Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 {Author's note: Most of the speling and grammatical erors should be
intentional.  Especially to start, as it's written in character from
childish PoVs.  For instance the difference between There/Their/They're. 
Trigger codes at the chapter heads to help brace yourself, there's some
abuse in their pasts.  Usually are, I use it for character development.}

   Barbie (Ddddd...  Fant NS.)

   Some girl dropped her.  In the rain, she was so muddy you can't tell
what color dress it is, and her hair is all gross.  I took her home, my
clothes are soaked too, so i just washed the dress in my pocket.  And took
her in my room.  She didn't have no underwear, but the plastic was molded
like plaid panties.  And her boobs stuck out, but just plastic, she didn't
have nipples.

   I got out the Baby, but Barbies to small for her.  Mommy's got the old
G.I Joes in her collection with the Kung Fu Grip, and the Realistic hair.
She just looked at them, in the window on the boxes.  "I love a man in
uniform." I went and got out the new ones.  They don't have real clothes, I
don't have a Ken, but they're plastic, like his hair.  Or Barbies panties.

   But, she's like 15' feet tall, so I made a table with blocks, and a
bunch of chairs because I had like 20 of them.  "No guns at the table!"
Yeah, that's a rule, so I took them all away.  Except the ones on there
legs, or there chests.  There not real guns, just plastic in there clothes,
so they don't come off.  I don't got any dishes either, so I get out the
marker, and draw some plates on.  And a knife and a fork.  Hey we got
knifes, so I get some of them out of the box, but there's not enough.

   I don't know how to cook, so she orders pizza.  They won today, so its
to sell a brate.  Then they get tired, so I make them all a big bed, and
fold up a bandana and tuck them in.  She tells them a story, but I don't
yawn and I'm bored.

   So, Cobra attacks!  I get out a bunch of vehicles, all of them, but she
gets all mad, because they're all sleeping.  "Youl wake them up!" she jumps
out, "Rah raAah ah Hah!" She stomps all over them, and picks up a tank.  I
sit down.  "Bad tank!" she spanks it.  Then mom comes home, so I get up,
and go out, because I'm hungry.

   She has to cook, so I have to go back and clean up my toys.  I take the
blankets out of the crib, and throw baby under the bed.  Then I tuck Barbie
in, and I have to dig out the lid for the box.  "Uh!" its smushed, but
dinners ready, so our clothes should be done when we finish eating.

   Becky (g Solo NS...  MG.)

   Tiff got Josh's old room, which is okay, but now I got to go to sleep.
All by myself, it was exiting, but.  I can't sleep.  You know, I guess I
got used to her breathing?  She snores to, but I think, I guess I believe I
could sleep if I could hear it.  She's not asleep yet though.

   Daddys still in there, talking.  He helped her move, and now I guess
he's telling her a story.  Her bed is right by the wall, so I open up the
closet, so I can here better.  Not what hes saying, I don't really
understand it unless I get right up between the boards in back, and listen
to the wall.

   "You know I love you like my own daughter." Shes really like my half
sister.  "Well, now you're starting to grow up.  You'll be a woman soon,
and." It sounded like he might cry.  "I just love you so much." He kissed
her good night, and went to bed.  I rushed to my bed, but he didn't come in
and catch me.  I guess cause he was crying, I wish I knew why.  The only
time I seen him cry before was when Grandmama died.  But he cried for
months, less and less until he didn't hurt so much no more.  He still gets
choked up on her birthday.

   She's really my half sister, is what he means.  And he always liked her
more, before I was born.  He always tells her how pretty she is, and I have
to steal her makeup, because he doesn't buy me it, and I wonder where she
hides it now, in the new room.  She probably hides the dirty books the same
place as Josh did, so maybe in there?  It's not fair, just cause she's
older, and prettier.

   I guess she started snoring, it didn't sound right, through the wall,
all the way across the room, and I was crying to.  I guess I couldn't look
at them anyway, in the dark.  The light gives me away, but I remember. 
They nasty, really.  Not just naked, but playing with each other, and toys,
and boys, and at least I'm not crying no more.  But they started shaking
the bed before I fell a sleep.  Playing mommys and daddys, like daddys do
with mommies when the kids go to sleep.

   I wished I did before they did is all.  "Huh!"

   Barbie (D Piqu NS)

   The dress was like Khakhi.  Maybe it was white once, or even pink, but
so dirty it never got clean.  Makes sense, for an Army wife.  I figure he's
at War, so she just looks at the pictures and misses them.  Then takes care
of the kids, not all of them, I picked Baroness for the Sister, since her
daddy has black hair.  They got lots of friends, I don't care about Cobra,
it's like a gang, but it ain't like Barbie supposed to play with G.  I. 
Joe anyway.  They don't even make them the same size no more.  She don't
fit in his jeeps, and I don't got her pink one.

   So, I do what I can.  She brings out cookies and lemonade while they
play war out in the yard with their friends.  I can't take a jeep from the
Toys R' us.  Its to big, but I got a fasion pack out under my shirt.  It
has pants, and a blouse, and panties, and a bra, but it turns out she's not
a real Barby.  The underwear don't fit, or the pants, so I have to get
momma's seam ripper, and sew them back together so they fit, and it takes a
while to get the pants on right.

   Oh, and I poke her with the needle a lot, but it's plastic, she don't
feel it.  She's not real, but I got nobody else to play with.  Mom says her
G.  I.  Joes are "Action Figures," and mine are too, but I like to play
with dolls.  The only game G.  I.  Joes know how to play are War.  Barrie
is learning how to cook though.  Maybe she can learn to sew, I better get
better at that before I try to fix the underwear, but the blouse comes down
enough to hide the stitches in the side, and you can't see she don't got no
bra on.  They just stick out like always without it.

   I don't got no perfume for her neither, but I got markers, so I try to
make up her face.  It takes all afternoon, and I still don't get it right,
but mom brings Chinese home, so I just put all the toys away.

   Becky (g Solo.  MG Mole.)

   "Daddy!" I shrink back from the wall.

   "It's all right," he's muffled, so I hold the cup back up.  "You know
I'm not your real father anyway."

   "Uh!" she doesn't say anything, but I imagine her rolling her eyes like
she always does.

   "And you know I love you.  More than even a father, right?"

   "Uh huh?"

   "Well, I just want to show you how much." .  .  .  "Uh," like a grunt.
"You love me too?"

   "Uh huh?"

   "Good, huh!" he sighed.  "See, see how much your daddy loves you?" He
kissed her goodnight.  So, I went to bed too.  At least he didn't play
mommies and daddys with mom again.  It's so distracting, but I could just
imagine what they did in there.  I'd seen it in the nasty books, but she
didn't tye him up, and spank him, like my favorite story.  It's funny,
really.  A mommy spanking a daddy.  She said no, she didn't like it, so he
stopped asking.  Know I'm not supposed to listen, I'm to young, which is
why they hide it, but I ain't stupid.  I figured out what that sound means,
when they shake the bed.

   I even know all the words, I red the stories.  He fucked her.  He
sticked his cock in her cunt and pumped away until he cummed.  All over
her, and she moaned in extacy, I don't know what that sounds like, momma
never did, but Tiffany made a sound.  When he grunted and sighed.  I think
it sounded like a sigh, Men don't do that, except when they cum.  I never
heard of another time they do, I think daddy did it when he cried, but that
was a while ago.

   "Mh!" Was that a moan?  I tried to touch myself, like the girls in the
nasty books.  Since I don't got no toys, or boys, or even a girl to play
with.  And mommie's pregnet again.  Were gonna have a baby, I don't know if
he'll be a brother, or a sister yet.  Maybe that's why they stopped playing
mommies and daddies, but the man in the nasty story likes them pregnent. 
He gets turned on by it, but I guess daddy don't.  So, he plays with
Tiffany, at least until Mommy has the baby, I guess.

   Barbie (Dd Fant Piqu)

   "Ow!" she jerked away from the needle.  "Careful, Berry!"

   Baroness is a bad girl, "Sorry," she lied, "It was an accident." but
she's got real hair.  But shes got to sew the underwear on, because mommy
can't do it.  So, I tied it up with a little rubber-band from my braces.  I
hate them, and the kids make fun of them.  Never going to make friends now,
until they come off.  But the dentist said it will fix my smile, and maybe
that'll help me make friends.

   She sewed the panties on, but mommy got drunk, so she had to pee.  I had
to get the needle real hot so it melts through the plastic, but now I can
fill her up like baby, but it's hard to take them off quick without ripping
them on the sides, so she wet them.  Then I bent her legs out to squirt it
in the toilet I made.  She got up so I could pull the water back out and
stick it back in her belly button.

   Then she needs a bath, because she got dirty, but the boys are all in
bed, and Berry yawns, so I put her to bed too, and brush her hair out, and
put on her nighty.  I had to make it for her, so its got no sleves, but it
looks like a nighty, and it's red like the Cobra face on her blouse.  I
guess shes a teenager, because shes got boobies.  I wish they just made
dolls all in the same size but they got a baby for the real Barbie.  Just a
hunk of plastic, not even hollow so I can make her pee, but I can play with
big baby, or Barbie and baby.  I just don't have any Mommy clothes, or
enough hair to comb it out.

   "Huh!" And I'm running out of games to play.  But she don't have
nipples. So, she gets out the bath, so I heat up the needle, the little
sewing one with the thread around the end so I don't burn my fingers again.
I have to heat it up, over and over to push it all the way through, but
it's in the middle of the tiny red dot I put on with the marker.  Then I
have to heat it up again for the other side, but if I do it right, the
plastic swells up, like a tiny plastic donut around the tip until it pokes
through.  "Huh!" There.  I get the red marker, the tip is still pretty
sharp so I can make her nipples red too.

   Becky (g-GM NS Sade Fant.)

   She said "No!" loud.  So he left, and I went back to bed.  Then he come
in my room, so I pretend I'm asleep.  "Mm," I roll over, and push the
pillow up under my head.  "Hn." I sigh through my nose, and go back to
snoring.  My eyes closed, I open them when he touched my shoulder.

   Naked, I brushed his knucles with the edge, and he jumped back.  "Ah!"

   "Don't you fucking touch me," I pointed.  "Or." I wanted to say I'd cut
his cock off, but all that came out was "Else." He looked at it, between
us, but I looked at his face.  All surprised, mouth wide open. 
"Understand?" I think he started to nod.  "Get the Fuck Out!"

   I couldn't sleep, so I went into Tiff's room.  She was crying too, so I
had to put the knife down to cry with her.  We fell asleep I guess.  I let
her keep the knife, theres 5 more of them, with the wavey points for
cutting chicken, and pork chops, but I don't know how to sharpen them. 
There so blunt from cutting on plates, they barely cut his fingers.  But he
understood.  Got it, don't touch the girls.  Don't ever touch her again,
mother fucker.  Or I'll come in Your room when Your asleep.  Maybe even
before mom comes home from the hospital, with our baby brother.  If he
tries it again before then.

