She could not believe her luck. She had read about models being discovered in soda shops—Lorna Turner was, at sport games…Pamela Anderson, in nightclubs, on beaches, or just shopping. Who would have guessed it would happen to her?
Lorna was low on cash and thought her star had finally come in. She was one of the prettiest girls in school and was told often that she looked like a model. But she soon found out that she had to take her clothes off most of the time.
The first time Rorlo wanted her to do it, she was timid. He was patient with her though, explaining how all the top models started out that way.
“How do you think Cindy Crawford got so famous?” he laughingly explained while giving her a glass of champagne. She had never had champagne before. It was good, very good. Before Lorna knew it, she felt relaxed. The best she’d felt since coming to New York.
She had no idea that she drank four glasses laced with a drug. She started giggling. She felt incredibly wonderful turning in full circles, arms spread out wide, as if welcoming the world, and her head thrown back looking at the stars, above with a big smile on her face. Rorlo was the professional, she thought, and gave him a dazzling smile.
“If Cindy can do it, so can I.” She said as her blouse went flying through the night air. “After all,” laughing out loud feeling more wonderful than she’d ever felt in her life, “I’m prettier, she’s old news.” Sending her bra flying across the room like a Frisbee, it landed on Dan’s head like a hat.
They were in an empty warehouse. A part of it had no roof, allowing them to get some beautiful starry night shots of her, like a fairy Rorlo had told her, and she had believed him.
“That’s my girl,” Rorlo said sipping his whiskey, an unholy smile on his lips, while Jeff started shooting pictures of her from all angles. “Get more lights,” Rorlo yelled over his shoulder to Dan, not taking his eyes off Lorna.
Why was Dan so sad? She thought, as she blinked trying to focus. Shrugging, she continued to pose. Turning left. Turning right. Throwing her arms in the air, her breasts thrusting forward like two bright headlights. I’ll just do it part time, she thought. The camera clicked. And get a job washing dishes, or something; that thought made her body tense.
“Relax Lorna. Relax; you’re beautiful. Cindy has nothing on you.” Rorlo cooed. This one is going to make me rich, he thought.
As Lorna continued to pose, Rorlo watched her like a predator. He liked that body, he thought, as he continued sipping, maybe we could get something going.
Lorna flashed him a brilliant smile. He smiled back, looking forward to having her between the sheets. Hoping, as Lorna continued to pose like a professional, that she would show the same enthusiasium when he had her naked. He got rock hard thinking of it, and gulped the rest of his whiskey.
Lorna was flying. I’ll just do this until I hit it big, she thought, and she did. Everytime she made the cover, sales tripled. Yes, she was a star. Star of a porn magazine, and Nick did not know it.
Lorna’s early years…
“Lorna Carter, you get down here this instant!” Mrs. Carter shouted from the bottom of the stairs. Her hands balled into a fist. Body tense with anger, the girl is always late, she thought with frustrated disappointment.
Lorna turned from the mirror, glanced at her door, and thought sometimes she wished she were born with different parents. She got up and adjusted her skirt.
It must be below the knees; because her parents, her mom at least, believed a young lady should do all she can to remain clean from the wages of sin, for the wages of sin is a home in hell. Glancing at her closed bedroom door again, Lorna believed she was already there.
At age fifteen, Lorna was taller and more developed than most girls were at her age—busty-developed so the boys at school thought. She put up with them pointing at her, their stares and laughter every time she walked the halls at school.
She detested being called to the chalkboard in classes. Lorna knew most of the boys leered at her; she hated it. The girls talked about her, and then laughed loud enough so she could hear. And she did hear, all their nasty comments and snickers. She hurt inside. Having no friends, not those she could trust anyway, she loathed school.
Her teachers told her she should be a model, commenting to her to the point of embarrassment sometimes. At first, she thought they were trying to be kind, since she had no friends. Some students were downright mean and nasty to her. After awhile, she realized the teachers truly meant it.
