please don't be afraid. You know who I am. You
know my secret." She traced her fingers once again over the pendant dangling
from my neck.

"I know," I replied quietly. "I just. I mean." I didn't know quite how to say
it.

"You don't have to explain," she said, smiling up at me. "I understand. You're
on a path of your own right now. I respect that. I respect you."

Although she might have felt slightly bruised, Lorena didn't show anything but
kindness and acceptance as she slowly pulled away.

"The couch is quite comfortable," she said, pointing to it in the corner. "You
can sleep there if you'd like, or." Her voice trailed off, as if she wanted to
finish her statement, but decided against it. She turned, removing her shirt
as she started to disappear through the curtain once more.

"Lorena," I softly called to her before she passed through to the other side,
not knowing why and really not caring at the moment.

She stopped halfway through, then pulled back, allowing the curtain to once
again separate us from the back of the house. She turned to face me, her shirt
in her hand, her beautiful brown body exposed, with only a white bra covering
her lovely breasts.

I walked forward, my feet being directed by some force unknown. I reached
where she stood, and stopped. I put one hand out, encircling her warm, naked
waist, and drawing her in to me. My other hand went up to her pretty face, and
caressed it lovingly. Her eyes closed as I touched her, her flower-soft lips
curving upwards in an angelic smile. She responded by holding me in turn, and
bringing my body close to hers with her delicate yet powerful arms.

We embraced, touching each other, our hands, our lips, our bodies, and our
hearts. Lorena led me through the curtain to the small room that contained her
bed.

I felt her hands remove my shirt. I felt mine undo the hook of her bra. We lay
down together on top her blanket, our bodies hot and sweaty in the warm night
air that drifted in through the window above her headboard. Our arms locked
around each other, my chest pressed close to her bosom. Our legs intertwined
as we worked together to remove each other's pants and underwear. I felt the
beauty and power of her flesh, the gift that lay beneath her soft feminine
skin. I relished the feeling of her strength as it enveloped my soul, and as
we made love that night.

I could hear a coyote call in the distance as our eyes closed, our heads at
rest upon the pillow, and our spirits set adrift in peace.

I woke the next morning feeling unusually refreshed. I thought I would guilty,
but I didn't. I felt the most wonderful sense of satisfaction that I had felt
in a long time. Lorena made me breakfast, and rode with me that morning down
the mountain to her car.

"I hope you'll always remember what I said about your path," she said to me as
we kissed and parted on the road that morning.

"I don't think I ever will," I replied, holding her for the last time. "Will I
ever see you again?" I asked.

"Perhaps in the next life," she answered. "Who knows? The paths we take now
might very well lead us to find each other in the hereafter. Only the spirits
know."

I touched her cheek once more, and watched as she emptied her can into the
tank, and drove off, back up to her home, her grandmother, her world, a
different world from the one I was heading towards.

I arrived at the seminary a few days later and started on my path to ministry.
I didn't realize until some years later just how much Lorena affected me, both
in terms of being an exciting member of the Gynutopian Sorority, but also in
terms of her words as a friend.

Chapter 6: Just Another Day At The Office

I suppose that I could write about my experiences in seminary and in the
ministry in this work, but it would be a novel unto itself. Suffice it to say
that I went through three years of seminary in preparation for a career as a
pastor. I got married in 1997, graduated in 1998, and went to work for my
first church in Louisiana. My wife and I had two kids in the space of two
years, and I ended up spending 4 years in full-time work. And it was one of
the unhappiest, most difficult times in m life.

There are a lot of reasons why things didn't work out as I had first imagined.
I think the bottom line was that the box I had chosen to squeeze myself into
simply didn't fit after a time. Whatever else contributed to my ultimate
decision, by 2002 my marriage and career had both ended and I found myself
back in Fairdells, trying to start over.

It had been seven years since my last encounter with a member of the
Gynutopian Sorority. I hadn't forgotten any of the Sisters whom I had come to
know and love. But they were little more than fond, distant memories now. My
necklace that Kelly had given me nearly two decades earlier hadn't been worn
in five years. It had found a new home in a small box filled with other
precious tokens from my past. Tracy was, of course, long now married and a
mother twice over, her family living in Boston. I had lost track of Angela
shortly after I went to seminary. We had stopped writing, and I had no idea
where her path had taken her. And then there was Lorena. That night on the
desert highway with her had haunted me longer than I was willing to admit.

So I came home. I figured it was the best place to begin. I found a new job,
working in Sales/Marketing with a DSL Service Provider whose main office was
located in a neighboring city. It was a good match. My skills that I had
acquired and used in ministry proved valuable in my field. I worked hard, and
was successful. Within a few months, I was promoted to Business Development
Manager and led a small team of associates. I bought a new car, got a place to
live, and re-adjusted myself to California living. Most importantly, for the
first time in several years, I was happy.

My hometown had changed a lot in the years that I was away. Fairdells had
grown considerably. Many of the families that I had grown up with had moved
away. Friends that I had once known were now married, had kids of their own,
and were living elsewhere pursuing their dreams. In many ways I had to
re-learn my old stomping ground!

I really wasn't looking for excitement or adventure at this point. My job was
about as much excitement as I could handle for the time being. I worked, I
went to the gym, and I did the best I could to stay in touch with my two
children who now lived with their mother in Texas.

Spring 2003 rolled around and I found I had a growing itch that needed some
scratching. I was in my early 30's but still a young man! I really didn't know
how to re-enter the "dating" scene. Most of the girls whom I worked with were
either married or had steady boyfriends. I met some women off the internet,
and a couple proved to be nice relationships. But there was a deep emptiness
in my heart that couldn't seem to be filled.

I turned 31 in June of that year. I had pretty much given up on the idea of
finding someone for post-marital companionship. And then the company I worked
for hired Sabriyah.

Sabriyah was an attractive young professional woman who was brought on to help
better facilitate the growing need for more effective Sales Operations at the
Enterprise level. It sounds complicated, but all it means is that the company
needed a specialist to get a series of jobs done in the most efficient manner
possible.

She was Arabic, as I soon discovered, born and raised in Syria. She had
immigrated to the United States in order to go to college. She was very well
educated, having received both bachelors and masters degrees in business
related fields. She was in her late 20's, even younger than I was, but her
knowledge of our product and service was exemplary.