   Barbie {DD Cuck Fant...  NS.}

   So I found a Ken, throwed away, but I guess I know why.  Plastic hair,
not like plastic threads, but just shaped like a hair style.  I'm not sure
whether he's like a Khakhi blonde, or got kind of a yellowish tan, because
it's all the same color except the blue eyes.  No eyebrows, even, not like
she's got any, really.  They'd be tiny anyway.  I got this real fine tip
marker, so she's even got a few lashes.  He looks funny with eyebrows,so I
giggle,and rub them off.

   "Huh!" which is probably why he's so lonely, and we know she's lonely
with Joe off at war, and it makes since.  Only it's bad, she's cheating on
him.  But hes been away at war so long, or maybe he was just killed, and
they never wrote a letter.  I wish I thought of that before they started
kissing, and got naked, and fooled around.  I wish I could write it
romantic, like momma's stories, but it just came out wrong.

   So, I guess she just got weak, and lonely, and drunk, and he brought her
home, and the little joes were all in bed.  But Berry got up, and got some
water, and caughed a little, but they didn't hear her.  "Uh, uh, uh!" So
she went to see what she was crying about, and she saw him.

   "Huh!?" I can make her cover her mouth, because her elbows bend, but
she's still pointing with her thumb like she's gonna pinch someone.  I made
her a little bottle she can hold, though.  They didn't hear her, so she
went back to bed.

   He doesn't have anything, in his pants.  Not even underware, just flat
on the bottom and up front like Barbie used to be.  A real one, I got her
from the Flea Market when mom wasn't looking.  She shops there on the
weekends, and I know I'm not supposed to steel, but it's exciting.  So
anyway, I just bumped them together until I got bored, and then she
straightened up, and I pulled her knees out.  Then I put her underwear on,
but I really like how I fixed this one.

   No Idea what I can do to fix him, how do I even make a peer?  It's not
just like poking a hole, or cutting a line, and coloring it in.  At least I
can poke a hole in the back, so he can poop.  Or whatever, it's weird how
he has tiny little nipple dots of plastic, and she doesn't.  It doesn't
make sense, I mean of course boys have them to, but women have them for a
reason.  To feed babies.  Anyway, I started writing a letter, saying George
Irvine Joe was killed in action.  Maybe I can make a little coffin, and
flag to bury him in, and a vale to go with her little black dress.  No suit
for Ken, though, it's kinda weird taking a date to your husbands funeral.

   I was grounded, when she had to call the plumber and he pulled out the
socks I lost in the toilet playing Laundry.

   All week end, but it was Monday, and we had school off, so I could go
shopping with her.  Labor Day, so still the weekend, but the Flea Market's
on Saturday.  We took the bus to Manitu, where there's lots of thrift
shops, and vintage stores, and antiques.  Mom says she'd love her own store
there, but there's "Too much competition."

   She was arguing with the man in one place, I'm not sure whether it's
Antiques, Vintage Clothes, or little kitchy shit.  Or a book store, they
had records too, and weird bands I never heard of.  Throbbing Gristle, and
Iggy and the Stooges, and funny names like that.  And you know, like glass
animals, and perfume bottles, they had a nice one with a squeeze bulb like
a blood pressure cuff.  So, I pretended to spray purfume with a wig I
found.

   "You don't even Have the box?"

   "I'm sorry, Maam, but it was water damaged.  We have everything else it
came with, the full set."

   I put the wig back on the styrofoam head and went around the counter. 
"Oh." the MP, last one of the original line she still didn't have.  "Hey
mom?" she looked back, a little mad.  "Can you get him for me?"

   She smiled a little.  "How much?"

   "Seventy five dollars."

   "What?  You don't even have the box, and look at this stain.  The
clothes are water damaged too, so I'll give you $25 for him."

   There was this girl, sitting and listening to music.  I guess.  I sat
down, watched her legs swing.  She was writing something, then she stopped,
flipped back,and started reading.  Didn't even notice, and mom was still
haggling with the man.  She stopped swinging her legs, and scratched one,
but kept on reading.  Her skirt hiked up a little, but I didn't see any of
her underwear, yet.

   "Rubella" {Gf Bond Sade Fant NS.  GB NS.
St: Art of Noise - Close to the Edit (Singles, Video Edit.)}

   ["Mmh!?" Her eyes went wide, struggling against the bonds.

   "You'll pay," I turned away, "For what you did to me." Looked over the
rack of choices.  The rack, well then I'd have to untie her, move her over
there.  Instead I brush my fingertips over handles, grips, a pommel, but
the cat-o-nine-tails swings back, and forth.  "Thought you had me fooled,
you lying deceitful Bitch!"

   WHKT!

   She jumped, and fresh welts appeared across the front of her thighs. 
She moaned, wide eyes tightening so fresh tears washed out.  Over her
eyeliner, and mascara, it ran down in black lines over flushed cheeks.  No
rouge, not even foundation, but the wash of arousal it's supposed to look
like.  Doesn't matter what she did, fucked up just to piss me off.  So I
would punish her, because she wants it.]

   "Hm."

   I looked down, drop the notebook the see the boy sitting on the floor.
Sideways, legs out, pointed beside the counter.  And turned, looking up at
me.  I crossed my legs, and dropped the headphones.

   "What?" are you looking at.

   "Sorry," he looked down.  "What happened to your leg?"

   I looked down, where I guess my shirt hiked up a little, over my legs.
So I pushed it back down.

   "I cut it." shaving?  Yeah, what would he know about that?

   "Why?" Funny looking Latin boy.  Doesn't look Spanish, or Mexican, but
they're like half the hemisphere.  Not "how?"

   I shrugged, "I'ano." Looked away.

   "Me neither." he got up.

   "Why would you?"

   "I mean, I uh.  I don't know,"

   "Lee?" he looked back.

   "...why I do it either."

   "Come on, son."

   He wandered off.  I see, his mom is Black.  Probably an Air Force wife,
by the look of it.  We get all kinds, and the tourists are winding up for
the season until the leaves start to change.  I think I even saw them
around before, not exactly a bustling Metropolis.

   George {DD Fant Wife Cuck Maim Beat +d Snuf.}

   I didn't fix him any.  He's not NIB, but mom would kill me if I ruined
him any more.  She was cooking dinner anyway.  So, I got to play with my
new doll.  I know, he's an Action Figure, but I didn't feel like playing
war.  He just got back, they captured him, but he was just so happy to see
her.

   But she felt guilty.  She cheated on him, yeah because he was presumed
dead, but she didn't know how to tell him.  Too soon after he just got
back. And there was no reason to ruin the night.  Maybe tomorrow, if he's
ready.  It might take longer than that, but I don't know how I can keep
that from him.

   He just held her, smelled her hair like he dreamed he would be able to,
ever again while she cried on his shoulder.  His hands shook on hers, so he
felt up her neck, pulled her head back, I had to pinch her hair, and lift
his chin to kiss her.  "Hnh!"

   I think I got a duffle bag in there.  "Yeah," I just stuffed junk in
there, and it was pink, but he carried it over his shoulder anyway, and it
looked good with the greenish brown of his shirt.  Even with the stain on
the back.

   Walking her back home, hand in hand.  Or to the car, yeah, she'd pick
him up, and they don't live by the airport.  On base, though, it's not too
far, and they don't say anything on the way.  I wish I had something they
could both ride in.  The Dump Truck is big enough, but the doors don't
open, so I just sat them up in the back, and rolled it backwards.  It's
yellow, like a taxicab, so maybe they took a taxi back from the airport.

   Then they got out, and I didn't feel like building a house, so I just
set up a bedroom in the corner.  And a couch, so they can sit up, and have
some dinner.  A beer and little glass of wine, they kissed a lot.  And
talked, I guess.  I don't know what mommies and daddies talk about, it's
not like she takes me with her on dates.  Or dates a lot, every other
month, I guess, off and on.  Whenever she gets lonely.

   Then she comes back and tells me everything wrong with him.  Right,
"Just often enough to remember why I don't." Like men, really.  She "Has
needs," though, and they like the way she looks.  She's beautiful, but
she's my momma.  I'm supposed to think she's the prettiest woman in the
world.  That mean girl, at the shop.  The weird one with all different
kinds of stuff.  Mean, but pretty.  Not like Barbie pretty, but maybe her
younger sister?

   What's her name, Malibu Stacy.  Had to look it up in the catalog.  And
she had a walkman, like a rich girl to.  That was like $60.00 with shipping
and handling.  I wish I had that kind of money, but I've got this new/old
doll.  Or action figure, right.  But not tonight, he didn't want to play
war.  She really wanted to make love.  He kissed her, a lot, and held her
arms, and her neck, and her face, and looked in her eyes until she was
breathless.

   But her hands were in front of her, between them, in his lap.  Or on his
legs, beside him, but she'd feel in to his lap.  He squirms, uncomfortable.
"What's wrong?" But he turns away.  "Aren't you happy to see me?" She feels
around, "Now where," some more.  "Where is it?" Nothing.  He looks back,
and I pick up a mirror.  Mess up my hair a little, like she ran her fingers
through it when they're kissing.

   But he looks scared, terrifed, and he starts crying.  I even lost a
tear,or two, it was such an emotional scene.  She covered her mouth, "What
did they do to you?" He pushed her off.  "WHAT DID THEY DO!?" Half
hysterical with sadness,and anger.  First she thought he was dead, then she
felt guilty, and then she felt glad he was back, and now she found out he
wasn't whole and now she doesn't know how to feel.

   "It was an accident,"

   She jumped, "No!" sobbing and beating on his chest.  But he was a
veteran, tough, and they'd beaten him so much more.

   "I'm sorry" he just held her.

   "So, there's nothing they can do?"

   "It was an accident," she cried softly into his shirt.  It's thick, more
like a jacket.  I think it's wool, or nylon, but they don't print tags that
small.  Oh, he came with dog tags.  And other stuff, in the plastic bag. 
It was melted shut, so I tore it, but I didn't put it in the box with the
other guns, and stuff.

   He just had a pistol.  .45 in a brown vinyl holster with a belt.  And a
billy club, like a police man, because MP is for Military Police.  And some
hand cuffs, and some other stuff.  No badge.  "Huh." I dropped them on the
dresser.  I made some cigarettes, so he could smoke, telling war stories.

   "We got ambushed.  The drug guerillas set it up, and opened fire on us
from the bushes.  I took cover, but I got hit, and wounded.  I'm sorry, I
requested them not to tell you how, because I wanted to tell you in
person." he turned away, took a drag, and blew it out so the smoke came out
in stripes from the street light coming in through the window blinds.  I
could draw a window later, but this was turning into a good scene.  "It was
too badly damage any way, but they didn't give me drugs for it." Huh.  He
scoffed, "They had heroin, and Cocaine, but there was this doctor.  He
liked to give pain, tortured us, but he really enjoyed cutting it all off,
and sewing it." He choked up.

