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Message-ID: <48420asstr$1089180605@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: "Gina Marie Wylie" <gmwylie98260@hotmail.com>
Subject: {ASSM} Spitfire and Messerschmitt - Ch 3 {Gina Marie Wylie} {teen, mf, inc, cons
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Date: Wed,  7 Jul 2004 02:10:05 -0400
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<1st attachment, "Davey Ch 3.doc" begin>

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

	The following is fiction of an adult nature.  If I believed in
setting age limits for things, you'd have to be eighteen to read
this and I'd never have bothered to write it.  IMHO, if you can
read and enjoy, then you're old enough to read and enjoy.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

	All persons here depicted are figments of my imagination and any
resemblance to persons living or dead is strictly a blunder on my
part.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

	Official stuff:  Story codes: teen, mf, inc, con.

	If stories like this offend you, you will offend ME if you read
further and complain. Copyright 2004, by Gina Marie Wylie.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

	I can be reached at gmwylie98260@hothothotmail.com, at least if
you remove some of the hots.  All comments and reasoned
discussion welcome.

Below is my site on ASSTR:
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Gina_Marie_Wylie/www/

My stories are also posted on StoriesOnline:
http://Storiesonline.net/

And on Electronic Wilderness Publishing:
http:// www.ewpub.org/

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++


Spitfire and Messerschmitt

Chapter 3 ::  Canola by Another Name

I finally got out to the car a little before eleven. Wanda was
fit to be tied.  

"I thought you'd taken up permanent residence!  I went in twice,
and twice they said you'd just be a few more minutes!  I was
tempted to call Dad and tell him you were obviously in extremis
and to come quick."

"You will be happy to know I passed the physical and can play
ball."

"That plan's pretty well shot.  Like I said, you don't have to."

"And like I said," we were driving down the road as I talked, "I
think it will be a hoot.  Me, total wuss Davey Harper, on the
varsity baseball team as a freshman.  And not because you want me
there, or because Dad wants me there, but because I am
demonstrably better than the other guys on the team."

I'll say this for Wanda, she knew enough not to push the subject.
 After a few minutes we were nearly home, I looked at her for a
second, and then said, "Could I talk to you for a few minutes
when we get home?"

She pulled into the driveway, shut off the engine.  "Oh, it's
talking you want to do?"

"Actually, yes."

"Well, you've ruined most of the morning, if you want to spend
what's left talking... that's your choice.  After lunch I'm going
over to Pammie's."

I poured myself some iced tea; Wanda saw it and shook her head. 
"You're serious."

"And you said you were sore."

"Not so much today."

"Well, I'm not sure I'm much of a half-a-loaf guy."

"I didn't hear you complaining yesterday."

"And I'm not complaining today.  And yes, I'm still horny and
want to do it with you.  But you, Mom and Dad, Pammie and
Karen... some other things.  I've been doing a lot of thinking."

"Thinking and sex don't mix," Wanda said curtly.

"Tell me about it."  I sipped from my tea.  Where should I start?
 "I gave a lot of thought about what to do for Karen."  I shook
my head.  "I can't think of a thing that doesn't involve lying to
everyone."

"And since when has doing something Mom or Dad didn't want you to
do, stopped you?"

"It has before.  When what they wanted coincided with what I
wanted.  I think this time they're right.  I'm not going to do
it.  I'd like very much to help, but I can't think of a way to do
it.  Maybe a couple of dates, but no jacket.  No going steady. 
Not unless Karen really wants to go with me.  Which kind of
defeats the entire purpose of the exercise."

Wanda nodded.  "I tried to think of something too."  She spread
her hands helplessly.  "Nothing.  I figured out lying would be a
really bad idea, too.  Not to mention the fact that Jack's likely
to flip."

"I'll keep thinking, but right now..."

"Yeah, well, it would have been nice.  Thanks for trying,
Davey."