Although she was physically very beautiful, I really didn't zone in on her as
a candidate for a relationship, other than business associate and friend. I
didn't even know whether or not she was involved with anyone. She was
uncomfortable talking about personal matters. I could understand. Given my
recent experiences, there were a few things that I wasn't eager to volunteer
to just anyone. Besides, I knew enough about the culture that she came from to
know that she might feel awkward talking to a man about certain things.

Sabriyah was one of most elegant and classy ladies that I had ever met. She
was about five and a half feet tall, slender, had traditional middle-eastern
features, and wore her lovely dark hair back in a conservative but extremely
attractive style. She had the most beautiful voice, soft, smooth, and lightly
accented with her native tones.

But what I found most delightful about her was the way in which we
communicated. I had always been attracted to confident and intelligent women.
Sabriyah was most definitely both. She was articulate, witty, and could
converse on a wide variety of topics, not all related to her business either.
I enjoyed talking with her during lunch about her culture. I discovered that
she had a unique view of current political events, especially as it pertained
to the conflict between the U.S. and Iraq. I found her very stimulating and
enjoyable.

It took some time but I eventually learned that Sabriyah was unmarried. She
had never been married in fact, nor did she have children. This didn't
surprise me, as in her culture it would be considered disgraceful to bear
children out of wedlock. She had been raised Muslim, but had left that faith
shortly after coming to America. I had a very hard time discussing with her
the reasons for her departure from Islam. As a former minister, I had some
interest in this sort of thing. But she was very reluctant to discuss it. She
knew that I was divorced, and that I had kids. Although she never made mention
of it, I could tell that she was bothered by it somewhat.

I finally got up the courage to ask her out one day after work. I knew that I
was risking something here. First of all, dating co-workers was by definition
tricky. Secondly, I knew that if she found my advances to be offensive that
our relationship, both as friends and co-workers, would be jeopardized. I
didn't want either to happen. But, after counting the cost and reassuring
myself that you only live once, I asked her on a date.

Much to my surprise and delight, she said yes! I couldn't be sure, but I felt
that Sabriyah was hoping that I would ask at some point. Of course, she would
never initiate such a thing. In her culture, Sadies' Day wouldn't go over very
well!

I don't consider myself a dashing Casanova, but I wanted to make a good
impression on our first date. I dressed up nice, picked up a flower for her,
and made sure I was wearing my best cologne. I looked for some jewelry that I
could wear to add to my ensemble. I didn't have much. I had gotten my ear
pierced when I had returned to California, and wore a small stud in my left
ear. I didn't wear a watch.

I found myself checking my trinket box for something I could use. I saw my
necklace. It had been years. What the hell? I figured. It was a handsome
piece, and it looked good on me. I put it on not even considering its value to
an anonymous Sorority member, but strictly aesthetic.

I picked Sabriyah up later that evening. She answered her door wearing a very
beautiful, semi-casual outfit. Once again, conservative, but attractive, very
much in keeping with her style. But it was her hair that drew my attention
that evening. She wore it long and loose. I knew that in the middle-east, a
woman traditionally covered her head. I was glad that Sabriyah wasn't a
traditional woman, for her hair was the most beautiful that I had ever seen.
It was long, dark, thick, and even from where I stood, I could tell that it
smelled wonderful!

"Wow," I exclaimed softly, momentarily forgetting that she might be
embarrassed by an off-hand compliment. "You look beautiful!"

Her reaction was not quite what I imagined. She smiled, and stepped outside,
closing the door behind her.

"Thank you, John," she replied in her lovely voice. "You look very nice
yourself."

I handed her the flower and walked with her to my car. I opened the passenger
side door for her. She paused for a moment before getting in. I thought
something might be wrong, but instead she glanced at my necklace, and to my
surprise, touched it briefly for emphasis.

"That's an exquisite necklace!" she remarked, smiling, but not saying anything
else about it.

"Thanks," I replied. I had never received a compliment on the quality of the
piece before, even during the years that I did wear it. I didn't think much of
it, however, except to reinforce in my mind what an observant and sharp woman
Sabriyah obviously was!

I helped her in and closed the door, walking around to my side to get in. I
started it up and drove off.

"We have reservations for Tarantino's in the city," I mentioned. "I hope
that's okay with you."

"Mmm, definitely," Sabriyah responded. "I love Italian."

We talked a little as we drove together into San Francisco for a night on the
town. Tarantino's was on the wharf. It was a pricey, but somewhat romantic
dining spot, and I had picked it primarily for the ambience, and not so much
for the cuisine, although the food there was excellent.

We arrived at the restaurant and got seated. Dinner felt a little awkward for
some reason. We ended up talking about work mostly, which I found kind of
redundant, since we talked about that all week anyway! I tried to change the
subject a couple of times, but we always got back to the office somehow
regardless.

Dinner ended. I paid the check, and helped Sabriyah with her coat. It was a
very nice relatively warm San Francisco summer night.

"Care to take a walk with me on the pier for a bit?" I offered.

Sabriyah nodded, smiling in affirmation, as we strolled together down the
wharf some, looking out on the bay, watching the boats, the people, and other
aspects of nightlife in the city.

I was feeling frustrated, however. I knew it wasn't right to rush things, or
seem presumptuous. But I was getting the idea that Sabriyah wasn't reading my
intentions well. She seemed a little distant, more so even than at the office.
I was afraid that if I didn't take SOME form of initiative, the evening would
end, we would go back to work on Monday, and that would be it, business as
usual. I had let some opportunities go in the past. I didn't want this to be
another one.

"Sabriyah," I said, a bit suddenly, stopping along the pier and turning to
face her. She stopped as well, looking up at me with her deep brown eyes, not
alarmed at my abruptness, but inquisitive.

"I want to tell you something," I began, "and I don't want to seem forward or
anything, but I just don't know how else to express it."

Sabriyah remained still, looking at me. She didn't seem phased by this turn of
events, which I thought was a little odd.

"I just want you to know that. I like you," I continued. "Quite a lot,
actually. I mean, I know we work together and all, and. I know we come from
different backgrounds and."

She suddenly put her hand to my lips. My voice trailed off. Her expression
changed slightly, not to one of anger or shock, but one of. expectation?
Relief? It was hard to say. She was a difficult person to read.

"Come, let's walk some more," she finally said, removing her hand from my face
and taking mine in it. Her hand was warm, soft. I was a bit confused, but I
resumed our pace and remained silent.

We continued along the pier until we came to the end. There was a small
landing, and a rail that prevented accidental falls into the chilled bay water
below. Sabriyah stopped, and letting go of my hand, walked a few paces in
front of me then turned, facing me, her back to the water.

