The following story is for adults only.



The Addicted Natural



Chapter Two – In Her Own Words




(The following is transcribed verbatim from tape. I have added my own observations, as well as my own voice from the transcription, in parentheses.)

(When I returned, she was studying the titles of the books in one of the floor-to-ceiling bookcases. “Here’s the tea,” I said)


If there was a fire, and you only had enough time to save one of these books, which one would it be?


(The question caught me entirely off guard, but I answered honestly. “This one.” I took down the autographed copy of James Thurber’s “Carnival” and handed it to her. She’d obviously never seen the book before, thumbed through it for a minute or two and smiled at a couple of the cartoons. The first intimacy between us was a literary one.)


I wanted to talk to you today after class.


(“I know. I wanted to talk to you, too.” 30-second pause as we sat down and sipped our tea.)


I don’t know if you noticed that I dressed a little differently today … (Pause as she took in my smiling nod). This was the next-to-last class in the course, and I was hoping you’d ask me out. My suite-mates and I had a little too much to drink last night, and ….


(“Suite-mates?”)


In the dorm. There are four bedrooms around a living area. Eight of us in a suite. Evelyn got a case of beer from a guy she’s dating who owns a store. We were drinking and talking, and they were kidding me because I never date anyone. Well, I told them there was this guy in my writing class I was hoping would ask me out, and they sort of turned the whole evening into a “let’s dress up Brenda” project. Sue did my hair, the skirt and blouse are from Tommi, Jill lent me one of her bras. You know. (A shrug.) At any rate, this morning they all put on the finishing touches and pushed me out the door.


But before I could get a chance to say hi to you, Bill Thornegate started talking to me, and I didn’t know how to end the conversation without seeming rude. Then, after class, James Briggs started talking to me before I could walk over to you. It infuriated me. I couldn’t believe it when I saw you walking away! I called after you, but I guess you didn’t hear me.
(“No, I’m sorry. I didn’t. I wish I had.”)


Well, I guess I was a little rude with James then. It just made me so mad! I told him no, I didn’t want out with him! And then, while I was standing there ready to cry, Bill came back up to me and asked me if I wanted to go get some lunch. I was standing on the steps of the Lit building, looking across the street at the Pink Pig Diner, and I made up a lie. I told him that I already had a lunch date, and I turned my back on him and walked over and right into the diner.


I felt miserable. I didn’t know what I was going to tell the other girls, and I knew they were going to give me the third-degree. I really just wanted to be alone, so I walked all the way to the back of the dining area and sat down in a booth facing the wall. I ordered a Diet Coke, and just sat there. But not much more than a few minutes had gone by before HE was there.


He seemed polite enough. He asked if he could sit with me, but before I could respond, he’d slid into the seat opposite me. He had a cup of coffee. He reached his hand across the table to shake, and I just instinctively shook it while he introduced himself. He said he was “Menlo the Great.” (Pause as she thought a moment.) Come to think of it, I didn’t know his first name until he introduced himself to you here. I longed to tell him that I wanted to be alone, but he never gave me a chance … he talked constantly, never pausing, unless he’d asked me a question. I felt very uncomfortable at first. I mean, he was a stranger; and he was a lot older than I am. In his thirties, I’d guess.


(I didn’t interrupt to tell her that I was in MY thirties.)


He told me he was a professional hypnotist, and I guess I was a little interested in that, despite myself. He talked on a little about his act at the Student Center Theater, and how it was a little unpredictable being on stage with a bunch of college students, because they could be sort of impulsive. He paused then, and I asked him if he’d ever had anyone on his stage he couldn’t hypnotize. I think it’s what he wanted me to ask, because he seemed to relax then, and he spoke as if he was lecturing a student. I couldn’t believe I’d encouraged him to get into a more intimate conversation, when what I really wanted him to do was leave me alone!


He told me that he studied the audience before he went on stage, and he could sort of tell which people would make good subjects. As he said this, he pulled a pocket watch out of his front pocket, and snapped it open and glanced at it. “Great,” he said, as he shut it again. “Lots of time before I have to worry about my act. It’s great to know you have lots of time.” But as he kept talking, instead of putting the watch away again, he just sort of held it loosely in his hands. He likes to gesture a lot, and he’d transfer the watch from one hand to the other, but it stayed pretty much in the same place, just above the table.


