On
the way to her room, Catherine stopped by the lavatory to relieve
herself. After she had peed and wiped herself, she took a closer look
between her legs. Had her mother said something about an opening down
there? She gently spread her little flaps as far apart as they went and
looked. There was the pee hole, and the poop hole, and some sort of
stuff in the middle that she'd never really gotten. Maybe it was a
hole, but it couldn't be the kind her mother had spoken about. Had she
said something about a baby coming out through a hole? Maybe she'd
misheard. Maybe she meant her poop hole? Her belly button? None of the
possibilities seemed at all promising, though she knew from experience
that her poop hole actually did open up bigger than the others.
Back
in her room, she lay down on her bed to think. She was still shocked at
what she'd seen between Charles's legs. It was flesh, part of his body
as surely as her fingers belonged to her. The way the tube had started
lengthening -- that was a little like what the boy horses did before
they peed. And she could imagine pee coming out the end of Charles's
thing -- penis was the name -- kind of like it did from the horse. But
what she'd said about the babies had gone by pretty fast. Something
about the penis and seed. Maybe she'd misheard, and the woman ate the
seed?
Catherine
was a little embarrassed the next time she saw Charles, and he looked
away as well. But two days later he came across her in the upper
hallway with no one else around.
He leaned over and said quietly, "How are you, Miss Catherine?"
"Fine," she said, giving a fleeting glance up at his face.
"Just
between me and you, Miss Catherine, what your mother did the other day
just wasn't right. Not right. A girl your age should never have to see
that. I'm sorry. I thought of letting her dismiss me if she was going
to, just so you wouldn't have to see it. But I need the position,
especially at my age. Do you understand, Miss Catherine? Do you forgive
me?"
When Catherine looked up again, she was struck by the tenderness on the
man's face.
"Oh,
I understand, Charles. It was all right. I know you really didn't want
to do it and my mother made you. But... it was good for me to see, I
think. Since I never had before."
"Well, I don't know about that, Catherine, though it's nice of you to
say it."
"Did you mind? I mean showing it like that? Your privates?"
"Me?
Well, no, I guess not, or maybe -- I don't know, but what's important
is how you felt about it, and it shouldn't have happened. I didn't want
you to have to see it, understood?"
"Yes, I understand. Thank you," said Catherine.
"Very well, Miss Catherine, good. But I want the best for you, you
know, and... it just wasn't right."
Catherine
thought again about that expression on Charles's face and the tone of
his voice when he said, 'I want the best for you'. There was something
in it that she didn't hear from anyone else in her life. Mrs. Washburn
had a hard, set face. She was not the sort of person a girl could talk
to unless it was about some important business. Mrs. Dewing wasn't much
better -- she did what was required, but her thoughts always seemed to
be elsewhere. Anne was just a kid like her. And as for her mother,
well, her mother loved her certainly, but it always felt a little
uneasy. Nothing as simple as that warm smile and, 'I want the best for
you'.
She wandered down to the basement and knocked on the door.
A couple moments later Charles opened it and looked at her with an
uncertain expression.
"Hello, Miss Catherine."
"Hi." There was a brief silence.
"What can I do for you?"
"Can I come in?"
"Um, yeah, of course," he said warily.
This
time the bed was neatly made up, there were no clothes on the floor,
and it looked entirely tidy. She sat on the edge of the bed.
"Looks nice and clean," she said.
"Well, yes, I figured if the lady might come down I ought to get it
looking decent. Should have anyway, of course."
Catherine noticed that Charles was still standing and the door was open.
"Can you sit with me?" she asked.
He sat, leaving the door open.
"This is Victoria," said Catherine, bringing out the baby doll.
"Oh, she's very pretty."
"I
got her for my birthday. And she's the baby. I have her mother too, and
a bed and a bunch of different clothes. It's all very nice."
She
noticed that Charles was listening with rapt attention, smiling that
same smile she'd seen before. It made her feel warm inside. Then she
talked about the food they'd had for dinner the night before, Charles
inserting friendly comments as she spoke. Then she turned to the
subject of Anne and her lessons. After she'd talked on for twenty
minutes or so she hopped up.
