| An Old Photograph, Part Four Caution to the female reader that this story does involve detailed contact with a male pedophile, but necessarily so. It does also involve a scene involving child abuse, not connected to the pedophilia. It is with realism and sensitivity that I wish to portray these themes, as they have basis in life. Was I dreaming? Or was it my mother who was dreaming? Was she dreaming of being a wonderful mother who could do no wrong? I woke up the next morning in my own bed. I did not remember going to bed. I must have fallen asleep in my mother's arms. I got up and went to the living room where my mother greeted me with a smile and an invitation to a bowl of cereal. We had to get ready fast, she said. I felt better. I had slept well, I ate a good breakfast, and then I took a nice bath. After my bath my mother sat me in front of her full-length mirror and brushed my long black hair with her long-handled wooden hairbrush. She wanted me to look perfect. She helped me on with my dress and socks and shoes and looked me up and down. "Oh, Lisa," my mother said proudly, "you look so beautiful." I smiled at her. "Thank you," I said. "Now, let me finish getting ready and we'll go, all right?" "OK," I said. While I sat and waited I decided that there was absolutely nothing that could happen at the picnic. Besides, I felt so wonderful now because my mother loved me and I reminded myself of that, and I was just going to stick by her side all day. On the ride, Mom played the radio and sang along with the songs, and she smiled at me, telling me how proud she was going to be to show off her pretty little girl to those stuffy bosses of B & S Tool and Die. It made me think of what Suzy said for a minute, but I really just wanted to enjoy Mom loving me. When we arrived in the woods and found the spot, we got out of the car and approached a large group of about twenty people already there. There were only a few kids, but I was glad about that. I really didn't want to hang out with other kids. "Well, Linda, good morning," a gray-haired man said. "Good morning, Frank," my Mom said. "How are you?" "I'm just fine," he replied, "and who is this you've brought with you?" "This is my lovely seven-year-old daughter, Lisa. Lisa, this is the big boss and the owner of our company, Mister Boorman." "Hello, sir," I said, reaching up my hand to meet his. "Well," he said, "aren't you pretty, and quite the young lady. How old are you?" "She'll be eight next month," my mom said, not giving me a chance to speak. As a matter of fact, other than saying Hello to my Mom's co-workers and other bosses, I wasn't allowed to say much to anyone. I just stayed at her side, looking around to see if Ray was there. He wasn't. My mom talked and talked and talked, all about work, stuff I knew nothing about. It seemed boring to me. I thought the idea of a picnic was to have fun. "Hey, Lisa," my mother said, "why don't you go play with the other kids? You don't want to hang on my arm all day, do you?" "OK," I said, and I walked away from her. The other kids were just as bored as I was. There was a boy about eleven and a girl about nine and a boy a year younger than me. "So," the oldest boy said, "big fun, huh?" "I guess," I said. "Yeah, I get dragged here every year and every year it gets worse. They used to have games, but now they don't have enough kids show up for that. You have a sister named Suzy, right?" "Yeah," I said. "I remember," he laughed. "She used to make fun of all of this. She was funny... and pretty. My name is Carl," he said, and then the sound of a car approaching distracted him and he looked and said, "No way! No way!" It was a beautiful yellow car, shaped very fancy and shining very bright in the sun. Even the wheels and the tires were fancy. I stepped back with the other kids to look at it, and I was smiling up at Carl and looking back at the car, and then, shielding my eyes from the sun with my hand, I saw the door open and Ray get out of the car. "Wow, mister," Carl said, "is that what I think it is?" While Carl talked to Ray about the car I turned away. I decided not to get upset. So he was there. It didn't mean anything. But I didn't want to be around him. I sort of inched away, eased away, moving toward the other adults. I would just sit at one of the picnic tables. "Hey, is that Lisa I see?" I stopped walking. I turned round to face him. He took off his sunglasses and smiled at me. "Good morning, sweetheart," he said. "How are you?" "I'm OK," I said. "My mom's over there." I pointed. "Oh," he said, approaching me. He put his arm around my shoulders, excusing himself from the other kids. "Listen, Lisa, workplace romances