Ginny, Chapter 1: Synchronicity @ Belks
by
PlanetDweller
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"Uhhhh...uhhhmmmm....uhhggghhh...oowwww!!!!...mmmphhhfffww...." and some
other assorted pained-sounding grunts and muffled cries echoed from the
stall next to me, as I sat on one of the two toilet-partitioned commodes in
the second-floor ladiesroom at the Belk's department store in beautiful
downtown Raleigh. "Urrrgggghhh...oowww!!!...damn!" I heard a very
youngish-sounding little girl's voice profanely declare, as I tried to
finish reading that morning's edition of The News & Observer. She must
have seen my right shoe near the open bottom edge of her stall, because the
next thing I knew she was calling out to me "...lady...lady!...LADY!...can
you help me please?"
I always liked to use this particular public restroom at Belk's because
no one much else seemingly knew about it. It was off from the Men's
Clothing & Shoes area, just around the corner from the Customer Service
counter, and most times when I came in to use it, no one else would enter,
not even if I stayed and relaxed some in there for twenty minutes or even
half an hour. But this time, a little someone was in there before me, but
I had to go, so I just ignored the closed stall next to mine and tried to
relax and do my business. Now, a little pipsqueak voice was calling out to
me, a total stranger, to try to help her do something, God know's what.
"Okay..." I answered "...give me a minute...I'll help you..." as I
finished wiping myself and pulled and zipped up the new Easter skirt part
of my new Easter outfit I had just bought a bit earlier. Figuring the
little in the next stall to me must have her around somewhere, I
was thinking I'd just dart in, see what was wrong, and then go fetch her
mommy for her.
"Open the stall door, Dear-y..." I shouted to her, the door being
latched from the inside "...it's locked, open up if you want me to help
you."
I heard her slide off the commode and pull the latch open, to reveal a
mess to me. The commode she was sitting on was full of diluted menstrual
blood, and several bent Super Tampax's from the Tampax dispenser in the
bathroom littered the pale blue-tiled floor.
"Hi, lady..." this little nine or ten year-old spoke to me in a
very matter-of-fact way "...thanks for helping me...you're a
life-saver...". "Where's your at?" "I don't have a mommy...she died
when I was five..." "Oh..." I said, momentarily taken aback by that
statement "...oh, who are you with...who can I go find to help you?" I
replied nonchalantly.
"I don't have anyone...whassyourname?" "I'm Carol...and yours?"
"Melanie, but call me Ginny, everyone else does..." she talked on while
standing in front of me, her thin menstrual blood starting to run down her
left leg. "Ginny...Ginny, who can I go get to help you?" I insisted, not
wanting to get involved in a potentially public scene in a public bathroom
of a public department store.
"Miss Carol, please help me...I came here to buy my new Easter
outfit..." pointing to a shopping bag full of stuff resting on the floor to
one side of the stall "...and my period just started...and it's my first
one...I've never had one before, and I really don't know what to do..."
"But you were trying to use Tampax's..." I again rebutted, again not
wanting to get drawn into something like this. "Only because my Aunt Emily,
my Dad's who lives out-of-state, told me to use them when my first
period came, she said napkins were nasty and unsanitary and that I should
only use tampons, when she had a facts-of-life talk with me last year."
Here I was, debating about what I wasn't quite sure with a ten or
eleven-year-old. She did look so pitiful standing there, her drawers
around one ankle, fluid dripping down her leg, with a hang-dog look that
nothing or no one had given me before save that abandoned puppy that
followed me home when I was a kid. "C'mon, Ginny...." I whispered "...let's
get you cleaned up, I'll....I'll help you."
I dampened a wad of paper with warm water from the lavatory and
cleaned the blood off her leg, wiping her pudenda clean as best I could,
getting her to finish wiping her own self off. Fishing a dime from my
purse, a boxed sanitary napkin fell as the crank turned on the ancient
san.nap. dispenser. Ginny protested about what her aunt had told her
about pads not being "clean", but I told her beggars couldn't be choosers
as I pinned the pad to her underwear for her (this was the early 70's,
pre-Stayfree days). "Had any breakfast yet?" I asked. "No, not yet...I was
headed to the cafeteria when all this shit happened". "Ginny, lady,
your language!" I scolded. "Yeah, Carol, like you don't curse" she replied
with a smile with very adult tone. "C'mon, let's get something to eat, I'm
buying."
