Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 fm Teen Auth.  "Mf" Asph Snuff Fant...

   {Authors' Note: Plural, this is fictional fantasy, meaning the
Characters are writing it, together.  In Jr./High School, and they're not
very good at it, but they're practicing erotic/crime novelists, and this is
their first attempt.  Speling and grammar erors are intentional, as always.
(Once I get a chance to proofread) So, bear with us...}

   "Hihin!" I saw it, at the top of his paper.

   "What?"

   [George E.  Dancey]

   "Your name." No idea why I didn't think of it before.  "Look," I covered
up the y on the end.  "See, when we get married, I'll be Mrs.  Dancey. 
But, if you just cut the George off, we could write as just E.  Dance."

   "Okay?" He nodded.

   "Well," I laughed, "I could use my middle name too.  Only I'd be Terry
Dance."

   "Yeah," he shrugged, "I get it.  Like the song?"

   Elvis Costello, mom had a bunch of albums lying around.  Mr.  E.  Dance,
and Miss.  Terry Dance.  I whistled to myself.  Went and got the, album. 
Well Compilation.  Best of, but it wasn't on it.  "The Attractions?" I
think, so I grabbed another case, ran my nail down.  Stuck that back, and
checked another.

   "Ah." [Honkytonk Demos] used, like most of her collection.  Hastings,
that kind of thing.  Movies, too, how she shops.  It's not my favorite
song, but I love the lyrics.  I'm not really into music, but I like the
songs that tell me a story.  I can't really get into it without a good
story, but this one's about, some guy.  I guess, doesn't know anything
about sex, but he wants to.  So bad, it's like driving him crazy.  I'm a
freshman in high School, so at least I can relate.  Sexually active, but
we've got this whole romantic/crime drama thing going on.  Not really
comedy, and kinda tragic, to be honest, but you know what they say: "Write
what you know."

   He had our homework put away, and our notebook out, so I grabbed the
chair.

   "Chance" I popped in the disk, and skipped the first track.  Made
scribbling motions at the page, "We can come up with a better name later."
He shrugged, and put the pen down:

   [Chance

   "Oh!" I swayed.  "Well, I feel so lose tonight, I might fall to pieces."
They drove off, so I staggered up the sidewalk, "So, be prepared to sweep
me out the door!" Made it to the porch.  "And I might be horizontal by the
time the music seaces," fumbled out the keys, "So I better get aqainted
wit'the floor." Wiped my mouth, and the door swung in, almost falling over
the back of the couch.  "Hahahahaha!" Great party!

   "Hullo floorboard once again, how are youoo?" I got my heels back under
me in the hall.

   I found him, hanging in the closet.  "Uh!" I fell sideways out of the
bedroom doorway.  I guess the music stopped, but it took a minute to
process.  A lot longer to deal.  I had to crawl to him, and kick my heels
off before I could climb up enough to find out he was dead.

   "Eddie?" I shook him.  "Oh Eddie." I fell down, and cried for a good
long while before I could even think to call the cops.

   Had to clean up all his drugs, anyway.  While I was at it, I took that,
thing off of him.  And pulled his pants up, fixed his clothes.

   "Huh!" And threw up, a lot.  Almost able to think clearly, waiting for
them to get there.

   It's embarrassing, enough to let them think he just killed himself. 
Knowing what they'd say, I drove him to it.  So sorry for being such a
bitch to him, but I never thought.  I mean, I knew he was kinky, but I had
no idea how bad he gotten.  Better then them knowing, anything about that.

   ;

   "E.  Dance." {fm...  Write?  Auth, yeah.  That's it...}

   "Huh."

   "What?"

   "Killed me right off, huh?"

   "Well, I just, I wasn't thinking of you.  You know, I just blurted out a
name."

   I nodded, knowing where that scene came from.  Or one, very much like
it, but I'm dealing.  I swallowed.  "So, where we going with this," looked
up at the top of the page, "Chance?"

   "I don't know, I envisioned like a.  Cross between trailer trash, and
party girl?  Married young, maybe an anchor baby to keep her with her piece
of shit husband, but."

   "How young?" I interrupted.

   "I don't know.  Fresh out of high school, underage drinking, at parties.
Uh, seventeen to nineteen?"

   "Which one?" I set the pen down, and sat up.

   "I mean, shotgun wedding at seventeen, married a couple years, baby.  I
guess it'd be easy to write in a baby right now," she picked up the
notebook, "Uhm," read it over, quickly.  "Yeah, she didn't mention it, but,
she could be asleep in the other room."

   I nodded, "Trailer, or apartment?"

   "Doesn't matter, we can work on the setting, but 2 bedroom." She
thought, "So, yeah, apartment." Scribbled in notes.

   "Well, write what you know," I got up, stretched, and rubbed my back. 
"You ever live in a trailer?  Me neither." I looked around, even our
teachers said we need to work on our description.  "So," I went out on the
porch, and grabbed our pack of smokes.  No balcony.  Waited for her to come
out, made a lap.

   "Huh!  Thanks." She handed it back.  Full flavor, but we only smoke half
of one anyway.

   "So, what's the mystery?"

   "I'm thinking about it.  More revenge, really.  But I thought, what
hasn't been done yet, as a protagonist?"

   "A teenage party slut," that's for damned sure.  She nodded.  She's
sexist, to everyone.  Me too, I guess, can't really see which one's worse,
men, or women.  Like we're any better, but it makes for great stories.
:

   Jump Up (FMf, NS?  "Well, probably some sexually explicit language."

   "Yeah.")

   "Uh?" Great cops.  By the look of them.  "Snh!" I wiped my eyes, and
opened it up to the chain.  "Yes?"

   "Chance Davis?"

   "Uh huh?" I looked back, at the ashtray.  Still smoking, but starting to
go out.

   The woman sniffed.  "It's okay, we're not NARCs.  We're here about your
husband?"

   "Yeah, Uh.  Let me straighten up, a minute?" I just shut it, and put out
the roach.  Rubbed my face, "So not ready for this shit," but dropped it in
the tin, and the tin in the drawer before I undid the chain, and let them
in.

   "Don't worry about the pot.  Just sit down, relax."

   "You mind if I look around?"

   "YeAh!"

   "At the crime-scene," he pointed.  "I can go get a warrant."

   "You're gonna have to, because I don't want some man, going through my
things!"

   "Max.  She's right, why don't you go out for a while.  I can handle
this."

   "All right," but he kept looking around, all the way to the door. 
Pulled out his phone.

   "Thanks," I relaxed, my arms around my knees, a little.

   "I understand, having a man around.  Have you been shut in here, the
whole time?"

   "Since it happened, I can't." Deal.

   "It's all right, and substance abuse isn't uncommon either, after a
traumatic event."

   "I'm getting cleaned up," AA, "I just need a joint now and then, to take
the edge off.  You a therapist, too?" Talked like one, "Actually, Uh." I
sat up, "Can I see some ID, or something?"

   "Sure," she pulled out her jacket, "No, I'm not a therapist, but I've
seen quite a few cases," Like this?  "And, I'm seeing one, for some of
them."

   "Tough job, Detective?"

   "I can't," she nodded, eye-to eye, "Legally talk about, Any of my
cases."

   "Okay!" Jesus!

   "But I can talk with you, about your case, with strict confidence that I
won't share any details, unless they're pertinent to the case."

   "Criminal case?  What kind of case?  I know suicide is a crime, but I
can't help feel like you're treating me like a victim."

   "I'm sorry, like victims, people close to the case can feel a lot of the
same effects, like secondary, and tertiary victims.  And non-victims,
family, and loved ones, but we haven't closed it as a suicide yet.  It's
still an active case, and we still have to rule out all possibilities,
before we can do that."

   "Like what?"

   "Well, I have to ask you some followup questions." She got out her
phone. Big phone, not quite a Tablet, but bigger than her badge, and the
big wallet thing she carried it in.  With her ID, detective, probably her
partner too.  "Now, forgive me if these are personal, or painful, and take
as long as you need." She looked back at her phone, and read.  "Did you
have any sexual activity with the deceased?" she looked back.  "The day, or
night when it happened?" Not sure if it was to catch me in a lie, or watch
me.  Think about what she said.  "No, we hadn't been.  Sexually active, for
quite a while before that."

   "Well, there was evidence of it, found on the body in examination."

   "What?" She put held the phone on her leg.  "Evidence of what?"

   "Sexual activity."

   "I knew it!  I knew that fucker was cheating on me, I just never could
prove it!"

   "Chance?"

   "Yeah?  Sorry." I sat back down.  "Let me explain," I took a breath, "We
weren't married like that, no more.  He, uh.  He wasn't, doing me." I
wasn't looking at her.  "Any more."

   "How long?"

   "I don't know, I guess it's been a month or two now."

   "May I ask, why you stopped?"

   "You just asked, but." How do I put this, "I don't feel comfortable,
talking about it right now." To a cop.

   "I understand," but a woman cop, at least.  "We can get back to it, he
didn't abuse you?"

   "Why?"

   She looked down, and I stopped hugging the legs of my PJs, quite so
tight.  And bouncing my toes on the end of the cushion.

   "Okay, don't tell nobody nothin, but." I looked at the door, "I mean
your partner, especially, but he was.  Kinda kinky, in bed."

   "Kinky like spanking, or anal?" I wrinkled my nose.

   "Worse."

   "Bondage, pain?"

   "He liked me biting his nipples, hard."

   "Explains the genital bondage."

   "Why'd you say anal?"

   "They found signs of.  Anal penetration?"

   "On him?"

   She shook her head.

   "In him!?"

   She half nodded, once.

   "EW!" fuck!  "I really had no idea how bad he'd gotten."

   "Did he, mutilate himself?

   "Yeah, burned himself, with cigarettes." I thought it was, Impressive,
the first time, "But he was just showing off."

   "You thought."

   "Yeah, well he wanted me to get all whip me beat me in bed, too."

   "But you wouldn't consent to that?'

   "Yeah.  No, I mean, yeah I tried it, but." I shook my head, took a
breath.  "I couldn't stop laughing.  It ruined the mood, for both of us,
so. I didn't know he was still into it."

   "So, you think he might have continued, such play with his mistress."

   "What did you find on him, anyway?"

   "Saliva.  Uh.  I can't really share evidence with you.  I'm sorry, I'm
just here to question you, but." She underestimated me.