are a no-no, so we really can't talk about me and your mom being boyfriend and girlfriend, OK?" "OK," I said. "Did you..." he lowered his voice to a whisper, "keep our secret?" "Yes," I said, getting a little knot in my stomach. "Good girl." He left me. I shrugged... shrugged to get the feeling of his arm around me gone. I breathed in and out and rubbed my tummy. The knot went away. I turned and watched Ray join his bosses and co-workers. He seemed popular, like he was more than just a co-worker. He got everyone laughing, even the bosses. Of course, a few of them came over to see the car. I sat down at a picnic table. Carl came over and sat by me. "Are you OK?" "I'm fine." "How do you know him?" "Oh, he came to my house for a barbecue, that's all." "Oh, I see," Carl said. "He said he would give me a ride in the car pretty soon. I can't wait." "That's nice." I wandered back over by my Mom but she was talking it up about work again and I ended up back on the bench, leaning my chin on my fist. Carl came over in a hurry. Ray was right behind him. "Hey, Lisa, right?" he said. "He says you get the first ride. He says everyone gets to go as long as you go first." "I have to ask permission," I said. "Your mom said it was OK," Ray said. "I don't want to," I said. "It's OK. Just let the other kids..." "Come on, Lisa," Carl said. "Then we all get to go!" Ray leaned down by my side, taking my hand, putting his mouth to my ear. "Don't worry, Lisa," he said. "It's just a little ride." I got up. I looked at the other kids. I could not fight him. If I fought him, it would look strange. What kid wouldn't want a ride in a fancy car? I went along with him. I went to the car but I wasn't smiling. He opened the passenger's side and he buckled me in and he closed the door. He waved to the other kids. He got in, he buckled up and he started the car. "Don't be scared, Lisa," he said. "I'm not going to hurt you, OK?" He pulled out of the parking space slowly and eased down the road deeper into the woods. He hummed a little tune as he drove, and cracked his knuckles on the steering wheel. To this day, whenever I ride with someone who does these things, it sets my teeth on edge. "You look so sexy in that little dress," he said. "Did you pick that out or did your mom?" "My mom," I replied. "Mmmm," he nodded. "Good taste, Mommy. You know how to dress your little girl up nice and sexy, don't you, Linda?" He reached over with his right hand and stroked my knee, then moved up along my thigh until he was very close to my body. He reached over and did the same thing with the other thigh, then forced his hand between my legs. I allowed my legs to open. "Oh, yes," he said, "let me touch your little pussy. I'm getting so hard. Squeeze it for me, baby, will you?" Here I was again, only it was a car and not a bathroom. I was helpless. Why did I go with him? I felt so stupid. I reached out my little hand and felt around the front of his jeans. I felt it all right. Inside his jeans, it felt like a big rock fighting to get out. I squeezed the big lump and listened to him moan softly. Then he turned the wheel. "This looks like a good spot." He came to a stop, parked the car, and shut it off. He turned and smiled at me. He unbuckled me, unbuckled himself, then lifted himself up and pulled his pants down, underwear and all. He sat there looking at me, his pee-pee standing straight up. If memory serves, it must have been six inches or a little bit over, but to a little girl, that looked very big, and it was big around. "Well," he said, "you know what to do." I reached over from my sitting position and began to stroke it. He let me do that for a moment, and then he moved me so I was on my knees, sitting up, using my right hand. After that he started fondling me again. And this wasn't the bathroom. This was a car, far down the road from my mom. He took my panties down and stroked me gently with his finger. It felt good, but I didn't want it to feel good. "Will you lick it for me?" Ray asked. "What..." I looked up at him. "Lick my cock, sweetheart," he said. "It would feel so good." I looked at the big thing in my hand, the mushroom head and the big fat body. I didn't want my mouth anywhere near it. But I wanted this over. I wanted it done. I bent down and stuck out my tongue and began licking the head. It felt weird on my tongue. Ray urged me to keep going, he said it felt wonderful and he moaned, then he told me to suck on it. I just looked at him, like I hadn't heard him. "Please suck on it," he said. "It's been so long since I've had a sweet little mouth on my cock." I bent down and opened my mouth wide and placed it around the head of the cock. It