She trailed closely behind me down the serving line on the third floor
of Belk's cafeteria, getting a plate of scrambled eggs and a couple of
their melt-in-your-mouth homemade biscuits. "I have my own money,
Carol" she mentioned. "No, it's okay, I'm buying...let's find us a booth so
we can talk."
My mind wandered back to my childhood "down East" to the near the Pender County hamlet of Ivanhoe, where I grew up with my three
older brothers, I being the youngest. 'Nam and the draft had taken all
three, and had killed one of them, Billy, my middle brother. Because of my
good grades and the fact that things were really a'changing within the
University Of North Carolina system, to where women were actually being
allowed not just to attend but also apply for scholarship money, my grades
and Mrs. Beartaun, my high school guidance counselor, helped me win a
Morehead Scholarship to UNC-Chapel Hill, where I discovered I didn't like
pre-law but like math and especially business accounting and where, by the
sheerest and blindest luck of the draw I noticed a poster on a bulletin
board at Wilson Library that read "Women's consciousness raising group
meets every Tuesday at Womack Hall Rm 204, call for further information,
women only".
That so-called consciousness-raising group was nothing more than a
lesbian get-naked-and-masturbate-in-front-of-each-other-in-a-circle
group, but it definitely raised my consciousness, raised it to where I
found my own identity as a womyn, an identity I didn't know I had
before that. Oh sure, it was 1968 and it was the most liberal in
the South and it was the times and the times they were a'changing, changing
people as well as people changing times, but the group didn't lead me
anywhere I wasn't already headed anyway, even if I wasn't aware of it at
first. And the group also gave me my first serious female lover, Jillian,
who "lead" the supposedly leaderless group. Even after I and she graduated
in 1972, we continued to see each other, even lived together briefly for a
few weeks at my first downtown Raleigh apartment near my first job working
cheap as a green forensic accountant my new Account Degree in hand for a
bunch of corporate lawyers, before Jill "discovered" she wasn't at
all and ended up dating and eventually marrying one of the partners of the
firm I was working at, a move which made me leave and wound me up at
Grayden & Pulley, which is where I'm still at right now.
I think almost out of psychic self-defense I started thinking about all
the rough horseplay with my brothers we used to engage in, the
playing of tackle football in the yard and full-contact basketball in the
driveway, and of taking our father's jonboat down the Black River
looking for poisonous water mocassin snakes to capture just for the fun of
it. Thoughts of all the womyn back at UNC whose virginities I
took, seemingly hundreds of them, the blur of memory fuzzing around the
details already at age 24, most of whom were experimenting I knew but I
didn't care, taking of their g-to-g virginities being almost as much of a
political act against the patriarchy of male-dominated American society as
it was just plain woman-to-woman fun for me. Thoughts of career and
dating as a in a cliquish, hickish but charming but still very
small Southern town if it was more tolerant than many places of those not
obviously of the norm. Thoughts about anything other than what was racing
deep under the waves of the storm in my mind right then.
We couldn't find an empty table at all at first, then a couple at a
booth over back towards the Salisbury Street side got up, and we scooted in
before the dirty dishes could be bused so no one else could claim it first.
Pushing the previous occupant's mess to the edge of the table, we waited in
momentary silence before a busboy cleaned our table off. "Let say grace,
Ginny" I asked. I mumbled my standard meal-prayer of thanks to our Lord
for the food before us and for the friendship of present and past friends,
then we both dove into our food.
"How are you, Ginny?" "I'm 10...you?" "I just turned 24...when's
your birthday?" "July 28...and yours?" "March 29"
I poured a healthy dose of sugar from the tallish container into my
coffee as Ginny heavily peppered her scrambled eggs and munched on her
toast. She glanced at me, and I made and met and froze momentary eye
contact with her. Stirrings in below my waist were pinging feelings that
shouldn't have been there. Sure, I hadn't been on a real date in almost
four months, but except for the Mousetrap in Raleigh and a couple of other
bars in nearby Durham and Chapel Hill, it's not like the area was Boston or
Berkeley or similar, and the small community that frequented those
bars weren't exactly what we would call what I've always been but didn't
have a name for then, a "lipstick lesbian", or a who looks more or
less straight to the outside world and just loves womyn and isn't into a
whole lot of role playing. Ginny's eyes pierced deep into mine, and I
audibly if softly gulped.
