Wishful Thinking Pt1
At
�Can I help you?�
�I�m
David,� I reply and she looks me up and down, her tongue
flicking nervously across her painted lips.
�Right.
David. Well, you should come in. It�s cold
outside.� She steps back and holds the door open for me to
pass. I walk into a hallway, a family of coats hang on pegs to one side
and, underneath, there�s a line of shoes facing the skirting
board. I see the smaller pair of pink gumboots and my heart beats a
little faster.
The
door is closed behind me and I turn to face the woman. She holds out
her hand and I smile at the absurdly formal gesture, considering why we
are here.�I�m Janine,� she says.
I
take her hand in mine and pull her close, arm round her waist. She
gives a timid little gasp as our mouths meet and then I feel her relax
into me as we get to know each others tastes and textures in a long,
slow, sumptuous kiss. I run my hands over her as if she belongs to me
and Janine seems happy to let me have free reign. Her body is the kind
plus-sized lingerie is designed for and it is a joy to explore, all
hips and tits and curves.
�Have
you ever done this before? I mean, I know we sp0ke about it �
� Janine starts to say when we break our embrace.
I shake my head. �Only in my head,� I reply, cutting her off.
She
nods. �Take your shoes off, David. Let your dogs
back,� and she gives a nervous snort of laughter that she
immediately looks embarassed about. �Do you want anything to
drink?�
I shake my head. �I�m good, thanks, Janine.� I look at her. �You ok?�
She
raises her hand, tilts it from side to side and exhales a shakey
breath. �The less I think about it the better, David. When I,
I don�t know, admit
to myself what�s going on, I get so nervous. Terrified,
really. Haven�t had a good night�s sleep all
week.� She raises a varnished nail to her mouth as if to chew
it, checks herself, changes her mind and lowers it again.
�I need a smoke,� she said. �Do you mind?�
�Whatever makes you feel better,� is my reply and she takes me through to the lounge.
Worn
three piece suite, big-screen tv with a Wii on the floor in front of
it, a few ornaments on the shelf above the fire and some neutral
colours on walls and floors complete the scene. The faint smell of an
unseen dog hangs in the air.
Janine
sits on one of the big chairs, curling her legs up under her. I see
that under the floor length gown she�s wearing sheer black
nylons and I remember us talking about what she wanted to wear tonight.
There�s a glass topped coffee table with chrome feet in front
of her with a well used ashtray , a couple of remotes and an old
tobacco tin on top of it. She takes the tin, pulls the lid off and
takes a thin joint and a red Clipper lighter from inside. She lights
up, leans back and takes a long, deep pull and exhales as she puts the
tin back on the table and picks up the ashtray, putting it on the arm
of her chair.
�God,
I needed that,� she says in a relieved voice. Looking up at
me, she offers joint and ashtray to me. I decline with a small wave of
the hand.
�Not your thing?�
I shrug. �Depends on the occasion. Horses for courses, you know?�
Janine nods. �Do you do harder stuff?�
�Have done. Not for a while though.�
�Did coke once or twice a while back. Really enjoyed that. Can see how people get addicted to it like that,�
and she clicks her fingers. She takes another deep drag on the joint
and circles the smoke from her mouth back up her nose before inhaling
with a satisfied air.
�If you�re not ready for this,� I say, �that�s ok.�
Janine
looks away, another nervous lick of tongue across lips.
�Isn�t this why we started talking? I mean, we both
knew where it was leading, didn�t we?�
I
nod. �Yeah, we did. But sometimes� I
don�t know� sometimes you book a holiday and
everything�s roses in the garden until you get where
you�re going and find the hotel�s not even fucking
finished, you know?�
We
look at each other for a second or two and then Janine gives a smokey,
coughing laugh. I join her a little. �I like that. Have to
remember that one,� she says and dabs the joint into the
ashtray a little too late and ends up brushing ash from the front of
her gown.