was so big and fat, I couldn't do much except literally suck, which was what I thought he meant anyway. He enjoyed it. His hips ground a bit and he moaned and he stroked my hair. "OK," he said, "your turn." He lay me down on the passenger seat and took off my panties completely. God, he was sure taking a long time, I thought. "Won't everybody wonder where we are?" I asked. "Those idiots?" Ray laughed, spreading my legs and lowering his mouth to my inner thighs. I knew immediately where he was going and I didn't know what to do. His tongue felt good on me, made me tingle, made me tremble, and I felt my heart begin to pound. I tried to fight the good feelings. He didn't stay there long, and I was glad. "Oh, baby," he said, as he sat up in his seat again, "You've got one sweet little pussy." "Are we done?" I asked, reaching for my panties. "No, baby," he said, "Ray hasn't come yet. Come sit on my lap, facing forward." Ray slid forward in his seat and took me on his lap. He told me to slide forward so that his cock was between my legs, right against my pussy. He told me to lean back against him. He pulled my dress up all the way, caressing the smooth skin of my tummy and then rubbing my little nipples. "Keep your legs tight together," he said as he gyrated, poking his "cock" up and down in the gap. I squeezed my legs together. He moaned softly, but then said it wasn't enough. He reached down and grabbed my hand, placing it on him. "Stroke it... stroke it fast," he said. I had to sit up a little to get a good grip, and my dress fell down over my nipples and part of my tummy. I felt him fondling me down below. I heard him breathing heavier and faster as I stroked his pee-pee with my fingers. I heard him moaning, and then he groaned loud, and his cock swelled and jumped in my hand, and something white came spurting from the head of it. It flew high up at me. It startled me. There were more spurts. It happened again and again, one spurt after another. Some of them landed on my skin. They were thick and hot. Ray just gasped and groaned the whole time. He was shaking. When it was over, he reached for a towel in the backseat and started to clean up my thighs and my tummy, and then he looked down and saw my dress. It was covered with little drips and globs of it, all the way up to my chest. His eyes took on a look of panic. "Oh my God," he said. "Oh my God!" He started wiping down my dress, but what remained were big spots. His hands were shaking as he gave me my panties. I didn't know what he was going to do and I was sort of interested in finding out. At least it was over. Boy, was it over! "Listen, Lisa," he said, "I'm going to just drop you off at the picnic, OK?" "What about my dress?" I asked him. "Say you got sick..." he said and then, looking up, he said, "Oh, God." "What?" I asked. "Hey!" I heard my mom's voice. "I didn't say you could take Lisa for a ride! And you've been gone for almost an hour! What...?" She looked in at me with my hair mussed, saw the spots on my dress, and reached in and grabbed Ray by the collar of his shirt. She shook him hard. She looked at him with the coldest eyes I've ever seen. She let go and walked around the car, she opened the door, she got me out, and she put me in our car and drove up out of the woods toward the picnic. "I'm taking you home," she said. "I'm going to say you're not feeling well." We got to the picnic, she got out, and she walked over to the crowd of adults and talked a moment. Carl shot me a look. He waved and I waved back. He was a nice boy. My mom returned and started the car and we headed for the main road. "Are you okay, Mom?" I asked. She didn't answer. She lit a cigarette. "Mom, Ray..." She stopped the car over quickly and looked at me. The love that had been there the night before and that morning, the love that I needed were gone. Her eyes were cold. "I don't want to hear a fucking word about it," she said. "I don't ever want to hear a fucking word about it, you hear me?" "Yes," I said, shrinking away from her. "It's over," she said. There was no music on that car ride, no singing; there were neither smiles nor beams of pride. There was only me sitting as far away from my mother as I could, pressed against my door. There was total silence, silence that was deafening. I looked out my window at the pretty trees but they didn't seem real. At least I was going home and I could hide, and there would be no more Ray. But did my mother blame me for that? How could she blame me for something that wasn't my fault? All of this, all I've told you, all of the little things to the big things, the learning things, the sad things, the painful things, leading up to being