| Ghost Slayer There are some things that get buried in the mind never to reappear. Many of these are trivialities, but some are traumas, too disturbing to make it back to the surface. We all have some of these, and I am no exception. I am 35 years old, a senior technical officer at a major hospital, living a reasonably well-adjusted life, and until last week had no memory of an incident that happened when I was about five. I've had a few relationships, been married once, and come to the conclusion that men are just not worth the effort. I certainly understood their drives, in theory at least, but having to cope with the pungent smell of semen 24/7 (which, even after showering, seemed to be present) proved to be too much. They invariably called me the ice princess, or worse, which really did show me the total power their sex drive had over them. Apart from that, of course, there was lots going for them, and we did have some great times – but not enough to compensate for the testosterone. I'm not much into porno, as most of it is disgusting and demeaning, but one thing that does turn me on are pics or clips of little girls. I know that that sounds aberrant to many people, but watching the joy of innocence, of naughty complicity, of their practical jokes puts a smile on my face and a heat in my cunt. I can diddle away happily time after time with no shame whatsoever. If they're being exploited for my pleasure I don't know and don't care, but it never seems like they are, and I have learnt how to tell the good sites from the bad and the likely rewarding titles. There's a great search engine, (I'm not saying which), and I rarely leave my downloads on the computer. Anyway women never seem to get caught up in the anti-porno sweeps you read about. The latest downloads were mostly stuff I already had, but one was new. A four or five year old blond cherub wearing a pink nightie was smiling into the camera, her big brown eyes holding a hint of mischief. Someone says something, and with a bit of a giggle she hitches her nightie up and opens her legs. The camera pans in to the pristine lips, which she proceeds to explore and play with. It's beautifully done, a little light music in the background, and I feel myself getting wet. She grins at the camera again and leans back, stretching out on what is now seen to be a small bed. The camera remains on her cunt, and presently an adult forefinger is seen stroking the lips and then sliding inside. Another finger joins in and parts the lips, until the entrance to her vagina is revealed. A tongue, presumably from the owner of the fingers, then begins to lick the tiny cunt. The girl remains still until the clip, about three minutes long, fades. There's more than eroticism in this, there's a kind of compulsion, and I know I'm going to watch this again and again. Diddle-me-re indeed. * The following day one of my newer assistants came into my office and sat. I have never had a formal protocol about access, as mostly we need to deal with urgent problems such as fixing a micro infuser or calibrating the ECGs, and formality doesn't speed up the work. "Hi, Jess, help you?" "Um, well, I hope so. It's a bit of a personal thing, so if you want me to come in later...?" Later, in my experience, was always too late, so I pushed aside a pile of charts that would distract me and said, "So tell me." "Our house is being renovated – pulled apart, really, and we have to find somewhere to stay for a while. Mum and Dad are going to his sister's place, but it's about a two hour drive and too far for either me or my sister Rena. She's still in grade five, so I need to be with her, but the real problem is that we can't afford to stay in a motel for that long, about two weeks." "Uh huh." "And anyway, we hate motels. And, well, Bernie mentioned that she had stayed with you when her marriage broke up, so I wondered if... well, you know." Jesus. I'm happiest on my own. Jess, however, was proving to be one of the best junior techs I'd ever had. Her CV had been ordinary, but what had sold me was her hobby: building and competitively flying model aircraft. They were the kind of skills a PhD didn't give you, and competition was a necessary survival thing. Even so, I had to think long and hard. My hobby was drawing, but my pastime might be awkward. She took my silence as encouraging – I don't know why – because she went on, "We'd pay you, of course, and promise not to be obtrusive or bothersome. We're not into wild parties or loud music, so -" I held up my hand. "Two weeks? No problem. God knows there's room enough – you can have the top floor, self-contained, there's no lift, and you'll have to put up with my junk. When do you want to come?" "Um – tomorrow?" Jesus again. Fuck, I'd have to clean up tonight. Tomorrow was Saturday, my half day at the gym, and my cooking day. "Can you be there by nine?" "Yes! Oh, thank you, Betsy, thank you. Shit, I'm so relieved." I took the spare key to my apartment off my key ring and handed it to her, telling her the address. "Probably be asleep if you're early, so don't lose that." "No way." She was shortish and plump. Jiggly, my mother would have said, boobs that bounced. Frizzy black hair, bright blue