"Ginny...pardon me for asking, but it's unusual for a ten-year-old to be off shopping by herself...you said your Mom's dead...what about your
dad, what about your brothers and sisters?" " 'Don't have no brothers and
sisters, I'm an only child...Dad's just got his one sister, my Aunt Emily,
who lives in Michigan or Minnesota or someplace like that, she's to
my Uncle Dave, and I've got two cousins, Pete and Shirley, both about my
age, though I've only seen them a few times growing up...."
"What does you Dad do?" "He's a trucker...he's gone for lotsa days,
sometimes I don't see him for a week or more...what do you do, Carol?" "I'm
an accountant for a local firm, Grayden & Pulley, their offices are just a
couple of buildings down...'am working my way towards my CPA...what grade
are you in?" "I'm in 4th..." "I bet you're an 'A' student, aren't you,
Ginny?" I asked with a polite smile. "Well...sometimes...mostly A's and
B's..."
An easy silence for a few moment followed, as we tried to finish eating
before our food got cold. "Where do you live, Ginny?" "On Maywood Ave., off
S. Saunders..." "Oh....yeah, I know where that is..." She made a soft
grunting sound that was meant to say "and you?" "Oh, me?...I live in one
half of a duplex on the south end of Blount Street...the other half is
owned by a nice retired couple, the Traytons...it's just a few blocks
from here..." "I know..." Ginny commented while finishing off what was left
of her grits.
Another pregnant pause, then I looked right in the eyes again, and
somewhat boldly asked "how does it feel?" "How does it feel?" "How does
what feel?" "You...you know..." I replied, embarrassed a tiny bit for some
unknown reason. "Oh, my pad?...it feels kind of big...big and yucky..."
"Yeah..." I acknowledged "Ginny...if you really want to start using
tampons, especially since you don't have a or any girlfriends to help
you, I'll help you..." "Sure, Carol...sure...that'd be nice of you, Carol"
"Let's go back to my place, Ginny, so I can help you...first, let's stop by
McCrory's so I can pick up a pack of Tampax Juniors for you, okay?"
We walked out into the perfect North Carolina Saturday morning, full of
food and good cheer. Walking down the sidewalk along Fayetteville Street
to McCrory's, my arm gently swung towards Ginny on my right, and she easily
and unaffectedly took it, like two sisters innocently holding hands in
public. It was innocent after all, wasn't it?
I picked up some photos I had taken over Christmas at home but had
procrastinatedly waited months to have developed, and some candy bars and a
couple of pair of hose in addition to the box of Tampax Juniors, Ginny
asking for and we also getting a couple of fountain Cokes. I told her that
we could take the bus if she wanted, but she replied "no", that she knew it
was only seven or eight blocks to my place, and she didn't mind the walk.
Inside my and funky but nice apartment, I bored her with the photos taken over last Christmas. She commented on how much she wished she
had a "real" family. I told her I was sure her Dad really loved her, and
did what he did, being on the road so much, because he loved her, she
agreeing, saying of course she knew that. We finished our fountain Cokes
from McCrory's, and I asked if she wanted to watch some or something.
"No, Carol...if it's okay with you, can we get started?" "Sure...." I
replied "....let's go to the bathroom".
I told her it would probably be easier if we both got naked.
Deliciously evil thoughts raced through my mind. I couldn't help it. I
swear to God Almighty that while I might be a lesbian, I'm not a pedophile,
and had never had a sexual thought about any womyn under eighteen before.
But...but...but the moment...the moment seemed, well, so right. If I'm
damned to Hell because of it, I guess that's the breaks, but it really felt
like I was being carried along by greater forces I didn't understand and
couldn't control.