molested by Ray, you would think they would all be enough, wouldn't you? But it does not end mercifully there within the deafening silence of that car ride, just wishing I could be anywhere else. It does not end because you want it to. You can stop reading. You've had your orgasms, you male readers have shot your loads reading about my little experience with Ray. You've had your dirty little smut fixes and you can leave your little dark place and dream pleasant dreams if you want. But you see, there is more... because the little girl in the old photograph is not the same girl that rode home in quiet confusion around noon time that day. Her story needs telling, and those of you you who care will want to read on. We pulled into the driveway and Mom shut off the car. We got out and walked up to the house and I didn't know why but I got a strange feeling, a bad feeling like I didn't want to go in. I stood there in the middle of the yard as my mom opened the door. Finally she turned and looked at me. "Well..." she said impatiently, "are you coming?" I walked toward her and I stepped up into the house, leaving the sunlight behind me. I heard bathwater running. "Well, your sister's up," my mother said. "Come here," she said, walking into her room. She brought out a paper shopping bag and spread it open. "Strip," she told me. "Put it all in here. It's garbage." "Can't we just wash...?" "No, it's ruined," she said. "Take it all off. Then I want you to take a bath and wash and scrub yourself good." "But Suzy's in there." "Well, when the water stop's running, I'll tell her to hurry it up." I stripped down naked and put everything in the bag, even my socks. My mother would not touch any of it. She held the bag out at a distance. I could still feel the dampness of Ray's... well... whatever it was, as I put my dress in the bag. She closed the bag and carried it into the kitchen. I heard her open and close the backdoor. My mother came back from the kitchen with a bottle of whiskey and an empty glass. She uncapped the bottle as I stood watching. Without recapping the bottle, she put the glass to her mouth and tipped it back. She swallowed it down, shook her head, poured more, and put the glass to her mouth again. I waited there, standing naked and watching my mother drink. "God damn it!" she finally said, glaring in the direction of the bathroom. "That water's been running forever! Suzy's going to flood the damn bathroom!" She did knock and call Suzy's name, but when there was no response, and when the water did not stop, she entered. At that point I was standing a few feet across from the bathroom door. I looked up at my mother as she stared down in the direction of the bathtub, her mouth open, her hand leaping to cover her mouth. What was it? Had she drowned herself? It scared me. I rushed to the door and stepped inside. I looked down at the tub to find Suzy lying in the tub with her legs spread under the faucet, her feet high in the air and pressed against the tiles. The water was rushing down over her pussy and she was lost in what she was doing, her eyes closed and her brow furrowed. My mother turned to me and shoved me outside. I nearly fell down. "You shouldn't see this!" I looked in. I saw her lean over. The water shut off. There was the sound of water going down the drain and movement inside the tub as I heard my Suzy's voice cry out: "Nooooo, Mom!" "Get out of that fucking tub, now, you little... you little... whore!" She dragged Suzy out of the tub from behind, holding her about the waist. It looked like Suzy was struggling, but the way my mother was shaking her and twisting her from side to side as she pushed her through the door of the bathroom, I could not be sure. I backed away. I stood small and naked and helpless and watched my mother drag my naked sister into her bedroom. The door swung and banged, but did not shut. "Look at yourself!" my mother said. "Look in the mirror!" I heard something bump against the other side of the door, like my Mom was shoving Suzy's face against the full-length mirror. "Stop, Mom!" Suzy cried. "That's what a little slut looks like! Does it feel good, you little slut, wasting my bathwater, running it over your little cunt? Maybe you and Lisa could start a little slut club! She's already well on her way..." "Shut up about Lisa, you bitch!" Suzy shouted, and I heard a couple of slaps followed by a stumble and fall. The door opened and Suzy was trying to crawl out on all fours. Her pale green eyes were full of terror. My mother grabbed her by the hair and dragged her to her feet. Suzy screamed and so did I. I scrambled after my mother, reaching for her arm to stop her as she picked up