He told me that he could easily hypnotize about eighty-percent of the men who came up on his stage; at least, those that weren’t actively trying to resist him. Ah, he said; but he could hypnotize 100 percent of the women. He said that he wasn’t trying to sound sexist or anything, but women had a different mindset than men, and he claimed that he could “tune in” to their basic emotional needs; that he seemed to be able to sense what he needed to say to put them at ease and get them started down the path toward a deep trance.


As he said this, I tried to keep eye contact with him, but I found I couldn’t do it. His eyes … there’s something very … disturbing about them. His pupils are too big, and too dark. Very black. I felt really uneasy looking at him, so I just let my eyes stay on the watch as he held it. It was very shiny, and it seemed to catch the light perfectly, almost flash from time to time. It had a thin gold chain, but he didn’t hold it by the chain. He just sort of held it like it was … nothing very important. It was just something to be holding while he talked on and on.


He told me that he could especially spot a “Natural.” A Natural was a woman who could be placed under hypnotic control very, very easily, and very, very deeply. The thing that made her a Natural was that she was much happier in a hypnotized state than she was awake. He had to take certain precautions, or she literally might never wake up. He’d never met a “Natural” man. He told me that he’s looked, but he’s only found women with that trait. About one-in-a-thousand, he said. They’re rare, and very special.


He told me that the Natural appears to be very intelligent, but that’s a little deceiving. She always makes good grades, but she has to work for it. She usually studies very, very hard, and spends long hours in the library and at her desk. I think I nodded at that. I knew just what he meant. I have to study almost all the time to get good grades. Then he went on to say that Naturals are always a little tired because of that. They never really get enough sleep at night. I know what he meant by that, too. I’m tired a lot.


He said: “I use this watch in my act to help my subject focus her attention. That’s all she really needs, is just to focus on something like the watch, and that will enable her to begin to relax. She’s already tired because she studies so hard, but she never has the opportunity to really, really relax.” And I wondered again why he didn’t swing the watch on its chain for me, to show me the way he did it in his act, but he didn’t really seem to care about the watch; he just kept holding it loosely in his hands, and it just kept flashing. He didn’t seem to know it was catching the light and flashing like that. I did understand what he was saying about relaxing, though. It was easy to relax if I focused on the watch.


Then he said: “The most important thing in my act is to let my subject know that there’s no hurry about going into a trance, that she really has all the time in the world. Lots of time. No hurry at all. Just like us. Lots of time to relax.” I know that that should have rung all sorts of alarm bells in my head, but it didn’t. It was just the way he said it. He was so matter-of-fact. He’d already told me he had lots of time. Saying it again just seemed sort of normal.


And he said: “The next step in my induction is to let her realize how tired she really is. She doesn’t know, you see. She studies so hard, and she’s so tired all the time, that she just sort of keeps on going and going; and until she focuses on something, something like the watch, and she relaxes completely, then it’s not until now that she finally realizes how very, very tired she really is. That’s when the heaviness comes: the heaviness in her arms. It’s not until then that she realizes just how very, very heavy her arms actually are. That’s because she’s so tired. So very, very tired, that her arms are very, very heavy, and it’s really sort of a nice feeling. If it was you, you’d understand that the heaviness is a very pleasant thing. So nice, being heavy. So heavy ….”


(30-second pause. During this time, I was studying her very closely. Her hands had fallen, lifeless, into her lap. She was looking at some imaginary point in space in front of her, off at an angle from me. She was deeply engrossed in her story, but it was not until now that I realized she had been hypnotizing herself. Her mouth was open slightly, and she was utterly relaxed, reliving the moment. I reached out and gently nudged her arm. I spoke almost at a whisper. “Brenda?”)


Oh! Oh, I’m sorry!


(“Would you like to take a break? We can come back to this later.”)


No! Oh, no! Please. I won’t do it again. Please let me keep telling you!


(“Sure. Take it easy. Take all the time you want. I’ll listen. I want to know.”)


