“What the hell are you doing, Charlie?” he said in a low voice.
“Damn it Kip! How did he get in here? Charlie was certain she had locked the front door.
When her eyes focused, she realized it wasn’t Kip at all. Oh shit. It was Mr. Daley.
This wasn’t like in the sex books where the older neighbor was turned on by catching the young girl masturbating. Mr. Daley was angry. Charlie struggled to sit up as he marched to the nightstand, turned on the bed lamp, and lifted the drink to smell it.
“Are you out of your mind? Jesus Christ, Charlie, what if Dillon had woken up?” He must have realized how loud he was getting because he quickly closed the bedroom door. Charlie was trapped, half naked and drunk.
“I, I’m really sorry Mr. Daley,” she stammered. “You . . . you said I could have a beer. Remember?” she reminded him.
“This is not a beer,” he said accusingly and pointed at the cup.
“I know. I screwed up. Please don’t tell my Dad. He’ll kill me,” she pleaded.
“When would I tell him, Charlie? The man is never home. I’m not even sure he still lives there. You and your brother are out of control. No one is in charge of you!” Mr. Daley ranted on. “We trusted you with our child. Do you know what Carolyn would do if she knew about this?” So Mrs. Daley had a name after all. Before Charlie could answer his clearly rhetorical question, Mr. Daley sat down next to her on the bed and jerked her over his knee in one move. Her jeans were still around her knees. Her damp panties were the only thing separating her from the blows from his hand as he spanked her hard. “If your parents aren’t going to take responsibility for punishing you, then I will!”
Charlie instinctively moved her hand behind her to protect herself but he wrestled it away and clamped harder down on the back of her neck with his free hand, using his legs to pin her legs in place. Charlie’s stomach tightened as confusion set in. She should have been fighting, crying, or at least scared but she was none of these things. She was turned on.
She started to moan and it caught him off guard. It caught her off guard. What the . . . ?
He stopped spanking her. He was breathing hard. She was breathing hard. He held her in place and neither of them moved. Except for the panting, there was not a sound, not a move from either of them. The silence seemed to go on a long time before he finally spoke.
“Is this ever going to happen again?” he asked, his tone still stern, but much more hushed now.
“No. I promise,” she whispered breathlessly.
“I may have hit you a little too hard here. Let me take a look.” He slid her panties down just to the top of the back of her legs and let his hand rest on her bare and perfect flesh. Charlie whimpered, but it wasn’t from pain. He slowly slid his hand over the curve of her red ass and she stayed completely still, not wanting it to end.
He finally snapped out of his trance and stood her up forcefully. “Pull your pants up Charlie. Is your brother home?” he asked, deliberately averting his eyes.
“Y-yes,” she stammered. Charlie sat on the bed, her head hanging down, mostly so he couldn’t see the bewildered smile she was suppressing. Mr. Daley called the Cavanaugh house and could hear the heavy metal music blaring as Tom answered the phone. “Get over here and pick up your sister, Tom. She’s drunk,” he said, slamming down the phone.
Mr. Daley helped Charlie down the stairs and into the kitchen and sat her down on the kitchen chair, hard. He picked up the bottle of rum and pointed to the label, shoving it in front of her face. “This is 151, Charlie. That’s the strongest rum there is. Do not ever touch this stuff again, do you understand me?”
“Yes,” she blinked, still wide-eyed and tipsy, though more tipsy from the spanking than from the alcohol.
“Look,” he said, looking and sounding embarrassed, “I’m sorry I spanked you. It’s just a reflex, you know? When you have a toddler, you know? Are you okay?” He seemed to be genuinely concerned about her. Charlie nodded.
Tom showed up and walked Charlie home, telling her she was a dumbass for drinking at the Daley’s. She could smell the weed on his clothes and she guessed Mr. Daley could smell it too. More proof of what he already knew, that the inmates were running the asylum. Once inside their own house, Tom pushed her toward the stairs, “Go to bed, Alky, and if you throw it up you clean it up.”
