by ANDREA SMITH
“I don’t think so, Laurie,” I answer firmly.
“Well now what?” she asks, throwing her arms up, totally exasperated with my ignorance and my unwillingness to follow I suppose.
“Hey, not to worry,” I respond lightly. "My house is four blocks from here. I will go on home. Just tell your mom I didn’t feel well and left Vanessa’s party early and went home when she picks you up tonight.”
“But it’s your mom’s DATE night,” she whines, emphatically. “My mom will bust my ass if she finds out.”
“I can’t help you with that, Laurie,” I reply. “I just know that my mom would not appreciate my going with you and this group and getting involved in that kind of stuff.”
“Oh, really?” she snickers, not attempting to hide her amusement.
“Let me know how that works out for you, Tylar,” she snaps. “Later.”
She turns on her heel and walks out with Vanessa right at her side. I can’t believe that Laurie and I have come to such a parting of the ways. What has happened to her?
I head out the door and begin the four block walk to my house. I see a car pull out from the alley behind the Video Palace with the stereo blasting and what appears to be about
five occupants in the car. Hmm, I wonder if I was to be the sixth to round out the couples. I am certain that Laurie did not fill me in on everything, and I am still reeling from some of the hateful things she said or alluded to about our mothers.
Once I reach our house I pull my house key out of my purse; I unlock the front door and quietly let myself in. It is only 8:30 in the evening; not even dark yet.
I take my shoes off in case they have collected dirt on the way over. Mom is very fussy about the light colored carpet that she has recently installed in the house. I pad down the hallway and notice the dining room is dark. I can see that the dinner dishes are still on the table, left exactly as they were when Mom and her boyfriend finished dinner.
I move on into the kitchen and switch the lights on. Pots and pans half empty are still sitting on the stove. An empty bottle of wine is on the counter. It looks like Mom cooked her infamous roasted veal with baby red potatoes and spinach salad. All the candles are snuffed out.
I go ahead and fill the kitchen sink up with soapy water. I can kill some time downstairs by doing the dishes. Hopefully it will also serve to soften the blow when Mom finds out I came home.
I clear the dining room table, scraping plates, and putting leftovers in plastic containers for the fridge. I finish the dishes, wipe down the countertops and toss the table linens down the basement steps to where the washer and dryer are located.
It is only a little after 9 p.m. I decide to watch some television in the den off of the kitchen. I turn on the television and scroll down the guide, finally stopping on the Lifetime channel. I actually feel kind of grown up at the moment. I made a responsible decision this evening, though not a popular one. It was tough, and I know that my friendship with Laurie is possibly fractured beyond repair. There is no way once my mom knows what happened that Mona will not find out. Laurie will be really pissed.
I think about that poem we studied last year in school. It’s by Robert Frost. Something about traveling and coming to a fork in the road I think. I suppose it is like this evening with me; I made the choice to take the road less traveled.
It’s now 10 p.m. and the movie is over. I really need to pee. There is no getting around it. Our only bathroom in the house is upstairs. Hopefully, mom and her boyfriend are now asleep. I haven’t heard much of anything from upstairs.
I power off the television and turn out the lights downstairs. I make my way quietly up the thickly carpeted stairs. Mom will be mad if I interrupt her date night, but I am fairly certain had I gone off with Laurie and the others nothing good would have come of it. I feel secure that the right decision was made.
I go into my room, careful to be quiet, discarding my jean skirt and halter-top, putting on my favorite silk plum shorts and matching camisole pajama set. I really need to wash all of the make-up off of my face so that Mom doesn’t see it in the morning, but my first priority is to pee. I pad quietly down the hall, past the closed door to my mom’s room. All quiet so far.
