Arizona Highways, Part 1 — An Irish Rose in a Mexican Salsa

by CeeCee Mom

A remembrance here, back to a time and place so far away from my world today yet a turning point an opening into who I am in many varied ways. It was the summer of 1982 and I was about to cross one of those critical bench marks we all set for ourselves as youngsters. In the fall I would be entering Jr. High, no more grade school, this was Jr. High. After 7 years of working myself, along with others in my age group to the top of the hill the 6th grade I had now done all there was to do. Again I would be at the bottom and would begin the long slow climb up. To look at me you would not imagine I was to be among the elite yet perilous group yet. I looked much more like a 5th grader, at least in my own mind, a painfully skinny awkward little wisp still. Looking back at my old photos I see myself, probably 4'10" and 65 pounds soaking wet. My walnut-sized tities sporting a training bra only because my mother felt the need for modesty on my part. I can recall standing in front of my bedroom mirror searching in vane for some sign of pubic bluster to begin, and when I would find the odd hair I would count it and mentally mark her place like putting together a jigsaw puzzle and then search for the next piece.

I grew up in Southern California in what was then a still somewhat backward ugly little town. I guess in today’s words you would call in the Barrio. I was a mossy brown-haired girl of Irish decent in a town probably half Hispanic and half poor white many-perhaps refuges from the Great Depression Dust Bowl migrations and those who came to California during and after WWII for the war jobs. I guess from earliest childhood I have always had an affinity and even a love for what I then just called Mexicans. Even today I bristle at the blind prejudice we “whites” show for these loving family-oriented people.

When I was about 9 I became fast friends with two Mexican American sisters, Daniella who was a year older than me and her sister Frederica a year my junior. They were on the outside tough girls showing an almost male machismo I suppose to protect themselves. I’m not even sure then why they befriended me, perhaps the sensed that I was not like the other “Soches” a derivate slang for Socials that we called the “Upper Class” white kids.

They were like my body guards, something I was usually in need of it seemed. There dad was like a father to me, my parents had been divorced for several years but even when we were in one household my dad was a lonely broken aloof man. I think that Daniella and Frederica’s dad had wanted boys but he had girls, but he was devoted and loving even if treating them as sons. When I first met him I was on my best behavior but he quickly let me know that I was to always address him as “Sir”, I loved the strong sense of pride and self he showed in this. He quickly adopted me as his own taking with the girls on fishing trips and even vacations in the summer to visit family members in Arizona and the border towns of Mexico. But all was not bliss even in this loving family, the girls had a little cousin Carlotta, an awful mean little jumping bean of a girl 2 years my junior. She hated the gringo girl that always was hanging about, I suppose getting attention for her cousin’s and uncle that she felt should be reserved only for familial. Despite being best of friends with Daniella and Frederica as kids will do, they delighted in my consternation constantly it seems setting me up for a confrontation with Carlotta — the Bean — as they called her.

This was the only time my body guards did not protect me; they seemed to delight in watching me be pushed to the ground and pummeled, poked and teased by the impish but fiery tempered Carlotta.

The most traumatic moment of many during my young life happened on a summer night when I was 11. In the sprawling back yard of girl’s home among the chicken coops and random junk piles, or “merchandise lots” as Sir used to call them, was an old tiny Airstream trailer probably vintage 1950s that we were allowed to use as a club house and even sleep in on warm summer nights. Daniella, Frederica and I were in there on such a night playing some sort of board game, Risk I think. Now despite my shy nature and size I was extremely competitive in games and would so often beat my two friends so much so, that I knew sometimes they would gang up on me just to get me out first. As kids do we did fight and argue a great deal over such things. One this particular night I had probably beaten them several times before they had enough and ganged up on me once again. I was both furious, I still have that Irish temper, yet so immature and went into some sort of infantile pout in the corner.