eyes that could see inside sealed equipment, and a mouth. Soon after she started I heard her say on the phone, "You want that fixed, you fucking bring it here. We do not run a pickup service." "Who was that?" I asked casually. "Some stupid fucking doctor. Name of Holloway. Wants his thing fixed now." Well, so much for internal good relationships. He is the senior surgeon, but I said nothing. If he blew a stack it might just do him some good. Or her. The move in went smoothly, so far as I know. By the time I surfaced at eight thirty they were there, my only clues being the sound of cases being opened or shut and a few muffled words. "Hullo," I called, "everything OK?" Jess's face appeared at the top of the stairs. "Hi, yep, nearly finished. Forgot to ask – how do we arrange the chores and stuff?" That was soon dealt with; we shared the kitchen, the cooking, cleaning and shopping. We ate together if we wanted, which, that morning we did. Rena, Jess's sister, was only ten, but already showing the impact the family genes were having on her development. It might only be puppy fat, but the protuberances showing beneath her cotton T shirt could not be missed, and I had to make several conscious efforts to look away. They were emphasized by her otherwise slim build, her long brown hair and eyes that were a mix of blue and green. Where Jess was bright and pleasant, Rena was simply beautiful. No doubt genes were at work there as well, but they had come together in a rare confluence of near perfection. And if Jess had the mouth, Rena had the art of conversation. I'm sure there was a bit of showing off, but her agile mind kept pace with anything said. Sure, Jess was nineteen, but Rena had all the poise one could expect from an older person – and there were no flies to be seen, no feet in the mouth from either of them. When the doorbell rang I was still not dressed, suddenly panicky for no real reason, and up and to the door like a shot. "This is my friend Enice," I told my guests, "she and I have been going to gym for a couple of years now, and," turning to her, "Sorry for being late." I introduced Jess and Rena and sped off to get changed. Yes, we had been friends for that long, and more than friends for nearly that long. Enice is one of those people you either hate or love. She's tall, thin, commanding and opinionated. She's chief of human resources (what a hoot that is) at a large corporation, and the best lover anyone could wish for. I said goodbye, climbed into her car, and grinned. One look at those taught thighs with loose shorts coming two inches below her crotch and I was not just wet, I was oozing. "Sexy young girl, isn't she?" "She's my new assistant." "No, not her, her sister. Hot, baby, hot. I'm wet just thinking about her. Bet you are too. She's looking for it, you know. Those lips. Wow. Reckon it's time to take you up on that offer, shift in with you. Always fancied a foursome. And we aint got boobs like that assistant of yours, not if we pooled our resources. Bet she's so hot I'd melt." Enice has a husband, no kids. Her excuse is that he was a corporate necessity, and that could be true, but he was not cut out to deal with her type. On the few occasions we have met there has been a glaze of shock in the eyes. Maybe desperation, but whatever, he's the face of respectability for her. "What about Bozo?" She snorted. "There's something else, though. Haven't had a chance to tell you, but I'm now a board member." She saw my puzzlement so went on, "That's like being invited to have dinner with Rupert Murdoch. Power; Influence; Kudos. And nice bonuses. Best of all, I'm a mile ahead of Bozo, because theoretically I could sack him. He's only the fucking production manager." "How the hell did you manage that?" I was astounded. She's a year older than me, thirty six, with a BA and drive, but the board? Shit, this was a multinational. "Listen, Bett, my tender love, God gave us cunts to have more than children with, he made them so we could avenge the bad press that Eve got, by fucking the right people. The right guys, those at the top, of course." "Just guys? How about us gals at the top?" "Oh, you better believe. Jeez, I love our workouts." She rubbed her hand up my thigh as she drove. We had begun by going to a regular gymnasium, but when we got sprung smooching in the property room we decided we needed our own place. On Saturdays it was her home gym, replete with the equipment any gym (or bordello) would be proud of. On public holidays it was my place, replete with nothing more than my collection of little girls on disc and some very comfortable furnishings. As my mind flashed onto that I nearly brought my coffee and toast back to the light of day. "Oh, fuck. Jesus Christ, what have I done?" There was no reply, as my multi-talented driver was at that moment working her way to an exit ramp on the 'free-flowing'(read 90% stationary) freeway. Jess and Rena were now ensconced in the three rooms on the top floor of my apartment. Room one was the bedroom, en-suite attached; room two a lounge, room three my recreation room. OK, everything was put away – I'm a tidy person – except my computer, and on that, waiting for my second look, was a clip. 