I go into the bathroom, softly closing the door behind me and switching on the light. Wow, Laurie had really done a job on my make-up. I could probably pass for sixteen. I finish up on the toilet, wondering if I should flush it and risk waking up mom and her boyfriend. Deciding that it was just too gross not too, I press the handle down flushing it. I go over to the sink and wash my hands. As I am lathering up a clean wash cloth with soap to scrub the make-up off of my face, the bathroom door opens abruptly. It is Mom, dressed only in a red corset and panties. She slips into the bathroom, closing the door behind her softly. She is livid.
“What in the hell are you doing home?” she whispers loudly. “Why aren’t you with Laurie?"
I don’t want to get Laurie into trouble, but it is apparent Mom expects an answer. She wants it now.
“I’m sorry,” I stammer. “I just didn’t feel well and I left the Video Palace birthday party we were attending to walk home.”
“Does Mona know that you did this?”
“Yeah,” I lie, “She wanted to drive me but I told her I needed the air.”
I can tell that Mom isn’t buying my story. She is regarding me angrily.
“Look,” I say, “I’m sorry; I can fill you in on it tomorrow. I am just getting ready to wash my face, brush my teeth and go to bed.”
“Forget all of that, just get down to your room now and get to bed,” she hisses.
I’m not about to argue with her. She is definitely pissed. As I pass her open bedroom door I hear a man’s voice call out from the bed.
“Maggie, what the hell is going on out there?”
“Nothing, sugar,” she croons, “Just my sissy coming home earlier than expected,” she giggles.
“Well get your tight little ass back to bed,” he orders, “Unless you want little sissy to join me to give you a break,” he says.
A look of pure hatred crosses my mom’s face in that moment. She looks at me and her voice is like steel.
“I will deal with you in the morning,” she hisses.
I scurry down the hallway, shutting my door and climbing swiftly beneath my covers.
Within a few minutes I can hear Mom’s bed squeaking in the familiar rhythm, followed by her moans, and skin slapping skin. I drift off to sleep much later, after trying my best to block out the noises from the next room. I finally succeed by putting my stereo headset on and setting it to a station that I like.
I’m not sure how much later it is when I come abruptly awake aware of the presence of someone else in my room. My first thought is that it is Mom, ready to lay into me because her date had gotten pissed and left. I realize that this is not the case when I feel someone kneel down on the bed beside me and breathe whiskey-laden breath into my face. It’s Mom’s boyfriend. I don’t even know his name. He’s new.
My eyes widen in horror. I am ready to scream. He anticipates my reaction clamping a meaty hand across my mouth tightly.
"Now now, little sister," he says thickly; his breath is
like something rotting in a trash can.
“No need for you to start making a fuss, you hear? You promise not to whine or call out for your sister? I just want to spend a little time with you that’s all.”
I struggle against him with all of my strength. He takes that as a ‘no’ I guess.He does not move his hand from across my mouth. He is strong, pinning my upper body down with his forearm and elbow. His free hand lifts the sheet that is covering my lower extremities, leaving my bare legs up to my silk plum shorts exposed to his lecherous gaze.
In the dark, I can only see that he has a thin face. His hair is light, maybe blond or reddish blond. It looks stringy. The rest of his features are indistinguishable with no light in the room with the exception of just some streaky moonlight sifting in through
the blinds and the lit digital numbers on my radio.
“Oohh, that’s nice” his voice is thick with lust.
He pulls my silk shorts down viewing my private area.
“I see little sissy has some hair on her pussy."
My eyes are frantic, and his hand that is clamped down over my mouth, is also blocking air flow into my nose. I feel like I am going to suffocate. I squirm and thrash my best while trying to bite his hand.
“Oh, shit, you little bitch,” he snarls as I manage to draw blood from his hand with my teeth and pull my legs up far enough to slam into his chest as he is leaning over me. His fist slams into my face full force. I see stars. My body relaxes back. I am disoriented; I can’t move. I am on the cusp of unconsciousness. I know that if I cross over, I will avoid being aware of whatever he does to me next. Perhaps that is the best I can hope for at the moment.