We went back to my master bedroom, and undressed, she helping me out of
my skirt and blouse, I pulling her print dress over her head once the back
was unzipped. She reached up to help me unfasten my bra, and my plopped down. She gazed at them intently, evidently never have seen a
grown woman's one's before. I just let her look all she wanted. I wanted
her to look at them. I wanted her to reach out and touch them, I wanted to
reach for her hands and put her small ten-year-old hands on them, but I
didn't want to push things too fast and scare her off, either. I took the
cellophane off the box of 'Jr.'s, reached to put my arm around Ginny, and
lead her the five steps around my bed to the side door entrance to my
master bath.
"Watch me, Gin'..." I instructed "...I'll put one in, you watch closely,
then you try, okay?" Dipping the tip in the jar of carbolated vaseline
on the commode tank lid, I had Ginny sit on the edge of the bathtub to get
a good view, propped my right leg up on the closed lid of the commode,
spread my as best I could with my left hand so she could see better,
and popped the smallish tampon in me, easing the applicator out and popping
it into the toilet. "Now, you try".
She blushed just a little, becoming a tad more embarrassed than I think
she thought she might be in this situation, I mean, I was a perfect
stranger to her just a couple of hours ago, as she took one from the box,
dipped the end in the vaseline, and propped one leg up on the before
making that previously-heard series of grunts and moans indicating pain and
frustration and underbreath expletives before bending it. I innocently
hugged her close to me, took another one from the box, and told her I'd
help her. As she held another at the entrance to her microtiny vulva, my
hand encompassed hers, and I tried to help her aim it properly, telling her
to try to push it in as if she was trying to hit the small of her back.
Still, no luck. She/we bent that one, then another one. "Let's go back to
my bedroom and lie on the bed...you're simply too tight, too small..." she
giving me a look of disappointment "...no, it's okay, it's just you're new
to all this, we'll have to work a little, that's all."
I fetched the two and somewhat ratty towels from my bathroom linen
pantry that I sometimes use to put under my own butt while sleeping when
I'm on my period as we walked back into my bedroom. Ginny looked really
concerned, but I tried as best I could to reassure her, telling her all
young have at least some problems when they first try to use tampons,
as I pulled her close to me, my caressing her face, she not minding.
Laying her down on my bed, I scooted the towels under her butt, and had
her prop her legs open for me. Her perfectly saintly pussy, untouched by
anyone, beamed itself before my intent gaze. Her tiny almost imperceptible
lips lead upwards to the most perfect pea-bud of the tiniest clit possible
and still be visible. The slightest gossamer trace of nearly invisible
beginnings of pubic hair glistened atop her mound. A trickle of blood
oozed from the pencil-lead-sized opening in her virginal hymen, her very
visible hymen covering her as if by right. I was entranced by the
sight. God help me and forgive me, I was entranced. An adult moth
drawn to a pre-adolescent virginal flame. My hand reached for and stroked
and played with Ginny's lips. I took a daub of thin menstrual blood and
used as lubrication, rubbing her clit, as I had with previous adult womyn
lovers. She in her breath hard, her legs stiffened up, her eyes
looked first up at the ceiling, and then right at me.
"Carol...Carol...CAROL!!!..." she finally shouted at me, breaking my
trance "....you're...you're not one of those bull-dykes my told me
about, are you?" Her language and thoughts expressed of someone twenty
years instead of ten brought me crashing down to reality. I eased up
the bed to put my face just inches from hers.
"Gin...Ginny...no, NO, I'm not a 'bull-dyke'...a bull-dyke is a kind of
lesbian woman who likes women but usually makes an effort to look something
like a man...do I look like I look like a man, or try to?" "Well, no..." "I
am a lesbian, Ginny, to answer your question honestly...yes, I'm a
lesbian...I like to make love to other women...do you know what a 'lesbian'
is?" "Uh-hu...Aunt Emily told me last year, and my Dad also told me about
bull-dykes and guy-faggots, too...and they both told me about who like
little girls, who want to molest them, and that if I ran across one, to
call the police..."
I pulled her closer to me. Her face molded into my breasts. She didn't
try to pull away. "Ginny...Ginny?" She didn't say a word. It felt like she
was starting to cry, maybe just a little bit. I felt something like a tear
moisten my as she buried her face deeper between them.
"Ginny...do...you want to call the police?...Have I molested you, Ginny?"
She began openly sobbing. "No, Carol...I don't want to call the police..."
she said through her crying sobs "...I just miss my so
much...Carol...I just miss her so much...I loved her so much, and she left
me and Dad...I know she died and couldn't help it, I just miss her so
much..." "I know...I know you do, Baby...it's okay...just let it all
out...it's okay".