   He got up, but I took his pants off.  "That's where I got this scar," he
had one on his face, but no underwear.  I drew one on my cheek like him,
and got to work on his other scar.  I didn't feel like sewing, but I bet I
could do better than that.  He wouldn't show her then, anyway.

   Becky {BG Teen Talk}

   "Hey," I shut my notebook.  It was that boy, from the shop.  "Rubella,
right?"

   "It's Becky, really." he sat down.  "She's just a character." I write
stories.

   "What were you drawing?" My face warmed up again.  "I think I might want
to write a play, but I don't know how."

   Oh good.  "Well, I write stories just for me." Okay, stop blushing, but
he's kind of cute.  And he's talking to me.  I knew a boy would at some
point, even tried to think of something to say, "What?" but he was staring
at me.

   "I'm Lee."

   "I know," I rolled my eyes, "Is that short for Leroy?"

   He shook his head.  "Bradley."

   "Oh," I shrugged.  "You cut yourself too?"

   "Not really," he felt uncomfortable, under his shirt.  Kind of chubby,
but I don't know why I thought I'd like, be attracted to, I don't know,
someone skinnier?  But he was almost pretty.  And why isn't his hair
curlier?  "What?"

   I stopped biting my lip, "Why isn't your hair curlier?" I messed with
it, a little, where it hung down in front over his eyebrows.  Black, too.
Of course, but his eyes are brown, and they felt soft like skinny
caterpillars.  He shrugged, "I'm not black."

   "But your mom is."

   "Actually," he shook his head, "She's half Veitnamese," that's why she
looked funny.  Not like I knew a lot of black women.  "An I'm adopted." I
brushed the back of his hair.  "Or she's my foster mom, really."

   "Oh," his short hair swirled in the back, and I was biting my lip again.
Pretty hard, really.  "You want to kiss me?"

   He didn't even nod, but we were close enough to feel his breath on my
nose, and smell it, even before I pulled him in by the back of his head.

   Bradley {BG NS}

   Of course she went to my school.  Where else would she go?  Could have
been home-schooled, I guess.  Weird how I thought it would last longer.  I
mean, technically it was lunch, but I wouldn't even call it a first date,
and we barely talked the first time.  But she kissed me, and bit my lip. 
"Ow!"

   I pulled back, and rubbed my lip.  "You like pain, Brad?"

   I shrugged.  "No really, I don't know.  I mean it hurts, but I don't
mind the pain so much."

   "Me neither," she looked down, and I saw her skirt pull up.  Well,she
pulled it back, in her fingers over the cut I saw, and a new one.  On the
other side, they were so even it looked like someone just cut acrost, in
one stroke, but I knew she just had the one yesterday.  There was more, but
they were healing.  Just a little pinkish, and the ones above that were
just wiggly lines, like long bumps.

   She had scars.  "You want to feel them?" She took my hand, and brushed
my fingertips up them.

   "WhyrhHhH!" she shivered a little, and closed her eyes.  Her head fell
back slowly.  Quietly, I had no Idea it could happen so fast.  But her face
got so red.  And her ears, and her neck.  Up under her hair, I swear I
could feel the warmth of it on my face, even in the early september, well
about noon I guess.  It was lunchtime.  She moaned a little.

   "Hey you too!" Her hair brushed my face looking up.  Oh, he ment two, I
guessed.  A teacher, or something.  "Break it up, you know the rules here."

   There was lots of kids standing around, staring, and laughing, and
pointing, and whispered.  She covered her legs quickly.

   My face still burned.  "Here's your note-book." she gave me her's and
ran off.  I just stood there, looking after her, and barely hear the
laughing teasing voices around me.  Like bats, I guess, but I was just
trying not to forget the way her hair smelled.  She didn't wear any makeup,
there wasn't even any floral fruitiness from shampoo, or soap.  It was all
just her.

   "Rebecca." Said it on the cover.  It just all happened so fast, so I
wanted to remember all of it.  Every second, every touch, every smell,
every last sensation except the sights and sounds of the world around us. I
wanted it all to go away, and leave me alone, with Her.

   Becky {GB Femdom Fant Sade}

   "I'll see you after class!" I should have stopped, called back to him.
Or circled around and gone back, until the bell.  But I barely got into the
girl's room before the bell rang, and I can't "Get in any more trouble this
semester, young lady!"

   "Hh!" I fixed my underwear, and went out.  Fuck!  "What the hell is
wrong with me!?" I made it, well, not late enough to report me.

   He barely sat down, but looked "Very disappointed," or whatever.

   "Uh!" I rolled my eyes, and scoffed at their giggles.  All right, now
this was way back, I hadn't even heard of the Sisters of Mercy yet, kids
still thought Billy Idol was punk, and the Police were Reggae.  Much less
Goth, but I listened to a lot of the Cure, and wore a lot of black, or
whatever.  And I was blonde, never died my hair, so sue me.  They called me
"Oogy Boogy Barbie," and told me it wasn't halloween yet.

   nlm

   Duh, like I don't know that.

   "Now settle down, class..."

   So, mopey weirdo freak, hadn't heard of the Misfits yet, either.  All I
know is I thought I understood what Ally Sheedy felt like in Breakfast
club, and nobody else could understand me.  Unless he does, he cut too, or
"Not really." Whatever that means, I never would have guessed.  So, I
thought about him all day, or afternoon I suppose, and I couldn't wait for
class to be over.  Lots of note-taking to pretend to do instead of writing,
and doodling in my class notebook.

   Why did I do that?  I mean, I vaguely remember thinking he was
interested in it for whatever reason, but some of it is really rather
fucked up, and better scribble out this big cock right in the middle of the
page before somebody sees it.  Shit, too late.

   So, I wound up in trouble again anyway.  "What!"

   "Sit down, young lady."

   "But the filthy pig harassed me!" They had however distributed brand new
pages on Sexual Harassment with the rules, and dress code, and shit,
though. Progressive state, even back then.

   "Sexual harassment is defined as an ongoing pervasive."

   "Yeah, he's pervasive, all right, he's been doing it since class
started, and I'm fed-up!"

   "Yes, but he doesn't have any previous reports like that, and this isn't
the first time you've been to my office, Young."

   "Stop calling me young Lady!" I yelled.

   "Now calm down." I remember picking up the chair.  When they pulled me
out to my mom, picking me up, I saw them fixing the window.

   "You threw a chair through a window?"

   "No?" It got hung up in the blinds.  "Not really!"

   "Honestly your behaviour lately is becoming disturbing, first you get
caught bringing a knife to school, and now this?  Your father, and I."

   "And you!" I shook my fist at the back of her head, "what did you ever
do," to stop him?

   "I don't know!" she wailed, "Where did I go wrong?" And then I couldn't
stop crying.

   Brad {BG S&M Cuts Hemo St: Depeche Mode - Enjoy the Silence (Violator)}

   There was bells over the door.  Like jingle bells, so they jingled when
I opened and closed it.  It wasn't the guy from yesterday, it was some
blond lady.  Blonde like Barby, or Rebecca.  "Um," I bit my lip, up by the
glass counter with all the cooking utensils, and stuff.  "Is Becky here?"

   "You must be her new friend." She nodded, and I followed her in back. 
There was a big room, like outside, only the furniture had blankets, and
tape all over them.  "She's upstairs," she unlocked the door, "Doing her
schoolwork.  Now, she's grounded for getting suspended.  Again, but maybe
you can cheer her up?"

   She had the radio, playing the same song, but I don't watch much MTV. 
They played it a lot, but I found her room.  In the middle of a hall down
the back, their apartment was like a house.  Only on top of their shop.  I
knocked, so when she opened the door, her eyes went wide, and she hugged me
hard.

   "All I ever wanted, all I ever needed was here, in my arms."

   "How did you get past my mom?"

   "She let me up," shrugged, didn't know what to say.  "She said you
needed cheering up."

   She sighed.  "There's this boy in my class." she looked mad, "He keeps
staring at me, and saying stuff."

   "Like what?" She looked down.

   "He's always staring at my tits," I covered my mouth, "And calling me
slut, and trying to get in my pants."

   "But you always wear skirts." I remember her now, saw her at school
before, but I'm not used to paying attention to people.

   "It just makes me feel so mad!" The books fell off her bed when she
jumped on it.

   "Um," or talking to people, I can't even write dialog good.  "What're
you working on?"

   "Huh!" she rolled on her side, brushed her hair out of her face.  "My
school work is done, but I got writers block, I guess."

   Nope, still don't know what to say.  "Words are very unneccesary."

   "What's that?"

   "They can only do harm."

   "Uh!" She rolled her eyes, "I don't know, sometimes I want to write, but
I can't think of anything to write, and how's your play coming along?"

   I shrugged, sat down.  "I don't know, I'm not writing it yet, but sort
of acting it out?  I don't write so well, but I want to write one, some
day, I guess."

   "Enjoy the silence..." "Well, that was Dpepche Mode with their Top 40
Single off Violator, and." Click.  She sighed, and rached back from the
radio.

   "I guess it's kinda." now, what'sthe right word?  "Dark?"

   "How so?" I just shook my head.  "Well, what's it about?"

   "Um, well it's about a family.  Sort of, I don't.  My foster mother
isn't like my real family."

   "What happened to your parents?" She sat up, smiled, and listened.  I
just had to, think of the words to say it.  Maybe then I could write it.

   "Well, they went to jail.  My papa stole a lot of money."

   "From who?"

   "A lot of people.  My mom helped, but Pop old her out to get some years
off or whatever, so she went to jail with him."

   "And the family, in the play?"

   "Well, that's not like my family, at all.  They haave a daughter, Berry,
and he's a Soldier." Mhm?  "Um," bit my lip, "He went awy to war, I didn't
really make up whih one, I don't know much about war, but she had pictures
of him, and she had to raise Berry by herself."

   "So it's not about the war." I shook my head, "It's about the Mama, and
Berry?" I nodded.

   "Only, she got a letter, thet sayed he was Missing in ction, and
presumed dead, so she got a boyfriend, and then he got out, and came back
to her, but she broke up with Ken."

   "You mean like Barbie and Ken?" I nodded.

   "Well, I don't have actors, or anything, so I act it out with dolls." I
looked around.  "Do you have any?"

   Her room was,weird?  I never been in a real girl's room before, but on
the TV, they always had pictureson the wall, or something.  She had clothes
all over the place,and a big blue quilt over the window, but that was it. I
need to keep the floor clean, so I can play on it.

   "I'm like 13," she frowned, "I don't play with toys any more."

   "Well," I'm almost 15, "I didn't really play with dolls when I was a
kid, so."