'No, no,' I thought, 'they're not snoopers.' Except I knew that ten-year-old girls were. I had been. But that worry was soon subsumed in my appetite for sex. Nothing in two years had reduced the intensity of what we did, although the order we did it in had changed. This time there was no gentle preliminaries, no fumblings, but straight into our beloved 69. No matter what anyone says, having a tongue inside your cunt while your mouth sucks hard on the same, as you do just that to your lover has no equal. The smell, the taste, the sounds that are impossible to hold back, the hands that grope, pull, pinch, slap and stroke - all combine to fly us to nirvana, the only black box flight recorder being in our minds. But then I hardly have to tell you that, do I? We never count orgasms - it would be pointless - but we were sated after thirty minutes, so time for a rum punch, our favourite post-coital relaxer. Fifteen minutes later we were into double penile dildos, but as sometimes happens their magic was drab, so we showered, dried ourselves and lay back on the bed and looked at each other. I do not know what love is, but whatever we have is near enough. They say it happens when two people complete each other, the Yin-Yang of Chinese philosophy, the dark female negative and the bright male positive coming together. In our case the balance is pretty close to absolute. I think. Enice and I love each other. It's that simple. So why do I need my film clips? 2 I rang home before I left our trysting place and asked Jess if they would like me to bring home Chinese for lunch. They would. They'd tidied, made up beds, studied (Rena), and begun repairing a damaged model plane (Jess). They were chatty, glad of the food, Jess wanting to talk shop, but somehow there was an undercurrent of hesitation or uncertainty. This became so noticeable that I said, "Is everything OK?" Silence, so I said, "OK, what's the matter?" Knowing full well what it was. Fuck it, they'd have to be privy to my perversion, and if they went off their heads so what. They needed to stay. And her job would go if they blabbed. Jess turned red, something I hadn't seen her do before. "Um, we had a bit of an accident," "...I messed up your computer." Rena blurted. "Oh, shit I'm so sorry, but, well, mine wasn't connected, so I went to yours. It was not right to do it, but, well, I have this project I wanted to finish, and..." She trailed off. I felt my face go the same way Jess's had. I also saw Rena watching me intently, and as I looked back into her eyes there was a glint of ten-year-old mischief. No upset, discombobulated tears, or embarrassed anger. Hmm.... "And?" "Well, you had- there was – I saw something – oh shit, you had a porno clip on it and I watched it. I couldn't help swallowing hard. "And?" Jess answered. "Oh, fuck, Bettina, we both watched it. And you might as well know we love each other, too. I know, I know, I should have told you, but we never imagined you'd find out. We're just a couple of sexy sisters, and the truth is our parents haven't moved away, our house is not being renovated, but we have had the riot act read to us when Mum's latest boyfriend found my stash of lesbo stuff. He's one of those old fashioned straights: 'women and men, men and women, and homos are bound for hell, ha ha.'" She sang it satirically and angrily. "So I spun you the story, then told Mum we loved each other and were moving out. It was a loud night. Mum is in shock, the live in has his pride backed up into the toilet bowl, and if there are repercussions I am truly and dreadfully sorry." Rena was still watching me, intent of discerning my reaction. Well, to coin a phrase, fuck me. I couldn't help smiling. When I said nothing, however, Rena asked, small voice uncertain, "You don't mind?" My smile grew broader. Jeez, I'm a tease. We looked at each other, the food getting cold, the coffee untouched, until Jess said conversationally, "You not married?" I shook my head. More silence, but I finally couldn't hold it in. My joy, mirth, happiness bubbled out in a laugh that just grew until I was sore. I held my sides, sucking in air. I couldn't stop. Jess, then Rena joined in. We finished up with me sitting on the table in the takeaways, an arm around each of them, Jess clinging to me, kissing me anywhere she could, her boobs squashing into my chest, Rena nuzzling my neck and rubbing my back as we continued to gurgle. "You... you lovely piece of tease," Jess spluttered. "And arse." I cuddled them tighter. Rena began to lick me. Oh, she was a good little kitten, all right. There'd be some cream for her later. And meat, lovely soft kitten-lickin' morsels. Well, all good things do come to an end sometime, and this was no exception. I slid off the table, spring rolls and honey chicken sticking to me like an edition of big bad food, prawn chips scattered, helpless and not caring. Jess fell on top of me, kissing and rubbing herself all over me, spreading the sweet and sour everywhere. I was trying to get up off the floor – with no success – when there was a loud hhmmm, guttural and girlish. I swivelled my head from under the curly black mop on top of me and saw Rena, and my sudden spurt of adrenaline was enough