Modeling started to be a dream of hers. A secret dream, which she shared with no one, and hoped that would one day come true. After reading about the glamorous lives of models in the school library, she wanted desperately to be a model and actress. However, her mother always said that all models were whores.
Whenever a commercial came on while watching television, she would angrily switch the channel, saying that all models showing their bodies to the world did not, and could not, follow the word of God.
Her mother made her dress like a nun, Lorna thought. There would be no jeans or pants of any kind; shorts were definitely out because they showed too much leg. Her dresses were between her calf and ankle, never higher.
She was not allowed to wear any of the latest fashions. And her hair, she was told to keep in a ponytail, with the remaining hair wrapped around the base, so the length could not be seen. Every temptation to man must be avoided at all cost and adhered to.
However, what Lorna considered worst of all was she could not wear makeup. Her skin was horrible. She had acne, not as bad as the other girls, but embarrassing just the same. A bump on the nose, at times, was a bump on the nose, and not being able to cover it up hurt.
All the girls at school wore makeup of some sort. If not foundation, some wore lip-gloss; if her parents ever caught her in makeup of any kind, there would be hell to pay. Lorna would put on a little lip-gloss at school, trying to fit in and remove it before going home. It felt good to try to fit in…sometimes.
Today is Sunday, which means they will spend most of the day in church hearing the preacher talk about the devil and hell. As she left her room, she thought briefly, what would Reverend Thomas say if he knew what was happening to her at night when her mother was asleep?
“Well, it’s about time,” Jean said severely, her voice dripping with ice. “Turn around and let me look at you.” Jean Carter inspected her daughter thoroughly; she would not have the town, especially Rev. Thomas, thinking that she wasn’t a good mother or Christian.
Although Lorna’s skirt was over her knees, Jean thought she would lengthen it a little bit more; after all, she was her mother and a good Christian she thought, with righteous determination. With her chin high, giving Lorna a look that said you will be right, I’ll see to it. We will not disappoint Reverend Thomas she silently conveyed to Lorna. Harry, Lorna’s father, came out to the kitchen drinking a cup of coffee.
“Harry, we’re going to be late if you don’t hurry,” Jean said giving him her you will be right too look.
“Okay dear.” Walking up to her, he lovingly patted her cheeks. Jean blushed. “I’m ready.” Barely glancing at Lorna, reaching for his jacket, Bible, and his car keys, he let out a loud burp. “Let’s go to church,” he smiled at Lorna, pulling her into his arms and giving her a kiss on the cheeks. “How’s my little girl this morning?” looking into her eyes with love. Lorna hated his touch.
Squirming, “Fine,” she quietly said pulling herself from his hug, turned and walked out the door to the car. After getting in the back seat, she tightly hugged herself. She didn’t feel good.
Jean watched her husband and daughter thoughtfully. Silently. Harry turned, “Ready darling?” his voice was sweet, she thought. Slightly nodding a yes to him, till death do us part, she thought. He put his arms around her waist leading her toward the door and into the car.
Turning the keys in the ignition, Harry turns toward Jean saying softly, “did I tell you how much I love you today?” Jean sat as stone looking at him. He looked so
sweet, she thought.
“No…you didn’t.” She was surprised, he could tell. Taking her by the hands and lifting them to his lips, “I love you, Jean Carter,” he said while looking into her eyes. She melted. How could she ever doubt him, she thought.
Settling in her seat for the ride to church, Jean had a smile on her face. She glanced at her husband again; life is good, she thought with renewed conviction.
Harry turned to back the car out of the driveway. “I love you too,” he silently mouthed with his lips, looking Lorna in the eyes with a serene smile upon his face. Lorna turned to look at little Jimmy next door, four years old, learning to ride his tricycle.
The drive to the church seemed longer than usual. Why do we go there? She wondered, looking out the car window, but seeing nothing at all, her thoughts were far away.