I feel his fingers reach into my into my silk shorts ripping them off of me with one swift motion. I am paralyzed to react. I’m not sure if it is the blow he delivered to my face or just pure fear. I will myself to move but I can’t. I pray to pass out. It is horrible being caught on the brink of consciousness with no ability to move or talk or scream.
His fingers move to my private area; they are rough and calloused. He pries open the lips of my vagina. His fingers move savagely within the folds, pinching the center so that I jump as if an electrical volt has shocked me.
“See that there little girl, that is a clit and yours seems to be working just fine. That is your pleasure center there. Your big sister likes it when I lick her clit. Do you want to see how that feels?"
I am frozen with fear and unable to move. Where the hell is my mom? I close my eyes, deciding to play possum. At least I won’t have to witness whatever he is going to do next. I feel warm, moist lips on my private area; his tongue slithers in and out of my crack, twirling and circling the area. He puts one of his fingers up inside of me, and it hurts, running it in and out, in and out. His fingernail is long enough that it scratches me. I whimper in pain. He mistakes it for pleasure.
“I see you like it when I finger fuck you little sissy,” he laughs. “This makes your big sister hoot and holler; I’m guessing you ain’t had this done before.”
I am sick and nauseated. I want this to be over. I can only guess what horrible thing he is planning next. It’s not long before I figure it out.
He takes one of my hands and wraps it around his penis.
“Squeeze this gently,” he instructs. “This is what a cock feels like, little sissy. Your big sister likes the feel of this cock in her pussy. How about you? I’m betting you’re a bit tighter than your sister,” he mocks.
I want to vomit all over him. I am sick with fright.
“We both know you ain’t her sister though, don’t we darling? A man knows when a woman has bore children. Maggie isn’t nearly as tight as you are I bet. I plan on finding out real soon.”
There is no way. I will die before I let this sick son-of-a-bitch do what he is making very clear he wants to do with me. From somewhere in the depths of my being, I find the strength and power to draw my knee up with all of the force I can muster and plant it firmly into his crotch and abdomen.
"Holy fucking son-of-a-bitch!" he screams, rolling out
out of my bed, onto the floor of my room.
Somehow I find my voice and scream bloody murder.
“Mom! Mom!” I scream hysterically. “Help me! Mom, where are you?!”
I hear my door open. My mother starts screeching at him. I am starting to faint from fear and from pain. I hear Mom yell at him right before I sink into darkness. Her words chill me to the bone.
“You fucking son-of-a-bitch! What did you do to my girl?”
The man on the floor is not capable of speaking coherently, still writhing in pain, grunting in anguish. I think I hear him vomit.
“She was not part of our deal, you mother-fucker. This is going to cost you an extra hundred.”
CHAPTER NINE
I sprang up in my bed, beads of sweat covering my forehead. My heart was pounding in my chest; I was hardly able to catch my breath. It took several moments for me to get my bearings. I realized I was no longer the thirteen year- old and this was not my old room at home. I was safe from all of that. I was in my room at my cottage.
The familiar hum of my window air conditioner was soothing and familiar. This was the first horrible dream that I had since the hospital. I wanted to be done with them. Perhaps these were simply remnants of the mild concussion. Trey said it could take weeks sometimes longer for the full effects to disappear. This nightmare had left me more uneasy than the other. It was different. I was not the observer in this one; I was a full participant. It was more like a re-living of a situation rather than a revealing of one that I hadn’t remembered.
I climbed from my bed and went into the kitchenette, flicking the light switch on the wall. The clock on the microwave read 5:48 a.m. My alarm clock would be going off in about forty-five minutes anyway. No point in going back to bed.
I opened the fridge, and grabbed the bottle of orange juice, pouring myself a glassful. I stuck a slice of bread in the toaster. I pulled on a clean pair of jeans and a yellow t-shirt, along with a pair of socks. I pulled my steel toed boots from the bathroom and set them next to my bed. I heard my toast pop up. I buttered my toast and devoured it quickly.
