The first thing Claire-Ysabel did, with her little roommate, was fill the sink for him. Using as even a mixture of hot and cold water, as possible. And, then, floating one of the pancake-thin bars of complementary soap on top of the water. When that had been accomplished, she gently placed Hank within the water. And, she could not help smiling to herself as she watched him swim toward the soap. The way he threw himself on top of it (in order to get properly lathered up) partially reminded her of the way she had launched herself on to one of the floating lounge chairs in the motel swimming pool, yesterday morning.
Yet, it also partially resembled an attempt to sexually gratify himself with the soap! Especially, in light of the way he grunted with each physical effort to pull himself up!! Finally, however, Hank signaled that he was ready to be withdrawn from the water. So, Claire-Ysabel gently lowered her left hand, palm up, and scooped him out.
After handing him a white terry-cloth washcloth, to dry himself off with, she instructed him to remain right there on top of the sink.
"It's my turn to shower, now, and I don't want you playing 'Sir Edmund Hilary,' out here."
Hank jumped to attention, and snapped a salute.
"Oui, mon capitan!"
Claire-Ysabel giggled. Not so much for the squeaky-voiced way he had replied. But, because the physical motion had made his little manhood sway back and forth like the bell over the front door of her grandfather's bait shop, back home!
For the next five minutes, however, all was quiet within the bathroom as Hank gazed raptly at the curvaceous silhouette behind the translucent white rubber bath curtain. His lowered jaw the only thing making his facial expression different from the stone faces of Mount Rushmore.
Indeed, the only thing that snapped him out of his stupor was when Claire-Ysabel smilingly asked him (as she wrapped a legitimate towel around herself): "Like what you see?"
"Y-Y-Y-Y-Y-Y-Yes," he finally managed to stutter aloud.
"Good!" she exclaimed: "Because, like it or not, you're gonna have to return to my decollete' after I get dressed. The girls and I will have to rush through breakfast, as it is, if we're to rendezvous with the rest of the band at the Snodgrass Field House on time."
Needless to say, Hank McGee had no complaints about once more being ensconced within the cleavage of her ample bosom. In fact, he just plain loved it! He loved it slightly less, however, when he found out that his benefactress would initially be wearing a sweat suit and T-shirt. This meant he would not be able to see the rest of the LSU Golden Girls.
On the other hand; the breakfast for each one of these lovely young ladies consisted of granola bars and herbal tea. With Claire-Ysabel sneaking an occasional tea-dampened crumb of hers to Little Hank. And, at his present size, each granola crumb was the size of an apple! So, his own hunger and thirst was soon quenched.
Half an hour later, the Golden Girls returned to the Visting Girls' Locker Room at the Snodgrass Field House. All set to march to the TTMC football stadium in support of their team. And, it was only with the strongest generation of willpower that Hank kept his hands from massaging his manhood as he watched the Golden Girls get dressed into their costumes.
Nor did any of them fail to notice this, and proceed to dress all the slower, accordingly!
Finally, though, their change of clothes was completed. Whereupon, they marched outside and lined up, in two rows of eight, in front of the Marching Tigers. After which, the drum major blew his whistle. Fifteen minutes later, the Golden Girls made their way into the stadium. Followed by the band, the football team, and the cheerleaders.
Twenty minutes after that, however, the customary coin-toss, between the team captains, was interrupted by the ground starting to shake. Loudly, violently, and rhythmically!
Dorothy Sloan had arrived.