"That's good stuff, Noreen."

In the mirror; Noreen saw Jacquette stab a cigarette into her yip and light up. Noreen saw the way the cigarette dangled from the corner of Jacquette's mouth as she spoke.

The tight curve of Jacquette's lips as they clenched the burning faggot gave Jacquette's expression a kind of sneer-yes, Noreen could take that impression, even though she knew it could merely be a function of Jacquette's oral mannerism of holding onto and sucking her cig.

It lent Jacquette a toughness that Noreen appreciated, in fact admired in others. But repressed in herself.

"You know Noreen, you were lucky that you didn't get all fitted and assed-out earlier. That's the real reason you were all pissed-over today. You and me-we're the oldest gymnasts on the team-"

"Were, Jacquette." Noreen's eyes were blank. "You are. I was. Isn't that the problem?"

"With the attributes you have, Noreen, it should not be a problem. Only if you wanted to remain a gymnast. Then it's a big problem."

"What should I do?"

"If you want to remain in gymnastics, you might try to become a coach. But I don't ever recall your mentioning that possibility one single frigging time during any of our discussions-even before we were roommates."

Noreen broke into a smile.

Took hold of one of her tits.

Tugged it.

Shook it in her fist.

She flicked one of her nipples.

The nipple tip crinkled into a hardened point. Stared straight ahead.

"You think a dancer?" Noreen said with a wrinkle to her nose.

"Yeah. Why not? You've already got a lot of background in movement, body control-and you've had as much dance training as most of the would-be dancers in your age range."

Jacquette suckered long and hard on her cigarette. She furrowed her brow. Seemed to bore her eyes into Noreen's erect nip.