"Bye!" she said.
"Goodbye, Miss Catherine," said Charles with another big smile.
But she came down again the next day, this time with the mother doll,
and the day after without anything special to show him.
His
work had him out at different times, but in the hours between the
mid-day meal and tea he was usually free and resting in his room. He
usually left the door open now. At first she knocked anyway, and then
she just went in. She knew he could hear her coming down the stairs, so
she wouldn't surprise him.
"What do you do?" she asked.
"You mean, what work?"
"Yes. I see you tending the yard, and you serve us at dinner, but what
else?"
"You think I ought to work harder?" he asked, and she saw the twinkle
in his eye.
"No, I just wondered," she said with a small smile.
He
explained how he worked with her mother to order supplies for the
house, keeping record books, and how he did little repairs around the
house. He was very patient, answering all of her questions even when
she realized she'd asked a dumb one.
He brought out one of the
account books and sat on his bed with it. Catherine rose to kneeling
and leaned against him to get a better look. He looked over and gave
her that happy smile again.
When he got up to put that book
away, he got another from the dresser, turned and hesitated. Then he
went to the door, shutting and locking it. It was the first time the
door had been shut since that afternoon when she'd visited with her
mother.
This time when he sat with the account book, he leaned
back against the wall. Up over his head was the small window set into
its well next to the house that gave the room its only light.
Catherine tried to kneel next to him to see, but she couldn't get a
good angle.
"Do you want to... sit in my lap?" he asked gently.
Catherine
didn't need to be asked twice. She happily plopped herself down and
leaned back against his chest as he explained the entries in this
second book.
After a bit she turned her body a little to her right, and leaned her
right cheek against his chest and closed her eyes.
When
Charles noticed, he stopped explaining and slowly put the book down.
His left arm slowly descended over her left shoulder. She felt safe and
warm.
"Oh, Miss Catherine," whispered Charles, then gently kissed the top of
her head.
She
felt wonderful. To feel cuddled, enclosed in this man's arms and rest
her head against his chest, was heaven. She vaguely remembered sitting
this way with her mother and how much she missed it. But she had
learned she wasn't welcome in her mother's lap any more. But Charles
didn't mind; she knew it. She could stay in his arms for as long as she
wanted. She felt like she had come home.
He began gently rocking
back and forth. As the minutes went by, neither of them speaking,
Catherine found herself feeling drowsy.
Finally she stretched, got up, opened the door and let herself out with
a simple, "Bye."
She
didn't come back to visit him for three days, and when she did she just
talked about her life: food, clothes, news from Anne and Elizabeth, and
what she'd seen on the street.
The next day she came again. She
wanted to sit in his lap, but didn't think she should ask. What if he
said no? But just as she was thinking that, he moved back against the
wall where he'd been before, and said, "You want to?"
Catherine clambered on board his lap to snuggle once again, losing
herself in that warm feeling.
The
next day, as she lay against his chest, she got to thinking. She liked
Charles, but who was he? She wanted to know more. "Do you have a
family?"
"A family? Why yes, of course. I have a brother and a sister, and the
sister has two sons and a daughter."
"Do you have parents?"
"Well, I did, but they died some time ago. I'm not a young man."
"How old are you?"
"Sixty-one."
"Did you know your mother and father growing up?"
"Yes, I knew them both."
"I never knew my daddy."
"I know."
"You knew him?"
"Yes, I worked for him for many years."
Catherine
liked the idea that this man had a connection to her daddy. She
supposed it made sense, since he had worked at the house for as long as
she could remember, so he'd probably worked there while her daddy was
alive too.
"What about a wife? Were you ever married?"
"No, I never married," he said with a laugh.
"Why not?"
"I felt it wasn't right to marry unless I could support a wife and
family properly, and I never got the security."
Catherine
was aware of something down in Charles's lap under where she sat, a
sort of bump. She wiggled back and forth. It reminded her of something.