(Deep breath, almost a sigh)


Anyway, he kept telling me that his Natural, the girl he would hypnotize; her hands and arms would get heavy, pleasantly heavy, and that was when she first realized what she really wanted: just to let go of all her troubles and all her worries and let him help her go into a trance. She was just starting to understand that that’s what she needed; needed more than anything else in the world. He just sort of went on and on about that, and I think I let my mind wander a little, because instead of listening then, I began to realize that there was something wrong with my arms. I couldn’t move them. My hands were just sort of lying in my lap, and I couldn’t even budge them. I wanted to tell him that there was something wrong with me, but I didn’t want to interrupt him, because that would be rude.


I was really tired; more tired than I think I’ve ever been in my whole life. Now, he was talking about how his Natural would be so wonderfully tired, and so wonderfully heavy, and so wonderfully relaxed that she was really past the point of all resistance. The thing she wanted most was just to submit to the wonderful sleep that was coming for her. All she had to do was focus all her attention on the watch and his voice, and sleep would come for her and she could surrender and follow him as he led her into the special place she wanted to be. It was something she wanted more than anything! She wouldn’t want to wake up. That’s why she had to obey. She had to obey him completely. That way, when he led her to the place she wanted to be more than anything else, he could lead her back. And that made sense to me. Of course he would have to bring her back, and since she didn’t want to, she would have to obey him or she would never wake up.


That’s when he began telling me that I must look only at the watch, and listen only to his voice; that there was nothing for me except the watch and his voice. And I swear that that was the first time I actually even thought that it was ME he was trying to hypnotize. It was as if the idea was always there, but I’d just been ignoring it. And now it sort of washed over me like a revelation that comes too late. I thought “Oh, my God! He hypnotizing me!” but I didn’t know what to do about it. It never even dawned on me that I should look away from him or stop listening to his voice. After all, those were the things he was telling me to DO; and he was telling me to obey him, and somehow I just didn’t seem to know that I could do anything else.


And then the strangest thing happened. It was as if a thick fog had rolled into the diner, and it was obscuring everything except the watch. I could see the watch with crystal clarity, but everything else just sort of went away. At the same time, I realized that I couldn’t hear anything else in the diner. No voices, no clattering dishes, no clink of silverware, nothing. Total silence, except for his voice. It was so strange, and yet so … comforting in a way. All I had to do was submit and obey, and I could surrender and follow him to the place I most wanted to go in the whole world. I didn’t know where that place was, but suddenly I wanted nothing more than to find it.


He told me to “Surrender and sleep!” and I did. Immediately and completely. Oh God, it was wonderful!


(20-second pause)


I opened my eyes, and I was a little girl, sitting on my mom’s lap. The knee of my jeans was torn, and my leg was scraped. I was crying. I knew I was dreaming, but I couldn’t, or didn’t want to, wake up. She was comforting me, stroking my hair, telling me everything was going to be alright. I snuggled into her chest, sucking my thumb, feeling the softness of her cotton dress, the lumpiness of her bra underneath, the spongy softness of her breast beneath that. I could hear the liquid thumping of her heart. She held me in her arms and told me to go to sleep because I was so tired. And I did.


And then I was grown again and standing on the roof of a building downtown. There were other buildings towering above me, but I knew that I was still pretty high up. The wind was wet and cool, and I began to shiver. I realized that I didn’t have any clothes on, and I knew that I had been in such a hurry to leave my room that I’d forgotten to get dressed. That was silly, and again, I knew that I must be dreaming, but I didn’t even know which sleep I was dreaming in. Was I just asleep, or was I dreaming that I was asleep, and this dream was a product of that? I couldn’t figure it out; so I was suddenly resolved to make the most of this dream and just get through it somehow. There was a terrible storm coming, and I had to get inside. A door in a little structure was sticking up from the roof, so I walked over and opened it. There was a flight of stairs going down, and as soon as I’d gone down a few, I became aware that with each step I took, I was actually, physically, going deeper and deeper into my hypnotic trance. This disturbed me, but there was really nothing else to do. I couldn’t stay above in the storm. There was nowhere to go but lower … and deeper.