I was still steaming arms across my chest my face red and looking daggers when to make matters worse in popped Carlotta, her joy was immediate as she quickly surmised my distress and began to harass me. Fortunately, I thought, Daniella and Frederica seemed to take pity and told her to shut up. They coaxed me out of my corner and suggested, somewhat sarcastically that since I couldn’t beat them I could at least beat the Bean; the result was only to make Carlotta furious. It was obvious that they took delight in also working on her hot tempered emotions. The challenge was another game, a quick game of cards — Go Fish — the winner would play the girls and the looser pay some sort of penalty to be decided my drawing a card from the penalty pile. Daniella and Frederica quickly scrawled some penalties on slips of paper and tossed them in a hat, I swallowed hard imagining what sort of evil thing one of us would have to do. In the past I have had to eat chicken poop, eat a Mexican Cherry (not as sexy as it sounds) a Mexican Cherry is a chilly pepper so hot that even to lick it will send you into spastic fire eating contortions.

But my will to win and the thought that it would be the snot Carlotta to do it left me very confident. Well to move the tale along I lost, even today I sense that the girls were secretly signaling my cards to Carlotta as at least one of them was behind me. Defeated and ready for my dreadful assault on my taste buds I dipped my hand into the hat and drew my card. Unfolding the paper I kept reading it over and over again, my face getting whiter if that was possible as I read and reread the card. Finally anger and embarrassed beyond words all I could do was look up at them and yell.

"No, No, No way!! You are freaking sick you guys." I turned to rush from the club house and into the safety of the warm summer night, my house was only a block away, but I never made it even to the door 4 hands on my skinny legs, kicking and crying I yelled. NO I won’t, that’s nasty and in between sobs disgusting!!! They laughed and mocked me in my plight. Baby, baby, baby gringa, then we gonna help you gringa. Clutching the paper in my hand I would have swallowed the foul words if I could at least hide sentence.

“Strip and finger bang.” So crude so awful. “Strip and finger bang.” I was so distressed that I don’t even remember much of the jumble of evil hands on me, just the frightful feeling of being exposed and shame as one by one I felt myself being stripped.

Laying naked and sobbing on the hard tile floor I felt myself being turned over, my flat chest and tiny dime-sized nipples for all to see. Then looking up in a daze, my legs held wide apart, my captors I felt as burning coals 3 sets of eyes looking between my legs. My bare coochia exposed my lips seen by none save my mother or the occasional doctor spread into a shameful open chasm. Ironically the softest eyes in the group seem to come from my nemesis Carlotta; perhaps in her own mind she too sensed my shame. I could see her biting her lower lip yet unable to turn away even so.

"Get her hand Bean," called out Daniella. Carlotta hesitated, "Get her hand chica or you’re next," again Daniella demanded. Fearing to be in my position as well I’m sure, she scooted from the little bed as the end of the trailer where only minutes before we had played harmless cards and grabbed my hand, almost gently. "Now make her bang hurry up she is trying to kick me."

I tried to make my arm stiff but to no avail. Little Bean took my fingers and pushed them into my secret girlhood. I was dry as a bone and wailed, I think sensing this Frederica also softening said, "It’s gonna hurt man she is like all dry I think." Daniella laughed, "Ya no fun that way — lick her fingers Bean." Carlotta looked as if she was the one on the floor now, "Uh ahh shit no Daniella." "DO IT now!!" Daniella demanded and with that I felt the soft almost careful tongue of Carlotta begin to coat my fingers. Despite myself I could not help but somewhere deep inside enjoy a moment of softness. Then I felt myself relax ever so slightly as my hand was forced between my own legs, her palm and fingers on top of my own. I felt her push my reluctant digits into my virgin lips. A whimper and a moan and I began to feel against my will, but still felt myself moisten to the touch of both myself and another’s hands, the hands of another girl. She was doing something so secretive and private to me yet in front of my supposed best friends.

Now almost as if in some different world entirely, I began with Bean’s help to allow myself to masturbate, I was I’m sure sweaty and feverish as our mutual fingers danced and became one hand one mind even perhaps in their erotic little jig. The room became quite I heard only my own breathing my eyes closed. Funny the only sounds I recall were crickets making their own love calls and an ever so soft, "Wow, wow Cees," she had never called me by my name before, now she almost whispered it to me.