"Monday you, Pammie and Karen asked me not to talk about Pammie
and Karen."

Wanda's eyes narrowed, I saw her tense.  "Who'd you tell?"

I flipped her a bird.  "Wanda, I'd like you to promise me the
same thing.  I need some advice from you and I want you to
promise me in advance you will never tell another person about
it.  No one.  Not Pammie, not Jack, not anyone."

"So, in what way are you in trouble?" she said, laughing.

"Wanda...  I want to know how you'd feel if you were raped. 
Knocked down, beaten up, bones broken, raped."

Without a word, she got up and left.  There was no expression on
her face; she didn't say a word.  She just got up and left.

Eventually I took my tea glass into the family room, turned on
the same Enya CD from yesterday, sat down on the couch, looking
into the distance.  Entirely too much to think about!  And yet,
too many things that had to be thought about.

There's a lot I'm missing, I thought.  While I couldn't imagine
what it would be like to have somebody sticking it to me when I
didn't want it, I could certainly relate to being on the ground,
having someone pound on me.  It hadn't happened often, but it had
happened.  You get an awful, sick feeling in your stomach
afterwards.  It makes it harder to stand up to them the next
time.

I'd fought back as best I could, even so.  I thought about that
for a second.  I'd never broken bones, not mine, not anyone
else's.  Never wanted to, no matter how bad I'd been hurt.  Hit
back, yes.  What had Wanda said the other day about motivating
me?  Was that why I went out for baseball?  She hadn't motivated
me before the picnic, so it was hard to say.  If you were
motivated enough, how hard would you fight back?  Death before
dishonor?  What if you couldn't get it right?  No death and
dishonored?  That had to bite, big time.  Actually, I couldn't
imagine worse.

I heard a sound, saw Wanda at the CD player, shutting it off. 
She walked over and stood in front of me.  "Well, go ahead, rape
me."

"Pardon?"  I was startled.

She waved her fist.  "You might get started, little brother, but
if you do, I'll kill you."

"Wanda, I met a girl today who was raped.  She's really torn up
about it.  I don't understand at all what it was like for her.  I
just wanted to know what you thought."

Her eyes widened, her nostrils flared.  She stared at me like I
was a Martian with bug-eyes.

I continued to talk.  "She couldn't stop it; it wasn't her fault
what happened.  I've been beaten up a couple of times; it's no
fun.  It sucks, all of that.  Afterwards, I mean, the other guy
was bigger and stronger.  A couple of times it was more than one.
 It was either let it go or get killed."

"You wouldn't understand," she said, shaking her head.

"And that's why I asked.  I want to understand.  I wish I could,
but I can't.  I came to my big sister for advice."

She pointed at my crotch.  "There's the reason.  Guys think with
it.  Some guys, like you, have a conscience.  They give a rat's
ass about who they are with, how good it is for the other person.
 Guys like that don't grow on trees.  Yesterday, I told you I was
sore; you were content to just nod and say okay.  You know what
would happen if I told Jack that?"

"He'd kill me?" I tried to smile.

"Or me.  Well, I don't think Jack would hit me, not really.  But
let's just say I've seen him when I had my period.  He is not a
happy camper; he wants to push the envelope.  Do you have any
idea of how icky that seems to me?"

I contemplated the brief fear from before that I was going down
on her during her period.  "I have a little idea."

"Rape, Davey, isn't sex.  It's about power.  A guy just ignores
what the girl wants, takes what he wants.  It's hell being
powerless, Davey.  I don't care how strong you are, it takes a
lot to ignore something like that.  It's different for girls,
Davey.  Trust me."

"And if her parents weren't supportive?  If she has no friends?"

"Hell incarnate, Davey."

"And if she's pregnant?" I pushed. 

Wanda paled.  "You know someone like this?"

I nodded.

"Jeez, I hope she has at least one good friend!"

"I told you, already.  She doesn't have any.  I volunteered,
but..."  I sighed.