�But,
yeah, I know what you mean. Been looking forward to this right up to
the point where we decided on a date to get together. Since then,
I�ve been a bundle of nerves.� She looks at me
through the fug of smoke. �But you don�t look
nervous at all. Not a bit. Sure you�ve not done this
before?�
I shake my head. �No, but have I thought
I was going to, yes. You�re not the first mum to talk to me
about this, not the first mum to want it, plan for it even. But you are
the first who�s ever been serious, meant what she
said� And you�re certainly the first to let me in
their house.� I pause, shrug. �I mean, honestly,
I�m thrilled just to be here. Really, I am. Am I nervous? Not
so much. Am I amazed we�ve come this far? Yeah. Absolutely. I
can�t believe I�m here. It�s kind of
overhwhelming.�
Janine
nods. �Yeah. Yeah it is a bit, isn�t it?�
She takes another pull, sucks it down deep, holds it until she coughs
and then sits there and looks thoughtful.
I
wait a few seconds, feeling increasingly uncomfortable and unwelcome.
�Look, Janine, I understand. Really I do. This is a big step,
for both of us. It�s hardly surprising you�re
having second thoughts, is it?� I look as sympathetic as I
can and try to disguise how all of a sudden I very badly want to leave.
�You know how to get hold of me if you want to talk or meet
again, ok? And if you don�t, that�s alright, too.
Ok?�
I stand up, look down on Janine. My words hang in the air, waiting for acknowledgement, waiting for a reply.
Janine
looks back up at me. �Which one do you want?� And
she looks up at me, a faint smile on her lips, a gleam in her eye that
is fear giving way to excitement. She hands me the joint, the sofa
creaking softly as she leans forward.
I
take the joint from her slightly shaking hand and take my own deep toke
on it. It�s been a while and it�s bud, not resin.
My head swims for a second and I manage to choke back the cough as I
swallow the smoke deep.
�You choose. I know you want to.�
Janine
breathes deep, savouring the emotions beginning to crystallise inside
her mind and body. She holds out her hand and I lift her to her feet.
�Let�s go upstairs,� she says, and picks up the tobacco tin before taking my hand.
She
has a king sized bed that�s really too big for the room, with
just enough space for bedside cabinets. The walls and carpet, like
downstairs, are blandly neutral and the furniture is mostly flat-pack
and flimsy with it. At the foot of the bed is a dressing table with a
big mirror on top and I guess the positioning might not be accidental.
There�s also a built in wardrobe (with mirrored doors) and a
small en-suite. A wash-basket, overflowing with her clothes, testifies
to a life lacking time. I know Janine works hard, struggles to keep a
roof over her head and food on the table. It must be tough; being a
single mother almost always is, after all.
It�s nice she�s doing something for herself.
Janine tidies the washbasket, clears a few cluttered surfaces and empties the ashtray in the bathroom waste basket.
�Sorry
it�s a bit of a mess,� she says in an embarassed
tone and she makes me think of college, of short-notice, urgent unions
in crappy bedsits. I say nothing and watch, heart racing, as Janine
strips the bed down to the top sheet, with a couple of pillows stacked
against the headboard.
She kneels down and pulls a plastic storage box out from under the bed. She lifts it on top of her chest of drawers.
�This
is everything I have,� she says, taking off the lid to reveal
a random assortment of sex toys and accessories. �See if
anything takes your fancy.� Janine looks at me, smiles, takes
the joint from my hand for one last drag before stubbing it out.
�There�s more in the tin. Feel free. I�ll
go and�� she pauses, somehow takes on an
altogether more predatory manner, breathelss, flushed and grins,
�� get her ready for you.�
She
returns about 30 minutes later, enough time for me to have put a few
things on the bedside cabinet and then sat down, heart pounding,
feeling the minutes tick by like they were hours.
�Sorry I took so long,� she says. �Brianna didn�t want to get dressed.�
Brianna
is 9, nearly 10, a stocky girl with dirty blonde hair, who�s
still carrying a little puppy fat and already showing the first signs
of blossoming. She stands in a short silky nightie that barely comes
down to the tops of her white thigh-highs. Her puffy little nipples
make small bumps in the clingy material. Around her neck is a choker,
frilly and white with small red flowers dotted around it. Her face is
all mascara and lipstick and she looks confused and a little scared. I
can smell it on her and I savour that rich aroma.
Roxanne
is 8 and I find her both adorably cute and utterly tempting. Her
ovaline, delicately featured face is framed with chestnut hair and her
eyes are bewitchingly bright and wide. She has a stillness to her, a
kind of calm studiousness I find highly appealing. She, too, stands in
stocking feet and a flimsy nightie, hers a pastel pink, and an equally
tacky choker circles her neck.