When I emerged from the staircase, I found myself in the furniture section of a department store. There was no one else there, and I began to wander around a bit. Then, I saw a man, obviously an employee, walking toward me. I puzzled a little about my predicament, since there was nothing anywhere around that I might use to cover my nakedness. But irrationally, I decided to just walk past him as if there was nothing out of the ordinary. Oddly enough, he didn’t seem to notice. After I passed him, I found myself standing in front of an escalator, under a sign that said: “Express Escalator to the Basement.” While I was trying to make up my mind what to do, I happened to glance back at the man that I had just passed. He was just standing there, openly leering at me. He had only pretended not to notice me! He was taking in my every feature. He wanted me! I quickly got on the escalator.


Immediately, I realized what I’d done. I was now going deeper and deeper into my state of hypnosis, and this route was going to take me all the way down. I thought for a moment about going back to the furniture department, but that nasty man was up there, and I knew what HE would do to me! I could actually, physically, feel myself going deeper. It was not unpleasant. In fact, I was really enjoying it, but I somehow felt that I shouldn’t be. Does that make sense?


All of a sudden, I became aware that the sides of the escalator were made of glass. I could see out, easily viewing the next floor as I descended into what was obviously the women’s wear section. The trouble with that was that the people on this floor could also see me! No one seemed to be paying any attention, though, and I was beginning to think that I would escape unnoticed, when an elderly lady looking at blouses happened to glance up and see me. She hated me, I could tell. She thought I was whore, coming into this store in the nude. She thought I was ungodly, and interested only in sex. I wanted to tell her, to explain to her, that I had only forgotten my clothes, that I hadn’t done this on purpose; but then I was going deeper, deeper past the women’s wear floor, to the floor below.


This was the men’s wear level. Three guys were looking at a display of boots, and one looked up and spied me almost immediately. He laughed and pointed, the others following his gaze and gawked at me. I blushed furiously and started walking downward, hoping to end my humiliation quickly. But strangely, inexplicably, my breasts seemed to bounce and jiggle much more than they normally would. I stopped, and their wobbling motion finally settled and they became still. I was mortified. Before I descended below this level, I couldn’t help but look back at the men. The “pointer” was laughing hysterically, using his hands to emulate my jiggling breasts, as one of his buddies laughed along and stared at me. The third one, though, wasn’t laughing at all. He was leering. The way he looked at me left little doubt: he wanted me! Wanted to take me sexually; wanted to do things to me I didn’t even know about. I shivered. It excited me, and that made me more ashamed than ever.


On the next floor, Winter Wear, a woman with a very short haircut was looking at black leather jackets. She also looked at me, curiously at first, but then she increasingly acquired the gaze of the man above. She wanted me, too. Sexually. I couldn’t take much more of this. With a sense of self-disgust, I realized that I was very wet between my legs.


And finally, it was over. The escalator ended, and I stepped off. I was as deep as I could go, both in this building, and in my hypnotic state. I was a little awed. I didn’t know what to expect. I was at one end of a long hallway, but it was poorly lit, and I couldn’t see the other end. There were doors to either side, and they all seemed to have writing on them. Cautiously, I approached the one nearest me on my right, and saw the name “Jennifer” written on it. Below the name, in flowing script, the words “Submit and Obey” were literally etched into the hard wood of the door. I couldn’t make any sense of it. Tentatively, I tried the knob. The door was securely locked. On the opposite side of the hall, there was a door with the name “Suzy” and the same etched inscription, also locked.

Slowly, I walked down the hall, looking carefully at the doors on either side. Betty, Wanda, Nancy, Dawn, Rhoda; the names just went on and on, and below each name, the same words were etched into the wood. And suddenly it became very clear to me. These were the Naturals. Menlo’s Naturals. Each had been given her own room here in his “Hall of Conquests.” Somehow, I knew that each one of them had given herself to him, not just hypnotically, but sexually as well. For the first time, I knew that I was going to join them. I was going to become the latest in this long, long line of girls who would give themselves to him.


