Frau Beyer and I did not discuss the events of the previous evening. My mind was troubled. I was amazed that I had allowed another woman to do that to me, amazed that I had shown her without shame my most shameful places, amazed and ashamed that I have touched myself when thinking about it. I left for college.

Frau Beyer had prepared her dinner before me, as was her habit. When I was installing mine, she walked up to me, carrying a tablespoon and a pharmaceutical-looking glass jar. “I thought yesterday I had some, but I had forgotten I had finished my supply. I dropped by the pharmacy yesterday.” She opened the jar and poured a spoonful. I managed to read the label: “Paraffin oil”. “Open up”, said Frau Beyer jovially.

“What’s that for?

— It’s a mild laxative. You’ll take one spoonful morning and evening until you again have normal bowel movements, without hard stools or straining.”

I blushed. Obediently, I opened my mouth, and swallowed the thick liquid. I felt like a little girl receiving treatment from her mother, just like the day before. At least I did not have to show my secret places.

The spoonfuls went on until I was able to report, blushing, that I had had a normal bowel movement. Frau Beyer congratulated me. I felt like a two-year old proud of reporting she has used the potty properly. The paraffin was making my anus slightly oily. I guess this was a minor inconvenience compared to constipation.

Since the enema (Klistiere, Einlauf, whatever you call it), Frau Beyer had become more familiar with me, with small gestures. She at times let her hand on mine or on my arm. She eventually proposed that we share meals, instead of each preparing our own; we could take turns or help each other for the cooking. This was fine with me, as she was a more accomplished cook than I was, and she had time preparing things in advance as she was working from home.

Frau Beyer had learned that a family in the neighbourhood, the Kreckels, was looking for a sitter for their children (two boys aged 3 and 5). The Kreckels loved going to theater plays and other spectacles, and Herr Kreckel had the paycheck to suit that taste; but they needed somebody to watch the kids. They had hired a babysitter in September, but she was no longer available. I had done this job when I was in highschool and was happy to continue, to have some spare money in addition to the allowance given by my parents. I accepted. The arrangement was simple: Frau Kreckel had the children bathe and dine early, they could play a bit in their pajamas, then I had to put them to bed, making sure I left the little light in the corridor turned on for them to find their way to the toilet should they need it during the night. It was not much work.

Some weeks later I came back from college feeling tired and with a headache, which only intensified during the evening. I asked Frau Beyer for some aspirin. “Sure. But let me check…”. She ran her hand on my forehead. “You feel warm. I suspect fever. Maybe a kind of ‘flu? I had a bout of it ten days ago, as you had left for weekend with your family. You should go wash, lay and rest.”. And so I did.

A few minutes later, Frau Beyer knocked on my door. She had a glass of water in one hand and a small bag in the other, the kind that one uses to take toiletries in suitcases. I was surprised, and watched her take out of it a jar of Vaseline and a thermometer is its sheath. “Could you please lay on your side and show your bottom to me, darling. I’m going to take your temperature.”

I could have refused. I could have said that I was old enough to take my temperature myself, thank you very much. I don’t know exactly why I did it, but I did as instructed. I felt Frau Beyer parting my buttocks, the thermometer tip on my anus. I even remembered to “bear down”. The device slid into place, and Frau Beyer sat on the bed next to me, her hand resting on my buttocks holding the thermometer. Neither she nor I spoke for thirty seconds or so. This was a very abnormal stituation—a college student having her temperature taken as if she were 5 years old—but somehow it felt good. In order to give myself a countenance, I said it was a pity that I might need to skip classes. Frau Beyer comforted me, gently rubbing my back while explaining that it should be possible to get copies of the lectures from other students.

When three minutes had elapsed, the thermometer was withdrawn. “38.8°C, fever, definitely. To my surprise, Frau Beyer parted my buttocks again and wiped the grease off my anus. As I covered myself, she cleaned the thermometer with alcohol. Then, she presented me with an aspirin tablet and the glass of water. She wished me good night. I said I would try to read something easy for a little while and then get to sleep.

Indeed, I tried to read, but I could not concentrate. The bag with the medical supplies stood ominously on my bedside table. I felt a need to pee. I did not want to take the long trip to the toilet, so I used the chamber pot. Again, there was a kind of peculiar feeling going to pee squatting like that. I wiped myself and got back into bed. My mind wandered. I touched my anus, still feeling a bit greasy. I touched my other place. I started rubbing.

The door opened, and there stood Frau Beyer. My hand moved quickly away from my midsection, so quickly she could not miss seeing the movement. In fact, I later reasoned that if I had just left it there and acted natural, she might not have noticed my activity. However, my gesture, and my demeanor betrayed my activity.

“Sorry to intrude, Maria. I think I left a pen somewhere there.”

Frau Beyer found her pen in the bag, where she had dropped it without thinking. I was still dumbfounded, looking at her in shame and bewilderment.

“Maria. What’s the matter? You look like you’ve seen a ghost or something.

— It’s just that… Well…

— What’s the big deal? I entered without knocking and saw you touching yourself. That’s not the end of the world.

— It’s just that… well this is not something one should do.

— Who said so?

— My mother.”

The dam broke out. I needed to tell her.

“When I was 13, she walked on me and caught me doing it. She was furious. She said this was wicked and that if she saw me again doing it she would spank me with the carpet-beater.

— Well I don’t think it’s appropriate to beat a girl with a carpet-beater for that. It’s not harming anybody.

— Mom used to say this place should be touched only for wiping and washing.”

Frau Beyer looked at me kindly. “I’m so sorry for you. Masturbation is not wrong. Many women do it, including myself.”

I relaxed. She made it sound so natural.

“Though, if I can give some advice, it can be more pleasurable if done by the appropriate person.

— What do you mean? You don’t mean that…

— I just mean that if you prefer so, I can provide you with this service. You are tired, and a good orgasm would put you to sleep.”

I was astonished that she should talk so freely and naturally about such things and propose such a service. It went against all my upbringing. I must have looked completely silly, for she had a little giggle.

“Did I shock you?

— No… er well yes. I just… I’m not used to such things.”

She sat next to me and gently put her hand on my breast.

“There is a first time for everything. Do you want me to lend a hand?”

I did not know what I was doing. “Yes.”

She pulled my bed covers off. I had not had the time to rearrange my below clothing. Her hand touched my pubis. I parted my legs. I could not believe what I was doing. Her fingers reached my little “lump” (by searching in anatomical charts, I had discovered it was the “clitoris”, but in my mind it was still the “lump”). Her other hand went under my clothing, to my breasts. She started to gently masturbate me.

This was an exhilarating experience. Her fingers were playing with me, teasing my knob and my folds. I felt a finger at my opening, the one in which my mother had told me not to insert anything. I tensed, squeezed my legs.

“Did I do something wrong? Did it hurt?

— No it’s just that… I mean, not in that place, please.

— Just as you want, little one.”

Her fingers went back to the more familiar territory of the little “knob”. I relaxed. I closed my eyes. She knew really well how to do it. I climaxed. She tucked me in for the night.