   "What about fingerprints?  I can give you a 10 sheet, if you haven't
pulled my record, but are you investigating this as a homicide?  Look, you
could write a book about all I don't know about Police Proceidure, but I've
been questioned, and I have heard of a Homicide detective.  Am I a suspect?
'cause I sure ain't never heard of no Suicide Detective."

   "Well, if you want to rule yourself out," she pulled a plastic thing out
of her jacket.  "I can take a cheek swab, and rule you out of suspicion
today."

   "A cheek swab?" Looked like a footlong tampon until she tore the end
off, and pulled out the longest Q tip I ever seen.

   "Yeah, just let me wipe the inside of your cheek, and I'll take it with
me to the lab." She pulled the tiny, thimble sized plastic cup out to the
end, and flipped a cap over it.  Stuck it in the plastic straw, cover
thing. There was a ziplock she pulled over with her thumbnail.

   "Don't you have to wear gloves?"

   "Not with these," she pulled out a pen, and clicked it to start writing.
On her fingers, stuck under the label, like she done this a hundred times
before.

   "You done?"

   "If I have any further questions, I can call you.  You want my card, in
case you think of something, and need to call me."

   ;

   {>| At the end of Wave a White Flag.  If you ever read this again, just
put it on, and leave it on the whole time.  (Elvis Costello - Honky Tonk
Demos.}

   Terry Dance (FB Cons Fant)

   I stopped rubbing his back, and made my way down to his pants.

   "Ready to take a break?" He dropped the pen, and folded the notebook
over it.

   "Yeah," by which we mean horny AF?

   "Here," I pulled out his zipper, "Let's see what we got here."

   He'd grown a lot, but he's 12.  Gonna turn thirteen at some point, I
know middle school boys, but we have issues.

   Our issues have issues.

   He just watched my face, I grinned back.

   Got some hair on it, not a lot, but some.  I remember his first one, he
showed me it, damn near the crack of his ass, and playing with it.  Slipped
my hand in to roll his balls/bag out, but kept them in there, and jently
probed his crack with my fingertip.  I've got another hand, to slip my
thumb under, and pull the skin out, sideways under my flattened fingers. 
"Hh," I slipped my thumb back, to hook it over at the base, the way he
can't.  Not without reaching across, and probably breaking his wrist in the
process.  A little tip for the girls, don't jerk him the way he does, do it
the way he can't.  And Gay/NAMBLA guys too, I guess.

   "Snh!" Cross my legs, to put my elbow down, before my arm gets tired.

   "Hhuh!" He nodded, eyes closed.

   I kept it up, a quick pace to finish him quickly.  And thought, where to
go from here.  Time for more characters, or hirstory on Chance?  Grace? 
No, just an every day, lower class name.  Chase, no that's a bank.  More
country, or outskirts of town.

   Feel like I'm going insane from talkin' to myself for so long.

   Shake my head.

   "Uh!" try to concentrate on the task at hand, so he'll stop humping the
mattress, but.  I've got to do better than Chance.

   "Hn!"

   "Ready?" He scrunched his eyes nodding, so I held it down.  Slipped my
finger out of his crack, and flipped the other one over, to rub under the
tip with the print of my thumb.  "Now."

   "HhuhH!" He shivered, and I caught the first spurt in my palm.  Watched
it splash out, until it was dribbling in my fingers.  "HhahH!" He panted,
and caught his breath.  I pulled out my shirt at the hip, and wiped it off
on the hem.  Left it out to dry, while he tucked in, and zipped up his
pants.  "Feel better?" I leaned down, kissed him until he smiled.

   "Heah." He nodded.

   "How about Seth?"

   "Who's Seth?"

   "I don't know," I turned back to the CD player.

   {If you're old enough to read this, I'll just blithely assume you know
what a CD player is, and are familiar with the controls.

   >}

   Blame it on Cain (fm Cons.)

   "Yeah?"

   "Seth?" Rubbed my eyes.

   "Yeah, who's this?"

   "Chase?" Blinked.  Yeah, I gave her my number.

   "Chase?" but I never thought she'd call it.

   "How do you, not drink?"

   "Huh, one day at a time." Isn't that what they say?  "Why, you feeling
tempted?"

   "I had a bad day."

   "How bad?"

   "Well, I had to talk to a cop, so, not great, how about you?"

   "Well, you want to grab a cup of coffee or something?"

   "Coffee?"

   "Well, since you asked." What time is it?  "Yearh!  It's like tapping
pens when you're trying to quit smoking.  You can still drink coffee. 
Maybe grab some breakfast?"

   "Yeah, I'd like that.  You want to come pick me up?"

   "You don't have a car?"

   "Nah, let me give you my address."

   It wasn't far, so I found a clean shirt, and wet my hand to at least
slick my hair back, it dried on the way.

   She called back, so I put it on bluetooth.

   "Hey."

   "What's up?"

   "You're sober, right?"

   "Yeah," almost, "eight months."

   "Good."

   "Why?"

   "Well, my boyfriend was killed, driving drunk."

   "Well, that explains," why she's single.  "Why you decided to get on the
wagon."

   "Yeah.  Uh, well I was looking through the book.  And you mind if I ask
you a question?"

   "Shoot."

   "How cum we can't have sex?"

   "Ahuh!  Excuse me?" I cleared my throat, "Well, sex addiction is a
thing. Huh, they don't want us getting off the bottle, just to jump on
another, horse." So to speak.  Rubbed my eye again.

   "Oh," Shake my head.  "Well, get here safe."

   "Rodger." Not like I didn't think about, it.  Been a while, since the
divorce.  They're right, you know, but.  "Huh!" I could think about a,
rebound girl now.  Right?

   She met me at the door, with a cup of coffee.

   "You take it black?"

   In a bathrobe, and a towel around her hair.

   I shrugged, "A little cream, and sugar."

   "I made a pot," I followed her into the kitchen.

   A short robe, "I ain't got cream, or half and half, but I got some
milk." She dropped the peel off seal on the counter.

   "That's fine." I nodded.  And a pair of underpants.

   "How do you like your eggs?"

   "Over easy?"

   She set the carton on the stove.  "I'm gonna go dry my hair." A full
dozen, I checked the fridge.

   "Uh, you mind if i scramble some sausage too?" I had to break open the
fresh pack, there was a full bag of shredded cheese, too.

   "Nah, go ahead." She went to the store.  I guess while I was on the way
here, so we didn't have to go out for breakfast.  I just didn't bring it
up, so she wants to seduce me?

   "All right." I'm down.

   ;

   Anonymous (TW: Story codes would spoil it, but take it as given the
following chapter is potentially triggering.)

   [I know I can't say this, so I decided to write it out, and then work up
the courage to give it to you.

   First, I don't want to make excuses.  Find someone to blame for what I
did, but now I know that's what they were.  He lied, obviously, but it
wasn't at all like, watching my hands do it, or loss of control.  I did it,
because I wanted to.  I didn't hesitate, I even planned it a little.  I
just gave up, gave into curiosity I guess, but I got sick of wondering,
what it was like.  So, I decided to try it.  Carefully, don't want to get
caught, and I have to hide this draft especially well, in case anyone finds
it.  But I'm not even sorry.  I liked it, dare I say I got off on it, and
I'll do it again.  Not the next chance I get, I plan on it.  If I plan it
out, then I won't make stupid impulsive mistakes.  So, I won't get caught,
and I can keep doing it.

   That said, I guess it's time to go into the circumstances, and the
Victim, which gave me the opportunity in the first place.  First of all,
he's my cousin.  Which makes it incest, on top of everything else, but it's
not like any one perversity cancels out another, they all added up to make
it even sicker.  Even more aberrant, and sexier.  I give up, this is my
sexuality, beyond gay or straight, irregardless of how I arrived at it, I
just want to do the sickest thing I can think of, and think up new, sicker
things whenever I can.  Because it's sexy, it's what turns me on, and what
gets me off.  No appologies, no excuses, it's who I am, a pervert.

   A child molestor.

   So, anyway, he's 7 this year.  Still missing some teeth, or growing them
back, but he's got all the fresh new adult teeth in the front.  Even though
he's not an adult.  Me neither, but I'm a lot bigger then him, and yes
that's a big part of it.  Older, more experienced, taller, and better at
manipulating children.  Lots of practice, along with the Fantasy, but here
I saw an opportunity to make it a reality.

   Well, the whole family stayed with us, so it's not just the incest, but
also goes to Opportunity.  Not a lot of room, so he got stuck with me, in
my room, just like last year, and every year.  The difference is this year
I anticipated it.  I had time to think about it, and plan for it, because
it was predictable.  Just like getting kicked out, so mom could cook.  It's
a big deal, every year, so they start early, and we got to go for a walk. I
just stole a phone, so we'd have it, and took him to a nice private place,
where I could show him it.

   Not the phone, porn on it.  My uncle's, so there's no parental blocks,
and he apparently didn't know about Incognito Mode, because he had some in
History.  Boring stuff, really.  Straight mainstream shit, mostly
gangbangs, and he seems to like skinny little blondes too.  Just from the
keywords: [Petite Gangbangs] just for example.  [Bukkake] if you know what
that means.  So, I guess it runs in the family, not like that's an excuse,
but my aunt, and uncle at least tried to hide it.  From the kids, this is
adult stuff after all, right?  So, I just showed him what his dad was into,
jerking off to, young looking girls getting gangbanged, double and triple
penetrated, which gave me ideas, too.  Maybe later, but for now, I had my
naive little cousin to sexualize, and talk into letting me molest him.
"See?" he didn't even nod.  Just stood there, mouth wide open, and
watched it.  I had the phone turned around, so I couldn't see exactly what
was going on, like it mattered to me.  Predictable enough, a skinny little
girl, with a bunch of men, probably still sucking them hard in a circle
around her.  They usually do that a while before they start fucking her. 
"That's what it's like.  Porn," he glanced up, "I mean, there's all kinds
of porn, but this is what your dad looks at, when he's jerking off." He was
watching it again, instead of paying attention.  Don't even know if he
heard me, so I just shut up.  "You ever play with yourself, when you get
hard?" He shook his head, slowly.  "It's easy, here.  You getting hard

yet?"