And then all of a sudden, I was looking at a blank door. No name. The words “Submit and Obey” were still there, but they were painted on rather than being etched. The door next to it was also devoid of name. For a moment I didn’t understand, but then I turned and looked at the door on the other side of the hall, and there I was. “Brenda.” Below my name, the words were painted, not etched. I stood looking at it for the longest time, then took a deep breath and turned the knob. Locked! I felt a little panicked. This was my room! I suddenly knew that I wanted in there; I didn’t want to turn back now; I really NEEDED to become a part of this. This was my special place, and I wanted inside!


I came to realize that this was a riddle of some sort; a test. I had to fulfill some task to prove myself worthy. I stared at my door for long minutes. Why was my “Submit and Obey” painted, while the Naturals who had come before me had their inscriptions etched? And then I knew. It was what he had told me before. If I didn’t obey, I’d never awaken. I must obey everything, EVERYTHING, I was told while in this room. That way, when given the instruction to wake up, I would do so at once and immediately, just as I would obey every command. I must submit to this obedience to gain entrance. I spoke the works aloud: “Submit and Obey,” and at once the words on the door began to glow red hot. They were obscured by smoke for a moment, but when it cleared, they were etched deeply into the wood. There was a click, and the door swung open.


I wish I could describe it to you, my room. I can’t; I can’t remember. It’s like the best dream of my whole life, but when I wake up it fades away. I try to hold it, but the good feelings I have when I awaken from trance sort of distract me, and I can’t remember the specifics of it. I can only tell you that it’s the best place I’ve ever been, and I can’t wait to go back! I do remember that when the door closed behind me, it sealed forever, and I can never get in or out that way again. But that’s not important. When I go into trance, I’m just … there! There’s a bed in the middle of the room, and it’s the most wonderful, most comfortable, softest bed in the whole world. He talks to me while I’m on the bed, and I talk to him, but I can’t remember what’s said. I’m naked, of course, but that doesn’t seem to matter at all. I do know that I loved it there. I didn’t ever want to leave. It was magnificent.


And then he told me to wake up, and of course, I did.


We weren’t anywhere near the diner. It took me awhile to realize that we were many blocks away, over on Harper’s Bay Lane. I yawned and stretched, and felt wonderful, and he told me we were going to walk a little more. He offered me his arm, and I tucked my hand inside his elbow and let him lead me. I could tell it was what he wanted. He was talking about his Naturals again, and just like in the restaurant, he sort of prattled on and on. But I think he was deliberately trying to embarrass me, because he didn’t hide the fact that he had had sex with each of them.


Then suddenly, after a whole block, I gasped. I think it was the aftermath of the dream that caused me not to be aware of it sooner. I had been nude in my dream for so long that it felt almost natural. “What happened to my bra?” I screamed.


He seemed annoyed that I had interrupted him, and in fact, I suddenly wished I hadn’t. I wanted to tell him that the bra wasn’t mine … that it was borrowed; but I just couldn’t let him know that! He told me that the bra was in my purse, and that he’d made me go into the bathroom in the diner and take it off. He said it was very becoming, but he liked me better without it. And, with my hand still on his arm, he continued to stroll down the street as if my bra was of no importance at all. And then, mortified, I said “My panties!” but I’m afraid it sort of came out as a squeaky whisper.


“Ah, those,” he said, and he reached into the pocket of his sports coat and pulled them out. “Hope you don’t mind my keeping these. Sort of a souvenir.”


And that made it official, I guess. He was going to have sex with me. I was about to become one of his statistics. My panties would be his trophy. I was surprisingly calm about the whole idea. He continued to lead me, strolling along the street, talking
.
“What are you going to do to me?” I asked him quietly.


He barked a laugh. “Anything I want,” he said.


He must have seen a little panic in my eyes, but he didn’t try to placate me, he just told me what was next. “Do you see the end of the lane down there?” he asked, pointing. I nodded. “Well, when we get there, I’m going to hypnotize you again. And that ought to put you over the edge, although I’m beginning to think you’re there already.”


“Where?” I asked.


“Addiction,” he answered calmly. “Not physical, of course, or even mental addiction. Psychological. It’s probably the most powerful type of addiction there is. But, as I say, I think you’re probably already there.” He looked at me compassionately. “Now, don’t worry your pretty little head about it too much. It’s not as if you’re going to have to turn to a life of crime to feed your need. Anyone can be trained to put you under. It won’t be bad. And you DO like it, don’t you?”
I shivered, but I held his arm tighter.