I was unprepared for my sister flinging herself on me, crying and
hugging me.  I stroked her hair and for the first time in several
days had non-sexual thoughts about her.

The first thought in my head was that it had happened to Wanda. 
I was going to open my mouth, but Dr. Jacoby's words came back to
me.  "Be kind, be patient.  You know what I mean."  It had been
Emily's choice to tell me.  That burned in my mind.  Dr. Jacoby
had simply put me in the room; I'd made a few stupid comments
when I didn't understand what was going on.  It had been Emily
who'd talked about everything.

If Doctor Jacoby had told me about it in advance, I'd have been
overwhelmed with sympathy and said the wrong things.  As it was,
I might not have said the right things, but what I had said was
clueless.

I looked down at my sister, sobbing on my shoulder and decided
that that had to be a universal truth.  I can't ask her if she
was raped at some point; that's up to her to tell me.

Still, I'm human.  I cast back over the last couple of years. 
Wanda was seventeen now, she'd turned seventeen on the Fourth of
July.  I was thirteen going on fourteen.  With cold certainty I
knew the date, if that was what had happened.  Two years ago,
just before the 4th of July, I'd been at a summer camp.  Dad had
shown up two days before camp was to end and told me that it was
time for us to do something together.

For the next two weeks we'd camped out, all across Texas, New
Mexico, Colorado and Arizona.  One day Dad told me he'd had
enough of my bitching and we turned back, an hour after we stood
for the first time on the edge of the Grand Canyon.  I was
stunned at the time that he could have that attitude looking at
something as awesome and grand as that magnificent ditch.

Here and now, I leaned down and kissed Wanda's hair lightly.  "I
love you, big sister."  I said quietly.  "Now and forever."

She too wiped tears off with her sleeve.  "I'm sorry, Davey. 
It's just..."

I nodded.  "My reaction today was to offer to find the guy who
hurt her and pound on him even more than she did."  I laughed
bitterly.  "And I would be what, then?  Just like him.  Like I
said, I've been doing a lot of thinking."

She reached out, took my hand and put it on her breast.

I looked at her steadily.  "I'm not in the mood."

"Neither am I.  I have to tell myself, sometimes, not everyone
with a cock wants to force it into any cunt he can beat into
submission."

"Well, I'm here to tell you, I never want to go where I'm not
wanted.  It's why I didn't have a problem when Pammie threatened
dire things to my body if I looked at Karen."

"That was a really dumb idea."  Wanda seemed to be settling
down.

I shook my head.  "It wasn't so much dumb as unworkable.  Even
without Jack, it would have meant lying for a long time."

"It's not as hard as you might think.  Lying like that."

"It's one thing not to talk about something, it's something else
again to look people in the eye and say, 'Oh yeah, I love Karen!
God, what a great kisser!'"

"Do you want to know what happened?" she asked, snuggling back
down, but ostentatiously keeping my hand on her breast.

"Wanda, the other night you came on to me.  I was... surprised."

"You had a really goofy look on your face.  Goofy, but cute," she
agreed.

"And it didn't work out right then, but it did later.  You told
me why; you didn't make any pretense of hiding what you wanted or
why.  You were straight up, Wanda."

"I wasn't going to be straight-up with Jack.  I was going to lie
to him."

"I promise I'm not jealous of Jack," I told Wanda, moving my hand
to lightly chafe her breast through her blouse and bra.  "But I
can't help but think I keep hearing from you all these reasons
why Jack isn't going to work out."

I felt her stiffen.  Wanda, not her nipple.

"I suppose I deserve that for letting you do this," she pressed
my hand on her breast.

"I think you're letting me do this because deep down, you know
how you feel about Jack."

"I'm scared."

I looked at her, trying to imagine Wanda scared.  But it was
there, in her eyes.  I could see it.

"You mentioned Brian the other day," she told me.

I nodded, and then looked at her sharply.  Brian?