   I touched him.  I just touched him, but it was me, not some
uncontrollable impulse, I just had to say something first, so he'd let me.
He looked up, surprised, but he didn't stop me.  It was also a test, I
guess.  To see if that was enough, to introduce him to porn, and get him
hard for him to let me do this.  "How's that feel?" But he didn't stop me,
put down the phone, or stop watching it.  He let me, didn't even squirm a
little.  "Good?"

   He nodded, so i kept rubbing it.  Through his pants, but that wasn't
enough for me.  I wanted to get it out, see it naked, and touch it.  Skin
on skin, here I was molesting him, and it was great, but I still had enough
control to think about something else: What to say, how to talk him into
going further, doing more to him, as long as it gave him pleasure.  Little
boys, not really all that hard to understand.  Especially when they been
sheltered like this, he didn't even have an older brother.  To show him
porn, how to get it up, and masturbate, but i did all the work.  He can
figure it out, later, but now I had it in hand.  So, he doesn't have to, he
can keep holding the phone.  In both hands, and up close, so it was right
in front of his eyes.  "Huh!" I slowed down.  Just pinching his pants
around it, to slip it back and forth through the dry fabric.  But not
enough to get him off, not yet.  I took the time to enjoy it, because i
could control myself.  And him, of course that's what it's all about.  I
don't lie to myself, it's Domination.  Sexual control, why you start with a
little kid.  You know, because they're easy to understand, and manipulate.
Literally, but I also felt the zipper.

   In the way, "You know, it feels even better when you get it out." Rubbed
it in, instead of pinching the sides around it, as I had been doing. 
"Here," i pinched the tab on top, "Let me just get this out of the way. 
Here," I slipped my fingers inside, "Doesn't this feel better?"

   "Yeah." He even nodded a little.  "Huh!" Not quite a sigh, just a huff,
I guess, even sounded a little more like a scoff, but he just kept watching
the move.  I peeked over to see they had her up, holding her by the arms
and legs, so a man could get in between them.  He was fucking her, but I
just kept rubbing my fingers over it.  2 of them, slowly, gently, too nice
a job to rush, but I just reveled in the feeling of his hardness.  His
quiet short shallow breaths.  The heat from his reddened face, and the look
of utter fascination on it.  This was going remarkably well, I actually
thought it would take more explaining.  Convincing to let me do it, before
the first time i imagined masturbating together, showing how I did it, and
watching him discover all the pleasure he could find between his legs. 
"Here," I hooked my fingertips around, "Let me, just." Pinched his button
in my other fingers, but it was backwards.  So, I pulled him out, through
the fly, and let him feel the zipper a little while I got the button
undone, and said: "It's really a lot easier with your pants pulled down."

   So, I guess that snapped him out of it.  "Uh?" He looked up.

   "There," I let go, "Why don't you try it?" Didn't say What? 
Selfconsciously, to give it away.  But there, you got your cute little
hardon out, and a couple handfulls of porn, "You don't need both hands to
hold the phone." I just sat back, acted natural, looked at him. 
Expectantly, maybe a little Peer pressure, but put it out of your mind, and
just do what cums natural.

   I can watch for a while.

   What can I say, it was a dick.  A little boy dick, not a hair on it, but
circumcized.  So, the little red head's exposed on top of the pinck band
around it, like a pencil erasor.  Hard as a stubby little pencil, sticking
up all on it's own so it almost touched his tummy, and holding his shirt up
over his naked balls, hanging down under it.

   "Ngh!" He covered it up, and started rubbing it.  Under his hand, up
against his shirt, but I just put my leg up, and crossed it over.

   "You ever heard of a circle jerk?" He shook his head, but didn't look
up, around the phone right in front of his eyes.  "It's just a bunch of
guys, sharing porn, and jerking off together." In a circle, like the guys
in the video without the girl in the middle.  "It's how we learn, in case
your father doesn't teach you, or you don't have an older brother." Or
cousin, "To show you how it's done, but try all kinds of stuff.  Every man
is different, so some like to rub on it, like a girl, while others like to
pump it in their fist." I'm sure he'd seen that before, if not in the
background of the movie he was watching.  At least 6 guys, that i counted,
when I bothered to do a head count, but honestly that kind of shit is
boring.  Mainstream.

   "Isn't that," his mouth frowned, I could see his eyes, but his brow
wrinkled over the phone too.  "Gay?" He peeked, under the phone, but looked
me in the eyes.  I was just sitting there, fully clothed, arms crossed.

   "Not unless you're gay." I shook my head.  I thought a moment,
"Homosexual is an adjective, not an adverb.  They teach you about those
yet?"

   "Uh huh?" Bored, he went back to the video.

   "People are homesexual, not actions, like looking at porn, or jerking
off.  Even with a friend, that's not gay, and it doesn't make you gay.  Any
more than jerking off by yourself, because you don't have a girlfriend yet.
Or a boyfriend, I'm not one to judge, but, you're not gay, are you?" And
rubbing his privates, unfortunately so I couldn't see them, oddly like a
girl would, but I'd seen it, and touched it, and I'm oddly.  Turned on,
ovbiously, this was rapidly becoming the hottest thing I ever done, but
while he was too distracted to even respond, I shut up, and noticed how
strangely, non physical this arousal was.  Here i was, horny as fuck,
watching my cousin play with himself, and remembering just molesting him,
but I didn't even get hard.

   Yet, but since he was distracted, and now more comfortable with the
situation since I explained it, I uncrossed my legs, and starting to undo
my pants.  He noticed, looked down when I got down on my knees, and pulled
them down.  "Here," I held it up, "Let me show you how I like it."]

   ;

   Excitable Boy (m/f BDSM Relu Cons)

   I just watched her, reading it.  Her glances up, then getting engrossed,
licking her lips, then biting one.  It was a pretty short story, but I
wrote it for her.  By myself, she doesn't seem to think I can, despite any
evidence to the contrary, but takes credit for all the writing we do
together.  Honestly, she's good at ideas.  The who, what, when, where, and
even why, but she sucks at dialog, and characterization.  Says she can't
think, and write at the same time, so she needs me to dictate her sick
fantasies to, but really, I have to make it believable, while she stops to
think.

   "Huh!" But, I love this.  Watching her get turned on, especially knowing
what she's reading about.  I know her fantasies, at least as well by now. I
was pretty sure i could write it, perfect for her, but this actually put it
to the test.  A final, I guess, closer to mid-term, but you don't want to
do it when she expects it.  Not the kind of holidays where gift giving is
traditional, but a nice long weekend, where we're forced apart because of
family, and school schedules.  Now that we're in different schools, for a
semester all ready.

   If she had her way, we'd probably fuck eachother to death.  Collapse
from exhaustion, probably dehydrated after a marathon session of sexual. 
Well, I'll call it attempted manipulation.  She's not very good at it,
doesn't give me enough credit, but when I said "Two can play at that game."
Not like I wrote the whole conversation down, or think I remember every
word the way she lies to herself, but I know who I'm dealing with.  She
took it as a dare, "Oh yeah?  Prove it!"

   "Huh huh," She looked up.

   "What?"

   I didn't hide my grin, "You like it?"

   "Yeah," obviously.  "Huh!  I never thought, you'd."

   "Haha!  I didn't, really.  I don't even have a cousin that young." And
if you'd cum over, at all this week, you would have known that.  "I thought
about it," you saw to that, "But it's not as if I would actually seduce and
molest my cousin like that." I shrugged, turned away.  Not in shame, or
embarrassment, like she could tell the difference.  "Huh!  It was just some
boy, at school."

   "But you did," she put the story down, "Molesta, nother boy."

   "Yeah, it's for a book!  Call it research or whatever, but I got sick of
just fantasizing about it, or letting you molest me.  I know, I like it to,
but doncha think it's getting a little." Lie, "I don't know, boring, and
predictable?"

   "So," she nodded, "You decided to molest a boy, at school."

   "Yeah?" I pushed her hand off, "But I got you." Stood up.  Taller than
her, too.  Had been for a while, I didn't just get too heavy to sit in her
lap because she got in shape.  Didn't lose weight, grew into it, really,
but now she was a lot slimmer, and bustier at the same time.  "You know,
the deal?" She wrote it, or dictated it for me to write.

   "Uh!" She backed up, turned completely around.  Away from me.  "I didn't
mean."

   "No, you didn't think." I grabbed her shoulders, "You never thought I'd
collect, because you couldn't believe I can write well enough to fool you."

   "You didn't fool me!" She shook her head, and tried to pull my arms off.

   I just didn't let her this time.  'relax.' I chuckled, "But you can't
lie to me.  You totally thought I molested my cousin.  When I don't even
have one."

   "Okay, so it was, pretty believable."

   "Yeah, so it's my turn.  I've got it written down if you want to read it
again, but you said I could do it, 'just as soon as you write better then
me' or when pigs fly, or whatever.  I got you, now it's finally my turn."

   "What're you going to do?" She even signed it.

   "Surprise you," I rubbed her arms, "Relax." Pulled out her shirt.  The
clean hem, you know I still don't know what she does with them?  Still a
little mystery in our relationship, I guess, but I know it's significant.
Part of her MO, I doubt I'll ever understand Why she does it, but it's
pretty obviously compulsive at this point.  "Just let me, do it.  To you,
for once.  You'll find that I've given this a lot of thought to." But she
wants to be the top, can't even conceive of anyone else taking over, much
less passively letting it happen.  Again, since my brother raped her, but I
was nearly 13, now.

   The same age my brother was, when he raped her.

   So, not that.  Certainly, I want to be different enough it's not a
flashback.  I won't trigger her, so she doesn't enjoy this, and she might
even get violent.  "It's okay," I slipped it up her sides, "It's me.  I
won't hurt you, I won't even scare you, I love you.  Just relax for once,
and let me show you, how I love you."

   "Okay," she tried to, but still held her arms nervously.  Down in front
of her, squeezing her bra between them, but this isn't about her body.  Nor
any part of her, I know every inch of her skin.  This was about Her.  her
mind.  That's what I was finally going to make love to.  Not the way she
wants it, the way she could never imagine.  It was finally time to surprise
her.