"John, I want to tell you something as well," she began, calmly.

Oh no, I thought to myself. I said something wrong. I knew it! My timing was
bad, my approach was horrible. I prepared myself for the bomb that I expected
was going to be dropped any second.

But instead, Sabriyah removed her coat. Her blouse rippled slightly in the
salty breeze coming off the water. She set her coat down on the rail, and then
proceeded to unbutton her blouse.

"Sabriyah, what.?" I quickly looked around. There was no one else close by,
plus it was dark. Still.

She continued to loose the upper buttons, at the same time walking forward
slightly, closing the small gap between us. I was unnerved. I mean, the
thought of seeing her naked was thrilling no doubt, but the timing.!

Sabriyah unbuttoned one of the lower buttons then opened the collar up around
her neck. I could see the outline of her lovely cleavage, the lace of her
silky black bra. I was quite taken by the view that I wasn't paying attention
to what she was actually trying to show me.

She turned slightly, giving me an angle shot of her bare shoulder. In the pale
illumination of the pier lights, I could see it: the Mark.

It was carefully tattooed on her left shoulder blade, in a very traditional
spot, common to many Sisters. She gently took my hand, and slowly placed it on
her skin, caressing the Mark, perhaps as a gesture of authenticity. I was
stunned.

Sabriyah let go of my hand, and slowly buttoned up her blouse. She looked at
me and smiled, not really seductively, and not in amusement, just a very
sincere smile on her gorgeous lips.

"I really don't have to say much more, do I?" she said, putting her coat back
on.

"Uh, no, I suppose not," I replied, almost in a whisper.

She took my hand again and started walking back along the pier.

"Let's go someplace private so we can talk, okay?" she stated.

I nodded, not prepared to debate the wisdom of her remark in any way. We
returned to the car and drove back across the bay, to her place.

In the comfort and privacy of her apartment, Sabriyah sat with me and talked
openly about what we shared.

"I became a Sister 15 years ago, while I was growing up in Syria," she
explained. "My family didn't know. They couldn't know. In their religion,
everything that I was, everything that I had learned about my Gift was not
accepted. I couldn't receive the Mark until I came to college here in the
States, which was part of the reason I desired an American education. Even
Muslims here in this country would shun my identity as a Sister, those who
would come to know, of course. I had to disown myself from that system of
belief. It wasn't easy."

I nodded, not saying anything, just listening.

"I was very afraid about using my power here," she continued. "Even in secret.
I knew that there were allies here in America. I also knew that Sisters moved
and worked with a little more freedom here. I took some comfort in that.
Before I came to America, I made the pilgrimage to Gynutopia. I was 17. It was
the last journey I made from my homeland for I never returned after the day I
set out for the east. I met the First Sister. She encouraged me in my decision
to go to America and study. She told me that there were many others here, and
gave me some names, women whom I could talk to and find support in. I met one
woman in particular, while I was working for an environmental agency in
Sacramento."

She stopped suddenly and looked at me with a very straight and knowing glaze.

"Her name was Angela," she said.

I felt the blood drain from my face. Angela?

"You've got to be kidding!" I exclaimed in disbelief.

"Not at all," Sabriyah stated matter of fact. "We met about a year after you
and her spent the summer together up at Shasta. She told me all about you. She
told me of your kindness, your gentleness. She thinks very highly of you,
John."

"Wh-wh-where is she?" I asked, stammering excitedly.

"I'm getting to that," Sabriyah said. "Angela left her work with the agency a
year after that, which is why she stopped writing you. She left the country.
She was invited to Gynutopia by the First Sister to serve as one of her
counselors. It was a wonderful and coveted opportunity. Angela didn't
hesitate. She went."

I was quite amazed by this news. Angela, part of the Sorority's hierarchy? It
was amazing!

"Angela and I have kept in close contact over the past eight years or so now,"
Sabriyah continued. "I communicated with her recently and explained to her how
I had met you at work. She was glad to hear that you're doing well, and she
encouraged me to be friends with you. However." Her voice trailed off.

"However, what?" I asked, getting very caught up in her story.

"However, I was afraid that this might happen," she stated. "You might find me
attractive and wish to seek out a relationship with me. I knew that you knew
my secret, even before I saw the necklace. But I was afraid to get too close,
for fear that. what has now happened WOULD happen, and things would get
difficult."

"How's that?" I commented, trying to keep up with her account.

"I too am not planning to stay in this country much longer," Sabriyah sighed,
her voice wavering, as if she was fighting back tears. "I just received a
message from Gynutopia a few days ago. Angela has been appointed First Sister.
She has asked me to come and serve as one of HER counselors! I can't refuse."

I was quite overtaken by this news. The thought of my dear friend Angela as
First Sister was amazing! I could see why the Sorority would choose her. I
mean, she was an incredible woman, Gynutopian or not!

"So," I started to say, daring to interject at this point, "this is why you
were so reluctant to date me, or."

"Yes," Sabriyah replied, softly. "You're a wonderful man, John. If things were
different, I would like nothing better than to pursue a long- lasting,
committed relationship with you. But I've chosen my path. My plans are made. I
leave for India in two weeks. I've already given my notice at work. I just
wish."

She paused, wiping a tear from her eye. I pulled out the white handkerchief
from my pocket and helped her.

"Thank you," she said, sniffing lightly. "I'm sorry, I don't need to be making
a fuss over this, really."

"It's okay," I whispered to her, taking the handkerchief back, and placing my
arm around her in a friendly but close way. She leaned in, sitting beside me,
her head on my shoulder.

"Would you take offense if I asked you something, Sabriyah?" I said. "It's
somewhat of a major request, but it would mean a lot to me."

"What is it?" she asked, looking up at my eyes.

"I was wondering if I could go with you," I stated, turning slightly in
towards her. "I mean, to Gynutopia, just as a visitor. I've never been, and I
have some unused vacation time. If I understand things right, I would be
welcome if I had the approval of the First Sister, and. well, given her recent
promotion, I don't think Angela would have a problem with it!"

Sabriyah looked at me, her lips slowly curving upwards into that beautiful
smile of hers.

"Would you really want to do that?" she asked, obviously surprised by the
request.

"Do you not want me to?" I asked her.

"No! That's not it at all!" she exclaimed quickly. "It's just that. well, I'm
surprised. but pleased at the same time, that you would want to come with me."

"I would consider it the adventure of a lifetime," I reassured her gently.
"And I would take any opportunity to go anywhere with you, as long as we could
spend time together."