"He didn't like my breaking up with him.  He was pissed for weeks
and weeks.  I thought he'd got over it, but a year later..."  She
looked at me.  "He said he'd found some things of mine; like a
fool, I went to his house.  He beat me up and raped me."

She met my eyes.  "He'd have killed me, he told me he was going
to, but his father came home and saw what he was doing.  His
father called 911; he wrestled the gun out of Brian's hand."  She
made a motion near my hand, along her side.  "Brian shot his own
father, here."

And I hadn't heard a word about any of this?

"Dad and Mr. Williams got together with the judge, they moved the
trial to San Antonio.  I had to testify for a day; it was almost
as bad as when Brian..."  She stopped talking and swallowed.

She looked at me.  "At first, I told myself it was like the other
times I'd been with Brian; I mean, it wasn't like the first time
we'd had sex.  Then I realized it wasn't the same.  I tried to
put it behind me; I tried to pretend it was no big deal.  But it
was a big deal.  Pammie was..." she paused and looked up at me,
"really awesome.  I don't know if I could have done it without
Pammie, without Mom.  Even Dad helped.  But that's all who know.
I can't imagine how horrid it would be not to have a friend, not
to have family...  I didn't get pregnant; I can't imagine that
either."

I kissed her forehead.  "Well, like I said, I volunteered to be a
friend."  The hug was, if anything tighter; I took my hand off
her breast, hugged her back.

Wanda looked at me, grinned wanly.  "You know, a while ago you
told me why you wanted to play baseball.  Because you were better
than everyone else.  Davey, you are."  She hugged me one more
time, stood up.  "Thank you, brother."

I wasn't sure why, but I dozed off, falling into a dreamless
sleep.

I felt the couch move; I woke up, thinking Wanda had come back. 
Instead it was Mom.  "Wanda said she told you about what happened
to her."

Well, Mom wasn't wasting time.

"Yes.  Did she say why?"

Mom furrowed her brow.  "She said she wanted you to know because
of..."  Sex, I gathered, with my sister.

I shook my head.  "I asked her what being raped was like; I had
no idea... I swear."

"And why would you ask that?"  My mom isn't stupid; she knew I
hadn't hatched the idea without a reason.

I lifted my chin and shook my head.

"Funny about that," Mom said quietly.  "That's pretty much what
Wanda said, just now.  I thought the two of you spent the day..."
her voice trailed away into silence.

Again I shook my head.  "We didn't.  Not even once."

She looked away; her face contorted with pain.  Oh no!  Not Mom!
Not possible!  Did guys do it to every girl?  That was so
nauseating!  Disgusting!  Never me!  Not ever me!

Her face controlled again she spoke, "When Wanda was attacked; I
died.  You think you know how you'll react, but reality comes up
and hits you in the face.  I twisted up inside; I think in some
ways, it was easier for Wanda."

"I don't think the word easy applies," I said.

Again, I was unprepared for when she leaned down, kissed my
forehead.  "Well said, Davey, well said!  So easy to forget when
you're crying in your own beer and feeling sorry for yourself!"

She got up, looked down at me.  "Wanda's not hungry, I don't
think I have much of an appetite; either fix it yourself or you
and your dad can go out and get a bite for dinner."  She
vanished.

Later Dad came in, gestured to me.  "Let's go out."

I was silent as he drove us to a steakhouse on the outskirts of
town.  The owner appeared, fawning over Dad, giving us a good
table; almost instantly Dad had a wine glass in front of him and
I had a tea glass.  A huge mound of some really good onion rings
appeared at the same time.

"Growing up, Davey, I expect you're learning, isn't all that it's
cracked up to be."

"No, sir," I told him.  "Not at all like I expected."

"Talk to me about this morning."

I lifted my chin.  "I was asked not to.  I'm not going to. 
Doctor Jacoby gave me a physical; she'll have the paperwork ready
by Friday.  I need, she said, to go back for a few more tests she
couldn't work in today.  There were a couple of emergencies and
she was running way behind."