   ;

   Kayleigh (m/f BDSM Teen Cons)

   "Huh!" I was nervous, and dare I say it, even a little scared.  Okay,
you're right, I never seriously consider you'd be able to do it.  Ever
since the first time, when we couldn't stop laughing, but you're right. 
You did it.  Utterly dominated me, I was gone, and it was the most
wonderful feeling I ever had.  Don't think this changes anything, but if
you can do that to me, ever again.  Well, I wouldn't mind, but don't think
you can treat me like some man, outside of the scene.  I know you put a lot
of work and thought into it, I could tell.  But it really payed off, and
let me tell you, it worked.

   So, let me think back.  Excellent choice on Excitable Boy.  Great song,
you know I like the story behind the lyrics, but this time.  I knew it was
coming, in the second verse, but I kind of tuned it out until then, and
then when he said "He took little Suzy to she senior prom..." And you
stopped talking.  Just felt me, "Then he raped her, and killed her, then he
took her home." OoOoh, Excitable boy.

   Just the cognative dissonnance of that moment, just like the song.  I
know you felt me tense up, but really, it was such a let down, but I never
knew you could touch me like that.  I couldn't tell what you did different,
but the way you had my arms.  In my shirt.  It didn't bother me until then,
but then I was so intensely aware of it, and it stopped being, well just
uncomfortable.

   I have no idea how you came up with that.  Pulling the shirt up my arms
behind me like that, it was really pretty comfortable, when I lay down like
that.  On my back, but my arms just beside me.  Not like.  I couldn't move,
but it didn't bother me until then.

   About then, the next verse kicked in, with; "After 10 long years they
let him out of the home..."

   You did the perfect thing.  You stopped, and held me.  Helped me up, and
held me, which is what I really needed just then.  I don't know what you're
trying to do, but I flashed back.  To your brother, I felt so helpless, and
then you helped me.  Told me it was all right, it was you, you weren't
going to hurt me, and you love me.  I know, I knew that, but you made it go
away.  The fear, everything but the 1 question that's been driving me nuts
all these years.

   Not why me, why did I do that, what was I thinking?  I still don't know
why, he didn't kill me.  I just decided, I may never know, and hopefully
I'm ready to start trying to accept it.

   ;

   "Mr.  E.  Dance" (M/f Bond D/s.  Cool Down.)

   I just hit stop before it kicked over to Werewolves of London. 
(Auto-Reverse, old Tape.) "Huh!" pushed the hem of the shirt down, "How do
you feel?" helped her get her hands out of the sleeves.

   "Hhuh!" she hugged her knees.  So, I grabbed her shirt, and pulled it
off her other hand.

   "You need a minute?"

   "No," she pulled my arm, "Don't go."

   "Huh!" But I did it.  Didn't say anything, nothing to say, honestly
tuned her out a lot, while she tried to talk herself out of the situation.
Nod, "Uh huh?"

   "It wasn't uncomfortable, physically." She rubbed her arms, "Huh, to be
honest, it felt kind of, comforting, to start."

   "Then you started to relax." Accept she couldn't move.  What do I know
about that?  Feeling like that?

   Plenty.

   "But then you started getting scared."

   "Yeah."

   "Sorry, I tried not to trigger you."

   "No," she surprised me.  "It was me, it was all my fault."

   "Well," isn't that novel!?  "How so?" Go on...

   "Huh!  I don't know, I just curled up in my head, and I couldn't get
away from it."

   "What?"

   "Me, your brother, what, happened to me?"

   "All right," I just put my arm over her shoulders, "Don't trigger
yourself again." Ever heard of Gaslighting?  Yeah, I had to look it up too.
Did you know you can gaslight yourself?  Neither did she, I just had to let
her.  Why I don't blame victims.  I don't have to, we can do it all by
ourselves.  Probably better than anyone else could, so you can go ahead and
stop trying, you fucking amateurs.  Try counterstalking a potential
pedophilic serial killer (And only potential, because he couldn't control
himself enough to get a third victim without getting himself locked up.)
Then see what you can come up with, in the Victim Blaming department. 
Something we didn't think up, in the past 3 years?  Probably not, so sit
down, shut up, and read on, if you think you can handle it.

   "Kay?"

   "Mhm?"

   "I'm not sorry."

   "Don't be," she said it.  3 little words, "You were right." She nodded,
and I just hugged her tighter.

   "You know how I did it?"

   She looked up.  "What?"

   "I let you do it to yourself."

   Like I'd tell you.

   ;)

   Bird on the Wire (Mf NS Argu.)

   "You lied to me!"

   "Well, it was just a fantasy."

   "Oh, don't give me that, you led me to believe;"

   "I just wrote what you wanted to believe."

   "Like you have any idea;"

   "Haha, seriously?  You believed it, because that was your fantasy,
wasn't it?  I got it, all the subtle hints, trying to make me bisexual, you
wanted to believe I just started molesting little boys."

   "You did."

   "No, I didn't, I lied!  I never molested anybody, like I have that in
me, I'm not a Child Molestor."

   "Okay, so you got me."

   "Yeah, but it's more than that.  You are a child molestor, and you suck
at lying about it, but I'm not even your only victim."

   "Now don't get jealous, you know I hate that."

   "Yeah, and I'm pushing your buttons.  Intentionally, so now you have to
admit I can.  Right?  I played you like a fucking fiddle, because despite
all your pretentions at mystery, the only one you can lie to is yourself."

   "Stop."

   "No.  We're going to talk about this, or I can go.  Just tell me if you
don't want me to come back, now that you know my balls dropped.  Take your
time, I know this is all sudden, but I'm done.  Playing your little boy, if
you think you can handle a man now, you can call me."

   "No, don't go."

   "Why not?"

   "I need you."

   "You need a man?"

   "Don't make me say it."

   "Of course not.  Huh, I don't want to make you do anything you don't
want to, I just can't, keep going along with your repetitive fantasy any
more.  Change the record, or something, it's getting boring.  I want to put
some of my fantasy in there now.  Or, at least admit I can help you write
it."

   "You want to keep writing?"

   "I love you, I still do, and at the very least I'd like to finish
something we started, but you have to let me help.  Okay?  I can write too,
and you haven't come up with anything, actually new in how long?"

   "I don't know."

   "Well, let's try that.  To see if we can still write together at least,
and then take it from there.  But something has to change, because I can't
keep playing your victim."

   "So, what?"

   "Well, huh.  How about the last one, we started.  Uh, well maybe we can.
Write a more mature sex scene, now."

   "Where were we?"

   "She just came onto him, invited him to cook her breakfast, so how about
there?"

   ;

   [Misty]

   "Yeah," she had to admit, "That's way better."

   [Ooh, breakfast in bed!  I sat up, feeling much better.

   "So," he sat on the corner, "You're into BDSM."

   "What's that?"

   He chewed.  "Shorry," washed it down with some coffee.  "I just assumed.
Huh, it's just the way you.  Well, I thought I picked up a bit of a
femdommy vibe from you."

   She shook her head, "So, femdommy, is that like Furry?"

   "Kind of," he supposed, "I mean, it's a completely different kink, but."

   "Well, I went out with this guy, and he turned out to be one of them. 
Wanted to wear this teddy bear suit, so I got a little creeped out, and
left."

   "Well, I sure don't own a giant Teddybear suit, but.  I had a
girlfriend, who was into Femdom.  For a while, but I haven't seen her for
years."

   "What happened?" She seemed interested.  Set the plate back on the bed,
didn't take very long.

   "Just burned out.  It was, a pretty intense relationship."

   "Sounds like.  What'd she do to you?"

   "Well, you know, some bondage, a little light pain." Wasn't just
alcaholic, nor sex-addict, but left a lot out at the meeting.

   "You or her?"

   "You mean tied up?" She nodded, frowned a little, but silently.  "Well,
me.  That's what femdom means, she dominated me."

   "What's that like?"

   "Indescribable?"

   "Well, I don't have any whips, and chains," left, "But maybe you could
show me, a little?"

   "You don't really need any, if you know what you're doing, but we barely
know eachother.  I think the real secret is we talk about it first.  It's
not like a quicky, something you can do on a whim, but it really helps to
have a good fantasy," He looked around, "Typically for the female."

   She laughed, "What are you, Ferengi?"

   "What?"

   "Sorry, Star Trek.  Never mind."

   "Well," he stood up, "I think I can probably figure it out."]

   ;

   "Miss Terry" ("MF" Role Play.  Meaning they're both pretending to be
older.  More experienced...)

   He held his hand out for me, "Come on?"

   "Where?"

   "Let's go for a drive."

   "Uh?" Okay?  "I'll swing it past her," they sat up on the couch.  "Can I
borrow the car?" Wiping off smeared lipstick.  "Huh!  I'll try not to get
pulled over," on just a learner's permit.  "Uh!  We're feeling all cooped
up in here, and it's getting to cold to go for walks.  I'll bring it back
in one peace, I promise." It's just driving, I can handle it.

   "Stay safe, be extra careful."

   "And If we had some money, maybe we could get some presents, for our
families."

   Okay, good one?  She just frowned, looked at him, shook her head.  Nice
try, anyway.  Give her a chance to wrap them up, and try to hide them from
me.  Guess I should be Thankful.  Why we had the house to ourselves for
Black Friday, she's a shopper, I knew that.  Sales, marketing, you know the
type, and.  Well, she sold makeup until she found a housewife to talk about
divorce, and run off to marry on what she can milk out of him.  Look, I'm
just not going into my mom.  Not really part of the story, but yeah.  I
learned from her too.  What happened to my dad, I'll leave to your
imagination, but I was done reliving it years ago.

   "So," he closed his side, "Were we going?"

   "My house." For once, I guess.  "Don't worry, my family barely started,
some of the stores are going to be open until Boxing day." I nodded. 
They're a little more, into Holidays than my family.

   "So, we're changing it, so she doesn't have any experience.  In BDSM?"

   "I figured she was lying, just like that cop."

   "Oh, yeah." Didn't think about that.  "She'd totally lie to a cop."

   "Write what you know," he nodded.  "Just gonna make a quick stop."

   He pulled over.

   "Uh?" Middle of nowhere.  Well, the side road, right beside the hiway.

   "Get out."

   "Wh, here?"

   "I'll be right back, just let me make the block, and stick your thumb
out."

   "But you can't drive!"

   He nodded, "I'm thirteen?  My dad's taken me out, a bunch of times. 
Just try to think up a good fantasy, I'll be right back."