She
looked up at Charles with a mischievous expression, and said, "My
mother said I should get you to show me how you urinate some time." She
remembered how he'd squirmed and twisted that first day, doing anything
he could to put off having to show her his penis. She figured he'd be
uncomfortable now too.
"Yes she did, I recall. Would you like to see that?"
"Um,
sure!" said Catherine. She didn't think he'd agree to do it just like
that. Did she really want to see? Yeah, she guessed she did.
"Well, in a few minutes. Why don't you sit beside me for a little."
"Why? Why not now?"
"Oh, just so."
Catherine shrugged and sat beside Charles. He got up and stretched and
she noticed a bulge in the front of his trousers.
"Well,
let me get out my pot," he said, reaching under the bed and coming up
with a clean but stained small metal pot. She and her mother had a
separate room with a real toilet, one of the new kinds. But there was
an outhouse in the back that the servants used, and she was familiar
with chamber pots as well.
He stood for another minute, showing
her his father's napkin ring, the only memento he had of him. Then he
said, "OK, watch closely."
Charles stood right next to her and
pulled down his trousers again, this time to his ankles, and then his
undergarment. This was Catherine's second look at a penis. It wasn't a
shock like the first time, but it was still plenty new. Since she was
sitting and he was standing right next to her, it was just at eye level
and she was much closer to it. There were lots of details she hadn't
noticed before, like the hair was mostly above where the penis came
out, though a little was on that little sac below, which looked
different now.
Charles held the pot with one hand and his penis
with the other. "So, Miss Catherine, I aim my penis like this, and then
let go, and..." A perfect narrow stream of urine leapt from the tip of
the organ and splashed into the metal pot. After many seconds the
stream weakened and stopped. Then there was a sudden squirt. Catherine
giggled. Charles noticed and smiled, then gave a second squirt. After a
third and much smaller squirt, Charles shook the head of his penis a
few times, then let go so the funny finger of flesh dangled down.
"So,
Miss Catherine, that's how it's done," he said, putting the pot back
under the bed. But he didn't pull his trousers up again. "Do you want
to look at it some more? Maybe touch it? See how it feels?"
Catherine
hadn't been thinking she wanted to touch it, but since he offered, she
did reach out and stroked her finger lightly along the top before
withdrawing her hand. It felt like any other skin.
"Any more? You can."
Catherine shook her head.
"So, Miss Catherine, now you've seen how a man gets rid of his water."
He pulled up his undergarment and trousers.
"Thanks, bye!" said Catherine with a little wave, unlocking the door
and heading upstairs.
The
next day she told him all about her day and didn't sit on his lap. When
she visited two days later she sat on Charles's lap again, and he
rocked her gently and stroked her hair. She liked when he did that, and
he stroked her cheek too. But she was relieved that the subject of his
penis didn't come up.
A few days went by before she had a chance
to visit him again, and then she didn't for a day when she could have.
But then Anne was mean to her when she was over for lessons, and she
wanted to tell her friend Charles and feel safe and loved with him
again. So she found him, and talked for some time about how awful Anne
had been. Charles listened sympathetically, then asked if she'd like to
sit in his lap. She gladly snuggled up against him. She was so very
glad she had Charles as a friend.
When she was feeling relaxed
and happy, her anger at Anne mostly forgotten, she felt once again that
bump under her. Charles gently arched his pelvis upward, momentarily
lifting her up an inch. He wriggled once beneath her.
"Miss
Catherine, sit up just a second," he said, and she raised herself off
him a little. She was aware of his hand underneath her bottom tugging
at his pants briefly. 'There, OK, that's much better," he said, and she
sat down again.
Now the bump was gone, or at least it was
different. She wriggled around and felt it again, this time higher up
towards his belly. It must be his penis or maybe those other things?
But a penis wasn't hard like that. Her mother had said she could ask
him anything about what men were like.
"Charles, what's that bump I feel down there?"
"Um, that's my penis, Miss Catherine."