the long-handled wooden hairbrush, but she backhanded me across the face and I fell to the wooden floor. I watched the beating begin. I watched as my mother gripped Suzy by the arm and swung the hairbrush from high above, and the sound of the contact made me wince. Suzy was struggling then, struggling and screaming and crying. The hairbrush swung wildly, not always hitting Suzy's butt but always making contact. I know because I saw, and I was trying once again to grab at my mother's arm. "Stop it!" I cried, tears streaming down my face. "You're killing her!" My mother shoved me and I fell against the bed. "Lisa... call..." Suzy cried, "Call 9-1-1." I sprang to my feet and ran out the bedroom door with my heart pounding. The phone was on the wall near the backdoor. I was halfway through the kitchen when my mother grabbed me by the arm. She continued to the phone and unhooked it from the wall, throwing it across the room, watching it smash against the doorway. She let me go. I followed her as she stomped back out to the living room. I really thought she was done, but she returned to Suzy. Suzy saw her coming and cowered like I had never seen before. And something else occurred to me. She looked so small. My mother yanked her up off the floor and continued the beating. It went on and on... it made me feel sick. I stood looking at my mother. I hated her. I knew that I hated her. I knew that she was a monster. I don't know how long it went on it seemed to last forever. It was a fucking nightmare. I had to stop it. I stepped up to my mother. Suzy had stopped screaming. She had stopped struggling. She was just hanging in my mother's grip, letting her finish, however long it took. I looked up at the monster that was my mother. I had tears in my eyes but I wiped them away. "Stop it," I said. It did not sound like my voice. I didn't even know if I was scared. "Stop it." The monster stopped. I think she just got tired. She must have. You can only hit someone with a hairbrush so many times without draining your energy. She sighed. She dropped the hairbrush. She let go of Suzy. Suzy looked at me, her pale green eyes full of tears, her brow furrowed, and she collapsed to the floor, lying on her stomach. I looked down at her butt, her lower back, and the backs of her thighs. There were nothing but welts and bruises, and there was even some blood coming from a couple of the welts. My mother left her bedroom, the scene of the crime, leaving me to take care of Suzy. I got down on my knees and I held my sister's hand and I kissed her on the head. "Suzy," I said softly, fighting back a strong urge to cry, "I love you. Do you want to get up and go to your bed?" She didn't say anything. She just lay there like she couldn't move. I didn't know what to do, but one thought did come quickly to my mind when I looked down just beyond my ankle to what was lying abandoned on the hardwood floor. I reached over and picked up the hairbrush. I stood up and looked out the door of the bedroom and saw it was all clear. I took the hairbrush across to my bedroom and looked for a place to hide it. I stuck it under my bed. I quickly put on a long t-shirt while I was there, and then I returned to my sister. She was trying to get up. I got underneath her and let her lean on me. Every movement seemed to be painful. I could hear her gasp and whimper in pain as she hung on me. I took her arm around me and squeezed her hand. The walk was slow. She was limping. She was heavy, but I held up. After all, she was Suzy. We inched along, made it through the hallway and to her bedroom. I got her through the door and to her bed where I helped her ease, facedown, upon the bed. I lay down next to her and stroked her hair and face. I kissed her lips. I sat up on the bed and looked down at her torn and bruised backside. I got up and I went to the living room. My mother was sitting and drinking, watching her TV. "I want some cream or something to put on Suzy's butt," I said. "Do we have some?" "I think we have something in the medicine cabinet," she said. "Why? You taking care of her?" "Yes," I said. "Well, isn't that sweet," she said, holding a cigarette between her teeth as she lit it. "Yes, take good care of big sister, Lisa." "I don't like you anymore," I said. "You're not nice." My mother looked at me for a quick moment and then looked away, back to her TV. I turned and went to the bathroom. I had to step up on the toilet in my bare feet. I found a couple of different creams. The one with the red cross said First Aid. I remembered Suzy putting it on my skinned knee once in the springtime. I went to Suzy's room and closed the door. I sat on the bed. I opened the