   It was cold, and I didn't really bring a jacket.  Well, a coat would
have been more appropriate, but I wasn't expecting to get out of the car.
Maybe run into a store, or something, but a lot of people out to day,
traffic...

   "Well, that sucked!" He had the heater going.

   "Where you headded?"

   "I don't care, just drive."

   "What's your name?"

   "Misty?" I nodded, "Huh!  I just got kicked out."

   "By your parents, husband?"

   "Boyfriend, but we been.  Well, we were living together, I just wish I
grabbed something more to wear."

   "Getting pretty cold."

   "Yeah," at least I was starting to warm up.

   "He didn't hit you, or nothin?"

   "Oh no.  Just some bullshit.  Money, we fought about it.  A lot."

   "No kids?"

   "No, thank god." That would just complicate it.  More characters, just
start over.  Change the record, right?

   ;

   Mr.  E.  (fm...)

   "This it?" She'd seen it, but not lately, and hopefully I still had a
few surprises in store.

   I nodded, "Me casa," unlocked the gate, "Is su casa."

   "How about Sue?" She broke character, first.

   "Yeah, that'll work."

   "It's just not as obvious as Misty."

   "Yeah," once I forced her to go ahead, and come up with a better name.
You could write volumes on what I don't know about psychology, but I know
her pretty well.  As any one, and I'd bet it was about control.  To, her
place, and sure it's more convenient over there, because her mom doesn't
try to put us in separate rooms.  If she stayed over, but I didn't point
out the folded bedding stuffed under the table on the end of the couch. 
Packed the coffee table away, to fold it out, but I didn't lie about
everything.  Just changed a few of the particulars.

   "You can stay back here." Used to be my brother's room, but more of a
guest room with everything of his stripped out to the furniture.  If anyone
should happen to stay with us, for holidays, or whatever.

   "Uh!" She didn't clean up, just stuffed her suitcase in the closet, and
piled clothes on it.  "Who's are these?" She picked up a small pair of
pantie hose.  Like tights, but not the kind you could wear on the outside,
without something over them.

   "My niece's." They'd be out of here sunday, to get back home in time for
work, school, and their lives.

   "How old is she?"

   "Nine," and she'd never get the chance to molest her.  "So, who else
have you been molesting?"

   "Uh!" She turned away, "Nobody?" Threw them back on the rest of the
dirty laundry.

   "My Uncle, and his wife.  They're older, so their daughter has a
daughter.  Second niece," I think.  "Other boys, or girls?"

   "No, I told you.  What would make you think that.  I was cheating on
you?"

   "So," I don't know, "girls?" The look on her face?  "How old." I thought
I could keep her, satisfied so she wouldn't abuse anyone else.  Then I
realized that was silly.  I know her better than that.

   "Huh!"

   "Terry." She sat down.  "Kayleigh?"

   "All right," she hates that name, "She was 6." Didn't really care for it
either.

   "Baby sitting?"

   "Just once, then I quit working for them," or babysitting period after
that.  She knows she has a problem, I just had to tell her I did too,
eventually.  Kick myself for hesitating so long.

   "That's way to fucking young."

   "I know!  I just couldn't stop!"

   "So, you at least stopped babysitting, because you couldn't resist that
much temptation." At least she didn't start punishing herself for it. 
Probably figured out that doesn't work, or how that could end badly, at
least.  She looked around, at the bare walls.  The holes, from nails, pins,
tape ripped off at the corners.  I remember, the posters he had up, but
it's not really about him any more either, and neither of us need that
distraction.  "You don't have to talk about it," she relaxed, "Or that's
enough for now, so let's fictionalize it a little, but we really need to
get you off children."

   "Yeah," she accepted it.  "Huh, I just don't know.  How to think about
anything else."

   "Well, lets start with a more mature fantasy." We don't have any adults,
yet, so we'd have to make do.

   "I didn't hurt her," she swore.  Honestly, as far as I could tell.

   "Okay, I believe you, but forget about that now.  Let's do something
else."

   "Okay."

   "Hopefully that will put it out of your mind," perminently, at some
point.  Or as much as I can, to help.  Her try.  Woefully underqualified, I
have to admit, but I'm the best we got.  Barely even able to get her to
talk about it, and that took a couple years.  But at least we could start.

   {Just got to say, I don't know who to believe any more, much less try to
tell you.  They're both lying, pretty much from here on out...}

   ;

   Suzanne (Songs of Leonard Cohen)

   "Who's this?"

   "Leonard Cohen."

   "Never heard of him." She shrugged, on the couch.

   "You ever seen that old movie, Pump up the Volume?"

   "With Christian Slater?"

   "Yeah, he did the theme song for Happy Harry Hardon's radio show."

   "Oh," she relaxed a little.  Bounced her leg, crossed over the other
one. "You want to watch it?  I think they have it on Netflix."

   Nicer then my place, pretty big TV, Sattelitte, Netflix.  Nice couch. 
Guess I missed it, he looks more like Dennis Leary, really.  Not a heart
throb, or anything, but he was nice enough to invite me over, maybe let me
crash on his couch.  Comfy enough.

   Barely know him, from a couple meetings, but.  I don't have anywhere
else to go, all right?  My drinking got bad, and I failed out of college,
my folks won't take me back, and now my boyfriend was sick of me, so I
guess I started crying.

   "Uh!" Sexy!  "Sorry." Way to ruin the mood, Suzie.

   "It's all right.  I understand if you can't talk about it, for a while."

   "He's the one that got me drinking."

   "Your boyfriend?"

   I nodded, "Huh, but then.  Well, he got me drunk, and I guess we went to
bed, that first party, but then.  I think, he was trying to get me, to pass
out."

   "All the time?"

   "Not ever time, but.  I kept waking up.  Still drunk, and he." I felt a
little sick.

   "Well, there's no alcohol here, so you don't have to worry about."

   "I think, he might be like a necrophiliac.  Or something, I don't know,
but it was," she shivered, "So fucking creepy, I couldn't take it any
more."

   "He raped you."

   "No, I mean.  He was my boyfriend." So.

   "That doesn't give you the right to drug you, and rape you while you're
passed out."

   She just curled up, started hugging her knees on the end of the couch.

   "Don't guess, we're really watching the movie."

   "Want me to turn it off?"

   "I'm not really paying attention." I nodded.

   "I watched the hell out of it anyway," he dropped the remote, "One of my
favorites, but I can tell this is really bothering you.  So, look at it
this way.  You got away from him, right?"

   "Yeah."

   "You survived it, that's the important part.  You got out alive."

   "You don't think, he would kill me?"

   "I don't fucking know, I never even met the guy, but didn't you fear for
your life?"

   "Yeah, no.  I don't know, it was just.  So creepy." She nodded, "I guess
I was afraid, he'd like me better that way." Dead.

   ;

   Master Song (Still Songs of Leonard Cohen.  Just playing in the
background.)

   "So," bored with it, "How's that femdom thing work?"

   "With trust," he got up.

   "Don't you trust me?"

   He shook his head, "We don't know eachother well enough, to trust
eachother yet."

   "So," just don't say no, or stop me again.

   "Stop." he held my hands back.  "This isn't healthy.  Surely you can see
that."

   "George." I looked at him, "Seriously, I'm not fucking around.  I need
this right now."

   "All right," he kissed me, "Then let me." Kissed me again, until I
started squirming.

   "Huh!" He let my wrists go, so I rubbed them.  "Sorry, I just."

   "You just have to stop trying to control it.  Can you do that?  I don't
have to control you, so if you could just give that up, then maybe we can
learn to have sex.  Like a boyfriend and girlfriend instead of some sick,
creepy thing."

   "I'm sorry," it's hard for me!

   "Just calm down, relax, let me seduce you, or figure it out.  Stop
trying to take over, so I can." Now his hands were shaking.  "You know,
this is driving me nuts, right?"

   "I don't know how." I sat down, "I don't know what to do, and it scares
me, too."

   "I know.  My brother raped you.  Tell you what." He sat in a chair. 
"Let me start with what I know."

   "Uh!  What you think you know."

   "Well, correct me if I'm wrong, but you stalked me in 4th grade.  I'm
guessing as revenge against my brother, once he got himself locked up, so
you molested me to get back at him instead?"

   I just hung my head.  Instead of nodding, what the fuck was I supposed
to say?  I felt clever?  "Yeah," all right, "Something like that." I
shrugged.

   "Okay, well I'm past that.  Now, if you wouldn't mind growing the fuck
up, then maybe we can try to salvage this relationship, or start over.  You
like this, AA fantasy, we started?"

   "It's all right," I guessed.  "Is that your fantasy?"

   "No.  My fantasy is a more romantic relationship with you."

   "So," I looked over at the record player.  "What's with the music?" And
movies, and shit.

   "I don't know." he shrugged, "It seems to help, if you've got something
to tune out."

   {Pretty much tuned out "Winter Lady." So,

   ;}

   Stranger Song ("MF" Roma Fant Slow.}

   "Well," he moved over, "I like you a lot better, alive.  And awake, if
I'm not being too forward."

   "Oh no," It was about time something happened.  Just not used to guys
hesitating so much.  Most men know what they want and go for it if you give
them the chance, and it's even kind of sweet.  He just wanted to make sure
I was ready, and let me tell you, I sure was that!

   "You all right?" I bit my lip, and nodded.  "Good," he kissed me some
more.  Okay, let's take it slow this time.  For a change, it's not like I
was a slut or anything, but I been around a little.  He was just the first
guy to take his time, and enjoy it, with me.

   "You can touch me," I felt down to his hands.  "It's not like we're
teenagers here."

   "A little too slow?"

   "Yeah," at least he could admit it.  "A little."

   But he could handle a pair of tits.  32Cs, not like I'm particularly
busty, but more than enough for a couple handfulls.

   "Huh!" My head just fell back.  "No," I held his hands to my chest,
"Don't stop."

   "You mind if I take this off?" He pulled at my shirt.  I just sat up,
helped him get me out of it, and reached back to release the clasp.

   "It's been so long!" Breathless, ly.  I just lay back, across the couch.
So, he bent over the side.  Kneeling on the floor, and kissing my neck. 
Holding them together to kiss between them.

   "Oh I've been where you're hanging, I think I can see how you're
pinned."

   "Uh,"

   "When you're not feeling holy, your loneliness says that you've sinned."