   "Your mom is a collector?" I nodded, "Well, boys aren't supposed to play
with dolls."

   I know, "She gave me trucks, and action figures." I started crying but
she smiled.

   "Oh," she got up, "It's okay.  Playing with dolls doesn't make you any
less of a man.  Why, your mom collects dolls, and she buys Action Figures
too, right?"

   I guessed.  She had shoes, with heels on them, so she was taller than
me. I looked up, and sniffed.  "But, she's not my real mom." Her face,
looked weird.  "What?"

   She sat down.  "She doesn't touch you, does she?" She picked up
something,and played with it.

   "Well, of course.  She takes care of me, so she hugs me, an kisses me
goodnight." Why does she have a knife?  She looked down, saw she was
rubbing her thumb back and forth over the edge, but sideways.  So it didn't
cut her, I guess.

   "And that doesn't never make you feel weird?"

   I shrug, "It's usually when I feel bad already.  Like you just did, when
I started crying.  It makes me feel better."

   "What about when you hurt yourself?"

   I shrug.  "I told you, I don't know why I do that."

   "But it's not for the pain?"

   I srhug, "I don't know, I guess I wondered what it felt like."

   "But you did it again?" I nodded, "And again.  And did it feel any
different?"

   Not really, "It doesn't hurt as much."

   "Did it make you feel better, or real good?"

   I shrug again.  "Here," she handed me the knife, "Can you show me?"

   I didn't take it, "Oh," I shook my head, "I don't cut myself."

   Becky {GB Sade Cons}

   "Let's see," I knew right to look, lifted his shirt.  The confusion on
his face went away as it swept up over him, like a magic trick.  He looked
away, eyes tight in shame.  I didn't see any cuts, or even scars.  Just
some scabs, like he popped some pimples, but I never seen any on hs face.
He's so pretty, especially when he gets that puzzled look on his face.  I
felt the scabs with my fingertips, and piked at the scabs with my nails.

   "Who's Horhe'?" He changed the subject.  Small talk, I rolled my eyes.
"You know, like in Jorge's Curios?"

   I laughed, "Zhorge'," the E is silent, "It's French, not Spanish." Right
in the middle, or on either side of course, but nobody gets zits so
perfectly like that, and they weren't off in the corners like his nipples.
He just held the knife, didn't test the edge with his thumb, or even
tighten his fingers in a fist.  I took it gently, and set it down.  "You
stab yourself?" He shrugged, "You can touch mine," Again, I ment to say,
but his hands went to my shirt, "Uh!" instead of my skirt.

   "Huh." Again, the curious look on his face just went away, and.  I don't
even like boys Looking at me.  At them, I couldn't imagine someone touching
me.  "Hm?"

   I shivered,and my neck started burning.  It's a weird feeling, not like
the nightmare I imagined, curled up, holding the hande under my pillow,
dreading him coming back.  When he was done with Tiff, he got bored so
easy. And, "Huh!" He let go of one, felt my face, wiped a tear away from my
eye.  "He's a widower," I remebered, "Jorges'.  He always wanted to take
his wife on the trip arou the world, or at least back to show her
Marselles. So, when she died, huh!" He didn't kiss my neck, but he rubbed
on it with his face.

   "Mhm?" I stepped back to pull my shirt off.  It was such a hot
afternoon, can't wait for the weather to start cooling off.  He didn't even
look.  Down from my eyes, when I letmy shirt down to slide off my arms, he
asked.  "Are you okay?"

   He took my shirt, from my hands, absently turned it right side out.  At
least I could feelthe sweat drying on my shoulders, and back.

   "That's so romantic," he smiled, and looked down.  "You know, yellow, or
gold ones would match better." He held up the dark blue spagetti strap top
next to the cup to show.  He brushed the side of it, accidentally bumped
it, I think.  I don't know why that made me close my eyes, sigh, swallow,
bite my lip.  "You want me to touch them again?" I nodded wanting to beg
him to, touch me again, put his hands on me.

   I guess it was like the knife.  Why, I would never think of giving a man
my knife.  Like my "Father" but.  He didn't do anything with it.  Forgot he
was holding it, and.  Maybe it was a test, or in that moment I wanted him
to?  He could have killed me, I would have let him, like I never could
before.  Likewise, I never wanted a man to touch them, ever sine they
started growing,and attracting so much attention.  "Huh!" I forced my eyes
open, found his, staring.  "Do you think you could touch my neck again?"
His hans were full, sohe used his face again.

   It wasn't like when I played with myself.  I knew why I did that, it was
so powerful, especially when I got so hot writing, but this.  It never got
better, built up anything, becase it couldn'tget any better, it
wasperfect,and I wanted it to last forever.

   'Ley {BG Nude Fond Roma Fant NS}

   Now I got it.  She literally was so hot.  I din't think they really ment
Hot, but she turned dark red, or her face and neck did, it even spread over
her shoulder.  It didn't burn me, it wasn't that hot, but I swear to this
day I could feel it on my face if I held it close enough.

   And they felt weird.  Too soft, I guess compared to plastic, but even my
butt.  Whenever I tried to sew on some underwear.  Mom had a form for
fitting, but it wasn't my size.  I couldn't get the to fit right any other
way, and of course, the needle kept poking me.

   Wasn't I supposed to get, turned on or something?  What does that feel
like?  Not like love, certainly, I had a much better feeling on that.  I
mean just thinking about her, seeing the look on her face, smelling her
hair, and now.  How hot she felt, the bright red heart shape on her chest.
Now I understood that too.  It's not a Heart heart, shaped like an organ,
but the way her.  Huh,she calls them Tits, all right.  This isn't proper,
so might as well use the right words, not the proper ones.  They were pink,
now.  Warmer, but not as hot,and dark as her chest, and between them the
bottom squose into almost a point,with he curves.

   And the bra, I like it, even blood red like that, it looked so fake? 
"Uh!" She let her hand down behind her, and slipped the straps down off of
her shoulders.  Biting her lip, I kissed her again.  And she bit mine
again, but gently.  It didn't hurt, or maybe it's like when I poke myself.
If I'm feeling right, it doesn't hurt.  It feels right too.  Sexy I guess,
whatever that feels like.

   "What are you?" I don't think she really listend to the song, kept
talking to break the mood.  "I mean, you said your not Black."

   "No," I'm pretty light under my shirt.  "I'm Armenian."

   "That's not White?" She looked up, so I just shrugged, and pulled on the
shirt.  She giggled.

   "It's not all jst black, and white." I sat down.  "I mean look at you,
you're not white.  This is white," I picked up a paper on the floor, didn't
look at the pictures on it, but she got out the red pen.  "Huh, see?" Still
pretty pink, but her arm wasn't that hot.  She shrugged, and picked up my
shirt.  Amazing how they didn't flop, or sag, or move much at all, as soft
as they feel.  Not at all like I expected, but I guess I'm starting to like
them.  I rubbed inside the cups of her bra with my thumbs.  "It's like
Turkish,and Syrian, and Roman, and Russian."

   "Hows that?" she flopped back on the bed.

   "Well,Armenia is right there.  Between Turkey, and Syria, so when the
Assyrians rode their chariots out against the Eutruskans, and Phonecians,
they went right through Armenia.  Then Rome tried to take over the known
world, found Jesus, and founded Constantinople.  That's Istanbul, now, but
for a while it was the capital of the Western Roman Empire, Byzantium. 
Then it was taken over by the Ottomans, and Turkey's like a peninsula
hanging off of Armenia, so they rode right through there.  Then the Czars
decided to convert everyone to Russian Orthodox, even though it was already
Greek, and Antiochian Orthodox."

   "What's that?"

   "Antiochian?" Nod, interested.  "Uh, it's named after the First Church
at Antioch.  Huh!" it's complicated, "You read the bible?"

   "Not all of it."

   "Well, in the Acts of the Apostles, Saul met Jesus, and converted to
Paul, right?  Then, he met up with Simon Peter, the first pope?"

   "Were not Catholic."

   "Neither is Orthodox.  Paul left for Rome, in Romans, fro Antioch.  The
church of Rome left the orthodoxy.  That's what orthodox means, not Rome.
All the other churches, the Anglicans, and Protestants broke away from
Rome, but they wouldn't have to if Constantine hadn't decided to re-write
history at Nicea."

   "Where did you learn all this?"

   "Well," I thought back in the conversation, "All that geography is my
family history.  Mama 'toya is Asian, and African, right?  Well, Armenia is
amix of all the people who conquered us.  Egypt, Phonecia, Rome, all the
way up to Russia.  The religious stuff was mostly at the children's home I
stayed at until Latoya came to foster me.  They're Antiohian orthodox, but
they do the rite in Greek instead of Syriac, or Russian."

   "And Syriac?"

   "Is the language of Syria, just like Armenians speak Armenian." and
Russian.  "Antioch is in Syria, just south of Armenia."

   Her mom knocked, and I became very self conscious about the blue blouse
I'm wearing.  "How's the schoolwork coming along?"

   "We're done," she lied, right to her.  "Just playng a little dressup."
She messed up my hair, "Well, I just closed up, so can i give you a ride
home?"

   "You think I can go home with him?" she got up.

   "To spend the night?" I looked up, and back to see her pretending to
think, but she couldn't hold back a smile.  "Well, you've been pretty good,
so I guess that's all right."

   We changed back, but I don't know why boys clothes are so rough.  I
waited for her mom to go back out first, so she didn't see my chest.  I
don't want to try to explain that again, and fail to again.  Why don't
people believe that I don't even understand, so i can't explain it.  At
least she changed the subject.

   "You got a tape player at home?" I nodded.  She dug in a box full of
tapes.

   "I wish you didn't turn off the radio before they said the name of that
song."

   "Enjoy the silence?" She stood up, waved the tape.  "I've got the
album." So that's how you spell Depeche.  "What kind of name it that?"

   "Violator?" I shook my head.  "I think Depeche is German.  The're from
Germany, but I'm not sure what it means." She stuffed a notebook in her
backpack, with some more clothes.

   "You want to play dressup when we get back?" For real, she looked up,
bit her lip, and smiled.

   Nodded, "Yeah!" She grabbed some other things, nice things.  I picked
some up too.

   Becky {FBG NS}

   "Uh!" I stuck the tape in the radio.  {St: Depesche Mode - The World in
my Eyes.} Good, it's rewinded.

   "Fashion News."

   "Huh?"

   "Depeche Mode is a French magazine, It means Fashion News."

   "MoOM!" she was listening to us?

   "It's all right, dear, you're almost a teenager, so."

   "No!" I didn't mean to throw a fit, but I didn't want to hear it.  Not
now, now that, I.  "Uh!" I just covered my ears, but Lee held me so I could
cry.

   "She hates that," his chest buzzed.  "I think she's scared of growing
up."