I washed my face and brushed my teeth. I found a hair tie and brushed my new hairstyle into a perky little ponytail.
I located my empty laundry bag and dumped the contents of my dirty laundry basket into it, cinching it closed.
I needed to leave a note for Ray who would be stopping by early according to Trey. I found a felt tip pen in my purse, and ripped out a piece of notebook paper from the steno pad I kept on the counter. I had to be careful in wording my note to Ray.
Hi Ray!
Trey phoned me last night and generally filled me in as to my revised duties starting next week. He asked that for today I sit tight since my new assignment doesn’t start until next Monday. I’ll get with you sometime over the weekend and you can fill me in on the details. Heading over to ‘the Belle’ to do laundry before the machines are all taken. After that, I’ll just hang out and try to stay out of everyone’s way.
Talk to you later!
Tylar
This would put his mind to rest at least for now. Nothing in the note was an out and out lie anyway. I taped it on the wooden door; gathered up my purse, phone, laundry bag and the last of the carrots that had been in my fridge. I headed out into the dark dewy morning.
I walked quietly down the path to the stables, relieved to see that no one had yet reported in for work. I slipped into the tack room and removed my riding boots from my locker, slipping them into my laundry bag to take with me. I couldn’t leave without visiting Derringer. I walked over to his stall and immediately rubbed my hand gently up and down his beautiful black muzzle.
“Here you go, handsome,” I crooned to him, taking the plastic bag of carrots out of the pocket of my jeans.
I emptied the bag into my hand and he immediately put his muzzle down, and relieved me of the carrots, chomping noisily. I continued rubbing his neck until he finished. He nuzzled my hand for more.
“Sorry, handsome,” I said. “I don’t have any more carrots but I’ll make sure to get more today. How about if I come back tonight for another visit? Would you like that, huh?”
It was almost as if he understood what I said. His massive black head bobbed up and down as if confirming our date.
As I cut through the woods that led over to ‘the Belle’ the sun started coming up which was fortunate because I was not all that familiar with the trail during daylight. Coming out of the woods the footpath opened up to a beautiful meadow that officially marked Le Vie Belle land.
The laundry facilities were next door to the banquet hall which made sense due to all of the linens that were constantly being laundered for the various parties
and receptions booked there. The staff was allowed to use the washers and dryers, but had to pay for the laundry detergent and softener which was still a pretty good deal.
I separated my colors and delicates. I needed just two machines and there were ten in total so no worries there. I opened up my coin purse and counted out the appropriate change, inserting the coins into the machine and getting two small boxes of detergent, along with softener sheets.
I got both washers going, figuring I had about an hour to kill before the wash cycles were completed. I was curious to see the inside of the stables over here and catch a glimpse of the horses. I left the laundry room and headed down to the stables.
The stables and paddock area at ‘the Belle’ were much larger than those over at the Sinclair estate. That was due to accommodating a lot of horses that were simply boarded there and not owned by the Sinclair family.
Since the race track was close by and many of the boarded horses had trainers and owners that lived nearby, it was easy for them to be at the stables daily to prepare their horses for either racing or dressage competitions.
I noticed there were quite a few horse trailers lined up along the road behind the paddock area of the first barn. People generally came in a day or two before the race or competition with their horses to get them calmed, relaxed and ready for the race.
This track held races for quarter horses, paints and appaloosas. No thoroughbred racing was done there. Quarter Horses were the fastest of any racing breed; however, the distance was much shorter. The race track here was turf instead of dirt and a straight one. I was glad because turf was much safer for the horses than a dirt track.
I decided to talk a stroll through the paddock area to see some of the horses that would be competing in this weekend’s race. There happened to be a preliminary line-up sheet posted on the bulletin board inside for the eight races that were scheduled for the Kick-Off Stakes on Saturday evening. This marked the official opening of race season for Le Vie Belle track. I glanced through the line-up and saw that between Sinclair Stables and ‘the Belle’, the Sinclair’s had a horse competing in each of the eight races.