   "Would you mind turning the music off?" Now it was jangling.  "It's kind
of distracting."

   "Sure," he got up.  "No problem."

   ;

   Edgar (m Solo...)

   "Huh," she couldn't do it.  She couldn't just make love, or even pretend
to do it, as a character, and after she left.  I have to admit that at some
point, I'm trying to change her, and it's impossible.  She is who she is,
and what she is is a predatory sex molestor.  I guess it was kind of a
test, taking her in my brother's old room, and she couldn't resist the
underwear.  The little girl's, sure she's my cousin, but now I knew, I was
sure.  She lied about that 6 year old, baby sitting, but I could tell, she
quit because she was tempted.  I don't know the truth, but I know this for
sure now.

   She's not going to stop, lying, fantasizing about children, and hiding
her worst fantasies from me.  Underestimating me, of course she didn't
think I'd find them.  All her hiding places, but I'm not even a person to
her.  I can see that now, I have no idea how she sees me, like a doll, or
one of her one dimentional characters, but she doesn't care about me. 
Enough to see me, through all the lies, and fantasies, and, I don't know,
bullshit.  I never really knew her, either.  Just the lies, she told me to
get what she wanted.  A child, that's what she sees in me, a scared
confused little boy, she doesn't want to grow up.

   All I wanted was equality.  Between us, if not the rest of the country,
since the election doesn't make that look likely.  I don't want to control
her, hurt her, abuse her, I just don't want to be her victim any more.  I
thought I could change her, make her see me, the real me, and accept it
enough to love me, as an equal.

   Now, I have to figure out how to break up with her.  "Huh!" And it
hurts, but it's not.  Like, an irrational fear.  She stalked me, no way of
knowing how long, but because of what my brother did, because she couldn't
have him, and everything she's done since then.  I don't know what that
means, but I know she's bad, and she's not going to change.  She's not
getting better, and she's not going to stop, but what I tell someone?  Who
would believe me?  A teenaged boy now, but she's just a year, and a few
months older, and they just can't believe she's dangerous.  She's a girl,
brags about how their sexism makes it impossible for them to think that. 
Maybe in a more obvious case, like those teachers in Florida, but she knows
about that.  She knows that's too obvious, and illegal.  It's not like
there's a law against it, but it's right there in her writer's bible.

   The badguy.  He's a guy.  Says it right on the tin, Bad.  Guy.  Male. 
Sure, she tried to turn it around to a female antagonist, that's her
fantasy, but it's what she wants, and she won't settle for anything less.

   Everything.

   That's the deal, she gets all the power, does everything, calls all the
shots, and I get nothing.  Okay, she jerked me off, and I just give up
trying to figure out what she gets out of it.  I never got her off, as
she's so fond of pointing out, to hurt me.  She only tells the truth to
hurt me, like this last one.  The last straw, what finally showed me what I
was lying to myself the whole time.

   He never touched her.  My brother "Never met him." She was just so
fucking, smug about it?  Like she beat me at cards, she's as sore a winner
as a loser, but I could tell immediately it was the truth.  She used it, to
manipulate me, stalked me, and took advantage of my confusion, for years.
But.

   I knew.  I knew it, I just, tuned it out.  All the inconsistencies, like
the phantom sister she just mentioned to see if I was interested, then
never again when I wasn't.  Or when she supposedly caught him in the act.
Like he'd written, but she didn't pay enough attention to get the details
write.  What she was wearing, how undressed she was, where it actually
happened, it just got added to her fantasies, and lies.  Then I told her
about his second victim, and how that finally pushed him over the edge. 
So, she just had to be her too.  But she only told me to hurt me.  Prove
she fooled me the same way I let her fool herself.  The perfect fantasy,
that's how I knew I guessed right.  What she wanted me to do, what she was
trying to make me do, the final test.

   She failed.

   That doesn't make this any easier.  Or less impossible.  She's not going
to let me go, and I should really be afraid for my life.  I don't know if
she's capable of it, murder, but I'm not putting that to the test.  I saw
her drawings, and.  Maybe, if I can get those back, show them to someone,
qualified to know what they're looking at.  She's going to do it, become a
serial killer, it's only a matter of time, but.  And as her first victim, I
have to do what I can to make sure she doesn't just find another.  Short of
making her kill me, I have to survive this, but I can't just let her go,
unchecked.  She's dangerous, and I'm the only one who knows it.

   It's a risk, but I have to go back to her.  Long enough to leave me
alone, in her room, so I can get the evidence.  I know she'll have to take
a shower, but for that.  I'll have to let her, molest me again.  I'm
starting to hate it, loathe it.  No, to be honest, it's disgusting.  It
always made me feel sick, even jerking off thinking about it.  Her hands on
me, instead of mine, revictimizing myself just the way she made me.  She
made me, this pitiful asexual mess.  Sure, what my brother did made me,
vulnerable to it, but she took it from there.  I don't know if I'll ever be
normal again after this, if I ever was, but at least I passed that test. 
I'm not like her, or him.  I'm not an abuser, I'm a victim.  I don't have
it in me.  Even when I had the chance, I wasn't even tempted.  I guess I
could write about it, but I didn't even want to do anything to her.

   So, there's that.  And this, hopefully someone finds it, in case I get
caught, killed and made up to look like an accident.  Yeah, that's what
she'd probably do, try to talk me into choking play.  Rubbing my neck, just
thinking about.  That.  Her grabbing my neck, choking me just to see the
fear in my eyes again, until I went limp.  In her hand, I couldn't keep it
up, which just gave her something to hurt me with.  With words, her words
really hurt worse than her physical abuses.  She's not really a physical
abuser, then why did she choke me?

   To see if I liked it, of course.  Of course not, so she never did it
again, but it was a dead giveaway.  If you'll pardon the pun, but that's
her plan, isn't it?  Because of the family history, just like Heathers! 
OMG, how could I be so blind.  She's going to strangle me, hang me, and set
it up like a suicide.  Or auto-erotic asphyxia, just like my brother.  And
I've just been writing all the evidence she needs to show how I was
affected by it.  Obsessed with it, fantasizing about it, if she leaves out
the parts, the pages that involve her.  Telling me to, it'll make me feel
better, I can get closure, learning to accept what he did.  No, I can't
accept that, he raped and strangled a little girl, a toddler.  He wrote
about love, but that was just a lie to himself.

   So, thanks for that, Kayleigh.  I understand that now.  I'm over it, my
brother went psycho, and killed himself in remorse after.

   I lied.  I never saved his life.  I got there too late.  I just couldn't
let him go, so I imagined a hospital he could go to.  Instead of the
morgue, the funeral, his grave.  I still haven't gone to see him, at his
grave.

   I should, no yeah, I should go right now, and see his gravestone.

   You won't kill me.  I won't let you.  I'll show you, I'll just get
stronger.

   .

   ,

   Superheroes (Quote)

   "I've done a lot

   God knows I've tried

   To find the truth

   I've even lied

   But all I know

   Is down inside I'm

   Bleeding"

   ~R.  O'brien

   .

   ,

   Eddie (mG NS...)

   She saw her first.  It's not like I was following her, just walking to
the bus stop, but I kept my eyes out, especially in the rain.  To drown out
any sound, make it harder to spot Her car, but even with her head down, the
hood up, even with all the rain, she saw Her first, and ran.

   I didn't even know who she was, saw her around, but I had my own
problems to worry about, and I thought She was still stalking me.  Just me,
not like I hadn't seen Her.  Noticed Her new car, well used, but not Her
mom's old one.  She got a car, and once I saw Her driving it, I knew to
look for it.  She pulled out, drove off, didn't spin out or skid through
the turn.  As if She just happened to be driving down that alley when
school let out.  Not like She was parked there, waiting, right across from
the bus stop, or whatever.

   But she hid, sat down, and curled up.  It was dry, ish.  A little
shelter, so at least it wasn't raining on her, but yeah.  I know that
sound. That posture, curling up to cry uncontrollably, because she saw Her,
and that brought all the fear back.

   Yeah, maybe I read into it, but I wasn't wrong.

   "Are you okay?"

   "Fine?" She tried to get up, "Uh!  Stay away from me, don't touch me!"

   "It's okay," I held my hands up, stood out in the rain, not like I was
going to get any colder, or wetter anyway.  "I'm not going to touch you, I
just wanted to make sure you're okay." I backed off.

   "Well, I'm not." She sniffed.

   "I know, but you don't want to sit out here in the water, and cry by
yourself, right?  You don't want to talk about it, I understand, but I
can't just leave you out here, alone." I looked around, "It's not safe. 
Come on.  Would you like a cup of coffee or something, to warm you up?"

   "I just want to go home."

   "Okay," but She's still out here, "Is that where you're walking?  Let's
get you home, then.  It's okay, she's gone anyway."

   She looked around.

   Looked back, I nodded.  "I know, you don't have to talk about it." She
looked scared again, "Just let me get you home safe."

   "Okay," she stayed back, out of reach, which is smart.

   "Here," I pulled out the ball chain, and wrapped it up.  "Take this." I
gave her my neck knife.

   "A knife?"

   "If she comes back, it'd be easier to fight her off, if you have that."

   "You know her?"

   "Terry?"

   "Who's that?"

   "I don't know what name she gave you, but yeah.  I have a feeling we're
talking about the same person."

   "Chelsea?" She started crying again.

   "You don't have to say her name.  Again, try not to think about her,
until you stop crying," but yeah.  That's her.  That's a name she would
use. "I'm Eddy."

   "Danica."

   "Okay, Danica, what do you like?"

   "Huh?"

   "To talk about, what do you like to talk about, besides that.  Anything
but that, pick a subject."

   "Basketball?"

   "Really?" I shook my head, "No, I mean that's great.  You like
basketball?  You like to talk about that?  Let's talk about basketball."

   She sniffed, and I have to admit I tuned a lot out, but at least she
stopped crying before I got her home.

   ;

   Edgar (mG NS.)

   "Uh!" She hugged me.  Right out at the bus stop, she saw me sitting
there, started running, and I managed to stand up before she practically
tackled me, and hung onto my waist like she was trying not to blow away. 
"Oh, hey.  Danica."

   She wasn't there.  All day, or at least I hadn't seen Her.  Since
yesterday, and that's at least as frightening to think about her.