While sitting next to her mother in church, listening to Rev. Thomas give his sermon on the wages of sins and going to hell, Lorna’s mind drifted to the events of last night, when she was awakened by her father. Like so many nights before…
“No daddy…please not tonight,” she begged as she squirmed farther against the wall. Dark…so dark she thought in terror. Harry looked at his daughter as though he was looking at a stranger and closed the door behind him.
“You know your mama won’t be a full wife to me, so it’s your responsibility to take care of me.” Saying sensibly, softly, coming toward her with silent purpose, he sat on the bed, her mattress creaking from his weight.
The Lord hates sinners! Lorna jumped to her feet. Her mind snapping back to the present hearing sounds of clapping hands of approval as Rev. Thomas shouted with fervor again, “…God hates sinners! Confess! Confess!”
Most of the congregation was clapping their hands in agreement, while others ran back and forth from their seats to anyplace that allowed them more room to shout with glee. Her eyes took in the sight she had seen so many times before in hopes that one day she would feel the joy they all felt.
Then she saw both her parents shouting with balled fists waving in the air, agreeing with Rev. Thomas’ sermon to sinners.
Tentatively, she wondered what God and Rev. Thomas would think about her if they knew what her father was doing to her at night. Would they help me, she wondered.
“Would they forgive me?” she whispered silently, asking no one in particular, slowly sitting back into her seat while the cries and shouts around her continued in a fever frenzy for all sinners to hurry and join church.
Later that night…
Feelings of shame and horror seeped through her, causing her to gulp in the pungent odors of cleaners and soap combining in a sickening fragrance that sent her running to the toilet, vomiting violently…she was pregnant. She had never been with anyone… other than her father. Lorna felt so ashamed, terrified, and unsure of how to tell her mother.
What would her father do? Lorna was petrified, but she knew she had to tell someone, but whom? She wondered. Biting on her lower lip, she thought maybe Rev. Thomas could help; after all, she was a little hopeful now; he always said to everyone at church that his door was always open. To anyone. For any reason.
Mind made up, yes, she would tell Rev. Thomas. He would know what to do; she decided while gloomy emotions were running wild within her, she was dreadfully fearful to tell her mother.
The decision to tell Rev. Thomas made her feel a little better. Not a lot, a little. Looking at herself in her bathroom mirror, “I won’t think about it today,” she whispered. Closing her eyes, gawd she was scared. Fighting the fear, “Rev. Thomas will help,” saying it with confidence she did not feel. Standing there a few minutes more, she saw the terror in her eyes. Tears swelled and made their way down her cheeks like a river.
Kneeling on the bathroom floor, with heart-wrenching pains bursting from her throat, she held a towel to her mouth to muffle the cries; she did not want her mother or father to come see what was wrong with her. Too many things were wrong, she thought, as she rocked and cried for hours. Neither her mother nor father came to see why she had not come down for dinner.
Lorna waited two more agonizing weeks before she decided to tell Reverend Thomas; she wanted to make sure the pregnancy test was accurate, and as before, the sign was positive—EPT, ninety-eight percent accuracy. Her head bowed as she cried in excruciating grief.
Day of confession…
“Mom, I have to pick up a book from the library after school so I’ll be a little late coming home, OK?” quietly saying to her mom, trying to eat her eggs, as the aroma was making her ill.
“I want you to come home afterward.” Jean said as she gave Lorna some toast. “I want to go to the grocery store and I’ll need your help.”
“OK, I won’t be there too long.” She ate the toast, got up from the kitchen table and went to school.
If someone were to ask Lorna how was her school day, she would have to confess that she did not know. Nervous electricity hummed through her body like slow boiling water running over the top of a pot.
In one class, not being aware the teacher had asked her a question, Lorna looked up from her thoughts to find the teacher standing at her desk and the eyes of every student in the classroom staring at her, some calling her weird.
After school, Lorna went to the church as fast as her shaking legs would allow her. Feeling sick with fear, anxiety, and uncertainty, she changed her mind several times along the way, stopping to hold her stomach to keep from vomiting, or just from plain exhaustion. She was tired, very tired. She had to do something.