"People work for me, Davey."

"I know."

"You don't work for me; so you have no idea what Rule Number One
is."

I laughed.  "No surprises."

He laughed too.  "Oh, you know that?"

"Dad, everyone in town knows Rule One."

"So, it will come as no surprise that the judge, the police
chief, even Dr. Jacoby, all whisper interesting tidbits in my
ear.  Not to mention every manager at the plant talks to me."

"Do you know Emily Watson's phone number?"  I asked.

He smiled, slid a piece of paper toward me.  "Rule two."

I quoted it.  "Make sure of the details."

He nodded.

"The name is Juan Luis Pena; he had an accomplice but the
accomplice chickened out.  Mr. Pena is in jail, no bail.  Mr.
Pena is wanted in three other jurisdictions for similar offenses.
 Mexico says that they also want him.  It will be a tug of war.

"In any case, he's not going anywhere, not for a very long time,"
Dad finished.

"Leaving out the damage he's already done."

"Her mother works in the office, her parents are separated, and
her father works out at the air base.  I'll make sure the i's are
dotted, the t's crossed, Davey.  There will be no slip-ups."

I met his eyes.  "That's saying she has to get over it."

"It's the only way to go on, Davey.  The world has bumps in the
road; sometimes we trip on them.  Sometimes we crash and burn. 
You can either get up and continue on, or just burn.  I hope your
friend doesn't do that."

"She has no friends; I just know her a little from school."

Dad looked at me, sniffed.  "Pretty, is she?"

I felt myself start to slip out of control, a red raging fire in
my brain.

"I'd do the same for a dog."

"But she's not a dog, is she?  She's cute," Dad went on.

"She's about as different from Wanda as a girl can be," I told
him.

Dad hoisted his wine glass at me.  "Wanda has a true fan in her
brother, doesn't she?"

I was furiously angry.  "I wouldn't kick her out of bed."

He laughed, shaking his head.  "At your age, you wouldn't kick a
dog out of bed, Davey.  Relax, son!  Cool off! 

"No matter what you think, I'm not your enemy, nor is your Mom or
Wanda.  We are all, Davey, rooting for you.  Because, if nothing
else over the years, I've learned you are principled, persistent.
 Brave."

He waved the wine glass around; not the restaurant I thought, but
the town.  "There are exactly two people in the plant who stand
up to me, Mick Gallagher, the union rep and Tomas Gonzales, my
superintendent.  Mick has backbone because if he faded, his
membership would have him out of office in a special election in
three weeks.  Tomas, because he understands that I'm not
perfect.

"You, Davey, you stand up to me.  Your mom does rarely, Wanda
hardly ever; hardly anyone has the backbone to do it.  You do. 
Trust me, I have no intention of ever giving you an inch.  When
you buck me, you're in for a fight; from day one, to the day one
of us kicks off this mortal coil.  You beat me and you've beat me
in a standup fight."

My life flashed in front of my eyes.  He never had backed off;
we'd gone at it hot and heavy, way too often.  I'd had to
retreat, sometimes.  So had he.  There was a point where neither
of us would go.

Dad put his elbow on the table, holding up his hand.  "Arm
wrestle me, Davey."

I met his eyes, shrugged.  I put my hand in his, he nodded and I
tried.  A second later my wrist cracked on the table.

"Do you know why I won, just now?"

"You're stronger than I am," I said, not quite wanting to hit my
forehead and say, "Like duh!"

He shook his head.  "Because first I cheated, and because even
though you are stronger than I would have thought, you have no
stamina."

"This isn't a surprise," I told him.

He laughed, "I don't cheat at everything."

I flushed; well, that's what I'd said; I'd meant it one way, he'd
taken it another.

"No, what I meant was I can show you how to cheat, too."