   "You can let go," I patted her shoulders, "I'm not gonna run away."

   At least if She's here, stalking me, or another one of Her victims She's
not out there.  Probably looking for more victims.  "Sorry."

   She just let go, stepped back, and "I just don't really need a tweenaged
girl rushing into physical intimacy like that." Just totally said that,
outloud to her.

   "I'm sorry, I just.  I just missed you, and I was happy to see you."

   "Okay, but I have issues too, you didn't know, but." I swung out my
arms. "I have a zone.  Okay?"

   "What did she do to you?"

   "Uh?  And I don't want to talk about that, either."

   "Okay," she understand, "But you think you could walk me home, again?"

   "Yeah," I grabbed my bag, "I can always catch the next bus." Okay, just
for background if I ever have this written down to something I could
seriously consider publishing, anonymously.  She's in 5th grade.  They said
'experimental' at the announcement, and in all the literature, but our ISD
experimented with 3-4 year schools.  So, my Jr.  high was 5th through 8th,
for a few years until I became a freshman, and it was her first year going
there.  I don't even know if they started calling them freshmen there yet,
but only the last 2 grades had periods, like high school.

   "So anyway, you forgot your knife."

   "Keep it, I have plenty of them."

   "Lots of knives?"

   "Well, not a lot.  They're mostly cheap, but I might start collecting
them." I nodded, "Swords, too." Maybe, some day.

   "What for?"

   "Well, they're useful, tools too."

   "Well, you're not supposed to take them to school."

   "All right, so I stash them on the way in, and out, but I have too."

   "You're not going to." She waited.  "Hurt anyone?" For me to look over.

   "Not if I don't have to."

   "I thought you didn't want to talk about her?"

   "Okay, but I have to warn you;"

   "Then warn me.  You know about her.  And, you don't know, what she can
do?"

   I nodded.  "Do you?" She shook her head, "She might be capable of
killing someone, if she felt threatened, or jealous enough of them."

   "Oh.  So, maybe being seen with you isn't a good idea?"

   "Look, have you seen her, nor her car?" I waved at the street.  "Yeah, I
know her.  Pretty good, but I'm not going to bet I can predict her
behavior. Which way do you feel safer, alone, when she might be around, or
with someone who knows the risks, and she hasn't been seen all day.  Did
you see her, this morning?"

   "No," she didn't just realize it, neither.  "I haven't seen her all day,
or all last night."

   "But she's been stalking you."

   "She's been, terrorizing me." I expected her to cry, but I could see it.
She just went on, "I tried to tell someone, my 'friends'," now she was
starting to tear up.  "Some friends, but they didn't believe me.  They
called me slut, and gay, some of them.  Snh!"

   "I'm sorry."

   "Well, YOU," she threw her hands down, "Didn't do it!"

   "No," but admittedly, "bu she might've victimized you to get back at
me." Fine, "Look I didn't want to talk about it, but we went out.  No,
correction: She molested me, for years." I didn't cry, but I didn't lie,
neither, "But I didn't even bother to check if they'd believe me.  With no
evidence, except an incriminating pattern of behavior, and some fucked up
fantasies written in my hand," and I really should just shut the fuck up at
some point, but I never even got a chance to get used to having someone to
talk to about it.
She just stood there.  Wide eyed, but she stopped crying.  "Oh, um."

Looked around, "You probably don't want to talk about it public.

   "I don't want to think about it, but that doesn't work.  That your mom?"
She's white.

   "Yeah, but thanks again.  Um, can you walk me to school, tomorrow?"

   "Yeah, probably.  What time?"

   ;

   Eddie (m Mono NS)

   The problem is, she's too perfect.  I don't know if She has A type, but
if you're just going to throw together a list of attractive features, a
chubby tweenaged hispanic of some stripe girl named Danica?  Yeah, She
probably literally thought: "...She's perfect..." I'd put money on her
writing it down.

   However, She's a coward, and she's scared of knives.  Or getting cut, I
can try to guess, and find I got it wrong later, but she doesn't like
knives.  Did She threaten her with one?  To cut her?  There's so many
things I'd like to know, but I can't just come right out and ask her.  I
have to wonder how bad She's gotten since the last time I'd talked to Her,
seen her up close or anything She was writing.

   They moved, guess the divorce went through, probably some place nicer,
no way of knowing where.  She's got a car, not sure if She's sleeping in
it, but she could.  When did she stop breaking in to go through my stuff?
Or the last time, I know she had because she discovered how I'd set it up
so she'd know.

   That's the problem, or one of many, but at least she understands. 
Danica, I mean.  I should probably go back and capitalize to differentiate
between She, and her.  It sucks she had to live through some of the same
terror, but at least she believes me.

   But She didn't kill her.  Scared her real good, and I wouldn't be
surprised if she at least threatened to hurt her, but.  You're not going to
figure this out.  Not Enough Data.  I'm going to have to ask her, in the
morning.

   So, get dressed, and go for a walk.  Yeah, it's cold, but the leftover
winter coat, I can tuck the Arkansas Toothpick up the back.  Practically a
sword, double edged, I hope She sees me.  Finely drive Her over the edge
with jealousy, seeing us together.

   "Come on, you coward." I'm ready.  That's the problem, She knows that,
so She's probably going to go for another victim.  Hopefully not the 1 I
know, don't do something stupid like kite Her over there to check on her.
She's not going to drive through the park, not without me seeing her car,
so just across the parkinglot to the corner, across the playground,
basketball courts.  Nobody driving around the corner, even without
headlights on, I'd see the shadow in the streetlamps.  Even through the
chainlink, under the shrubs overgrown to short bushes in front of it.

   "Huh!" pull the dagger, and stick it in the mud.  Almost a non-foldable
e-tool, or a flat trowel, it's not even sharp.  What's the point, it's a
beater.  I can hack through a 2" pine sapling, and split it with it,
probably break a clavical, tibia, or ulna with it.  Doesn't really cut,
just focus the weight and leverage to a line to split with, like a wedge,
with a handle.  Or that piece of shit Pakistan boot knife's big brother,
almost a short sword, or as heavy.  Close as I could find to a sword, at
the pawn shop, and carry anyway.  It'd probably take me all night to dig a
hole I could get inside with it, but it'd probably be considered rude to
the park, and odd behavior to anyone that caught me at it.

   Gotta laugh at myself, or something.  But I've got work to think about.
What do I need to ask her, and what's the best way to put it?  So, get the
notebook out, before it gets too much colder.  "Huh!" Plenty of light, at
least, and I can see her coming from a ways off...

   "Besides, if she went after one of the Barbie," (c) "girls, she would've
killed her."

   ;

   Dani (Gm...)

   "Here's your knife," he can stash it on the way.  Cold morning, but at
least it was dry.

   "You're afraid of them."

   "Yeah," they're dangerous.  "My dad, he always makes sure I'm safe
around them.  He doesn't want me playing with them."

   "Forgive me for asking, but you're, not white.  I mean, are;" he looked
frustrated.

   "I'm half Bolivian."

   "But your mom's white."

   "Yeah."

   "Well, it would be better if you carried a knife, or had some way to
defend yourself."

   "Okay."

   "If it's your knife, and you know how to handle it, you can learn to
just not cut yourself.  It's not like they just cut people, on their own.
You just have to avoid the sharp part, but they don't even have to be
sharp, to be effective.  And, there's all kinds of blunt weapons which have
defensive value."

   "So you're really into knife fighting?"

   "Not really, I just thought it might be a nice skill to have, if I need
it."

   "You mind if I ask you about her?"

   "No, go on.  It's not like I'm avoiding the subject, I just don't want
to scare you."

   "Too late for that," he did just go on and on about knives, and cutting.
"Is she a cutter?"

   "I don't know.  I think she's more of a strangler, but I have no reason
to believe the accuracy of anything I think about her."

   "What?" I shook my head, "Wait, okay, can you explain that, better?"

   "Um yeah, let me think a minute.  You eat breakfast, here?"

   "Grabbed a pop-tart." 2 of them.

   "All right, wheell..." Kind of how he said it, instead of Well...  "I
try to, have some idea what to expect.  I'm just not conceited enough to
trust what I come up with on limited information, and a whole lot of
misinformation."

   "From her."

   "Yeah, she likes to play mind games, and she's been fucking with my head
for years."

   "So that's why you said she'd hurt me to get to you."

   "Yeah, probably her fucked up idea of an early Valentine, or whatever,
but it's cold out here, and we have to get to class some time.  You feel
safe, for the day?"

   "Yeah," and you have to stash the knives, "You're gonna walk me home?"

   "Yeah, but I have to get to class." He ran off, so I went in right away,
and even got to class early.

   But I did feel safer, and I kind of think if he was going to try
something, bad.  Well, he would've by now.

   Forgot to tell him I was starting to write about it.  Not here, right
now.  I don't want to risk getting scared, and break down crying right
before class, but I can try later, maybe.  Have something I can give him to
read after school.  Maybe, some day.  But it sure feels safer than being
alone.

   ;

   The Bells (Recital)

   "Hear the sledges with the bells, Silver bells!  What a world of
merriment their melody foretells!

   How they tinkle, tinkle, tinkle, in the icy air of night!  While the
stars that oversprinkle, all the heavens, seem to twinkle with a
crystalline delight;"

   "Keeping time, time, time, In a sort of Runic rhyme, to the
tintinnabulation" (SiC) "That so musically wells from the bells, bells,
bells, bells,"

   Take a breath, "Bells, bells, bells.  From the jingling and the tinkling
of the bells."

   "Hear the mellow wedding bells, Golden bells!  What a world of happiness
their harmony foretells!  Through the balmy air of night, how they ring out
their delight!  From the molten-golden notes, and all in tune."

   "What a liquid ditty floats, to the turtle-dove that listens, while she
gloats.  On the moon!"

   Took a couple breaths,

   "Oh, from out the sounding cells, what a gush of euphony voluminously
wells!"

   "How it swells, how it dwells.  On the Future how it tells, of the
rapture that impels."

   "To the swinging and the ringing of the bells, bells, bells."

   "Of the bells, bells, bells, bells, Bells, Bells, Bells.

   To the rhyming and the chiming of the bells!"

   Looked around the class, but of course they're looking at me.

   "Hm.

   Hear the loud alarum bells Brazen bells.  What tale of terror, now,
their turbulency tells!