She reached over and held me tighter to her, and just cried years and
years of pent-up grief and pain out. I stroked her hair as we just held
each other. Her wails of anger and heartache touched me. I wanted to
become her now as much or more than her lover, my rising passion now
turning as much into compassion. Her mouth found my right nipple, and she
began to suck. Her hands began to play with both my as she took
turns them. Her crying began to subside as her oral ministrations
to my nipples began definitely making me wet and horny once again. I just
held her close and let her do what she willed. "Carol...Carol!" she sweetly
scolded "...Carol...will you be my new 'Mommy'?" I didn't have to think.
"Yes, Ginny, I'll be your new Mommy...but we're going to have to keep our
relationship secret, it's illegal to do what you just did to me and what I
want to do with you, Sweetie, and I could go to jail for a very long time
if anyone found out about it..." "I know, Carol...Mommy...I know,
Mommy...I'll keep the secret, promise".
A wave of a combination of raw emotions I had never felt before and have
never felt since rolled over me. Passion, compassion, lust, desire, love,
Love, concern, hope, dread, fear, promise, sadness, and happiness all
flooded over like some psychic dam bursting in the room with us. Bending
my head down to kiss my new daughter, I could see in her eyes she was
feeling the same tsunami of emotions that were washing over me. Scooting
up, I kissed that perfect ten-year-old face right on the lips, my tongue
parting her facial horizontals. Right, wrong, sin, virtue, I didn't care
anymore. She tried to kiss me back, trying to push her tongue in my mouth.
Her first French kiss. I grinned and laughed, she laughing too.
"I love you, Mommy..." she whispered, and an unexpected orgasm swept
over me from my toes to the hairs on my head. "I love you, too, Baby..." I
cooed back at her "...anything you don't want to do, or want me to stop
doing, just say so, and I will, promise" I intoned. "I know, Mommy, I know
you will...that's why I love my Mommy, my would never me".
It felt like I just wanted my soul to leave its skin cocoon and join my
precious new Ginny's somewhere else, somewhere beside here, my
emotions were now so raw and large and blustery. But we still had a task
at hand, a task which had lead us without meaning to our new mutual
epiphany. "My Ginny still needs to learn how to use tampons,
remember, you stinker you?" She giggled. "I remember, Mommy, I remember".
I had her lay back down flat, looking up at the ceiling, her legs
propped wide open for me. No reason for caution and concern or prim and
properness now. Before me lay my new daughter, who was also my new lover.
My mouth found and furiously on her clit. Gin' gasped for breath,
and whispered something about how that felt so good. My index finger tried
to push her open a tiny bit, but her hymen was so and intact and her
narrow vaginal entrance so small that my finger would go in further past
the tip.
"Ginny...my daughter..." I said, role-playing my role and hers for all
it was worth "...you're very tight...I'm going to have to open you up some,
or you won't be able to get a tampon in...okay?...it might some, just
be a brave and bear with me, okay?" "Okay, Carol...Mommy...okay
Mommy".
I licked her sugary cuntal lips some to get her relaxed and tried to
force my tongue in her blood-trickling opening, but to no avail. "Mommy's
going to have to force you open a bit...just be a brave girl, okay, my
Ginny?" "I will, promise, I will, Mommy".
She screamed a little scream as my short but sharp pale-polished index
finger-nail tore past her hymen and penetrated into her vagina. I hard on her clit, trying to distract her, trying to give her some pleasure
to offset the pain I knew she was in. Her virginal viced around my
finger. My finger-stroking inside her was slow, but increased in pace over
the next few minutes. After ten or fifteen minutes, I felt her vaginal
barrel begin to relax, and knew she was fine. Tiny rivulets of blood from
her torn hymen mixed in with the slow but steady stream of menstrual blood
from her pussy. Wiping her residues from mouth and face as to not gross
her out so bad, I scooted back up to her face, and began kissing once
again. Taking her hand, I eased it to my vagina, and she knew what I wanted
without asking, her smallish ten-year-old fingers playing and poking at my
pussy. She smiled at me and I beamed back at her. "I love you" I huskily
whispered to her. "I love you too, Mommy" she said in hushed tone reply.