to send Jess off me onto the floor. "Hey!" But when Jess saw her sister too she bit her sentence off and whistled instead. The only thing the young goddess was wearing was, as Orphan Annie says, a smile. If she had appeared beautiful before, she was now beyond anything words could describe. I scrambled to my feet, mouth agape. Clothes and hands covered in smelly food, I reached out and gently touched her face. She didn't move, just kept looking at me and smiling. Without conscious decision I bent and kissed her lips, which parted slightly as I did. Soft, gentle lips that had the certainty of knowing innocence. After a moment her hand came and found mine, then guided it to one of her budding breasts. The feel of nubility under my hand was almost esoteric, although it brought back to my mind the pink nightdress. Both replete with budding newness. Ah me. Jess, my nineteen year old assistant, began to undo the zips and buttons that held my clothes in place. I had not worn a bra – they were for work – and I was soon naked except for the slime and grease left by the Chinese. Unbidden, my other hand found the apex, the soon-to-develop mound of pubis, and slid between her legs - which opened slightly to allow passage. Her hand descended to my own place, the frizzy blond pubic hair shaped, with great patience, to the universal sign for female, and without difficulty slid a finger or two up into my dripping cunt. Mine did the same to hers, possibly aided by the grease. Her indrawn breath made me look at her. Eyes shut, mouth open, panting and gasping, but, well tutored by sis, did not stop her finger fucking. Jess's hand began to massage my breast, while at the same time a finger from her other hand wormed its way into my anus and joined in the fuck music of her sister's. I had been enjoying the mind echo of the morning before this had begun, so, already primed, I could feel the surge building as my wonderful guests went at the pleasure of getting me off. I'm usually not so easy to bring to the boil, but because this new arousal was a pressure cooker happening, I blew after a few minutes. I never hear myself when I cum – sound seems to blank out – but I was aware of screaming, of shaking, and of crushing Rena against me before collapsing onto the floor, Rena following. She may have knocked the wind out of me, and herself, but we didn't complain. Jess sat down next to us and leant over so we both could see her face. She grinned, Jess did, and so did I. "Never had a threesome before," Jess whispered, "and aint it sumthin'"? "That was so beautiful," her sister said, looking at me with love in her eyes, "you carried me along with you, makes me wonder if I've ever had an orgasm before, it was so good." "Well, I flipped right over," I replied, "right into the land of lesbo, where only the best sex is found. And you were my guides, my transporters. And I agree, sometimes it's hard to remember how good climaxes have been, but this has to be a ten on a scale of five. You don't intend to return home, do you? Ever? You are beautiful, by the way." Jess jiggled the mammaries. "What, and leave these to moulder? Or have Rena constantly looking out for Mum? No, if it's OK, we'll stay, thank you." And to emphasise her point, she lay down next to me and began to suck my tits. They're a firm 14C, and they adore having that done to them. As Rena leant over to kiss me I again saw her little nubs, -well, not so little at all, more like duck eggs – so I pulled her to me and began to suck. I have never, in all my life, felt so glad I could. Ten? I didn't care. I sucked hard on the nipples, was rewarded with a little shriek, and sucked harder. I love nipples. We finally made it to bed. Mine's a king size, so we went there, all three sexy women. Rena was asleep first, Jess and I had a snuggling contest, but eventually Morpheus won. I dream quite frequently, and mostly remember them without knowing what the hell they mean. That night was no exception. I dreamt of a pink nightie (surprise, surprise,) and the girl wearing it. But I woke, heart pounding, drenched in sweat as the memory of that figure remained. Was I being told that this was wrong? Was it all wrong? I hoped not, because I was never going to stop. I might have been groaning or something, because Rena woke up and said sleepily, "Are you OK?" "Just a bad dream . Sorry. Go back to sleep." "Awful, aren't they." She leant over and kissed me. My idea of heaven.