He told me that he almost hadn’t had the opportunity to meet me today; that he’d gone looking for the Natural he’d made the last time he’d given a show here a year ago. Her name was Dawn – I’d seen her on one of the doors – and he’d wanted to look her up because she’d been a real wildcat in bed. Dawn had gone under almost as easily as I had, he told me, and had been easily addicted. She’d do anything for the opportunity to go back to her “special place.” After she’d worn him out in the bedroom, he’d put her under and had a really in-depth talk with her.


She had just broken up with her boyfriend, and was miserable. She had been the one to break it off, and now she had serious doubts. He had been a control freak, not only in the bedroom, but in just about every aspect of her life. When they went out to dinner, he’d insist on ordering for her without asking her what she wanted. He had insisted she move in with him, and then wanted to pick out what she wore, what she cooked, what she did in her spare time. Lately, he’d introduced her to bondage, and then he’d actually whipped her. She’d left him after that, but deep down, subconsciously, she had loved the loss of control. He excited her. And more to the point, she loved him. Menlo planted a couple post-hypnotic commands in her, cleaned her up, and had her lead them over to this guy’s apartment. He had given her to him, “body and soul.” (She used her fingers to make the quote marks.) He taught the guy how to put her under, and then he just left her with him.


This morning, Menlo had gone looking for her, and when he finally found her, he discovered that she’s “pregnant out to here” (she used her hands in front of her stomach to illustrate his comment), and after a little questioning, he found that her boyfriend is now her master, her husband, and the father of her baby, “in that order.” So he said goodbye to Dawn, and had gone looking for a new Natural.


Maybe he was just making it all up, but the story really shook me. Could he do that to ME? Just GIVE me to somebody, like a possession? I should have felt disgusted. But I felt …. I mean, I couldn’t stop thinking about …


(22-second pause. She was obviously fighting some sort of inner battle. She wanted to tell me everything, but for some reason, she also wanted to suppress this thought. Eventually, she left the statement unfinished and shifted to the next part of her story.)


All at once, he stopped walking and turned to me. It took me a moment to understand. We were at the end of the lane. There were no houses here, just that little park. Do you know the one I mean? He looked down at me and I thought “This is it! If I let him hypnotize me again, I’ll be addicted forever.” But when he told me to look into his eyes, I did just what he said. They were sort of scary, and very dark, but I couldn’t look away. He told me to relax, and I told myself: “I can’t do this. I can’t let him!” But I did. All the strength just seemed to flow right out of me. I couldn’t hold my arms up, and I knew I was lost. This was it! I was going to let myself become addicted! When he told me to surrender, I didn’t even think about it; COULDN’T think about it. I wanted to sleep so badly. I was giving my soul to him. And in return, he gave me my room back. Suddenly, I was just there. No door, no dreams. Just naked in my bed, in my room.


We talked some more while I was there on my bed, but again, I don’t remember what it was about. Then he made me do something … something inside the room. There’s something else there … but I can’t remember what it is. I just know that when he told me to wake up again, we were over on Hobart Street, standing in front of one of those houses that offer rooms for rent. Do you know which ones I mean?


And I knew right away, that this was it. His place. He was going to take me inside and do it to me. He reached out with his hand, but I backed away a little and shook my head. This seemed to really surprise him, but he wasn’t upset.


He said: “Let’s just go inside. You can ease my loneliness, and then I’ll hypnotize you again.” And without thinking, I put my hand in his and let him lead me to the door. I wanted to scream, I was so disgusted with myself! Just the mention of putting me in a trance had me following him like a puppy.


“How can I feel this way?” I asked miserably. “I only just woke up! Why do I want it so badly already?”


And he said: “You don’t understand the nature of the addiction. It’s not like other forms. Perhaps I shouldn’t call it ‘addiction’ at all. It’s really a NEED. It isn’t dependent on the passage of time. If I leave you tomorrow and you are never hypnotized again, your need will not increase. It will always be just as it is now. And if you’ve just awakened from a trance, it will still be the same.”


I confess that the idea of my never being hypnotized again had me a little panicked. It still does.
(15-second pause.)