Kip was on the ugly couch making cat call noises. “Ohhhhhhh the little good girl isn’t so good after all, is she?” Tom shot Kip a warning glance that filled the room.
“Fuck you, Kip,” Charlie shot back. “What’s with skankapottimus?” Charlie motioned to the pile of blond hair and wide hips passed out on the floor.
“She’s toast,” Kip said rolling his eyes. “She always overdoes it. Dumb bitch.”
“I’d say it’s a match made in heaven,” Charlie slurred before steadying herself with the railing and pulling herself up the stairs. Good one. Charlie grinned.
Once inside her room she pulled all of her clothes off and looked through the pile of washed and unwashed laundry for a nighty, settling on one from the unwashed pile. Her bed was unmade and her untouched books were thrown into the corner. Must clean room, she made a mental note as she fell into bed and turned off the light. Sleep should have come quickly with the help of the rum but Charlie was restless. She was embarrassed by what she had done and very aware that if Dillon had woken up, she would not have been able to take care of him.
She was disappointed in herself. She thought about the many bad decisions she had made that night. She began to think of all the things that could have gone wrong.
Jesus, she was a loser. No wonder her mother left, she thought.
Just because she had been shit on by the adults in her life, didn’t mean she should shit on a defenseless little kid. She thought about the Daley’s trusting her, even though no one else in the neighborhood would and how she had violated that trust with her selfishness. She went into their bedroom, where they slept together every night, like normal parents and she . . . she couldn’t even finish the thought.
There was no one to teach ethics, or manners, or hygiene, or anything else to Charlotte Cavanaugh but somehow in the midst of a life of chaos she had found it. It mostly came from TV. From Norman Lear actually. Norman Lear had taught her what her parents did not. He taught her how to be a decent human being. He introduced her to compassion, inclusion, and the value of freedom and diversity. His humor and his sense of decency and dignity filled his programs and characters and touched Charlie’s heart. It made her soul ache to be normal, trustworthy, and loved, though she had no right, nor any indication, that she was entitled to be any of these things, ever.
She thought once that her instincts might have been a gift from God. God? Fuck God. God had abandoned her at age ten. No. Wait. That was her mother. She was always getting them mixed up. With the help of Mr. Lear and the characters and families he created, Charlie understood and embraced the idea of justice, equality, kindness, and compassion. There was so little of these things to be found in her life. Maybe we always want most in life what we don’t have.
All of these thoughts were swirling in young Charlie’s head as she tossed and turned and tried to keep from thinking about what she really wanted to think about . . . the spanking. Even in her half drunken state she felt her stomach tighten again. Did it really happen? She wondered. She ran a sleepy hand across her bottom. Still sore—oh yea it happened. Why did it turn her on? Charlie was fascinated.
Was it the adrenaline of getting caught? The fact that she was drunk? The rugged good looks of Mr. Daley? Or saddest of all, was it just overwhelming gratitude for the simple sensation of touch and for someone caring enough to be angry with her?
Charlie was too young to understand the impact of the abandonment of both her parents. No hugs or bedtime kisses, no talks at the kitchen table or moments of sweetness or guidance. No one to say “good job
” when she did something well or “I’m proud of you.” All Charlie knew was survival. It was all she knew how to do and she was barely succeeding at that. She had no idea why this connection with an adult, however screwed up, was affecting her in this way. Not even Dr. Laura would be able to help her with this one. Blow job Laura, not the radio chick.
As Charlie pondered her spanking, she heard the door to her bedroom creak as it opened. Oh my God, she thought. Mr. Daley? Shit! Did he leave Dillon by himself in his crib? Had Charlie’s brother let him in? Maybe he just wanted to check to make sure she was okay. Maybe he wanted to finish what he started.