   In the startled ear of night, how they scream out their affright!

   Too much horrified to speak, They can only shriek, shriek,

   Out of tune."

   "In a clamorous appealing to the mercy of the fire.

   In a mad expostulation with the deaf and frantic fire.

   Leaping higher, higher, higher, with a desperate desire, and a resolute
endeavor.

   -- Now-now to sit or never, by the side of the pale-faced moon."

   Huh, huh.  Huh.

   "Oh, the bells, bells, bells!  What a tale their terror tells of
Despair!

   How they clang, and clash, and roar, what a horror they outpour, on the
bosom of the palpitating air!"

   "Yet the ear, it fully knows - by the twanging and the clanging - how
the danger ebbs and flows;"

   "Yet, the ear distinctly tells, in the jangling, and the wrangling,"

   "How the danger sinks and swells, by the sinking or the swelling in the
anger of the bells.

   "Of the bells.  Of the bells, bells, bells, bells, Bells, Bells, Bells."

   Khuh.  AkhHUH!  Ahem, sorry.

   "In the clamour and the clangour of the bells!"

   I had to stop, clear my throat, and spit it in a tissue.  "Just let me
catch my breath." I have to finish this.

   "IV;

   "Hear the tolling of the bells, Iron bells!  What a world of solemn
thought their monody compels!"

   "In the silence of the night, how we shiver with affright, at the
melancholy menace of their tone.

   For every sound that floats from the rust within their throats is a
groan."

   "And the people - ah, the people - They that dwell up in the steeple all
alone,"

   "And who, tolling, tolling, tolling, in that muffled monotone,

   Feel a glory in so rolling on the human heart, a stone.  They are
neither man nor woman, they are neither brute nor human, they are Ghouls:"

   "And their king it is who tolls, and he rolls, rolls, rolls, rolls,
Rolls a pćan from the bells!

   And his merry bosom swells with the pćan of the bells, and he dances,
and he yells!"

   "Keeping time, time, time, in a sort of Runic rhyme to the pćan of the
bells, of the bells!

   Keeping time, time, time - in a sort of Runic rhyme - To the throbbing
of the bells -

   Of the bells, bells, bells -- To the sobbing of the bells; Keeping time,
time, time, as he knells, knells, knells,"

   Really out of breath.

   "In a happy Runic rhyme, to the rolling of the bells, of the bells,
bells, bells -

   To the tolling of the bells, of the bells, bells, bells, bells"

   "Bells, bells, bells!  To the moaning and the groaning of the bells."

   "~Edgar Allen Poe."

   I set the book down on the corner of the desk, walked back to mine, and
sat down.

   "Very good.  That was exceptionally well read."

   I swear, one of the students started clapping, then they all applauded
until the teacher made them settle down.

   {Used without permission, I just wrote it out with pauses for breath,
pretty much how he would have read it, after weeks of practice.}

   ;

   Danica (fG Rape.)

   [I don't know if I can write about it either, but I can try.  She picked
me up after school.  I didn't even think about it, because she was a girl,
and I never thought another girl could be like that, but I was wrong.  It
was scary, it's scary just thinking about it, and I can't stop crying, but
she was nice at first.  It was raining too, and a lot colder because it was
January.  Right after we came back from the holiday break, so it was
freezing, but it melted most of the snow, and made the sidewalks real
slippery.  So, I got in her car, like they told me not to, but I just
didn't think.  I was too cold, and she didn't look scary.

   But then, she drove past my house.  Or my street, I said "Right here,"
again, but she just ignored me, and kept driving.  I didn't even think it
was really wrong until she didn't turn again, to make the block.

   Then she started talking about sex.  Well, she asked me about it, and
when I didn't answer, she just kept talking.  That's when I started to
think she was a lesbian, she doesn't look like one, I mean her hair is
long, and she wears skirts.  Dresses real girly, but she doesn't wear
makeup.  Well, I guess you know her, right?  You didn't say that exactly, I
think you said you understood, but I did feel a little safer walking home
with you.  You're right, I shouldn't walk alone, I don't usually, but it's
not far, and Mom doesn't always pick me up, but that's how she caught me in
the first place.

   Oh, and you forgot your knife.  I don't have any idea what to do with
it, I can't take it to school, or I get in trouble, and they already call
me Mexican.  Well, not everyone, there not all racist, but I know what
they'd think of me, if I got caught with a knife at school.  I'm kind of
scared of it too, I didn't even take it out of the, plastic thing, the
blade is stuck in.  I'm just afraid I might hurt myself, I never played
with them, ever.  I'd probably cut myself up worse then them if I tried to
fight someone off with it, so I just hid it away until I can give you it
back.

   But I'm not Mexican.  My dad's from Bolivia, but he's a citizen now.  I
can just imagine the spanking he'd give me if he caught me playing with a
knife, though.  Not that I would, I get scared helping mom cut the
vegtables, unless we use the food processer, and even then the whirling
blades make me kind of nervous.  I know it's not going to just break, and
send spinning blades flying out to cut me, but I'm just real careful, and I
can't watch it.  I just look away until she cuts it off.  I mean, turns it
off, the food processer.  Or, you know what I mean, I guess.

   You're right, it really helps to think about something else, when it
gets too scary.  And thank you for walking me home, I didn't get a chance
to say it, before, but I felt much safer.  Boring you half to death with
Basketball, I know you don't care about sports, I could tell, but thanks
for listening anyway.  Hopefully you can read this tomorrow, and walk me
home again.  So I can give you your knife back.  I don't want it, but
thanks for letting me borrow it, anyway.]

   ...

   Several periods later,

   ...

   The Regulator (mG NS.  TW FB Rape.)

   She just met me at the bus stop.  We started walking, didn't say
anything for quite a while.

   "I wrote this," she handed me an origami boulder from her pocket. 
Wadded out of 3 punched looseleaf, it turned out.  Left my headphones
hanging around my neck.

   "Can I talk about, what happened?"

   "If you like.  It hurts not to talk about it at some point."

   "Yeah.  It helped to write it first."

   I think I actually told her I find helps me get everything into words,
"But it feels a lot better, to say it, to someone that understands."

   "She picked me up, after school."

   Yeouch, "Same car?"

   She nodded.  "She didn't even ask where I lived, I tried to show her,
but she just kept driving."

   "Where?"

   "I don't know, I only been there once, but it was way out there.  She
pulled over, and I tried to get away, but she grabbed me, and." She had to
stop.  "NH!"

   "You want to find somewhere to sit down, or wait until you get home?"

   "I want to say it, before I get home."

   "Don't want your family to see.  You upset?" She nodded, so I stopped.

   "Okay," found a bench, "Here, sit down.  You want me to go get you a
water bottle, or something?" I didn't sit down next to her.

   "Out here?" Just traffic driving bye.  Pretty loud too.

   "It's kind of public, but nobody else can hear you."

   "Huh!  You remember when you said she'd strangle you?"

   "I think she might," I can't be sure.

   "Well, she didn't, but she covered my mouth, and she held it, real
hard."

   "In her car?" I nodded, and paced.

   "Nhn?" It took quite a while to get it all out.  I didn't take notes, or
anything.

   She couldn't say most of it.  So, I had to ask a lot of questions.  "She
touched you."

   "She hurt me."

   "Sexually." She nodded, "Between your legs?" The way she held herself
told me that.  "Maybe you don't want to sit down for this.  You think
walking a little more might help?"

   "Yeah," she got up.  .  .  "She hurt, Inside me."

   I just kept walking.  .  , "With her finger?" She nodded.  "Fingers?"
She shook her head.

   "Okay, take a break." I hugged her, held her, just let her cry it out.
"It's over, and she's never going to hurt you again."

   "Eddie?"

   "Yeah?"

   "Did you, snh!  Bring a knife?"

   "Yeah?"

   "Hh, do you think you could show me.  How to use it?"

   "Yeah.  Come on, let me." I looked around, "Think about a place." A good
one, to show a girl how to hold a knife.  "In here should do." I tucked my
hand up my shirt, pulled the ring, and flipped the blade back to pinch
behind my fingers, and palmed it out.  Held it down, and brought my hand
up. Slowly turned it over, to show her the ring pommel, tucked up to gently
grip around it with the heel of my thumb.  Pulled it aside to show her the
tiny claw of a blade.

   {Just do a quick search: [Boker Newton Martin Kbit]}

   She just frowned.  "Isn't it, kind of tiny?"

   "Yes, but they make all kinds of knives for all kinds of things.  This
one's easy to stash, or wear around your neck, but if you feel threatened,
it can threaten back, and be used for cutting bonds.  Garrotes, or pain
compliance.  It's not a weapon, it's an escape tool."

   "What's a, Gar'rot?"

   "A strangling chord, like a rope, cable, or a twisted up tee-shirt."

   "So, if she tries to strangle me."

   "Or gag you, tye you up.  I think your best bet would be to cut yourself
free, and run away.  You're not going to fight, or kill her, so don't try
to.  That's not the win condition, it's just so you can get out, alive."
We'll deal with the trauma later.

   "Okay," she took it.

   "Here," I got the sheathe out.  "Let me see it," I measured the chain,
had to bend it over the choil in between the blade, and my finger to break
it, and locked the last ball in the clasp.

   Then, I walked her back to her house.  Nice house, nice neighborhood,
right bye the school, bla bla bla.  Parks, gulleys, and creeks to cut
through, lots of places to hide, and stalk children from if they just
happened to be walking around en mass at regular times of day.  It helps if
you're invisible, or incontheivable like a teenaged white girl.

   Her mom helped her with her homework.  I just sat in the living room,
read what she wrote.

   She had to read a poem, for class.  I remember that, different school.
Elementary grade, when I did it, but they're still doing that here.

   Her dad came home.  Pretty damned good English.  Nasty gash across the
bottom of his hand, deep into the pinky, and partly up the back of his
hand. Looks like it cut a tendon, or something.  The pinky curled in
limply, he didn't say anything to me, just kicked me out for dinner.

   I could imagine.  "Don't play with knives." That scar when he's shaking
his finger at you.

   Yeah, all right!  I won't dad!

   I bet he could show her how to handle one, though.  That guy's been in
at least 1 knife fight.  I'm no expert, but I'd even lay money on him
knowing more about it.
   ;