   "How do you know that?" she sounded so much farther away than just
across the seat, but I curled up in the corner of the door and wished it
would just fly open.  Fling me out to tumble on the sidewalk, and die
broken in the ditch.

   "I don't know, but every time someone says that, it really seems to hurt
her."

   I sniffed.  "No."

   "What?" He looked at me.  My heart, well it didn't stop, but I didn't
feel like it would eplode out of my chest, or beat so loud it burst my
eardrums.  I took a deep breath.  "Huh.  I don't know why I never could say
it." Back in his shirt.  "Uh!  He never told me not to, I just, can't."

   "Who?"

   "Daddy?" My eyes leaked yet.  How could I cry so much without drying up,
and blowing away?  "Nh?"

   "I thought that was just a story." I shoomy head, overed my ears, and
just listned to hi heart beat.  The way he buzzed when he talked, but not
the words.  Not what he was saying.  That's why.  That's why I gave it to
him, becaue i can't.  i can't never say it, out loud.

   She didn't say anything.  I wiped my face on his shirt, but I've never
seen her so mad.  Even when she spanked me, for taking the knives, and
cutting myself,and getting suspended, and haing a violent fit.  It made her
ma, but she always looked disappointed too.

   She wouldn't even look at me, but she looked.  Like I felt.  When I cut
myself.  That's why i did it.  It made the anger go away, I just had to
hurt someone, and I'm still so scared of him.  But even that ws hard to
think about any more.  Him, when he's right there.  Bradley, holding me,
letting me cry, finally saying what I never could tell anyone.  I needed
him, to make it all go away.

   I swear, mom squeeled the tireson the truck almost before we shut the
door.  A big old delivery truck, she doesn't drive it much, because of how
much gasit burns, but.  I guess it wasn't an emergency this time.  But it
was that important.  He lived in apartments.  Not like our "Flat" over the
store, but a bunch of them all inthe same building, with stairs up to all
the top floor ones.  I followed him up, and he got his key out.

   "Where you been, Lee." she stopped in the door, "Oh, who's this?" To the
kitchen, she let her hands fall, still holding the damp paper towel.  It
had blue flowers on the corner, and curly lines, like creeper vines, only
blue.

   He held my hand, "You remember Becky from the store?" She shook her
head, but smiled warmly.  "Jorges Curios, where you got me the G.I.  Joe.
Well,turns out she goes to my school too." He picked up my hand, and kissed
it.

   "So she's your girlfriend now?" She didn't look mad, really.  Or any
other feeling I recognised, but she doesn't speak black.  As if I'm any
judge.  "Doncha think your still a little young for that?"

   "Huh!" He sighed.  All the time, really.  I was so wrapped up in my
problems, it never even occured to wonder what was wrong with him.  At the
time, and I doubt we would have figured it out together, but the other
thing is I liked it.  That's what I loved about him, it was just so
confusing then.  "Don't worry about us.  Doing anything too soon.  I'mnot
in any hurry, in fact I much prefer to take it slow.  Makeit last aslong as
possible, because I don't want to rush to the end."

   "What are you going on about, boy?" Whe followed her back into the
kitchen,so she could pull on the oven mits, and drain the spaghetti.

   He squirmed uncomfortably, so I squeezed his hand.  "Sex," he turned to
me.  "I don't want to have sex with her.  I'm in love with her." I realize
now, that despite all that about not rushing through it, we'd known each
other less than a week.  Only a few days, but it was still so romantic
amomentI had to kiss him.  Until she turned around.

   "Huh," she put her hands on our shoulders, "Break it up." And rolled her
eyes.  "And go washup for dinner.  It's almost ready."

   His room looked so neat, and clean.  I felt a little selfconscious about
mine, probably had to do laundry soon, but with them all mixed together on
the floor, it's hard to tell what's what.  That and it's likethree loads if
i do't sort them out, which makes it such a chore.  "You got a washing
machine?" I wondered.

   Right next to the bathroom, it looked like a closet with those 2 doors
that slide open together like aphone booth, but there they were.  One on
top of the other.  Allof a sudden, they felt so dirty in there.  "Here," he
pulled them out, "These are a little tricky, so let me do that for you."

   "You want to wash all my clothes when we get back?" I joked, and he
laughed.

   "Sure," he shrugged, "If you want."

   He held up each peice, turned them right side out and even checked the
ones with pockets.  He's neat like that.  Not one to just kick them under
his bed, he had a hamper, put his toys away, and een folded his clothes in
the drawer.  Doesn't hang much up, though.

   "It's ready!" They don't have a kitchen table, so she served us in the
living room.  "Turn on the TV, dear." He got up, and switched it around to
the News.  Played with the antennas until it was pretty clear.

   "So," I twirled the fork in the noodles, "He told me about his family,
but not much about your's."

   "Not much to tell." she shrugged.  Sitting right by the set, he reached
out,and turneddown the commercial.  "You seen the show M.A.S.H.  ?" I
chewed, and nodded.  "Well, my mama was a nurse too.  Only it was Veitnam
instead of Korea.  When it was over, she tried to get my father a Visa to
emigrate to the states, but since I wasn't born here, yet, she just came
back when it ended.  She got pregnent before they left, though.

   "I thought militarybases were US territory anywhere."

   "Yes, but they were a field hospital.  Ambulance unit, not on base."

   "Oh," I picked up another forkfull.  "Mmh!" Pretty good sauce, and she
poured a lot of cheese on top.  No meatballs, though.

   Clean {TG NS}

   I got out the tape player, and set it on the bedside.  Had to pull it
back to plug it in, but she got out the tape, and put it in.  "We got a
double tape deck at home, if you want a copy of this." She closed it, and
pushed down play.  Only one speaker, but it was half the top.  If you count
the handle on the other head.

   I put my legs up, squooshed the pillow behind my bck, and flipped open
her notebook to a fresh page.  "What's this?"

   "Sit up here" she backed up in my legs, and leaned back so I could hold
her shoulders.  "You can't talk about it, I get that now." I handed her a
pencil.

   "Do you have any pens?"

   "Does it matter?" Her hair shook.

   "What should I write about?"

   "Anything, but this way you don't have to say anything." I was hoping
for that Enjoy the Silence song, but guessed it would come around at
somepoint.

   [How about you?] "What about you?" Huh!  [I know about me, but you are
such a mystery, to me.  I mean, you're different, so am I, but.] Huh!  [Not
the same different?  If that makes any sense.  You don't, you're nothing
like the way you look.  I mean, you look like such a little boy, I'm sorry,
but inside, you'relike what my mom calls an "Old Soul." She's all avante'
garde, eclectic, and, not spiritual, really.  She says her beleifs are her
beliefs, but she wants me to develop my own, and.  God damn it, why didn't
she do anything?  I love her, and I know she loved me so much, but she let
him do, all that.  Huh,] She sighed, and wrote it out at the same time, I
just hugged her shoulders.  [I know this is what you mean, but it's so
hard, it usually takes me hours, and hours." She sniffed, and whiped her
eye.  I rubbed her shoulders.  [I have to keep stopping, to cry, and break
something, or cut, or fantasize about something else until I can comeback
to it.]

   "I guess that's why you always change the subject."

   "Hm?" She started to turn, but I kissed her cheek as soon as her hair
slipped back over her shoulder.  "Huh!" Her shoulder fell.  "Sometimes, I
don't." [I don't want to think about something, so I think about something
else.  I can't help it!]

   "Good," I couldn't help but brush my cheek over her hair, and take in a
long deep breath.  "Do you wash your hair?  I never smell any soap, or
shampoo.  Just you."

   "Oh," she shrugged under my chin, and I looked down.  Read [I guess I
need to stop doing that.] while she said [I take a bath before bed,
usually.]

   "Now that I'm clean.  You know, what I mean?"

   She doubles spaces, in her writing I'd read before, the pages backI saw
she used the spaces to crossout,and write in corrections.Like a teacher
grading essays, but in the same color pen.  And doodled in the gloss,
almost exclusively violent, bloody, lots of red swirls,and jagged
zigzagging lines over the black, or blue outlines.

   "Hm."

   "Hm?" She turned from her page.

   "You see that ski guy, on the way back?  Of course not," I remember,
"You're crying, but he had one of those Life is a Trip shirtson, and I
think I kinda get it now."

   "Oh yeah?" She put my pencil down.

   "Yeah," I shrugged, "It's like I was saying earlier, or you knowhow in
your stories nobody ever has any sex?"

   "Not really," she shook her head.  Seriously?  I mean, it's all
violence, and torture.

   "Uh!  Huh, well any way, what I mean is, it's about the journey itself.
Not the end, life ultimately ends with death, but I like this."

   "Me to," she reached up to rub my hand.  "Right, which is what I was
trying to explain to mom out there." Been thinking about it in the back of
my had ever since, I guess.  "I guess I'm talking about sex.  Huh, I don't,
want to rush into that, when this feels so good right now."

   The tape player snapped, so I reached out, and turnedit over.  It
started over with thatother song she was playing on the way here.  {World
through my Eyes.} "So you don't want to have sex?"

   I nuzzled her hair again.  "Not yet, I mean." I took a deep brath
through my nose.  "Hm.  I guess, I mean."

   She scooched against me.  "Is that?" Well I certainly didn't have a
banana, nor a pocket any where.  Now i was getting a little uncomfortable,
so I took another breath.  "You really like my hair," she turned, so the
strands slipped sideways across my cheeks, and I just kind of pushed her
out, enough to slip my leg out from behind her, and fall gracelessly to to
floor.  She laughed, "Are you all right?"

   "Yeah," I put my elbow under me, "I guess my leg fell asleep."

   "Oh," she got down off the bed, "Which one?" she rubbed them through my
pantsso i had to scrabble back on the carpet.  I don't know why, but that
nitemare fear crawledup my neck, and gripped my throat.  "I,"ried to cough.
"Nh?" She caught my face.

   "Relax," she pettedmy cheeks with her finger tips untilI could breathe,
and I closedmy eyes.  She kissed me, and I still felt her thumbs, brushing
in, and out on my cheeks until they burned.Then down my neck, shoulders, I
still couldn't breathe, but at least the spike of fear was dying down. 
I'dnever had, that, whatever it is go away so fast.  Like it comes on, so
quickly it surprised me, instead of taking what felt like forever.  "I'll
go slow," she but her lip.  I bit mine back, hard, like the first time she
did.

   "Ow!" I rubbed my cheek, and a tear rolleddownto my fingers.  "What did
you hit me for?"

   She smiled, "How does that feel?" She slapped my chest.  "Better?"

   "Stop hitting me!" I got away, but she just stood up.  Looked at me.

   "What?"

   "I'm sorry, but I had to try it, and it doesn't work if you're expecting
it."

   "What?" She just sat back on the bed, crossed her legs, but slipped her
skirt up her thigh.