�Say hello to David,� Janine says, holding her hand.
�Hello,
David,� they say and I notice Bree�s posture is
that of �if I don�t do anything, maybe nothing will
happen�. She is, of course, wrong. Roxy looks almost curious.
I light up the second spliff at last and draw deep before handing it over.
�Shit,
nearly forgot!� Janine says and, from the wardrobe, takes out
a small video camera already on a tripod. She looks at me.
�Sorry. I should have asked. Do you mind? It�s ok if you do,� she says.
I look at her. �Two conditions,� I say.
�Okay��
�First,
I get a copy,� and Janine nods. �And second I get
to fuck you while we watch it again one day.�
Janine
looks at me. �I�d love that,� she says
and sets the camera up off to the side of the dressing table at the
foot of the bed, and starts it running. I see the camera�s
only resting on the tripod, not secured to it.
That
done, Janine steps back and shrugs off her gown. Underneath
she�s clad in market stall quality lingerie, satins and too
much lace. It looks as cheap as it is and I find I don�t mind
that at all. It seems fitting.
She stands next to me and we both look down at the silent, pensive girls.
�What are you, David?�
�A
pedophile,� I say in a matter of fact tone and crouch down in
front of Bree. �Do you know what a pedophile is?� I
ask her.
She nods. �It means you like� hurting little girls and boys.�
I
ruffle her hair. �Smart girl.� Janine crouches down
beside me and we kiss with urgent, burning need. We�re
grinning when we break. I turn back to Bree, stroke a finger down the
side of her face.
�Now
if I like to hurt little girls, why do you think your mommy�s
brought you here?� and Bree blinks, looks to us both in turn,
wide eyed. She bites her bottom lip and a smudge of lipstick smears one
of her front teeth.
�You�re� going to hurt� me?� and her voice wobbles as she speaks.
I
look at each girl in turn. �Eventually, I�m going
to hurt you both I hope. How much I hurt you depends on if
you�re going to be good little girls or not.�
I
look to Janine. �Tell themwhat you always wanted to say,
Janine.� I sit on the edge of the bed and tug Janine gently
to join me. She takes one of Bree and Roxy�s hands in her own
and stands the girls between her stocking clad thighs.
It
takes her a few seconds of steeling herself. As always, saying and
doing are so vastly different and I�m surprised that, when
she does speak, she is so clear and controlled. It sounds like
something she�s rehearsed and I realise that�s
because it is, even if only in her mind.
�I
didn�t want either of you. When your father was around you
were worth something because your father was a pedophile too.
That�s why I married him. I was raised that way and
that�s how I wanted you both raised and that�s what
he said he wanted. And for a while he did. Simple things; cum in your
bottles when you were baby. Me blowing him and smearing cum on my
nipples when I was breastfeeding. Him cumming deep into me when I was
pregnant. That sort of thing.
Janine stops, looks softly at her daughters, holds their small hands up, kisses them tenderly.
�But
your father loved two things more than anything else; his bike and his
beer and one night they got together and killed him. He left me broke
and raising two kids I didn�t even want. He took away the
life I wanted and you pair took away the chance for me to have any kind
of life at all.�
Bree
looks at her mother with an increasing panic, her face flushing as she
listens, tears glistening in her eyes, a quiver settling into her
features. Roxy just blinks and listens silently.
�And
then I met David and I found someone just like your father, but better.
He has a house, a nice car, a good job that pays well. What he wants is
to have a little girl of his own that he can raise to be what every
little girl should be to their daddy, and here I am with two little
girls that I want exactly the same thing for. Like I said, a much
better man than your father,� Janine said softly.
�And I don�t own a motorbike,� I offer, a pleasant buzz starting in my head.
Janine smiles at me and we kiss again.
�So yes, David�s a pedophile, and yes, pedophiles like to hurt little girls. And yes, that�s what we
are going to do with you. Because my angels � � and
Janine pulls the children closer, gave each a loving kiss on their
mouth, �-mommy wants to be a pedophile
too��
�Prove it,� I whisper into her ear, pushing my hand between her thighs to feel the wet heat of her sex.
�I will if you will,� Janine breathes back and her hand feels my own need through the fabric of my trousers.
The girls say nothing.