Sabriyah put her arms around me, and reached up, kissing me on the cheek.
"You're so sweet," she said.

I held her there on the couch for a few minutes, just listening to the sounds
of her breath and feeling the warmth of her body next to mine. It was getting
late. I wanted more than anything to stay the night with her, but.

"I think I should get going," I said, removing my arm and standing up.

"Is everything okay?" Sabriyah asked me, apparently surprised that I would
take the initiative in bringing the evening to a close.

"Oh, yeah," I responded. "Everything's fine. It's just getting late, and I
think it might be best if. you know."

She stood up herself, and put her arms around me, hugging me close. I could
see a very sly, different kind of smile form on her lips as she pulled away
and faced me.

"Come here," she said, taking my hand, and leading me into another room. "I
want to show you something."

Intrigued, and maybe a little excited at possibilities unfolding, I followed.
She led me to her bedroom. This being my first time in her apartment, I had no
idea what to expect. I suppose I expected to see a very feminine looking room.
I was in for a surprise.

It wasn't Spartan or exclusively masculine my any means, but there were some
interesting inconsistencies. She had a king-sized bed, with a very ornate
looking frame, old-fashioned in appearance. There was a stereo sound system,
encased in a very modern black cabinet. She had a vanity in one corner, and in
the other a couple of bean bag chairs. The thing that caught my eye right away
was the weight set at the foot of her bed.

"I don't use them very often," she explained, walking over to the bench and
bar, "mainly because I don't have to. But I keep them for appearances, and
because I sometimes like an ego boost!"

She started to remove her blouse, much the same way she had on the pier
earlier. But this time she didn't stop with the top buttons. She took it off
and laid it on the bed. Only her bra covered her lovely breasts. The rest of
her gorgeous top was bare.

"I've never done anything like this before," she said, almost as if giving an
apology before the fact. "I never used my strength while growing up in Syria,
and I only used it once here in America, out of necessity, in a completely
private situation. I've never displayed my Gift for anyone before, but I want
to do something special for you."

I stood there just watching as Sabriyah first stretched her feminine but very
powerful arms. She extended them out, then up above her head. I could clearly
see the dark, furry patches of hair underneath her arms. I had always heard
that middle-eastern women tended to be naturally quite hairy, but I had never
seen anyone in such an intimate way before. She was incredibly beautiful, her
form as divine as a goddess.

She finished her brief warm up and got some weights from the set. She began
stacking them on both sides of the bar, first two, then four, then six, and
even eight! The bar could only fit ten on each side without them falling off.
She had twenty total. Combined with the bar, it must have been at least a
thousand pounds!

Sabriyah took hold of the bar, first with both hands, but then smiled, as if
changing her mind and removed her right hand, only using her left. She curled
her arm slightly, and began to lift. I could see the bar bending just slightly
at both ends under the weight at the extremities. She picked it up with as
much ease as I could lift a wine glass from off the table! Her incredible
biceps barely showed an ounce of strain. I was mesmerized.

This was indeed showmanship enough, but apparently she wasn't done. Her eyes
meeting mine, she took the thousand plus pound mass balanced perfectly in her
left hand and lowering her arm some and bending her wrist down slightly,
"flicked" her hand up, releasing the bar and sending it flying straight up in
the air about three feet! She shifted her stance a bit and a second or two
later caught the descending hunk of steel gingerly and delicately in her other
hand, without the slightest bit of exhaustion, stress, or difficulty! She
smiled at me, and returned the bar to the rack.

"Wait," she said softly, as if expecting me to comment prematurely. "I'm not
done."

Not knowing what more she could possibly do to impress me further, I waited
and watched as she removed the weights from off the bar. The bar now empty,
she picked it up again, this time holding it in both hands.

"I might not be able to use this again," she commented, "but it's worth it in
this case. Besides, I'm not planning on taking these to Gynutopia with me! How
would I ship them?"

Laughing lightly, she walked around to my side of the bench.

"Would you care to inspect it first?" she asked humorously, holding the bar
out for me.

I shook my head, smiling. "I saw how it supported five hundred pounds on each
side!" I exclaimed. "Plus, I trust you."

Sabriyah stepped back, placing her hands at each end of the bar. The bar was
about five feet long total. It was about two inches in diameter, designed to
hold VERY heavy weights! It was made of an extremely tough, dense metal. I had
seen Sisters bend bars on a fence before, but I had NEVER seen anyone even
attempt to do what Sabriyah was about to do!

She rotated her hands on the bar to get the proper angle, and then proceeded
to bend the thick, heavy steel in the middle of the bar as if it were a coat
hanger! The ends of the bar curved downward, unable to offer any kind of
resistance to the pressure that Sabriyah's awesome strength was exerting upon
it. She continued bending it. The ends curved down and around, coming back
inward, crossing each other, then finally coming out again to form a closed
loop in the middle of the bar.

"Oh my God!" I exclaimed. I knew what the Sisters were capable of by now, most
certainly, but it never ceased to amaze me witnessing their incredible feats
of physical prowess!

"Would you like to see more?" Sabriyah asked me, with a bit of mischief in her
voice.

"More?" I gasped. "What more? You're. astounding!"

"Well, here's one more for you," she offered, taking the looped bar in the
middle again, her hands very close together. I thought she might straighten
the bar again. How wrong I was, as she gripped it tight, and began to pull
outward! I saw her hands separate, spreading apart from each other. The bar in
between, locked tightly at each end by her clenched fists, began to elongate,
stretching, getting thinner as her hands moved farther apart. It was as if the
bar was a giant piece of taffy. Thinner and thinner, inch by inch, until
finally the metal was so thin at the center that it snapped!

Sabriyah took each piece of the now split curved bar in each hand and set them
down on the bench. She walked over to me.

"So," she said softly, running those gentle, yet iron-forced, hands over my
chest. "What do you think? Do you think you could travel halfway around the
world with a woman who could do that?"

I put my arms around her warm, naked waist and smiled down at her.

"It would be my pleasure," I replied softly.

"Do you think you could travel with me a few feet to my bed, and spend the
night with me?" she asked again, more in a whisper, and far more seductive
than before.

I pulled her closer to me. I could feel my heart beating faster with
excitement. "Again, it would me MY pleasure," I answered her.

Her response was immediate, and more passionate than I could've imagined
coming from her. She had my shirt off, then my pants. My hands were on her
loose but thin slacks and I soon had her shapely, hairy legs uncovered and
rubbing against mine.