   "You know in the old movies whenever somebody got hysterical they'd like
slap him and yell 'Snap Out of It!'"

   I thought about it, "Yeah, so?" it still hurt.

   "Well, I was thinking maybe this is like that." Her fingers played with
the stripes on her thighs.  "Huh, it always snapped me out of, whenever I
felt scared, or angry and helpless."

   "Wait," something clicked together in my head, so I held up my hand, and
dug aroundin my head.  'Feeling angry And helpess.' "Do you usually feel
more then one thing at a time?" That might be why her feelings are so
confusing to me.  She thought, opened her mouth, shrugged, and shook it. 
"I don't know.  I mean, I never got, whenever the other girls talk about
their feelings, I never have a clue what they mean by it."

   "Right," I rubbed my forehead, "But, huh.  I'm really sensitive, and
it's weird, because I can't never tell if you're happy, or mad.  Scared, or
sad, so I just thought, maybe it's not an Or thing with you."

   "Yeah!" She laughed.  "No, yeah.  Your right, I never thought about it
that way, but the other girls.  They're like, so sure he's so cute they
want to jump his bones, and I'm like.  Yeah, but what if, I don't know, I'm
never that sure about anything I feel."

   "And you totally get turned on by hurting me"

   "Oh," she waved, "That's just S and M."

   "What?" I heard about it, never asked anyone, you know, but the guys
said it once or twice.

   "You know, Sadomasochism?" I shook my head.  "Pain play, it's like
Bondage, or.  Huh!" she rolled her eyes, "Here, hand me my bookbag."

   "I don't think it works that way."

   "What?"

   "Pain.  I didn't feel better, it just hurt, and a little scared you
would hit me again." Changing the subject does seem to make a difference,
though.

   She sat down, flipping through the magazine.  "See?"

   "Yes," I saw where she got her violent fantasies from.  "Lemme see
that." She rubbed her lap.  Through her lap, but she never really cooled
down from beating me.  "Huh!" I think I covered it, but if I could figure
out Why she gets violent like that.  No, I didn't do anything to provoke it
this time, the first time.  Still pretending to even pay attention to the
book.  Turn a page.

   "Hm."

   "Mh?"

   "Oh, um there's no sex in this one." Turn it around, to where it ended
on one page, and the next picked up, well on the next.  "Um, story, series
of pictures..."

   "Scene?"

   "Yeah," it's like a storyboard.  "What I mean is, she doesn't even take
off her clothes.  Yeah, he's naked and all, but she just abuses him."

   "It's not abuse, it's consensual."

   "Right," I slapped her.  "Did you consent to that?"

   I stepped back, but she jumped up so I had to catch her wrists.  She
kind of beat at my chest, but not very hard, because I took some power out
of it.  "Don't yo hit me, don't you ever hit me!" I had to hold her down on
the bed, and her mouth, but then she just stopped, and stared crying.  So I
held her, petted her hair, felt her tears wet my cheek.

   "I'm sorry, but I had to try that." Huh!  "It hurt me too, hitting you
more than when you hit me.  Twice."

   "I'm sorry!" she sobbed.  "I din't mean to, Uh!  I don't know why I even
did it, I." he chiked up, and ouldn't finish that.

   "Huh!" Now, "I know." And knowing is half the battle.  "Let's just call
that experiment a failure."

   "What you're saying about not rushing into sex." She sat back,
sniffed,andwiped her eyes.  "Huh, I don't know if sex is what I want,
neither.  I mean, I guess I don't know what I mean."

   "But that's your fantasy." Hurting me.

   She nodded, and her eybrows changed?  "My favorite." She didn't smile,
lose the frown in her mouth, or her eyes.  Maybe she got a little less
pouty, but she went from sadness to.  Well, I guess I'll have to assume
that's Anger/Arousal.  With her mixed feelings, she doesn't have to change
both, one can even change to the opposite, but it's still so quick, and
unpredictable.  And I just don't know the words for any of this.

   I'm just in 7th grade.  Barely in 7th grade.  But I bet I can learn.

   "You know a wife beater?"

   "I did." She laughed, but it was a lie.  "Huh!  I don't guess anyone
really knew my father.  He was a very private man.  What he hated, who he
was open and vocal about, but not his feelings.  His thoughts, his plans,
he was a plotter, and a schemer."

   "Yeah, I have no idea what that's like.  My father left because he just
couldn't deal, and now my daddy, he's not violent about it.  I wonder what
my mom will do.  She's scary, when she's mad, but he's a Nitemare.  Mine,
and my sister's, I remember lying awake, afraid to wake up with him
standing over me."

   "But you feel like a wife-beater?"

   She blinked out a tear.  "I don't know what that feels like," Snif, "But
whenever I do something like that.  I'm scared." She didn't look scared at
all.  "I don't want to be a wife beater."

   "Do you think you're gay?"

   She shrugged.  "Gay curious, I guess."

   Just aknowledging the elephant in the room.  I was a boy, still
identified as a boy.  And yet, even back then it wasn't even an issue.  We
weren't married, either, but I felt very much like her wife.  Comming out
doesn't really validate your identity, it's who I always was, years before
I'd heard the name for it.  Shrug, "I don't really like men, you know. 
Present company accepted, and I don't know, how attracted to women I am."

   "But you fantasize about them." She nodded.  "Her.  I don't know who She
is, but I guess, Huh!" I love her sighs.  She slipped up her skirt, "I
never had anyone else to practice on."

   I glanced over, at her knife on the dresser.  Where she took it away
from me, set it down.  I picked it up, tested the edge.  Remembered reading
some pamphlet about sexual abuse, like Harassment, all the way up to Rape.
Closed my eyes, took a deep breath, but some tears leaked out.  I didn't
know how to breathe yet, either.  "It's not about pain." I held it out to
her, "It's about trust."

   Becky {Bf Sade Cons}

   "Yeah!" I felt better all ready.  Satisfied, like I'd played with myself
all night, and even a little drained.  Not tired, or sleepy, but.  I don't
know, it's a lovely, lazy feeling.  He stood up, lifted his shirt.  Kind of
held it up, under his arms, but took a deep breath, and pushed out his
tummy.

   His pale tummy, he's not really that dark, it's just right after summer,
and you don't see where the dsun don't shine.  He tans really well, like an
Italian, I guess.  "I don't want you to hurt me, but if you want to try
this." He held my hand.  The back of it, and like half my wrist.  Like an
art teacher, showing me how to make a brush stroke, hold the pen.  Only she
was the paper.

   It wasn't like I cut her.  Or she cut her with my hand.  We did it,
together.  "Hhhhh." She relaxed, and her tummy sucked in a little.  It was
just a scratch, not even an inch long, and it barely bled.

   "How did that feel?"

   "There's no words, but now I know how you feel." He's right, but
sometimes, "Now you don't have to hurt yourself any more." Sometimes he
knew exactly the right thing to say.  He was wrong about that, 'I never
know the words.' Sometimes, he just says them, doesn't even have to think
about it.  Because it's True, I guess.  Truth.  He knows the Truth, just
sometimes has trouble saying it.  I can sympatize with that.

   We went to bed, right after that.  I usually sleep naked, and on my
front, but this time we didn't even take our clothes off.  Well, he pulled
out his belt, dumped all the stuff in his pockets in a ball-cap on his
dresser.  He curled up behind me, I never saw him wear it.  Or any hat.  It
was black, with a red bull head upside down on the front, but it said
Maveriks.  It was kind of warm,and sweaty, but we fell asleep like that. 
There wasn't even anything seual about it.

   He slept with me, didn't need to do anything more than that.  Kind of
makes me wonder why they call Making Love that.  It was love, now I know
what that feels like, for me.  It'snot all flowers, and piano music. 
There's also confusion, and fear, and anger, and pain in there.  It's not
like the Molly Ringwald movies, or the Soap Operas, or the Novels.  This is
what love is really like.  Not pure, and innocent.

   It's nasty.  If I'm going to have to come up with a word, it's fucking
nasty.  But so is the whole wide world.  The difference, I decided the
difference that love makes is we don't have to go through it alone.  And
this is the nastiest time.  Whenever we ralise that the Disney childish
fantasy is a lie, you're not sprecial, princess, Prince charming won't
come, ever, he's just the guy on the poster.

   And I like his fat.  He doesn't really have a lot of it, but it means
he's not all hard, and boney.  There's a softness to him.  And a little
scratch on the side.  "Hm." Left handed.  I never cut left handed before,
but then, I never cut anyone else.  I'mnot a wife-beater yet.  I'm not an
abuser, it's not to late to become, what?  Right, I hit him.  Surprised me
as much as him, but then I did it again, like I wouldn't stop.  I couldn't
stop,sure I though abot maybe trying somepain play, but.

   "Uh!" All I could do was make an excuse.  Change it so I don't think
about what happened.  Make it all right.  I don't want to hurt him, I
really don't, but that's another thing.  It's not because of the left hand
thing, I'm pretty sure, but I don't remember cutting before, and not
getting turned on by it.  Thinking about it, just like I am now, and I
don't even want to touch myself.  Get off.  I'm satisfied,and we barely did
anything.  Just talked, mostly.  Fooled around a little, but this is the
best feeling ever, and it's so new I have no idea what to call it.

   Maybe he's right, feelings aren't one thing.  'I feel happy.' Yeah, and?
What kind of happy?  What kinda sad?  Why are you so angry?  Well, I bet I
am because of what happened, to my sister, but why do I take it so
personally.  It's not like he molested me, id din't give him the chance. 
So how does that, just that make me some kind of fucking Sadist?  Or,
not-fucking sadist?  I don't even have sex, think about it, really want it
yet.  God, it's all still so confusing.

   Needles and Pins {Ramones' cover}

   "Want to play dressup, now?  His mom is a nurse.  Or, he calls her Mom,
just like my step-sister called my father 'Daddy.' It's just quicker that
way.  He got his dolls out too.

   "I brough clothes," you know, full sized, for us.  Well, forme, but he
likes them too.  Especially the underwear, there was like a outfit in my
backpack, but they were clean, and warm from the dryer.

   And I took a shower, in the morning instead of before bed.  Even though
I can't sleep feeling all nasty from the whole day, but last night.  "Huh!"
I fell right asleep, and didn't dream, and woke up as happy and refreshed
as I could ever remember feeling.

   "I just want to show you something." With Barbie, "I mostly played with
dolls because I didn't have any friends here.  And it's kinda weird just
talking to myself.  She wasmy best friend, until I met you.  I haven't even
thought about playing with her for like a week."

   She had underwear, but it looked like the panties were sewn on.  He
ripped them off, the stitches on the sides, and I sat down.  I was getting
hot in there, so I untwisted the towel from my hair.  "See?"

   He held "Her" up, and the heat washed down my neck to my shoulders.  My
hand shook a little, taking her to look closer.  I forget the Brand, but
the's not a real Barbie.