3 I don't think we did anything the following day, Sunday, apart from Jess and I having a good old strap-on fuck while Rena used my vibrating round dildo before we sucked each other off, shared a spa, and probably cleaned up - my memory is a bit hazy, but there's never too much sex. I do know we went out to dinner and celebrated. And talked, Jess at her scatological best,("this fish is female. It's fucked"), me at my most quippish, Rena at her quick uptake. We had a hoot, and despite our age differences became friends – something not always the case with lovers, I believe. Rena was intriguing. I probed, wanting to find out how and how a sweet, beautiful, clever ten-year -old got hooked on lesbian sex. Between them they explained that their father was long gone, taking off with his secretary without a word; their mother had more or less got as many men into her bed as she could and to hell with the kids – there was a 16 y.o. brother at college – and that they had been left to their own devices. Jess had been raped by her boyfriend when she was fifteen, putting her off males in a very big way, but, being in need of both physical and mental love had seduced her sister. "It wasn't hard," that young woman said, "I was seven and so upset by what Mum was doing that Jess had taken her place in my mind. I worshipped her – still do – and when I saw how unhappy she was over Jason I kissed and cuddled her to make it all better. And, well, you know, it got better and better." She leant over and kissed her sister. "Horny." An elderly lady looked up, startled. We giggled. They wanted to know about my antecedents, so I told them that my parents had been divorced for many years – I didn't remember my dad, and he had never visited – my mother was a real sweetie, caring, worrying, and had shifted to a retirement unit in the sun. "She keeps in touch, but I see her about once a year. We're happiest that way." The phone was ringing as we walked in the door at home, and I managed to grab it before the machine cut in. It was Enice. "How's my hot baby?" she growled. I did my tiger growl back. "Like that, eh? I have news, but first – made progress with the boarders yet?" I growled again. "Mama been satisfied again, has she?" "The world is still spinning. Want to join in?" "Better believe it, but duty calls. I'm off tomorrow to the UK, slicing numbers at a new acquisition. Two, maybe three weeks. You'll be able to cope?" I pretended to be scolding someone. "No,Rena, not now, I'm on the phone. No, get your fingers out of there." Said girl looked up from making coffee, a puzzled frown, then a grin on her face. Then, into the phone, "I'll cope, but may not survive. How about you?" "Jesus, survive, my love. I'll be so horny when I get back. Just thinking about you will be spur enough to get me through this. Will the, um, others still be there?" "I reckon. Fancy a hot, hot ten-year-old?" "Good?" "Blow your brains through the ceiling. Big sis is also something else too. Think foursomes. Think me. Come home soon. Fingers up your cunt, my love." We rang off laughing. 4 When I awoke the next morning the black dog had visited. This was something so debilitating that I began to cry. 'Not now,' I thought. 'Not when everything is going so well.' It's a condition I've had since childhood, a form of depression that opens without warning, sucking me into its maw and not letting go. I had not experienced it for many years – in fact, not since I'd parted from my ex. It was not something I could dig myself out of, although in the past the well of blackness had eventually lifted of its own accord. Eventually was the word. This time it was totally unexpected, as I had been free for so long I thought I was over them for good I knew it was Monday, I knew I had to go to a meeting at the hospital, I knew – I knew I couldn't. The sisters had elected to sleep in their own bed; Rena would have to be driven to school, meaning a departure before 8 a.m., Jess was due at the hospital at 8.30, while I had made the rod of 8 am for my own back. More hanky-panky would have crimped the working day. I looked at the clock, which miserably told me it was 7.30. I cried some more, then turned over and shut out the day. It's a strange feeling, depression. Nothing is right, the worst is going to happen, then go on getting worse. By far the strangest is the feeling of utter helplessness, the inability to see the sun for the clouds. That source of life has departed, never to return. The only thing to do is give oneself over to it, roil in its embrace, and hibernate. Or contemplate suicide. The touch of a cool hand on my forehead let me know the nurse had arrived. That's what always happened when I was small, and I was relieved because she always had some medicine that made the despair become less. I smiled, though I did not open my eyes. The hand was replaced by lips, lips that brushed mine. This was not the nurse. I knew her smell, all antiseptic and lavender; this was pure, clean, and fresh. I opened my eyes. The eyes that met mine were blue and green, the face perfection, and then I knew my mother, devout woman that she had been, had summoned the angel of mercy to my side. That is, until she sat on the bed. I knew, absolutely, that angels have no weight, so I was wrong, and when she spoke I really did know. Rena. "Jess has gone to work. I was not feeling well, so she said I could stay here." Her voice was soft, melodious, and beautiful. "We thought you had left already, but when we saw the kitchen, we knew you hadn't. Jess was running late, so she went, and I came to see if you were all right. Are you?" I shook my head. "Sometimes I get like this," I whispered, "I get depressed. I don't know why. There are some tablets, but I don't have any. Perhaps if you call the doctor"- I trailed off. What was the use? She smiled and shook her head, then gently slid into the bed beside me. Her blue and white striped cotton nightie felt warm and comforting, and she rested