Charlie decided to play possum. Maybe if he had come to just check on her he might touch her if she pretended to be asleep. Charlie lay quiet as the dead trying to control her breathing but there was nothing she could do about her heart beating out of her chest. She felt his hand stroke her silky hair and she felt a quiet moan escape her throat. God, his touch felt good. Now this was an experienced man. She felt him pull the covers down as he very lightly slid his hand under her nightgown and over her stomach and chest, barely touching, but definitely making contact with her breasts.
Inside her head, she was pleading, please do it. Slide my nightgown up. Touch me. And as if hearing her thoughts, he slid her nightgown up exposing her perfect little budding breasts. She groaned louder as he caressed her nipples and she slowly opened her eyes. “Yes, please,” Charlie whispered through sleepy eyes as she looked up in search of Mr. Daley’s rugged face. Oh shit. Not Mr. Daley.
Chapter 14
Losing Your Virginity is Overrated
“Kip!” Jesus. She hadn’t been right once tonight.
Charlie yanked her nightgown down and sat up in protest. “Who the hell were you expecting, Charlie?” Kip said, sounding hurt.
“No one,” she fumbled. “I—I thought I was dreaming. Get out of here asshole!” She demanded trying to mask her embarrassment.
“We’re going to have to do something about that mouth of yours little girl,” he admonished, running his fingers over her pursed lips.
Charlie suddenly realized that sitting up was not a good idea. The room was rocking. How long had she been asleep? Kip reached over and rubbed the tip of his finger across her hard nipple that was piercing the fabric of her nightgown.
“It doesn’t really look to me like you want me go, Charlie.” He moved in close to her face, reaching underneath her mane of hair and massaging her neck and head at the same time. “Let me teach you Charlie. I won’t hurt you. I promise. If you want me to stop, I’ll stop. I promise. I just want to make you feel good,” he purred as he guided her onto her back with a handful of her hair.
Charlie didn’t consent, but she didn’t protest either. She wanted him to be Mr. Daley and he wasn’t, but he was there and he wanted her. Wanted her. It was a powerful feeling. He was the wrong guy, at the wrong time, and in the wrong place. Tom would kill him, but it was too late to weigh all of that. It was out of her hands now. Kip peeled her nighty over her head, and immediately his hands and mouth were everywhere. Charlie had never felt anything like it. She couldn’t have objected if she wanted to, her breath had left her. In a flash Kip was on top of her and after a little awkward fumbling and some intense pushing, he was inside her.
“Wait!” she pleaded. She was confused. Where did the oral sex fit in to this chaotic scene? What about kissing? She ached to feel his mouth on her nipples but as hard as she tried, she couldn’t speak and she couldn’t will him to do what she wanted. Then she felt it. The excruciating pain as he fully penetrated her and it was over. Kip collapsed on top of her. No condom, no whispering, no hair stroking, no kissing—nothing.
“That was hot,” he grinned as he pulled on his jeans. “You’re not going to tell Tom, right?” In a daze Charlie shook her head ‘no.’ Kip left her room and didn’t even close the door.
If he really liked me, he would have closed the door for me, she thought.
In her bed, in her apartment Charlie tossed and turned as she dreamed. She was desperate for sleep as thoughts of Jake Adams, Mr. Daley, and Kip all mixed into an overcooked soup of regret, rejection, and longing. Longing for a way to forget the dismal circumstances of the loss of her virginity. Longing for the way Mr. Daley made her feel and hoping against hope that Jake Adams might finally be the man who could make her feel like that again.
She knew better than to think he could be that man. She had been disappointed so many times. It was too early to wake up. She tried to settle back into sleep but it was too noisy. The noise was distant but so persistent and getting louder. God she hated working midnight shifts. The baby was there and was staring at her.
“What? I have to sleep.”
His sad little eyes pooled with tears, then suddenly Mary Jane was there too except she also had baby’s eyes. Before Charlie knew it, the persistent noise was coming from behind her was upon her. She turned to see the train heading straight for her. Her feet were sunk deep into the earth making any movement impossible. “Mary Jane! The baby! Save the baby!” DING! DING! DING! DING! DING! DING! DING! DING! DING! DING! DING! DING! DING! Charlie shot up from her pillow screaming “Noooooooo!” She threw her arms up to protect herself from the oncoming locomotive.