   "I fixed her."

   Right, the eyebrows, and exaggerated lashes I could se, but this.  There
was a slit cut in the crisscrossing lines between her legs, and up front. I
wished I had a magnifying glass, so I just squinted real close.  "Here."

   Reading glasses.  I tried them, and "Hm!" They didn't magnify it, like a
microscope, but made it less blurry, up close like that.  Saturday, so it's
always real busy at the hospital.  Probably cleaning up from friday night.
Sundays too, why they don't go to church, and she gets mondays off.

   It was a wound.  Evn colored bloody, like she was on her period.  Or, he
gave her her period once, and it was permanent marker, or something, but he
cut a gash in her, now crotchless plastic panties, and.  "How did you make
it so smooth?" It wasn't sharp, on the edges, like a cut really.

   "I melted it," he turned back from the dresser.  Sideways, just wearing,


   "OMG!" I dropped the doll, "Where did you get that bikini!?" It looked
like a bandana, but she just tied it on the side.  I mean, he did. 
Bradley, he's a boy, but.  For a second there, the way he turned, with his
hip out, tugging the seat out tocup around the side of his but.

   "I sewed it.  I got a lot of bandanas.  My uncle, real hankerchief guy,
he sends me them every year for my birthday, and christmas.  Uh," he
covered his hip, where it looked like he ha a rash or something, healing.

   Looking down, I turned the doll over,and looked at her hips.  There were
dots, shallow pokes probably from a needle.

   "You stab yourself in the hip too?"

   "On accident," he sat down, didn't seem to be embarassed about it. 
Anyting, being half naked, in a pair of handmade bikini bottoms, the front
bulging out like alittle pouch.  "What?" he covered himself.  Because I was
staring.

   "Sorry, I just.  Wow, those are really nice!"

   "Really?" he looked down.

   "Yeah, do you have a sewing machine, or something?"

   Ribbon too.  Around the legs, and the waist.  That's how they tied
together.  Red, and Pink.  And white, if you count the paisleys.  I was so
weirldy turned on.  I never even thought about, well how could I, something
so far out of left field, but "Wow.  Yeah, I'd buy a pair of those, for
like 15 bucks." Well, $12.50 on the discount rack, but come to think of it,
"Can you make a top too?"

   He thought about it.  "I've got a lot fo bandanas, and Ribbon left over.
I could try, but." He looked at the front of the towel.  "Yeah, I'd like to
try, it'd be a lot more complex, and."

   I thought about, him, with a needle, holding the fabric over my tit, and
careully slipping the needle through.  Careful not to, "Uh!" I didn't get
off.  Not like, when I play with myself, but.  "Huh!  Wow." I stil don't
have a word for this feeling, but this time I didn't already feel
satisfied, yet.  "Hh, yeah." I pulled the corner out, "Lets try that." He
pulled out some scissors, too.

   And a tape.  And a rolled up bandana.  Blue, it had a big needle with a
plunger, and a bunch of little ones stuck in around it.  And a lighter. 
CLACK, The tape recorder rewound.  He hit Play, and set it down by the
handle.  "Let's see," he stuck a needle in his mouth, and kind of flipped
it around while he pulled ribbon out, around the bottom, and reached behind
me.  "I might have to sew it on to start, then get a clasp or something."

   "Can't you just tye it in the back, like a bikini?" He looked up.

   "Huh?" And laughed.  The needle in his mouth bounced so the thead just
swung around in front of him.  Like a toothpick, or a redneck chewing on a
matchstick.  He got up, "Here," helped me up by the hands, and sat me down
on his chair.  By the dresser, like a desk, I guess he did schoolwork like
that too, and just rolled it back in the closet.

   Behind me, he tied the ribbon on.  Just that, right under my tits, but
real bras have a line like that.  He was just so weirdly comfortable about
the whole thing.  Standing right in front of me, in his handmade bikini,
while I'm stark naked.  Okay, now I had a ribbon on.  "Hang on," he walked
out, "Be right back."

   Alone together in the apartment, but still.  it felt like we were like
in the Caffeteria, in the middle of lunch, and anyone could just look over,
any time.  I know he gets hard.  I felt it last night, but I was so turned
on I imagined steam boiling off my hair.  And he was acting like it was
just, like.  Normal?

   I look down, at barbie tucked back in her box.  Another bandana pulled
up over her, like a blanket.  A bed.  This was how he played, with his doll
friends.  I was playing his doll.  "Here," he brought a brush back, turned
the chair around, and sat on the bed behind me.  "Might as well get this
out of the way."

   "Why do you sew them on?" I wondered.  He just kept bruhing my hair.

   "Huh, they don't fit right.  My thighs are too thick, and -Uh!- I don't
have any hips." Like, girl-talk.  Yeah, I don't have a lot of friends, but
I have a sister, and I have hung out with other girls.  It feels so weirdly
familiar.  That's why I don't hate him, he doesn't scare me.  I'm scared of
men, but I thought he was more like a boy.  That's why I thought he wasn't
scary, but he's not, mean like a boy.  Or even some girls are, but not him.


   "Hold still." He tied it back.  Quick too.  Got it right the first time,
just pulled it through, looped it around again.  And again, and tugged it
tight.  Like he'd done it a million times before, I'd seen it too, but he's
got short hair.  I'm sorry, but there's just something hot about getig made
over by a boy.  He just didn't act girly, or faggy I guess.  So I didn't
notice.

   "Do you think you're gay?" Too?

   "No." No question, didn't even think about it.  "Huh!  Homosexual is a
Sexuality.  I would think you'd have to be sexual to have a sexuality."

   "So you're not sexual?" I got up, turned around.

   He nodded up at me.  "Not yet." My face, not my now burning breasts. 
I've wanted to jump his bones since I saw "her" tie on the bikini, but
again.  He just said "Nope!" Because it's true.  Gkance down again, and
sure enough, noting.  just hanging in the pouch ignored, forgotten.  Not
even anything, just there.

   "I like he bows." On the side.  He stood up, stepped around me, picked
up the spool of ribbon.

   "Here," he tuged it tight, picked up the scissors.  SNIP, SNIP, "There."
Nice bow for my ponytail.  And you know what?  I fucking HATE being called
"Barbie." But I really Really liked playing is.  I loved it, it was hot. 
"Are you all right?"

   "Huh," I took a breath, "Yeah, but.  Uh, you think we could full around
a little while?"

   "Sure." I could barely breathe just from his breath on my shoulder.  His
mouth on my neck.  His hands, feeling the ribbon around the sides of my
ribs...

   I think I almost fainted.

   Mavris {mf Fond Kiss Teen Roma NS.}

   "What do they feel like?" I held them, wondered how one goes about
cutting a flat square so it wraps around a round soft globe.

   "Tits?" Like her back, felt so flat against my front, but the sides
don't turn sharp like an edge, or a corner.  Like 2 blocks stuck together.
She shrugged.  "Heavy, I guess.  Soft, and."

   "Yeah, but Heavy?"

   "Uhuh?" they felt so light in my hands.  And the nipples, between my
fingers.  "hM!" I could hear her bite her lip, but with her hair up like
that, her hot neck was still a little wet, or my face was sweating.  She
tasted clean, I just ignored the scent of my shampo on her hair.  By my
ear, brushing the top edge until it burned with the friction.  The heavy
damp brush of it, pulled back stright, the curls pulled out into lose waves
together.

   "Huh!" She tasted clean, but I wanted to smell her.  And most of it was
washed off.  She tasted too clean.

   I felt her sigh in my hands, gripping in to hug them around my
fingertips.  The nipples dragging like erasers between my fingers. 
"Hhuhuhuh!  Oh," her arm, curled around front, next to her breast came up,
reached over shoulder.  "Here." Her voice, sounded so deep.  Not
breathless, breathy.  As quiet as a whisper, but not.

   Oh!  I took a deep breath, and she brushed her nails up under my nose. I
kissed the tips.  She slipped them in, and, "Smwuip!" Back out.  Just two
of them, her middle finger, and either of the ones next to it.  I couldn't
tell, didn't look, honestly didn't care, but I hear her lick them too.  Not
like lapping it with her tongue, but the way I did.

   "Smuip!" Like you just ate fried chicken.  Her breast rolled back down,
and out I guess.  As her arm went back down, and I shifted my fingers
around until the heavy soft roundness settled into it.  Like the cup of a
bra.  "Mh!"

   I let go, rubbed her arms, and shoulders.  "What?" she turned around. 
Bright pink, almos red, as if sunburned.  "I'm not done yet," she rubbed my
chest.  And her fingertips were damp.  Just two of them, and I could smell
her.  See her eyes.

   Come on, I took her hand, "Let me show you something."

   Mom has a full lenth mirror.  To fix her hair, makeup, outfit.  When she
goes on a date, she's got a pretty ugly uniform, even calls them "Scrubs."
But in her room, I could hold her up to it.  But she looked up, to the
side. Over her shoulder, at my face.  I smiled.

   "Oh, I've done this." I held her.  Under her arms, her chest, but she
couldn't reach down.  Like a Berry can't reach between her legs, much less
Barby.  But she's not a doll.  She has feelings, needs, so I slip my hannds
out, and hold around her arms again.  And smell her, mom's makeup is right
there, by the sink, and her Purfume.  But I can still smell her.  And on
the other side of her neck, I can feel the warmth of her shoulder.

   No, she's not a cold plastic hunk of plastic.  Not even my size, and
anatomically correct, but a real girl.  She smells real, feels real, and
loves my hands on her.  My face on her neck.  My lips on her skin, the tiny
hairs on the soft hounded ridge of her shoulder like a sand dune.  I just
ran them down, away from her neck, and looked up.  In the mirror.  At her
face, her arm, hand runnbing hard in front of her, and her fingers feeling
between her legs.

   She can do that, but she can't do this.  Rub my frint up her back, pull
her breast flat in front of her, so the bulge out the top, and bottom.  Cup
her bare bottom against my hips.  "HuhuhuhuhuhH!" Breathe on her shoulder
so she shivers, make the invisibly light and tiny hairs stand up, to brush
under my lips back up her shoulder, the goose bumps barely touching the
wrincles in my lips, the tiny hairs sucking forward, as I slowly bring in
another breath, sweet and savory with her scent.

   "Auh!" A different kind of sigh, I never heard before, but I had to hold
her up when her knees went weak.  I turned arond, gently laid her down on
the bed.  Felt down her back, the skin rlazed, but still tight over the
flat curved bones on the sides.  Where they'd be, face up, but.  I'd had my
feel of her front.  "AhHHhHhH." She took another breath, and I could see
the tention in the back of her arm.  Her right arm, the bottom of it turned
under her, so her hip was up on that side.  Fleing, and relaxing in the
back, I wonder what that muscle is called?  "Huh, uh!"