Our lips found each other's, and our bodies soon found the comfort and
softness of her bed. As my mouth connected with hers, and then her neck, her
shoulders, her breasts, her strong abs, her thighs, and finally her full,
incredibly hairy bush, I could feel in return her hands caressing me all over.
And as we made love, I could feel the strength and power in her flesh giving
me comfort, security, and tenderness that I had only felt in the arms of a
Gynutopian.

It was after midnight. We lay side by side on her bed, naked, half covered
with a blanket, listening to the gentle sounds of Enya coming from the stereo
in the corner. Sabriyah rolled over slightly, putting her hand across my
chest.

"So, what about my plans to come with you to Gynutopia?" I asked, not wanting
to spoil the mood, but curious all the same.

"Mmmm," she replied, turning her head towards mine, her mouth inches from my
cheek.

"Why don't we talk about that in the morning?" she said, smiling. "Perhaps
over breakfast?"

I chuckled slightly, and turning on my side to face her directly, pulled her
in and kissed her. We drifted off to sleep, the music of the stereo soon
fading in our ears to a dull whisper, but the music in our hearts remaining
beautiful and clear throughout the night.

Chapter 7: A Visit To Gynutopia

A couple of weeks later, Sabriyah and I were on a plane bound for India. I had
never been overseas before. I was excited not only at the prospect of exotic
travel, but also at the opportunity to spend more time with Sabriyah and other
Sisters at Gynutopia.

We flew into New Delhi. Sabriyah had arranged for a train to take us up to the
foothills of the Himalayas. We would be on foot from there on. She had tried
to explain to me somewhat of how the journey would be, but assured me that
words really couldn't do it justice!

The train took us as far as Dharamsala. We managed to have someone drive us up
a bit further, putting us closer to the Tibetan border. It soon got to the
point where the roads stopped, and motorized transport was no longer possible.

"We walk from here," Sabriyah stated, shouldering her pack and leading the
way.

It was summer, but it was still rather cold. We were high up, and even at this
time of year, I could still see some snow capping the loftiest of peaks. I
felt like an explorer, trying to climb Mount Everest for the first time!
Sabriyah, however, had informed me that Gynutopia was nowhere near Mount
Everest.

"You traveled here by yourself when you left Syria at age 17?" I asked,
stopping for a moment to catch my breath.

"Yes," she answered, setting her pack down to rest with me. "It was the last I
saw of this side of the world before saying farewell and coming to the United
States. That was over a decade ago now. It feels a little strange, to be
honest."

"Strange?" I laughed. "Hardly the word for it!"

Sabriyah smiled and helped me to my feet. "Come on," she said. "I'd like to
reach Gynutopia before nightfall."

We continued through the day, hiking up higher and higher. I would describe
the scenery in detail, for it is truly spectacular, but I'm limited as to how
much I can detail in this journey. Gynutopia is, after all, a secret place.
Suffice it to say that it's a breath-taking experience!

Sunset was approaching. I could tell that Sabriyah was beginning to search for
a place to make camp, just in case.

"We might need to find some shelter for the night," she said. "I don't think
we're going to make it there tonight. It's at least several more hours of
hiking, nonstop."

I stopped, and began scanning the terrain, looking for something suitable.
Below us, and across a small vale, I thought I could see a cave entrance of
some sort.

"There!" I pointed. "How about that?"

Sabriyah turned and looked. "Perfect!" she exclaimed, as we started to descend
into the vale.

The cave was not much more than a hollowed out, shallow cavern in the
mountainside. But it was shelter. It was big enough inside for two to sleep
in, plus a campfire. We set up our gear. I gathered some wood for the fire
from dried brush and shrubs. Sabriyah got our sleeping bags ready.

Dinner consisted of canned food, heated up. It wasn't the best, but it was
sufficient.

"In Gynutopia," she explained, "the food is wonderful."

We ate, sitting by the fire and talking for a while as night crept up on us.
It was getting colder, windier. We moved further to the back of the cave,
trying to evade the biting breeze.

"I wish this cave had a door that we could close!" I remarked, trying to make
light of our discomfort. We were huddled in our sleeping bags, trying to keep
warm.

Sabriyah sat up, looking outside the cave for a minute. "You know," she said,
"that's not a bad idea!"

"Yeah," I said, "but what are we going to do? Make one?"

"Precisely," she replied, getting up and walking out the cave entrance, and
over to a massive boulder several yards away.

The rock was huge. It was pressed up against the other side of the vale, not
attached, but most definitely a permanent fixture! It was sort of round, with
a flat bottom. It was a good 20 feet in diameter, and solid as hell. It could
easily cover the cave entrance, but.

Experience should have told me to expect the unexpected when dealing with a
member of the Gynutopian Sorority, but I always seemed to be surprised at what
the Sisters could come up with on moment's notice! Sabriyah walked over to the
boulder, her loose clothing rippling in the wind, her hair dancing across her
cheeks and shoulders, and faced it. I figured what was coming next, but how
was she going to get a hold on something nearly four times as wide as she was
in order to drag it any distance? Or was she going to push it perhaps?

My questions were answered soon enough. Sabriyah squatted down, placing her
hands underneath the rock. Using both her legs and arms, she arose, lifting
one side of the rock completely off the ground. It must have weighed at least
as much as a semi-truck, probably more! Keeping one hand to steady the
uplifted side of the boulder, she repositioned herself in order to get a
fairly good span with her arms and more or less in the middle of the flattened
bottom. Then, without too much effort, she took the ENTIRE mass of the rock in
her hands, supported completely by her powerful arms, and began carrying it,
free weight, over towards the cave.

She stopped just a couple of feet from the entrance and turned, her back now
facing me. Backing up a little, she bent down again, slowly lowering the
boulder in place, just in front of the entrance, leaving a small space for
smoke to escape.

Brushing her hands off, Sabriyah walked back over to me in my sleeping bag.
With the cave practically sealed, the bite of the wind eased in no time. She
slid inside her bag, cuddling close.

"Thanks," I said, smiling, and holding her next to me.

"It was your idea," she commented, smiling and laughing lightly. She put her
arms around me and kissed me gently, as the fire slowly died, and we found
sleep in each other's embrace.

Morning came bright and early. Sabriyah simply pushed the boulder a few feet
out, allowing us to exit our comfortable quarters from the night before. We
had breakfast and continued on our way.

We reached Gynutopia around mid-day. I can't tell you how the entrance to the
Sisters' secret realm looks, but it wasn't like I expected at all. I will tell
you, however, something about the inside!