Finally, she realized through her sobs that she was safe in her apartment. Safe in her bed. No train.
She was gasping for air as she reached over to turn off her alarm clock—ding, ding, ding. She cried quietly into her pillow trying to get the image of the train out of her head before heading to the kitchen and opening her laptop. AJ, she needed AJ.
VABlueAngel: Are you there AJ? Please be there.
AJ101-789: I’m here Angel. How’d the stakeout go? Did you sleep well? Long time since you worked a midnight shift eh? Heh heh.
VABlueAngel: I wish you could hold me AJ.
AJ101-789: What’s wrong? Charlie, tell me.
Alarm filled AJ’s gut. Charlie was tough, but that was only on the outside. Inside she was fragile as glass and broken, and it was killing him.
VABlueAngel: I just wish you could reach through this damn screen sometimes that’s all.
AJ101-789: The train again?
He asked the question but already knew the answer. The train. AJ hated that fucking train as much as Charlie did. He dreaded it. It was so foreboding. Why did it have to be a train and why did it have to hit her?
VABlueAngel: Uh huh.
AJ101-789: Oh sweetie, I’m so sorry. It’s okay. You’re safe. I’m right here.
But you’re not here, Charlie thought sadly. You’re not here and Jake is.
VABlueAngel: I’m tired of being alone AJ. I’m tired of doing this alone.
AJ101-789: I know you are Angel. I know. I would give anything to take you in my arms and make it go away. I would do anything for you, Charlie. You’re not alone.
Anything? she thought. Then why aren’t you here? I’ve been waiting for over a year. I am so alone. Why can’t you come to me? Instantly she felt guilty. He would be with her if he could be. She felt it in her bones.
VABlueAngel: I didn’t log on to make you feel bad AJ. I just needed you.
AJ101-789: What time does your stake-out start?
VABlueAngel: In an hour. “I need to eat and get a shower,” She said out loud as she typed.
“Get a shower scumbag,” Moses screeched.
VABlueAngel: That bird is getting on my nerves.
AJ101-789: Aww don’t yell at Moses lol. Remember, everything he learned, he learned from Thompson. It’s not his fault.
She loved that AJ so frequently referred to her mentor as if he had known him.
VABlueAngel: Thanks for the smile AJ. Be safe buddy.
AJ101-789: You too.
Buddy? I’m losing her to the Fed, AJ thought.
Chapter 15
Louise
Charlie took
a long hot shower to wash away the remnants of the freight train, then shared a grilled cheese sandwich with Thompson’s loud-mouthed bird before dressing in her black BDUs, a black turtleneck sweater and combat boots. She was hoping against hope that a more on-duty look and feel might help her behave better than she did last night. She blushed as she remembered trying to kiss Jake Adams and him rejecting her. Charlie did a quick press check on her Glock 21, catching a glimpse of the gold colored round in the chamber of her gun to make sure she was ready to go. She slid it into her holster, savoring the clicking sound it made as it locked in. Fucking poetry.
Though she only had an hour to shower, eat, and dress she still found herself ready fifteen minutes early and was excited when she looked out the window and saw that Jake and the Fed Mobile had arrived early as well. She raced down the stairs and climbed into the car and tried not to grin when she saw his deep eyes and the smile he had waiting for her. He was wearing an open-collar polo shirt and a sports coat and looked completely huggable.
“Are we doing a SWAT raid tonight, Sarge?” Jake asked as Charlie climbed into the car.
“I gotta hunch we might see some action tonight,” she smiled mischievously, both because she was thrilled to see him again and because she wanted to make sure he knew that he hadn’t rattled her last night.
“Really?” he said confidently, “Well I am always up for action.”
The Hooker, the Handyman and What the Parrot Saw Page 8