   Her leg up, or out to the side.  Like the number 4, up side down, and
her foot not under her knee to stick out the other side.  What's that
Ballet position?  Shake my head.  "Cmn, nh!" Almost frantic now."Nh!  HN!"
Grunting.  "AH!" She shook, so I rubbed it.  Cupped it like a breast, felt
it warm where I hit it.  "AH!" AHhahahaha'a a."

   Just once, it didn't spank her,but just that one slap.  I guess, I just
guessed right.  That's what she needed right then.  To push her over the
edge?  She relaxed, completely, so I sat down.  Layed down next to her,
reached over to her shoulder, and pulled her up to curl up against me.  I
feld down, over to her hip, and held it.  She panted, breathlessly, but
slower.  I think my other arm started falling asleep before I even thought
about letting her go.

   She stopped shaking, like she was crying, and I just listened to her
breathe.  'Becky?' I whispered gently.

   "Mhm?"

   "You're awake." Good.

   "Nhm!" Happy, the happiest sound I ever heard.  She pulled my arm up and
held it.  On her chest, but in the middle.  Between them, against her
heart. "This just feels so nice."

   "Yeah." I kissed under her ponytail.

   "You didn't get hard." She didn't ask, "At all, the whole time?"

   I got up, shook some blood into my hand.  "Sorry."

   "No, I feel bad, because I didn't." She looked down, "Don't you think
I'm sexy too?"

   "You think I'm sexy?" I blinked.  It just hadn't occured to me.

   "Well duh!" she laughed, "You didn't notice, all that just now?  God, I
never, I still feel like."

   "Yeah," I sighed.  Smiling.  I blinked, "What?  I don't think I get
turned on like you, but that was so, wonderful?  No really, I can't, I
doubt there's even words for this feling but.  Huh!" I gave up.

   "Yeah, me too." Sat up, her head fell to the side.  "I think I felt that
too.  Before, when you're brushing my hair especially."

   "Love?"

   "Well yeah, that too.  But I feel, it's like that on, well not steroids,
but waay more powerful."

   "Right?" I nodded.  Exited, that was it!  Or getting a lot closer.  If
there's not A word, then you have to use more.  A phrase, sentence,
paragraph, book series.  "Romantic."

   "Yeah," She looked up, and grinned.  Laughed, back at my eyes.  "I think
we just made love!"

   Becky {[Text]}

   I spritzed some purfume on the bed.  Where I leaked a little, he looked
at me, curiously.  "Oh, if she asked, we camein to tuse the mirror, and I
spilled a little." When we stank up her whole room.  "That window open?"

   "Far as I know."

   Back in the room, we got out my notebook again.

   [It's not like I imagined, at all.] "Well no." He said, "Most of your
sex education was porno!" [Ha ha.  I like this writing, and talking,
though. It works better.] "For some things," he shrugged against me.  [And
this.  I love it when you hold me like this.] And rub his face on my neck,
kiss my shoulder, "Yeah," breathe next to my ear.  "Me too." Smooch,
"Better than sex."

   "How would you know?"

   "You're not my first girlfriend?"

   "Really?" I set the notebook aside.

   "Yeah, I guess I don't think about her as much, lately."

   "What's her name?"

   "Huh.  How's X?"

   "That's not a name."

   "I know, but.  I don't feel comfortable talking about her, what we did,
and who she is specifically."

   "Why not?"

   "Because she wouldn't want me too.  Tell you what, multiple choice?  A,
her name, whare she lives, personality, and looks.  Who she is." He held up
his hand, pointing, and stuck out another finger.  "B, What we did,
sexually, and all we learned together."

   "B." Definitely.

   "Good," he dropped his hand, and rubbed my leg.  "I was so, curious
about girls back then.  She went to church with me, and we started hanging
out, and fooling around together.  You know, practiced kissing, saw
eachother peeing, then naked.  I watched her play with herself, and helped
her with her period."

   "What?"

   "That was my sex-education.  My mother is a very private person.  Not a
Muslem, but might as well be.  Practically dressed like one except the
hood."

   "I never knew any Muslems."

   "Oh, their society is like that.  They don't like to see any part of
their bodies, or even talking to men who're strangers."

   "But what about, like Belly dancers?"

   "I think that's Persian?  So anyway, I barely understood what women were
Shaped like, much less a little girl."

   "She was a child?" The perv.  Okay, he's creepy, but I like that.  Come
to think of it, I fell instantly in love with his weird perviness.  I mean,
he just sat down, and looked up my skirt before I even saw him.  He saw my
scars, and was genuinely intereted in them.  So, when I say something like
creepy, or weird, or pervy, or especially Nasty, I mean it's a good thing.
Normal is more like an insult to me.

   "She was on her period.  Huh, I mean I knew her around town, it was
small, smaller than this without the mountains, ski basin, tourists, and
Bases.  Not even an airport, 1 antique shop mostly locals used to swap out
leftover furniture."

   "And she was on her period?" Got of subject a minute there.

   "Right, uh.  I heard about that too.  Mom bought pads, and she.  My ex
came in the store to buy some too.  Had a feminine emergency, you
understand.  So, I let her use the downstairs bathroom, and she had a stain
on the back of her skirt."

   "A blood stain?"

   "Yeah, spring, white skirt." Ah.  Warming up a little.  "So anyway, I
was curious about it, and she was so greatful so after I closed up the shop
we started hanging out and talking about it.  She was a virgin, and so
worried about how nasty it made her feel."

   "Being a virgin?"

   "Sort of, having all that grody stuff inside her, until it all leaked
out.  Out in the country, people just don't talk about this stuff.  Mothers
don't always do to their daughters, much less the sons, but it was kind of
like the blind leading the blind.  She wanted me to look down there.  She
could kind of feel it, but she couldn't see real good, and nobody would
even listen long enugh to ask them before.

   I guess I was so curious, I got over how nasty it was." Mh!  "Anyway,
she had a perforated hymen, but it wasn't really very open, and she wanted
to wash it out.  Huh, I still kind of wonder what that must be like, but I
can at least sypathise with, feeling bad, about her body.  Just a different
body, right?"

   "I guess."

   "Yeah, so long story short, I broke her hymen for her, and she felt much
better about her period after that."

   "I thought you said you failed Health class?" Not enough to be held
back, just had to take it again instead of the full 2 semesters of Gym.

   "Yeah, but it was the boy questions I got wrong." Right, because boys
are so much more compicated then girls.  I guessed it's like, I can see it
from the outside better than he can feel it from the inside, at the time.
"AN' e-way." he probably rolled his eyes, "We started having sex too,
eventually.  Over the next few years, I mean, you know how I said I like to
take it slow?"

   "Yeah?"

   "Well, it was another couple years before we even had sex."

   "Then you broke up?"

   "Nh?" He sniffed, reached backI guessed to wipe his eye.  "I could't do
it any more."

   "Have sex?"

   "Yeah.  Huh!  Uh, it started giving me nitemares, even."

   "Wow," I turned around, "It's okay," held him, up on my kneed between
his legs.  "You don't have to talk about it any more." I guess that's why
he's not sexual again.  He's afraid of sex?  I can't imagine how anybody
could be efraid of sex, but now some of the familiar stuff I didn't
recognise beforemade sense, again.  He sometimes acted like my sister, or
looked like her.  So,I guess I understand he's afraid of sex like she is
becuse she was abused.

   "I guess this is another good reason to take it slow." He sniffed
against my chest.  Naked, I mean his face right between my breasts so he
could probably even hear my heart so close to his ear.  But there was
nothing sexy about that moment.  I actually turned right off when he
started crying.  I'll have to ask her about it, Tiffany next time she comes
back home.  "Huh!  It's so complicated, it gives us time to go over
everthing." Not like everything, she said "Everthing." Sometimes she does
that, notlike her accent slipping, but an old one popping up, when she
talks about the places she grew up.

   Must be nice, I've lived here my whole life, and only rally left fr
vacations.  Got the Tourist experience from the other side, I guess.  "You
lived in a shop"

   "Yeah,"I climbed down, and picked up somemore clothes.  "A drug-store,
told you my dad ran all kinds of businesses." I nodded, found a bra.  The
yellow one I just got, he's right.  It really sets off my hair, makes my
eyes pop, and match all my blue clothes.  "You mind?" I turned around,
andlet him hook it up in back.

   "Not at all!" Alittle too excited, he really likes to do stuff like
that. Hell, he wants to Make a bra.

   "Oh yeah," I picked up the bandana scraps, and the roll of ribbon.

   He laughed, "Break over?" He picked up a bra, rubbed it between his
fingers, and kind of felt around.  Looking at my yellow one.  "Hm," he
looked down.  "It might take a while to figure this out."

   "Huh!" What?  "Um, I think I just remembered.  Or, you know, I never got
that turned on before, but I never got turned on before, from sex." I know,
he said it wasn't, but it sure felt like it to me, "Just, you know,
cutting, or violence." He nodded.  I played with myself to action movies
too.

   "You think you could write a torture scene?"

   "For your play?" He told me all about it.  "Yeah, but do you think you
can change your sick doctor to a woman?"

   "I guess," he shrugged, grinned, nodded excitedly, "Yeah, actually I
like that.  He's like a sadistic medic, so making her a, S&M?"

   "Dominatrix?"

   "Is that what they're called?  Yeah, I like that."

   So, he got out the box, and we played aroundmaking it a jungle for a
while.  And played a little dressup, it turns out my skirts fit, and my
tops.  Well, they're baggy, but it just hung down over the top of the
skirt. "So, you're a transvestite?"

   "What's that?" I sighed, and picked up the magazine.  They also had adds
in the back.  For 1-900 numbers you could call, or toy companies you could
order a catalog from.  "Here," I showed him.  "Crossdressers, they like to
dress up as girls, or I guess Transvestite is another word for it."

   "I like that better."

   He got up, wrote down the number on a peice of paper, and sat down. 
With the samemarker, he bent over, and went back to coloring in bricks
between the lines I drew.  Huh, he could just order a catalong, for clothes
made for guys who like to dress up pretty.  I should have thought about it
earlier.  But, we're making a Dungeon!

   I had a fantasy one in my head, but it wasn't like, a real dollhoue
dungeon.  Maybe I gave up playing with them too soon.  I have to make
everything, instead of just think them up.  It wasn't like an imaginary
girl, either.  No, a Man.  A captured soldier, with a shot-off penis.  We
might have to take a bunch of breaks, this could take forever, but like he
sais, no hurry.  I'm starting to understand that the longer you send on it,
the better it comes out in the end.

   But I never had a place to set it up, outside my head.  This is okay, I
guess.  In minture, at least I can decide what I want for my real one. 
When I have the money, and a place to build it.  I don't know how long it's
been, feels like for ever.  As if I always wanted a dungeon.