Gynutopia proved to be not only a headquarters, but a home as well. The First
Sister, her counselors, and a few other Sisters actually lived here! As such,
it was designed for both utility and aesthetics. I was shown the Hall of
Heroines, a place of tribute for Sisters past who had dedicated their lives to
the Sorority, and who had demonstrated great power for the sake of what they
believed in. There were murals dedicated to Rhea, the founder and original
First Sister, Joan of Arc, and many more. The centerpiece of the hall was a
set of three statues, one of Athena, one of Hera, and one of Diana, the three
goddesses who had provided the Sisters with their gift and had inspired the
formation of the Sorority.

I was shown the Gardens of Dawn, a lush greenhouse of sorts where the Sisters
grew all the food that they ate, in addition to various types of flora for
beauty and decoration. The Gardener, a Sister named Vanessa, gave me a tour
and let me taste some of the Garden's rare and exotic fruits.

I was also shown the Metalworks, a smithy within the confines of Gynutopia,
where the various artifacts of the Sisterhood were constructed. A Sister named
Ursula showed me how necklaces such as mine were made, and revealed a
fascinating secret about this unique jewelry that I will discuss later in this
work.

The Sisters showed me the baths, pools of water fed by natural underground
springs. I was allowed to sit in them for a while. I have never felt something
so refreshing and vitalizing in my life! And I was taken to the Audience
Chamber, where I was reunited with my friend.

"John!" Angela exclaimed as I was escorted in by Sabriyah and a couple of
other Sisters. She embraced me warmly, kissing me.

Angela looked incredible! It had been 10 years since I had seen her in person,
but she was as beautiful and radiant as I remembered. She was wearing a two
piece garment, much like a bikini. Her body was still incredibly fit, sexy,
and wonderfully hairy! I could barely take my eyes off of her, she was so
lovely.

"I'm so glad to see you again, Angela," I said, thrilled and excited. "I
missed you so much!"

"Me too," she said, taking my hand and walking with me over to meet her other
counselor.

"You obviously know Sabriyah already," she commented. "I asked her to be one
of my counselors not long ago. I just couldn't believe it when she told me
that she had met you, and that you wanted to come here with her! I was so
excited!"

"I wouldn't have missed it for anything," I responded.

Angela introduced me to Bridget, her second counselor. Bridget was a
stunningly gorgeous Sister originally from Vienna, Austria. She was also a
blond! This was a first for me. She was the first blond Sister I had ever met.
She was dressed much like Angela. As I looked her over, I could see the
different shade of hair that grew on her legs and in her armpits. It appeared
less thick, not as coarse, but it was beautiful. She was a very beautiful
woman in every way.

"I met Bridget during a trip to Europe about seven years ago," Angela
explained. "We got acquainted, found out that we shared something in common,
and became good friends."

"Angela's told me so much about you, John," Bridget said in a soft, pleasantly
accented voice. "I've been looking forward to meeting you for a while now."

She extended her hand, taking mine in greeting. Her hands were delicate, warm,
but I could feel the incredible strength that she possessed flowing through
her fingers.

"John, I would love to spend the rest of the day with you," Angela stated,
somewhat apologetic, "but Sabriyah, Bridget and I have a rather unpleasant
duty to perform this evening."

"What?" I asked, curious.

"We just received word that one of our Sisters who lives in Russia has been
using her power in a very inappropriate way," Sabriyah replied. "She is being
brought here today in order to be judged and disciplined."

I was stunned. I had heard of this happening in the Sorority, but I had never
known of anyone who had actually gone though it, much less seen it with my own
eyes!

"You're welcome to observe, " Angela said to me. "It might be a very
interesting experience for you."

I nodded. Interesting was an understatement!

The sun was setting over the mountains as the wayward Sister was brought in by
a couple of her peers. She was a pretty girl, quite young, probably in her
early 20's. Angela, Bridget, and Sabriyah took their places accordingly. The
woman wasn't bound in any way, as if any bonds could hold her, but it was
clear that she dared not defy the Sisters in any way, physically or otherwise.

"Natasha," Angela said, beginning the judgment. "It's been brought to our
attention by your fellow Sisters in Russia that you've been using your Gift in
a way unbecoming a member of the Sorority. I have reports of you demonstrating
your power for reasons of personal gain, and making unnecessary victims out of
the innocent. Do you have anything to say concerning these accusations?"

"No, First Sister," Natasha responded humbly. "I admit that I've used some
very poor judgment in recent months. I ask forgiveness."

Angela spoke quietly with Bridget and Sabriyah before addressing Natasha
again.

"My counselor has also informed me that you have been taken aside by your
Sisters in Russia on more than one occasion," she said, "and given some
gentle, and even not so gentle warnings. Is this true as well?"

"Yes, First Sister," Natasha replied, more defensive. "But you must
understand, these Sisters are jealous of my position and influence in my
country. I have allies, and I've been able to do a lot of good for our cause
in Russia. Some of our Sisters don't want to see me get ahead and become a
woman of significance."

"Notoriety and fame are irrelevant," Angela said, more sternly. "And it's
certainly not acceptable at the risk of misusing your power. The ends do not
justify the means in the Sorority, Sister! If fame and position are what you
seek, obtain it without use of your strength. You were given a Gift. You
always had the choice to keep it or discard it. Since you've been
irresponsible, however, that choice is no longer yours."

Angela looked at Natasha with some degree of anger, but I could also see the
sorrow and pity as well.

"My counselors and I will discuss it," she said. "You'll have our decision
within the hour."

With that, the three of them left the chamber and retreated to another room.
Natasha took a seat, waiting. I could tell that she was upset, and afraid. I
walked over to her.

"Can I sit down?" I asked, carefully.

She nodded, moving over slightly. I took a seat next to her.

"Can I ask you a question?" I inquired.

"What did I do, right?" she said, a little sarcastically. "Is that what you
want to know?"

"Well. yes," I answered, not wanting to push her.

"It's nothing, really," Natasha sighed. "I just made some stupid mistakes,
that's all."

She took a look at me, studying me for the first time.

"You're an ally?" she asked, the question being rather obvious.

I motioned to my necklace in response. She nodded.

We talked for a few minutes. I found out that Natasha was born into one of
Moscow's more affluent families. She apparently was an unruly child, who was
sent to a boarding school at a young age. She received the Gift at puberty,
and was tempted to use her strength to strike back at those whom she perceived
had hurt her. An older Sister was one of the teachers at the school, and took
Natasha under her wing, both as a teacher, and as a mentor Sister. Natasha
underwent a radical change, and her whole attitude changed. Her mentor was
killed in a terrible, unavoidable accident a few years later. Natasha, then in
her late teens, was determined never to allow herself to be victimized again,
and never to lose someone close to her.