"But why does it feel hard like that?"
"Oh, hmmm, well, penises change. Sometimes they're soft and sometimes
they're hard."
"Oh." After a pause, she said, "Why?"
"Well, do you remember what your mother said about how babies are made?"
"Sort of, but I'm not sure I caught all of it."
"You want me to tell you again?"
"Yeah," she said, though she wasn't entirely sure.
"Womenfolk
have a hole between their legs, and when it's time to make a baby, the
man's penis pokes into the hole and he squirts out his stuff inside her
body, where it grows to make the baby. But to get his penis inside, so
it can poke right, it gets hard first."
"Oh," said Catherine, a little sick to her stomach. "And did mommy say
the baby comes out through a hole too?"
"Yeah, the same hole."
"When do women get this hole?"
"Oh! Well, girls are born with it too. You must have one." He regarded
her with his usual kindly expression.
Catherine
was uneasy. Was she a freak? She didn't have any hole a baby could get
through. Maybe her mother could say, since she was a female and had
actually had a baby? But she knew her mother didn't like talking about
these subjects.
"If you'd like, Miss Catherine, I could show you
what a penis looks like when it's hard like that. Because it's hard
now. But only if you'd like."
"No, thanks!" she said brightly, and tripped out of the room.
Catherine
didn't go to see Charles for a week. He reminded her of penises, and
she'd thought enough about them for the time being. But then she missed
her friend. So the next time she went she just sat on the bed next to
him and they chatted. He was as warm and friendly as ever. The next day
she was kind of hoping to cuddle in his lap again, but he didn't offer
and she went away disappointed. So the next day, she got up her courage
and asked if she could. He said, "Certainly, Miss Catherine!" and she
snuggled with him again. She sat to avoid any bump down between his
legs if there was one, and she felt safe as always.
Catherine's
moods varied, like any person's. Sometimes she was just happy and
feeling independent and didn't go to see Charles at all. Sometimes she
was feeling sad or upset and went to him for comfort, and sometimes she
was just feeling slow and sleepy, and his warm embrace was reassuring
then too. She learned that he never brought up the subject of penises.
She could visit her friend and completely ignore that his body was
different from hers.
Other times she was mischievous or curious,
and sometimes that extended to Charles's mysterious male body. One day
she moved her bottom trying to feel that lump down inside his pants,
and it was there. Her curiosity got the better of her shyness.
"You remember how you're supposed to answer any questions I have about
a man's body?"
"Yes, Miss Catherine, I remember."
"Could
you... Could you show me what your penis looks like when it's hard?
It's hard now, isn't it?" He'd made the offer a few weeks before.
"Yes, it's hard now. Sure, I'd be happy to show you. Give me a little
room."
This time he didn't stand up, but just lifted his hips enough to pull
down the garments that covered his lower parts.
She
could see it was the same organ, but it looked very different. It stuck
straight up and was much longer. Her eyes were riveted to it. Each time
his heart beat, it twitched a little bit.
"Quite different, isn't it?" Charles said with a smile.
"Why does it get like that?" Catherine asked softly.
"Um, well, it gets like that when a man is about to give a woman a
baby."
"But why now?"
"It gets that way other times too, just on its own. For instance, when
I first wake up in the morning it's often that way."
"Does it hurt?"
"No, no... It doesn't hurt. Do you want to touch it?"
She
sensed he sort of wished she would, and she was curious. She put her
finger on the tip and then ran it down the side. It was smooth and
almost hot to the touch.
"You can put your hand around it, like on a bar," he said, gently
demonstrating and wrapping her hand around it.
"And that doesn't hurt?" she asked.
"No! Not at all..."
She
withdrew her hand and looked at the large, stiff organ sticking up out
of Charles's body. "So, if you were going to make a baby with a woman,
you'd put that inside of her?"
"Yes, that's the idea." Charles grinned.
"But you never had to do that, because you never wanted to make a baby,
right?"
