Lori tells another story to Christine T.

It was 1979 during the Fall semester of our junior year at a large state university. There were five of us living in the suite and having roomed together the previous year were all good friends. My name is Lori and I distinctly remember the Wednesday night when we spent a couple of hours in Barbara and Joanne's room studying for the psychology midterm that would occur first thing on Thursday morning. We'd covered everything in the first half of the book and were all getting pretty tired.

"I don't think more studying will help any of us. Anyone want to join me in a cup of tea?" asked Joanne.

"Thanks, I will," I replied.

"Not for me," said Barbara going over to her closet, "I think I'll go shower and wash my hair so I don't have to do it in the morning."

Joanne put a small pot of water on the hot plate to make our tea as I collected my notebook, text and old psych quizzes. Meanwhile Barbara had taken off her sweatshirt, jeans and brassiere, put on her terry bathrobe and was busy collecting the things she'd need for the bathroom. As was the practice in those days, we used a child's plastic beach bucket to both store and carry such things as toothpaste, shampoo, crËme rinse, hair brush and curlers. Barbara had hers out, but had also taken a towel off its rack and had gotten out her red combination syringe and a packet of douche powder, too.

"Looks like you're going to be a while," I said jokingly.

"My friend left this morning and I thought it might be pleasant to feel fresh," she said referring to a popular euphemism, a visit from my friend, for having her period.

"Mine's about due," I said. "I just hope it's not in the middle of tomorrow's midterm, but it always seems like I have it when there's something going on. It just never fails."

"I think we all feel that way sometimes," replied Barbara taking her things and heading out the door and towards the bathroom that the residents of the suite shared.

"Every time I seen Barbara with that red combination syringe I cringe," said Joanne. "It's not at all discreet, but then again I'm not so sure she's the type who cares."

"Every time I see her with it I can only remember that my mom has one just like it, except my sisters and I were given enemas from it."

"Oh, yea, I remember those days, too. My mom still has a red enema bag just like it. Up until a few years ago she'd keep it hanging on the back of the bathroom door. My brother and I were no strangers to it either," Joanne said giggling perhaps just a little nervously at the candor of our conversation. Neither of us had ever brought up the topic of enemas before.

"I was never all that enthusiastic about getting one, but I never gave Mom any trouble about it either. She'd always tell me that she thought I might need a good cleaning out. I'm not sure she ever used the word enema."

"My mom did, except she'd always tell me, 'Joanne, how about a nice little enema tonight?' Not only wasn't it little, but I also didn't have the choice that her question seemed to suggest. It was almost like telling me to be ready to be called into the bathroom in a few minutes."

"I think all moms know to do the same things. I'd get called to the bathroom and didn't even have to be told to lie over her lap. Moments later, she'd lift my nightshirt above my waist, put some Vaseline up my bottom, and insert the nozzle."

"When I'd go into the bathroom all I could smell was Ivory soap, too. My mom would tell me 'take nice deep breaths,' but the worst part was not taking it, but holding it until she'd let me go. She seemed to know when I had reached a point when I probably couldn't hold it another second."

I thought about what Joanne had just said and she was absolutely right. But I'd also remembered that I'd gotten a couple as a teenager, too. "How old were you when you got your last from your mom?" I asked taking another sip of my tea.

"Oh, I don't know, maybe 15. I do remember that by then I was too big to lie over her lap so she put lots of towels on my bed and gave it to me there. How old were you?"

"It wasn't that long ago. I was a junior in high school and had gotten real sick over the winter. One afternoon I was in bed and she came into my room with the full enema bag and informed me that she thought it would be good for me if I got one of her good cleanings out. As much as I didn't enjoy it at the time, she was also probably right about my needing one."

"I know that I hate to admit it now, but I have always felt better afterwards," said Joanne.

"But I've outgrown getting an enema," I volunteered. "Now when I feel that I need some help going to the bathroom I take a laxative."

"I'm not so sure that they're such a good idea. You never know when they're going to work. I tried one a couple of times and hit me right in the middle of my eight o'clock class."

"I have had that happen, too, and it's not fun as well as being embarrassing. The problem right now is that the one I took yesterday didn't work. So I guess I'm going to have to take some more tonight."

"You could give yourself a small enema. After all, that's what I do on occasion."

"Oh, my gosh. You do? I don't think that I . . . Well, you know. . . could do that! Besides I don't have an enema bag."

"Sure you do. I even remember when you first bought it and we all came into the bathroom to cheer you on."

"Oh, you mean my douche bag?"

"Well, duh! Of course. Didn't you find that other nozzle that came with it? The smaller one?"

We'd been talking back and forth for some time. Joanne had not yet completely sold me the idea of the enema, but I silently admitted to myself that it probably was sounding better than getting attacked by the laxative in the middle of tomorrow's midterm exam. Moments later Barbara came back to the room dressed in her robe with a towel around her head carrying all of her toilet articles.

"I thought you two were done studying?"

"We were," said Joanne gently snickering, "But we just couldn't help remembering some growing up experiences after you left with your red bag."

Barbara laughed, too. "I think we all had some of those. I know I did."

"Well," Joanne now volunteered much to my embarrassment, "I think Lori might be at one of those times when she needs some extra help."