"Let's put one of those tampons inside you now, okay?" "Okay".
Scooting down between her legs to watch and help, the square-tipped Jr.
now slid easily inside her without using vaseline on the tip, she beaming
back at me as she finally began wearing her first tampon. I tugged on the
string to make sure she placed it deep enough inside her, and moved back up
to her face. "Mommy...Carol?" "Yes, Dear?" "Is what you were doing to me
with your mouth and fingers, is that what is called 'making love'?" "Yes,
Ginny, my daughter, that's what two women do when they make love".
"Mommy...will you show me some more?" "Of course, my Darling, of course".
The rest of the day we spent in peaceful and unashamed bliss. I had
never had a lover like my Ginny, nor in my wildest perverted dreams I had
ever thought I'd have one, ever. I guess because she had had to be so
independent and self-sufficient for so long, basically taking care of
herself since she was in first grade, what with her Dad being gone for days
and even weeks at a time, she seemed so much mentally to me than her
mere ten years of chronological age seemed. Older, more confident, more
self-assured, more mature, but still with a ten-year-old's perspective and
life experiences and yes, body. And what a body that I feel in love with,
as well as a true spirit and mind. Just the tiniest little buds for
breasts, and nipples lighter and smaller than a typical boy's. Long, thin
legs which supported her 5'2", 100 lb. frame. Her past-shoulder-length,
silky, thinnish sandy-brunette hair. And that smile of hers. That smile
which could melt an Antarctic icebeg with one flash of it.
In all my adult virgin-taking during my reign on campus of being
the ultimate in womyn pussyhounds, seldom had I run across but a few of
them who were less nervous, more eager, and more willing to just to relax
and let things happen and "go for it" as my Ginny was, and they were all
grown women out on their own. The first time I had Ginny scoot between my
spread legs to give me some head, she didn't wince, she didn't make a face,
she didn't act disgusted, she didn't hesitate, she just dove on it like I
had done to hers previously, and my clit and lips for all she was
worth, while her tiny fingers frigged my cunt. And the kissing. The
kissing. We just held each other, seemingly for hours, and kissed and
kissed and kissed, made out like two love-sick puppies, gently and easily
playing with each other's and pussies while we kissed.
Dusk came and went. Neither one of us wanted to get out of bed. I got
up and fixed and served us hotdogs and fries in bed, but Ginny was more
interested in bonding than eating. We fed each other french fries dipped
in ketchup while sitting in front of each other on the, my, our bed like
some honeymooning couple. I was happy, Gin' was happy, we were happy.
Dishes being pushed under the edge of the bed, we just lay in bed, holding
each other. I mentioned something about her needing to go home, but she
said her dad wouldn't be back for several more days, and as long as she
caught her bus on Monday morning for school, no would care. We flipped and
sixty-nined each other for another long bit of time. The quiet of a
Saturday night in our apartment on Blount Street enveloped us. Happiness
enveloped us. Love enveloped us.
Easing back into each other's arms, we dozed for another longish time,
both waking up hungry. Taking my Pinto the several blocks up to Peace
Street, we luckily caught the "Hot Donuts NOW" sign on at the Krispy Kreme,
and claiming the last two free stools at the counter, proceeded to have a
virtual orgy of hot doughnuts and coffee, as everyone else there was
enjoying too.
Back at my, our place, Ginny said she was really tired, and wanted to go
to sleep. I told her that she always need to, regardless of how light or
heavy her flow was to change her tampons at least twice a day, and always
before she went to bed. She went to the bathroom to do so, and I followed
her. I simply couldn't keep my hands off of her. She changed her Jr., and
I dropped to my knees to lick her clean, offering her a raw taste of
her own essence, she accepting. "I really feel like a woman, now, Mommy...I
don't feel like a little anymore". "I know, Baby, I know...you're
truly a woman now".
We made out for another longer bit as we snuggled under the covers
together, and feel asleep in each other's arms. At 5AM, the alarm that I
had preset the morning before went off. Damn! It was Easter Sunday.