His room is on the first floor, and he unlocked it and took me inside. Right away, he turned me toward him and started unbuttoning my blouse. It was happening so quickly! I was very nervous.
“I not very good at this,” I told him, feeling very meek. “I’ve never really had a boyfriend.”


And he said: “I know.”


I was afraid he didn’t understand. I wasn’t fighting him, but I wanted to make him happy in return for giving me my special room. “I’m not a virgin,” I told him.


And he said: “I know.”


So, if he knew I wasn't a virgin, then he knew about Uncle Brad. (16-second pause. She kept looking at me, trying to make up her mind.) I should tell you about Uncle Brad.


(“You don’t have to, Brenda.”)


No, I want to. I need to. It happened during Spring Break of my sophomore year, the semester after I had your class. My mom came and got me and drove me down to Iowa to see her sister on the farm. It started out to be a nice visit, but on the third day, Mom and Aunt Reida decided to drive into the Quad Cities to go to a mall. I didn’t want to go. It was an hour and a half each way. So I stayed and helped Uncle Brad with some of the chores around the farm.


Late that afternoon, he told me to come out to the barn and see what he had there. He was growing his own marijuana, and he rolled a joint for me. He said he and Aunt Reida had little parties of their own. I smoked one, and got really, really high. And then, all of a sudden, he was all over me. I fought a little, but he was very strong, and with the pot and everything; well, the way he was kissing and touching me really did feel sort of nice, even though I didn’t want it to. He got my pants off somehow, and rubbed me and sort of pinched my clit, and all the while, he was kissing me. Finally, I just sort of gave up; but when he shoved his … his cock into me, it hurt something awful. He held me down and pushed in and out of me for about a minute, maybe less, when his whole body got all stiff and started to shake, and I knew from what other girls had told me that he was coming. When he rolled off of me, I ran inside the house without my clothes and locked myself into the bathroom.


His cum was … well, it was everywhere! It was all sticky and stringy and it smelled like … well, nothing I’d ever smelled before. I cried awhile, then took a long bath, and then took another one. I was bleeding a lot, and at first I thought he’d really injured me, but it was just my period starting. I didn’t tell him that, though. In the back of my mind I was sort of hoping that he’d worry at least a little bit about getting me pregnant. Mom and I left the next day, back to college, but I didn’t see him – he was out in the fields. I’ve never seen him again.


And ever since that day, I’ve been afraid of letting myself get into a position where a guy is going to do that to me again. That’s why I dress the way I do, to sort of discourage guys. They leave me alone, and that’s okay by me. (Pause.) I’ve never told anybody about that … you’re the first.


Well, I mean, I must have told Menlo about it, because he knew I wasn’t a virgin. But I didn’t want this sex to be bad for him. I wanted him to enjoy it. I was almost certain I wasn’t going to be a “wildcat,” or anything, but I felt as if I should do SOMETHING to make it special for him. But I didn’t know what that something was. Shouldn’t I be kissing him or something? I didn’t really want to. I was so confused. I’m very shy, and it was all I could do not to cover myself when he finished taking off my blouse and skirt.


Then I thought about one other thing he might be concerned about. “I’m on the pill,” I told him quietly.


And he said: “I know.”


But if he knew about the pill, then he knew about … about ….


(25-second pause. I wasn’t going to rush her here.)


If he knew about the pill, then he knew about … you.


(“ME?” I’m afraid I shouted this. Immediately, tears sprang to her eyes. I didn’t how to react. I was sorry I’d yelled at her, but … ME!? She was crying steadily now.)


Please … don’t … hate … me! (Little sobs punctuated the words.)


(“Hey,” I said gently. “Hey, now! Don’t cry like that. I don’t hate you. I like you a lot. I’m just trying to understand, that’s all.” I kept trying to soothe her for a full minute while she got hold of herself. Finally, she was able to continue. She couldn’t seem to make herself look up at me, and spoke down at her hands resting in her lap.)