Charles
laughed briefly. "Oh, dear Catherine. It's not like that! It's not
'never had to', it's more 'never got to'! Men want to stick their
penises in women a lot. Whether they're trying to make babies or not."
"They do?" said Catherine with a feeling of mild disgust.
"And
when they do... Here, let me show you. See this?" he said, showing her
his right hand made into a little tube. "I'll pretend this is the hole
in a woman."
Catherine then saw him put the make-believe woman's
hole right at the tip of his penis and then he thrust his hips to shove
it up inside. Then he drew it out and shoved it in, over and over. "It
feels really good, Catherine," he whispered. And then, "You remember
how a man puts his seed in the woman to make a baby?"
Catherine nodded. There were a couple feet between them on the bed.
"It
works like this," he said. "Just watch." And with that he forced his
penis up into his hand faster and faster, pleasure showing on his face.
"It's about to happen," he gasped.
Catherine was aware that he
was looking at her, and not just at her face. His eyes were roaming up
and down her body. "Look, Catherine, oh, look!" And then he was silent.
Catherine
was startled as an arc of fluid shot out the end of his penis, the same
place the pee had come out of before. It landed on his shirt up over
his chest. But no sooner had that one landed than another arc shot out,
not going as far, and then a third and a fourth surged out and got
mixed up between his hand and penis as he kept thrusting his penis into
the tube his hand formed.
Suddenly he stopped holding his breath
and gasped. "That felt fantastic, Catherine," he said, and let his hand
fall away. His penis started drooping.
She got up from the bed
and stood a little distance away, still looking at the gray-haired man
on his back, private parts on full display, goop spattered on his
shirt, panting, with a happy grin on his face.
"Now I clean it
up," he said, and rummaged under the bed for a different undergarment.
He quickly wiped his hand, his penis, his stomach, and got the worst of
the blobs off his shirt. He then stuck the cloth back under his bed and
sat up on the edge, his penis now soft and small.
"So, Miss Catherine," he said. "My job was to show you about men and
their bodies, and now you've seen how that part works."
Catherine
was tempted to leave, but she stayed, looking at the servant and
thinking about what she'd just seen. "And it feels good when a man
sticks it in a woman and does that, too?"
"They say it's even better. I've never gotten to do that, but lots of
men will do just about anything to get it into a woman."
"Oh. And what about the women? Doesn't it hurt them?"
"Well, they say it does the first time, until the tube is kind of
stretched out. But after that, the women like it too."
"They want men to stick that thing into them?" Catherine asked
incredulously. "Not just go through it so they can have a baby?"
"Lots
of women, yeah. They just like doing it. But if they're not married,
mostly they don't actually do it, because they're scared of having a
baby."
"You mean they could get a baby even if they don't want one?"
"Oh,
yes. If that stuff gets into a woman's vagina, that's all it takes if
things are right up inside her. Most often it won't make a baby, but
she can never be sure. In some ways we're just like animals. Have you
ever seen animals doing it? Dogs, horses, sheep, squirrels?"
Catherine shook her head.
"Well,
it's just instinct. The female holds still and the male gets up behind
her and sticks his penis into her vagina." Charles demonstrated with
his finger going into the make-believe vagina he had used earlier.
"Then he goes in and out a few times, like I did with my hand, and then
his seed spurts out, and then he's done. The babies grow in her body."
Catherine relaxed a little as the talk had turned from people to
animals.
"We've
got the same instincts, we people. Of course, we're civilized, so we
never do it out in public. And we're supposed to wait until we're
married and have a good home for a baby to grow up in. But some people
don't wait, and girls have babies anyway, and those girls have a hard
lot in life."
Catherine looked at the wall, trying to take in all this information.
"Once
you know about all that, other things make sense too. Like men want to
do it more than women, so some women let them do it if they pay them
money. They're called prostitutes or whores or a bunch of other names."
"I'll never want a man to do anything like that to me."
"Oh,
of course not, Miss Catherine. You're too young. It's when a girl gets
bigger, with breasts and all -- that's when she starts feeling that
way."