The restless nights mixed with fear and illness were not only taking a toll on her body but her mind as well. Thank goodness, her father had not come near her since two weeks ago on a quiet Saturday night.
Nervously, she took each step toward the church entrance as if going to her own funeral. Walking into the church office, “Can you tell me where I can find Rev. Thomas?” Lorna asked the church secretary, who gave her a what-do-you-want look.
“Sure, he’s in the back office going over some records.” Suddenly sitting straighter in her chair, her back ramrod stiff, being the nosy, busybody type, Ms. Miller wanted to know what Lorna wanted. “How are you today?” Her voice deceptively softened, sniffing, covering her nose with a handkerchief as if a foul odor had just entered the office.
Peering over her glasses as if she knew why Lorna was there, she waited expectantly for an answer; young people have no manners and respect for their elders these days, she thought, sniffing again loudly.
“Fine,” Lorna answered, fidgeting from the lie, in a church no less.
“Good,” sniffing loudly again, when Lorna said nothing else. “You can go back, just go straight, and it’s the first office on the left.” Putting her handkerchief on the desk, she started to pound on the typewriter as if she was in a boxing ring fighting for her life. Lorna was already forgotten.
“Thank you.” Lorna replied softly; turning, she walked down the hall to Rev. Thomas’ office hardly remembering putting one foot in front of the other. It was the longest walk of her life, during which she had changed her mind again three times, wondering if she was doing the right thing. Hoping that she was. She stood at his office door, watching him read. He did not know she was there, being so engrossed in his studies.
Sensing someone, Rev. Thomas looked up from his book, “Lorna!” A brilliant smile lighting his face. “Well child, it’s good to see you, how are you?” He extended his hands toward her.
Before Lorna could answer, Rev. Thomas said, “I was wondering why you wanted to talk to me; I was a little surprised to get a call from you,” his voice echoing the puzzlement showing on his face. “You never talk in Bible study,” he lightly chided her in a fatherly manner.
Lorna still could not speak. The words she wanted to say were lodged in her throat, like rocks covering an entrance to a cave. She started to panic. “Well child, have a seat,” motioning toward a chair. “Can I get you a pop?” his look hopeful, wanting to try out the new soda mac
hine in the fellowship hall.
She was still standing. Panicky, grabbing at her clothes, twisting them like a dirty mop. She felt dirty. Naked. What was she going to do…to say? Words began clawing their way out her throat, “No…n…no thank you Rev. Thomas,” she stammered. Swaying, then tears began to swell in her eyes.
“Lorna child? Are you all right?” asking as concern shrouded his face. Rev. Thomas watched as Lorna’s skin began to flush, like a pale white sheet.
“Sit down…” practically shoving her into the chair; he began filling a glass with water. Giving her the glass, his mind racing, his voice was steady, “Lorna? Tell me what’s wrong.” He sat on the edge of his desk, looking her over. She did not look good, he thought.
Lorna met his gaze. Fear gripped in a vise so strong she started to hyperventilate. She felt him patting her shoulders. She thought she heard him telling her that ‘it’ would be okay. She was not sure. She could not breathe. Would he believe her? Could he help? She did not know what to do.
Gasping for breath, clogging her aching chest, “Nothing’s wrong, sir…nothing,” she stammered. “I’m sorry…I’m sorry I’ve bothered you.” Jumping up, she bolted out of the office.
Wide-eyed with shock, Rev. Thomas yelled for Lorna to come back and talk to him. She was out the church doors and down the steps before he could catch up with her. Watching helplessly on the sidewalk, he saw Lorna running as if being chased by enemies she could not outrun.
He had a bad feeling something was seriously wrong. As Lorna disappeared around the corner, he made a mental note to call the Carters to talk with them and hoped that maybe he could help.
That night at dinner, Jean, noticing Lorna’s unusual quietness, asked softly, “Lorna? You’re very quiet…what’s so heavy on your mind? You’ve hardly touched your dinner,” her eyes squinting at Lorna as if she could see under the surface if she looked hard enough.
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