"I've had to learn some hard lessons, I suppose," she said. "I guess I learned
some too late."

Angela and her counselors came back in a while later. They took their seats as
Angela addressed Natasha.

"It's my decision, based partly upon recommendations from my counselors, to
have you removed from the Sorority by depiliation," Angela stated. "You will
undergo the ritual, thereby losing both your standing as a Sister, and your
Gift."

"Please," Natasha whispered softly, tears coming to her eyes. "I'm truly
sorry. Don't do this to me!"

"I'm sorry," Angela said, kindly but firmly. She motioned to a couple of the
Sisters standing near the wings. They came forward and escorted Natasha to a
stone table off to one side.

Bridget handed Angela a razor, and the three of them came to Natasha's side as
she was laid on the table, Sisters surrounding her. I took a few steps forward
trying to catch a glimpse of what was about to happen.

What I saw was remarkable. With Bridget, Sabriyah, and a couple others holding
Natasha down, Angela proceeded to shave her body. She started with her legs,
going all the way up to her bikini line. She had very little of a happy trail,
so Angela bypassed her stomach and focused on her armpits, shaving them clean.
Natasha was weeping, struggling some under the discipline, but unable to
counter the combined strength of her Sisters.

The ceremony was soon over. They stepped back, allowing Natasha to get up from
off the table.

"You know the vow," Angela explained. "You are no longer a Sister, but you are
forbidden from revealing any of our secrets. To do so will mean punishment by
death at the soonest available opportunity. You must go now, and. best
wishes."

Natasha bowed her head, shamefully, and exited the chamber. Angela seemed a
little shaken and downcast.

"Here," she said, handing the razor back to Bridget. "I need some time alone."

She started walking out of the chamber. She stopped, however, and looked back
at me for a moment.

"Will you come talk with me after a few minutes, John?" she asked, more
gently.

"Of course," I replied, smiling, and watching her leave the room.

I found Angela a while later in the baths, relaxing. I stripped down and
joined her.

"That was the first time I've had to do that," she said softly. "I hope I
don't have to do it again anytime soon."

"I thought you handled it well," I said, trying to encourage her.

"Thanks," she said, smiling at me, and snuggling closer to me in the water.
"I'm so glad you're here," she whispered.

I turned her slightly to face me. I reached out and touched her beautiful
face, and leaned in, kissing her delicately. She put her arms around me, and
held me. It was like I was home again.

"Are you going to stay with us for a while?" she asked.

"As long as I can," I replied. "I'm using vacation time. Besides, I still need
a little more research for my book."

"Book?" Angela asked, surprised.

"Absolutely," I said, grinning. "I'm writing a book about the Sorority. It's
nearly completed, just a little more information that I'd like to include
before I wrap it up."

"John!" she exclaimed, out of both amusement and shock. "Whatever got in your
mind that made you think you could write a BOOK? You of all people should know
that."

"Yes, exactly," I said, interrupting her. "That's the whole point. I have a
very unique relationship with regards to the Gynutopians, and I think it would
be wonderful if others could see a glimpse into the world that I've seen.
Especially after seeing what you just went through. I'm sure there are a lot
of folks out there who have tried to make sense out of things they can't
explain. They've tried to rationalize or disbelieve. Well, maybe what the
world needs most now is an observer's view into a mystery, something wonderful
that can't just be explained away, nor can it be ignored."

Angela looked at me, with that look I knew very well. "And what if I said no?"
she asked, playfully. "Do you really think you could get something like that
written without my approval?"

"Not in a million years," I replied. "Which is why I'm letting you read it
first, so you can go over it, edit it, whatever. It's your story, Angela.
You're very much a part of my work, you and every other Sister."

She sighed, but laughed and kissed me again. She slowly got out of the pool,
drops of water dripping from her heavenly body.

"Well then, Shakespeare," she said to me, taking my hand and helping me out of
the water. "You'd better get as much research in as possible while you're
still here. You can start in my bed, if you'd like."

I chuckled, pulling Angela close to me, my naked body pressed up against hers.

"That's a good place," I said softly, smiling.

I spent the next week or so in Gynutopia before returning to my world in the
States. It was the most exciting, wonderful week in my life! I came back with
memories that would last a lifetime, and a written work that I hoped, and
still hope, will educate, please, and inspire.

Someone once said that "a beauty is a woman you notice; a charmer is one who
notices you." If this is true, then I've been very blessed to know several
beauties AND charmers, most of them found within the ranks of a very special
group of women, the Gynutopian Sorority.

7 Appendix: An Interview With Bridget

While I was visiting Gynutopia, I got a very unique opportunity to get to know
several of the Sisters. One in particular earned my special attention,
Bridget, one of Angela's counselors. You've already been introduced some to
Bridget. She's a very extraordinary Sister, with a really interesting outlook
on her experience as a Gynutopian.

I was very satisfied at the completion of this work. I believe that I've
captured a lot of the essence of the Sorority, and brought to light some
amazing truths that have long been concealed. But I felt that something was
missing. I mean, it just seemed to me that many readers would have questions,
questions that I wouldn't be able to answer very well in narrative and
documentary style. Bridget understood my dilemma well, and was gracious enough
to agree to an interview.

So, in conclusion, I would like to include the transcript from my interview
with Bridget, and let you hear for yourself mysteries explained and questions
answered, straight from a Sister herself!

ME: Bridget, I first just wanted to thank you for the hospitality that you and
the other Sisters have shown me here during my visit to Gynutopia, and
reiterate once more the appreciation I have for you granting me this rare and
exclusive interview.

BRIDGET: You're very welcome, John. It's been a real pleasure having you here,
getting to know you better. And I hope I can provide something useful here for
your book.

ME: I think the first thing many would want to know is why is contact with a
member of the Sorority so rare?

BRIDGET: Well, John, it's not, really. I'm sure that most people in the world
have encountered a Sister at least once in their lives. It's just a matter of
identifying us as such. But, yes, discovering a Sister's identity is rare, and
needfully so, for obvious reasons.

ME: I guess I was just wondering because anyone reading this book is going to
ask, "Well, he's had encounters with several Sisters in his short lifetime.
Why haven't I?"

BRIDGET: You're a very unusual case, John. I'm sure you know that.