her head on my shoulder. "I'm so happy," she said as she stroked my face, "it's a bit like heaven, being here. What I think that's like, anyway." She snuggled up to me and closed her eyes. I awoke two hours later. Rena was sitting on the edge of the bed reading. She looked around at the movement and smiled. "Hello." I couldn't help it, I smiled back. The black dog was curled up and fast asleep. "Can I ask you something?" I didn't dare answer in case the dog woke up. I nodded. "I found something of yours in a box. Hope you don't mind, but there's something else I did after that, and it's quite strange, what I think I found from that. If I'm right, it's not very nice, but can I tell you anyway?" Another nod. "I found some pictures of you when you were small. And one of them – well, can I show you?' This time I croaked, "Yes." She handed me a photo taken when I was about four or five. I was holding my dolly, one my gran had made, I think, and smiling into the camera. The writing on the back said 'Bettina, age 5.' A blond, blue eyed sweetie, happy and full of life. I didn't remember the occasion, but I did remember the photo. "You'll have to get up to see the rest. Can you do that?" I considered. Could I? Well, yes, but why? There was nothing worthwhile in life. I felt tears gather, but they were no match for ten-year-old eagerness. She whipped the bedclothes off, grabbed my hand and tugged. "Come on, Bette, I think I'm right. Oh – Jess rang to say she'd told your boss that you were ill, that you'd ring as soon as you could." Work. Oh, damn. Hardly worth while any more. She led me to my special room upstairs. I had not been in it since Friday. "It's on the computer. You sit, I'll show you." I did, and she pressed the mouse. The same clip began, the one that had got us together. That was great, but no more. I was worthless, and I did not want to look at that girl again. I closed my eyes. "No, look." Her voice was so beautiful that I did. There, on the screen, was the same little girl, hitching up her nightie. "Now look at this, and she put the photo in front of the image on the screen. "That's you, isn't it?' Dejected though it was, my mind had not stopped working. I shifted my gaze from one image to the other. There really was a similarity. Rena clicked again and the clip went back to the beginning. There I was, smiling into the camera. Same smile, same features, build and hair. I had to be me. I looked up. "Oh my god. Oh – my – god. It is me. Oh, fuck, how did this – oh, no. Oh - " "That's not all, Bette. Look down at the bottom of the screen. See the time of the clip?" I finally found what she was pointing at. "Six minutes four seconds. But the clip is only four forty, so there's more. This is what I did." She dragged the cursor along to the end of the clip – at least, what I had thought was the end of the clip – and let it play again. After about 15 seconds the scene reappeared, but instead of the tongue licking the cunt there was a penis, long, thick, hard and red, and it was pushing in past the tender lips of that girl. Of me. It went in and in, and there was a scream from the girl. From me. "Stop, daddy, stop, you're hurting me. Stop, please..." The scream turned to crying, the crying of a little girl raped, before the penis was withdrawn, leaving a pool of sticky semen at the entrance. The sobbing continued as the clip faded. I began to cry. Not from depression, but from an overwhelming feeling of betrayal, violation, and loss. How could he? How could he do that? Why hadn't I known? Why had my mother never told me? Worst of all, I was on the web. Anyone could see me. Anyone would think I'd been complicit, in the first part at least. I knew I had not been, could not have been. I felt Rena's arm go around my neck, her lips on my forehead, a hand stroke my hair. Her voice, that soft, angelic voice said in my ear, "It's all right, Bette, it's all right, I'm here, I love you, I care, it's all right. Shh, shh..." and she hugged me tightly. I don't know how long we were there, me sitting, she standing, comforting me, but in the end I was calm. Calm enough to look at her and smile. Enough to get her to sit on my knee, embrace her, and rock us back and forth. And, just as a broken limb heals or a cold gets better, I began to feel a sense of peace in my heart, a peace I also knew I had not had since that time. It's still happening, and I'm still in the hands of my ten-year-old therapist, gentle, empathetic and strong beyond her years. "No wonder you hated men," Jess said that night. "Or couldn't stand the smell of semen," I added. "Or that the awful ghost kept scaring you," Rena said. "You are my ghost slayer," I said as I kissed her. "Thank you." I still don't know what love really is, but I know that I was not upset by a phone call from Enice a couple of days later. "I had to call you, because something's happened that is devastating and unbelievable," she told me after the preliminary fencing. "I missed you so much that I allowed myself to be seduced by one of the managers here, and, well, I'm not sure how to put this, but I've fallen in love... again. I know that-" I broke in. "That's OK, my love, I understand. Love happens."
THE END |