"Thanks," I said, "I'll pass."

"How about teaching you a parlor trick?  The man who showed me
how to do this called it that.  A parlor trick."

I shook my head, but he went on.  "Visualize you and me, just
like now, only lying down on the floor.  Arm wrestling."

"Okay," I said, not having a clue what his point was.  What any
of this had to do with girls being raped?

"You have that picture in your mind?"

"Yes," I told him.  I was almost, but not quite, surly.

"Okay, now imagine me as a tree.  A long trunk, about six feet
long.  About two feet in diameter.  A branch off to one side. 
That's this."  He wiggled his hand.  "Got that?"

I shrugged.  "Yes."

"Consider, Davey, how hard it would be to move a tree trunk, with
just one badly placed limb to get a grip on.  Contemplate a solid
tree, trying to move it like that."

I had to admit, put like that I'd not budge it.  "No leverage." 
I said after a second.

"Exactly right.  The way I win every g'damned arm wrestling match
I'm in?  It's because I lock every muscle and joint and become
one great big log.  It makes for good labor relations if you can
beat them all in something physical."

"You said you cheat."

"Well, yes.  Cheating is a two edged sword, Davey.  Never do it
if the other side might figure it out.  Never cheat if you're
going to win anyway.  Never cheat if it matters in the big scheme
of things whether you win or lose."  He waved at his arm.  "If
the guys at the plant find out, you know what?  Half of them
wouldn't think it was cheating and the other half wouldn't think
it works.  And whether or not I can beat one or all of them
arm-wrestling has nothing to do with my ability to run the
plant.

"A baby, Davey, eats, sleeps and excretes.  It wants to be picked
up and cuddled.  That about sums up a baby.  As a child grows, so
does his or her mind.  They learn to talk, express themselves;
they learn how to move around.  Mom and Dad, to a lesser extent
siblings, dominate their universe.

"You get to be about six and you're aware of other people in the
universe, you get your first taste of school.  Slowly, gradually,
imperceptibly, horizons expand, until you can look around you. 
You see the world, the sky, the stars.  You start dreaming about
things, about yourself."

He laughed.  "Then along comes puberty.  Quite suddenly sex
appears, an insatiable itch.  At first, you'll do anything to
scratch that itch, usually unsuccessfully.  Some though, are
luckier or cleverer than others.  Masturbation is okay, but to
have an actual partner..."  He grinned at me.  "Well, now you
know the difference."

I nodded.  There really was no comparison.

"And sex means there's someone else in your life.  Up until then
a growing person has rules and tasks mandated by parents,
teachers, and other adults.  By puberty that's begun to chafe;
those hormones are a worse taskmaster than any parent or teacher.
 Civilized people, Davey, learn to deal the right way with those
hormones.

"Because the only way you can get and keep a partner is to pay
attention to what they want.  You have to scratch their itch as
much as they scratch yours."  His smile increased.  "And that's
when you start moving heaven and earth; changing the world if
need be.

"That said, Davey, there are bent, broken and twisted people out
there.  They are clueless and frequently violent; a million
different names that add up to something less than human.  There
are some who devote their lives to protecting the rest of us from
those people, but as capable as many of our protectors are, they
can't be everywhere all the time.

"Shit happens.  To Wanda, to Emily -- even in our corner of the
world that we wish, hope and pray is safe.  It happens.

"When it does happen, Davey, it's up to those of us nearby to
lend a hand, to shore up those who've felt the icy winds of the
blackness that is out there."

He stopped, laughed.  "Bet you never thought I could be poetic?"

"A lot of surprises."

"About as much as having Coach Wells call me up and tell me that
you're the best prospect he's seen in years."

"That's different.  The baseball team -- most of them weren't
there and the half that were, were pretty puny.  And they weren't
trying very hard."

"Well, do your best.  Do your best with Emily and Wanda.  With
anyone else you can help."

I nodded.  "I want to."

"Good."

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