I think about you sometimes. No, that’s not really true: I think about you a lot. I guess I had a real crush on you in Lit 204, but I knew it was just foolish. You couldn’t date a student; I knew that. And even after Uncle Brad, I had all these crazy thoughts about you; being with you; doing things with you; letting you do things to me. At night, sometimes, I’d lie in bed and think about you, and I’d … I’d …. well, (shrug) … you know; just think about you. I’ve seen you around campus several times. I’ve even walked by here to see where you live, but you never saw me, and I never spoke to you because I didn’t want you to think … (shrug) … you know.


But I knew you weren’t dating anybody, and when we wound up in the writing class together, I thought maybe you’d really ask me out this time. You seemed to want to. At least, I told myself you did; you were just working up the courage. And when you did, I was going to say yes. And when you took me out and you tried something with me, well, I was going to let you. My roommate, Sarah, during sophomore year; she told me all guys are after just one thing! And she certainly should know, she dropped out for a year to have a baby. And after Uncle Brad, I sure believed it! But when you tried something with me; well, I wasn’t going to try to stop you. I’d already decided. And I didn’t want you to feel pressured or anything, so I started taking the pill about five weeks ago.


And now Menlo knew about it, about my feelings. I had no secrets from him. He knew everything. So there was nothing else to say or do. I just stood there, and he started running his hands all over me; my breasts and tummy. He told me to spread my legs apart, and I did, just like that. And he put his finger inside me and started rubbing while he leaned down and kissed me. His breath smelled like stale cigarettes.


He pushed me onto the bed, and I just sat there, watching while he undressed. He was very careful with his clothes, and he hung up each thing as he took it off. My blouse and skirt were just sort of lying there in a heap on the floor. I kept thinking the whole time that I ought to be doing something, but I didn’t know what. I certainly wasn’t a wildcat, that’s for sure! I felt stupid and foolish.


And then he was in bed with me. I lay on my back while he felt me up some more and told me how much I was going to enjoy this. He put his finger back inside me and told me how wet I was, and THAT really surprised me. He kissed me again, and I finally put my hands on his shoulders because I couldn’t just let them lie there beside me. I really DID want to make it good for him, because if I did, he was going to hypnotize me again.


And then, he finally lost patience with me. He pulled my legs apart and positioned himself above me and he just pushed it right in. I was expecting it to hurt, but it didn’t. He was right; I really was wet, because it just sort of slid right inside me. It filled me, but it was all slippery and soft and hard all at the same time. He started pumping me, using the same sort of rhythm that Uncle Brad had used with me, and I gripped his shoulders and wanted to help somehow, but I didn’t know what to do. And, just like Uncle Brad, after about a minute, it was all over. His body got all stiff, and his face looked like he was really in pain, but I guess it was just from his pleasure. He sort of growled, but it was more of a yell, and he pumped a few times really hard, and then he pushed all the way in and started shivering and grunting.


He lay like that, on top of me, for the longest time, breathing hard and just resting. Then he rolled off of me, and without a word, he went into the bathroom and turned on the shower. He didn’t come out for fifteen or twenty minutes, and I just lay there on my back, thinking that now I was a prostitute. I really was! That’s the definition; I’ve read it in the dictionary. I had given my body for compensation. He had something I wanted, and to get it, I’d given myself willingly. I wanted to cry, but the tears wouldn’t come.


After the shower stopped, I heard the tap running in the bathtub, but it didn’t seem to register. Then, he came out of the bathroom, smiling at me, wearing only a towel around his waist, and told me to come in and take a bath. My body seemed to obey him instantly, and without thinking, I went in and got in the tub. The water was very hot, and I had to sort of ease myself down into it, but after awhile, it felt marvelous. I tried to let my mind drift away and think of nothing at all while he stood at the sink and shaved.


When he finished, he sat on the toilet seat and told me to look into his eyes. And, of course, I did. In no time at all, I dreamt I was floating in the ocean; but then the ocean disappeared, and I was lying in my soft bed in my special room. He hadn’t lied. He’d told me that if I comforted him, he’d let me go back there. In my special room, it didn’t matter that I was a prostitute. Nothing mattered.
When he awakened me, we were walking again. I didn’t ask him where we were going, I just sort of followed along, and neither of us said anything. You can’t imagine how I felt when I realized that he was bringing me HERE. How did he know? Nothing made sense.


But it’s been that sort of day, you know?