"That doesn't sound like much a problem. If you want, Lori, I'm sure Joanne and I could give you an enema tonight before you go to bed. What do you say, Joanne? It wouldn't take but a few minutes."

"Gee, I don't know guys. It's getting late and . . ."

"Don't be dumb about this, Lori. You know there's a good chance that if you take some more laxative that it'll decide to work at exactly the wrong time. Go change into your robe and get your bag out. We'll see you in the bathroom in five minutes."

"Oh, God. I just can't believe this. Whatever you do, don't tell the others in the suite. I remember how embarrassing it was when you helped me douche that first time."

"Don't worry about it. Besides, that first time worked out pretty good, too. Didn't it? We're all good friends and there's no secrets here. Right?"

I said a rather quiet and half-hearted, "Right," and headed across the lounge to my room where I got totally undressed and put on my robe. I knew my pulse quickened as I went to the bottom drawer of my dresser and got out the little plaid waterproof pouch that contained my douche bag. I never would have guessed that when I bought it last semester that I'd be taking an enema with it now. I took a deep breath to bolster my courage, left my room and went into the bathroom where I wasn't that surprised to find Joanne and Barb waiting for me.

Barb put the stopper in and then ran warm water into one of the sinks. As I removed and assembled my bag, I saw Joanne take a bar of Ivory and swish it around in the bowl of warm water. The nervousness of my younger years returned to the pit of my stomach when I attached the rectal pipe instead of the vaginal one to the end of the hose. Barb took the bag from me, submerged it in the full sink and when she took it out I could see it was about two-thirds full.

"Isn't that an awful lot!?" I half exclaimed and half asked.

"No, I think it looks just about right. That's about how much I take," answered Barb with more of her typical directness.

"Where do you think we should do this?" asked Joanne looking around the bathroom but not finding a suitable place.

"No, not in here! What if someone comes in?" I protested.

"Let's go back to Lori's room and we'll use her bed," suggested Barb. Moments later the three of us were back in my room where Joanne took two of my bath towels and spread them out on my bed.

"I think we're ready. Are you, Lori? Lie down and leave the rest to us."

I did like I was told and it reminded me of those times when my mom used to give me enemas growing up. Joanne stood next to the bed holding my bulging amber syringe while Barb took some Vaseline from the jar on my dresser and coated the nozzle. Next she raised my robe above my waist and I could feel her gently insert the nozzle into my exposed bottom. Gosh, but this was embarrassing.

"OK, Lori. Are you all ready for this? Let us know if anything hurts you," said Barb.

I instinctively knew what would happen next and my thoughts were confirmed by that distinctive metal snap noise that I'd heard before. The warm, soapy enema began flowing into me and out of the corner of my eye I could see Joanne standing there holding what appeared to by my still very full douche bag. My suitemates, much to my surprise, must have known what they were doing because it didn't hurt at all although after a few minutes I did start to get a sensation of fullness.

"Lori, are you OK? You haven't said a word," inquired Joanne.

"I'm fine. Really. I guess I'm even a bit surprised how well this seems to be going. It's not the least bit unpleasant."

"You've done just fine. Can you believe that it's done already," said Barb snapping shut the clamp and taking the nozzle out of me. "The bathroom might be just next door, but you might want to think about heading that way now."

I didn't need to be reminded to do that, so I got up, retied the belt to my robe, promptly headed for the bathroom and went into one of the stalls and closed the door. No sooner had I lifted the robe and sat down when the first wave hit me. Out came a torrent containing some of the enema along with some of what had been keeping me bound up. It was a wonderful relief, but then came two more big waves of yet even more material that had been made much softer by the warm, soapy enema. I was really feeling better now, but the smell that I'd created in the bathroom was not the least pleasant to say the very least.

Moments later, Kathy, one of our other suitemates came in and exclaimed, "What is that awful smell in here?" Much to my chagrin, Joanne and Barb didn't waste any time telling her that they'd just given me an enema and why.

"Are you OK, Lori?" she called.

"Oh, Kathy, I'm so sorry," I said.

"By the smell of things in here, I hope you're feeling lots better," snickered Kathy, "But don't worry you're not the first to take an enema in this suite and I'm sure you won't be the last either."

After I finished up and left the stall, Joanne handed me back my syringe that she and Barb and had cleaned up and put back into its pouch. "Thanks, guys, you were right. I do feel lots better."

"Don't say we didn't tell you so. Hey, any time," they chorused before breaking out in giggles. "Everyone can use a little help now and then. This was just your time."

I went back into my room, returned the syringe to my bottom dresser drawer and changed into my pajamas. That night I had a good nights sleep and when I got up I found that my period had arrived during the night. "Sure, I just knew it had to. Just in time for the midterm," I thought to myself as I raised my right leg onto the end of the bed, spread the lips of my vagina and inserted a tampon. "At least I'm not going to have to leave the exam to go to the bathroom," came my next thought.

The exam went fine and I got a 97 on it. Joanne, who was standing next to me reading the grades the professor had posted on the door to his office, only got a 93. "I see that the extra help I got the night before really helped. Maybe you should have gotten some, too," I said to Joanne with a devilish giggle. The two of us just broke up laughing before turning and heading to our next class.

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