tube and I squeezed some out on my fingers. I carefully put it on. Suzy winced in pain, but she bravely let me do it. She knew I was helping. I watched her every expression, telling her it would be OK, telling her that I loved her. "Lisa," she said, "I just want to die." "No," I said, "I don't want you to die." I put the cream everywhere I could possibly put it, covering all the welts. "Do you want me to leave you alone for a while so you can rest?" "No, Lisa," she said. "Please, stay with me. I don't want to be alone." I stayed with her all afternoon and evening. When I looked out and found that Mom had fallen asleep, I made us some peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, put them on plates, and brought them into her room. I also brought glasses of milk. When it grew late, my lovely tired and wounded sister turned to me and said it was OK if I wanted to go. She would be all right. "I want to stay," I said, kneeling by her side. "You took real good care of me," she said. "I mean that." "I love you," I said. "I love you, big sister," she said, reaching over and hugging me about the waist and looking up into my eyes. I looked down and took her face in my hands. I leaned over and kissed her on the lips. I slept with her that night, and the next and the next. There was no play. There was no talk of play. We were just sisters, sisters who loved one another, and we understood one another better than ever before. I never told her about Ray. I just tried my best to forget about him, forget about my Mom, who seemed much worse, and love my sister. The two of us stuck together in the evening. We ate what our mother cooked, despite of the danger of poisoning, Suzy's little joke. As for the beating or her reason for it, whatever that was, the whole incident, our mother did not bring it up. We spoke to her on a need-to basis. As for the hair-brush, it met its end smashed in a doorway several times and then burned with matches and thrown in a nearby creek. Our mother never asked about it. Michelle returned on a Saturday afternoon. She came to my door and knocked. My mother answered and called me. She had already had a few drinks. I stepped outside and closed the door quickly. Michelle smiled and hugged me. She looked so pretty. I felt years older than her all of a sudden. "I brought you a seashell," she said. She handed it to me. It was very big and pretty. "I found it right on the beach. Hold it up to your ear. You can hear the ocean." I pulled back my hair from my ear and held it up and listened. I wasn't sure if I believed it was the ocean, but it sounded neat. I smiled. It was nice to see her pretty blue eyes and blonde hair again. "You want to come out and play?" I wasn't sure if I wanted to, but I did, and it wasn't the same. Something was different, something was missing. The entire last week of August, the last week of vacation, whenever I went out to play with my best friend, it was like this, but I had to live in the world. When I was around my sister, that's when the most comfortable in my skin. It was the weekend before school started when my mother called us out of Suzy's room on a Sunday afternoon. She was actually sober and in a good mood. We just looked at each other and looked back at her. "Come out in the yard, both of you," she said. We followed her outside through the backdoor of the kitchen, both of us in shorts and t-shirts. She had a camera. She looked around. She looked at the sun and its angle. "Stand with your backs to the garage," she said. "That would be perfect." We walked over to the back wall of the garage and stood side by side. I looked up at Suzy. She folded her arms. I folded my arms. "Oh, come on," our mother said. "Smile. I just want a few good summer pictures before you go back to school." We pressed our shoulders together. I wasn't smiling. I wasn't going to smile. Suzy looked at me and didn't smile either. We stood defiant and looked at our mother as she waited, without smiles, pale blue eyes and pale green eyes staring into the lens. "OK," she said, "fine," and she snapped one picture, "go, go, get back in the house. I'm trying, you know, I'm trying..." One picture. An old photograph that has survived over thirty years. I hold it and I admire the two girls in it. So now you know. I have shared this with you because an empty house sits not far from here, and last Halloween as I sat going through old things there with a little girl named Angie who has since stolen my heart, she found this old photograph and fell in love with it. There is more to tell, my friends, but as for now an old photograph may be placed in its frame, its story laid to rest... -For my sweet Angie |