Rousting her up, I asked Gin' if she still wanted to go to an Easter
Service, she replying "yes". "What church do you normally go to?" "I don't
go to church that often...when I do go, it's usually to Park Methodist past
Montlawn...Dad and I aren't members...I usually just go with a neighbor who
takes me...if I don't answer my door this morning, they won't care, they'll
just go on without me." "I normally go to Temple Baptist up on Wake Forest
Road...is that okay?" "Sure".
Pastor Kenan lead the choir in pageantry choral singing at the Easter
sunrise service at 6:30AM, as my 'daughter' Melanie-call-me-Ginny joined me
and my fellow 300+ church members in greeting not just the new sun of a new
day, but the promise of eternal life through the love and acceptance of
Jesus Christ as our personal Lord and Savior, His perfect Love washing our
sins away, the promise of His resurrection begating the promise of our own
into living eternal life with Him. Our new Easter dresses billowing in the
gentle breeze that wafted through the backyard and softball fields area
behind Temple Baptist that Easter morning, I couldn't help but feel so
changed in so many ways because of the events of the past 24 hours. Yet,
in my heart, I think my Jesus knew and accepted and if necessary forgave me
for any sins I might have committed with or for or against my new daughter,
Ginny. Ginny and I held each other's hands as we joined in singing "The
Rock Of Zion" and "Amazing Grace". Pastor Kenan and several other church
members wandered up to us as we were sauntering back to the front church
parking lot, being nosey about Ginny, I introducing her as my niece.
We stopped by Watkin's Grill around the corner from 'Temple for some
breakfast, and it was packed, had to wait half an hour to be seated with
everyone else filtering in not just from ours but from several other
church's sunrise services. Back home in our apartment, our new Easter
dresses were shed like so much unnecessary snakeskin and back to bed we
went. More than with someone older, I have to admit, I didn't feel a need
to hide my emotions, any emotion, from my Ginny. Everytime she would call
me "Mommy" when talking to me, it would send a happy and pleasant chill
down my spine. And when we touched and kissed and made love, it was as
lovers, not and daughter.
The sun rose over the sky as that perfect Sunday eased onwards. I
showed her how I masturbated, and taught her how to do the same,
encouraging her to and dream of me when we were to be apart.
tAs a treat, I also gave her some analingus, something I don't normally do,
except with my special lovers, but my Ginny couldn't have been more special
to me. And, as she watched some golf show on my in the living room, we
both knew it was time for us to be apart once more. I gave her my phone
number, and she mine,
I didn't hear from her Monday, or Tuesday, or Wednesday following. I
couldn't help but wonder if it all had been a dream, a wistful fantasy
fueled by missing of my and siblings and of not having a steady
girlfriend. As I sat down to eat spaghetti-and-meatballs dinner and watch
the evening news that following Thursday, the phone rang. It was "my"
Ginny.
"Hi, Mom..." she cooed to me. "Hi, Baby...where have you been?...why
haven't you called?" "Dad came home Tuesday morning and just left early
this morning...and I didn't call Monday because, well, Mom, I love you, but
everything....everything...." "I know, Baby, Darling...everything was just
too much to handle right then...." "...yeah...'not mad at me, are you,
Mommy?" "...of course, not, Baby...Mommy's not mad at you..." her calling
me "Mommy" making my heart and each time she did so, and she knowing
it, I think. "Can I came over tonight?...Dad's gone for another bunch a'
days...could you take me to school on the morning?" "Sure, Ginny...have you
eaten supper yet?..." "Not yet". "I just sat down to eat a big pot of
spaghetti-and-meatballs I fixed...sound good?" "Sure does, Mommy". "I'll be
there in fifteen minutes to pick you up" I happily chirped.
We made happy messes allover our faces as we slurped our pasta in my
tiny but homey apartment. Pouring some sangria from a carafe on the
kitchen table into a wineglass half-filled with water to cut the strength
of the alcohol and taste, my Ginny tasted her first adult beverage. I
leaned over the table to cat-clean her face with my tongue, and we ended up
in a deep, passionate kiss. The fact she was just ten years mattered
no more to me. She had the center if not the reality of an adult, and I
couldn't help but treat her like one, if I did enjoy her fresh innocence at
discovering things new and wonderful. I washed and she dried the dishes.