ME: Yes, I've known I was an unusual case most of my life.

BRIDGET: (laughs) Yes, you are! But to answer your question, we're very
selective about who we reveal our secrets too, on a personal level. An ally
really needs to have some special qualities. Sisters learn to become good
judges of character. The sad fact is that there are really very few people in
this world that we trust enough to keep our secrets, and respect us. And the
fact that you had one encounter early in life likely made it easier for other
Sisters down the road to trust you and reveal themselves to you.

ME: Tell me about your first experience with an ally.

BRIDGET: You already know.

ME: You mean, ME? Surely you've revealed your power to other non-Sisters
before me!

BRIDGET: No, I haven't, honestly. You're the first. This is my first time to
Gynutopia too, and you're the first ally who's been allowed here during my
tenure. I never knew any before. Again, that should give you some idea about
how selective we are, and how rare it really is.

ME: You were raised in Vienna, Austria?

BRIDGET: Yes, that's right.

ME: Tell me a little about your upbringing, when you first received the Gift,
your early experiences.

BRIDGET: Well, I had a dream when I was 12, much like my fellow Sisters. I was
lucky to have someone close by who could help me during the first couple of
years, as my strength grew and as I became acquainted with my new power.

ME: Who was she?

BRIDGET: She was a neighbor, actually. I had no idea about her until after the
dream. She approached me one day when I was in my backyard after school. My
mother was busy in the house. There was some construction going on around our
block. I was testing my strength out on some steel pipe. This neighbor and
older Sister caught me. I learned that day the importance of discretion, and
not taking unnecessary risks. She mentored me for some time after that. I keep
in contact with her to this day. She's very dear to me.

ME: I know that one of the most fascinating aspects of the Sorority is the
association of body hair with the Gift, particularly the aspect of not being
able to shave at all.

BRIDGET: Yes, I can see why that would intrigue a lot of people, especially
Americans.

ME: Being a European Woman, the stigma of not shaving wasn't as much of an
issue for you, was it?

BRIDGET: Not as much as my American Sisters, no. It's not at all uncommon for
women in Europe, Sisters or not, to go all natural, not shaving our legs or
underarms.

ME: So I would imagine that in Europe it's a lot harder to set Sisters apart
compared to in the States. For example, most of the Sisters I've met were
careful with the clothing they wore and so on. Well, except for your First
Sister that is!

BRIDGET: (laughs) I suppose that's true, yes. Angela's just unique in her own
way, even for a Gynutopian!

ME: I want to ask you something a little more personal and intimate, if that's
okay.

BRIDGET: Of course.

ME: I've observed not only here in Gynutopia but in my past experiences with
Sisters that there is a tendency towards lesbianism among members of the
Sorority. Would you say that this observation is accurate, and if so, what
might be some reasons for it?

BRIDGET: Well, John, you have to understand that personally speaking, sexual
identity isn't as much of a straightjacket for me as compared to you or many
of the other Sisters. A lot of that probably has to do with the culture I was
raised in. But to answer your question, yes, nearly all Sisters are bi-sexual
to some degree.

ME: How come?

BRIDGET: Because of who we are, many of us find sexual relationships with men
difficult. I know that's not been your experience with members of the
Sorority, but all in all it's true. Most men are not comfortable with us.
There's an ego issue involved. And we feel pressured to reveal our secrets
with those we're intimate with. Sex is, after all, a form of communication,
very deep and non-verbal in ways. This causes many Sisters to shy away from
heterosexual relationships. But we still have needs, as you can imagine! So,
many times we receive more satisfaction with someone whom we know understands
us better and can relate to our experience. But I think that's true of any
person, Gynutopian or not.

ME: Very well put. Thank you.

BRIDGET: It's sex, John. Not rocket science.

ME: (laughs) True. I want to go back to the issue of allies for a moment. I
know that we're easily identified by the jewelry, just as Sisters are
identified by their Mark. My necklace for example.

BRIDGET: Yes, that's right.

ME: But I was wondering about the problem of fakes. I mean, suppose someone on
the street saw me wearing my necklace, liked the design, and got a copy made.
He wouldn't understand the significance, he just liked the way it looked. And
suppose a Sister approaches this person and takes him for an ally. She then
embarrasses herself and spills the beans so to speak, thinking that she was
confiding in someone who already knew what and who she was. Isn't that a risk?

BRIDGET: That's a very good question, and I'm glad you brought it up. The
necklace that you wear, or the earring worn by some of our allies, is very
uniquely crafted. Ursula is an exceptional artisan. It's very hard to
duplicate, and most Sisters can recognize the authenticity by sight.

ME: But what if there's doubt? Or suppose she can't tell?

BRIDGET: Well, we have test. In your own experience, have you had a Sister
touch your necklace in some way before revealing to you her power?

ME: Yes, it's happened twice. Lorena touched it before lifting my truck, and
Sabriyah touched it when we were out on a date. She appeared to be admiring
it.

BRIDGET: Yes, well it's not just a matter of admiration. Both those Sisters
probably wanted to be one hundred percent sure, so they touched it.

ME: Why? Is the material special?

BRIDGET: Exactly. The metal that the jewelry is made of has some extraordinary
properties. It's not normal metal. In fact, one might say that it's "magical."

ME: Magical?

BRIDGET: Yes. This metal is harder and stronger than any known substance. Its
density is such as to render it indestructible. So dense is it that it cannot
be bent, not even by a Sister!

ME: Wow! You mean not even you can bend this little delicate pendant?

BRIDGET: No. It's the only material we know of that will not yield to a
Sister's strength. So, when a member of the Sorority touches your pendant,
it's not just to admire it. She's applying force with her fingers. If she
feels the metal give way, she'll know in an instant. If not, then she's
assured that you're for real!

ME: Incredible! Can I see a demonstration? Just to see with my own eyes? I
mean, I find it unfathomable that there's something out there impervious to
your power!

BRIDGET: Sure, no problem.

(I handed her my necklace at this point. She took it between her fingers and
began to apply pressure. I could see her exert herself. It was amazing! The
pendant would not bend!)

BRIDGET: See? (hands necklace back)

ME: I wouldn't have believed it had I not seen it. What a foolproof test! It's
brilliant!

BRIDGET: It's kept us out of trouble on many occasions!

ME: Bridget, I don't know how to thank you for this opportunity. You've really
shed some light on a few things for me, and for those who read this book as
well. I'm really glad I had this chance.

BRIDGET: It's been a pleasure for me too, John.

7.1 THE END