We gently swapped more kisses. She felt me up through my blouse. I wanted
to go to bed right then, and ravage my too-young lover, my faux but sincere
adopted daughter. "Let's play a game, Mommy!" she chirped.
Digging an Monopoly game out from the bottom of my hall closet, we
played for a couple of hours as the fireplaced anonymously near us in my
living room. She was a good player, and I tried to win, but she did
instead. We smiled at each other, just making mother/daughter smalltalk
all the while, stopping every now and then to trade nice kisses. I reached
under her skirt playfully and parted the edge of her with my
finger. I didn't feel a tampon string. "I stopped this morning....is that
okay, Mommy?" "Sure, Baby, why wouldn't it be okay?....you've got school
tomorrow...almost time for bed...want some milk and cookies before
bed?...." "Sure, Mommy, that'd be neat-o".
We stripped to our buffs and climbed into bed, beginning to make out,
she on my and feeling my some, I gently frigging her
vagina, kissing and kissing all the while. "Mommy?..." Ginny asked in
mid-kiss as we held each other in each other's arms under the covers. "Yes,
Ginny Dear?" "Will you read me a story?" That really caught me off-guard.
But my Ginny was still a ten-year-old in reality. I didn't have any
children's books to read to her, since I didn't have any nieces or nephews
or friends with little kids that came over. But I didn't want to break the
mood.
"I don't know...if I have anything to read to you, Ginny, Baby..."
"Anything at all will be fine, Mommy...just read me a story, any story,
okay?" "Baby...I know you haven't had an orgasm...remember I explained
about orgasms and such to you last weekend?..." "I remember, Mommy..."
"...and I haven't had one either yet...let's have some more sex first, so
we can both have our orgasms, then I'll read you a story..." "Okay".
She slid around and over me so we could sixty-nine. That precious jewel
of a budding on my "daughter" tasted still so sweet to me. I hunched
my legs up and wide so she could get to my clit and easier. She
hadn't forgotten her lessons from last weekend. Her hand past her wrist
entered me. My tongue lashed out at her clit and barest opening of a
vaginal barrel. The digital alarm clock on my nightstand read "10:58pm", a
time I knew was usually past her bedtime. I held her close to me, asked
her to lick me and fist me even harder, and within a few minutes, I came,
then she finally came.
Now for the story. I didn't want to read from the Bible in my
nightstand drawer, that didn't seem quite right, right then. The only
other thing I had was an in-house annual financial report for a local small
private company I was doing a fiscal year year-end audit for, which I had
been working on at night all week. So I read a story, flipping through the
dry pages of rows of numbers and hand-scribbled margin notes I had marked
in it, about the Prince Of A Dry Cleaning Chain who had "borrowed" money
from his taxfunds account and got caught by his Uncle Sam and was made to
pay heavy fines and penalties and was thrown in Uncle Sam's dungeon for a
few weeks just to make a point but who was a decent Prince and treated his
Subjects well and now paid his taxes on time because he didn't want to be
thrown back into Uncle Sam's dungeon. My Ginny lay peacefully asleep next
to me in bed as I finished my story. I threw the report on the floor, cut
out the light, snuggled close to her, pulling her close to me, holding her
close in my arms. I was happy. She was happy. What was wrong with that?
The alarm went off at six-thirty a few hours later. We showered
together, teasing and playing with each other, she pulling off my shower
cap, I playfully scolding her not to do that again, my hair having to look
nice for work, even if it was straight and long and easy to quickly style
back. She sat at my make-up table and I brushed her hair straight, and she
mine. We had become and daughter, our own version of a family.
What was wrong with that? She put on a different jumper dress and shoes
that she had brought with her in a grocery sack from home so she could wear
them to school. Both of us slurping down some cold cereal and milk, we
dashed out the door just before seven-thirty. I made the drive down Davie
to South Street and down and around to Vena Wilburn Elementary, dropping
her off, before heading back to downtown and work. Dropping her off in
front of the school, as hundreds of her classmates poured out from buses
and cars around us, she lightly leaned in to kiss me on the lips. As she
was walking away as I waited in a line of vehicles and buses double-parked
to leave, a classmate came up to her, and asked her who I was. Through the
narrow crack of the window keeping out the morning chill, I heard her say
"oh, that's Carol, that's my new Mom". I went to work happy.
-30-
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