Chapter 5

Outwardly, I didn't carry on too much, but inwardly I was going through my own personal rebellion. The way my folks had been treating me was just too much for me to handle. Here I was nearly fifteen, my breasts swelling out, my body taking on the appearance of womanhood, and they, particularly Mom, were treating me like a kid of six. That summer, I fell in with some people who turned my head around.

Over my mother's objections, I'd gotten a job in a girl's clothing store. I needed some extra spending money for clothes and things, and felt grown up enough to be on my own in that sense anyway. After a lot of haggling, my folks gave in, feeling that at least the job would keep me out of trouble, and that it would teach me some responsibility.

Little did they know just how much responsibility I'd actually learn.

The shop was one of those overpriced ones on Ventura Blvd. For rich young girls who wanted to be in. I'd taken the job to get a new wardrobe myself, and the owner of the shop, wanting me to look the part, loaned me some clothes for work so that I'd always look just right.

About the second day there, I met Gwen, a girl who was taller than me, who wore her hair in a short cut. She had the day off on my first day, and over lunch we became very friendly. We knew some of the same people as she had just graduated from a high school in the West end of the Valley, not far from mine, one of our rival schools in sports. She had just graduated last year, so she was a couple of years older than I was.

She and another girl were planning to get their own apartment as soon as she'd saved up enough money from her job. She invited me to get together with her that night after work, so I agreed. At least my job would give me an excuse to be away from home more often.

After work, we went over to this friend of hers, a guy who she had gone out with in the past and went to Edgar College now. Frank was a year older than her, and she described him as just being a good friend. His place was a low-rent house, but he'd fixed it up by putting posters on the wall and everything. He was a real nice guy with long hair and a beard, wore glasses, had plenty of dope to smoke. Some friends of his were over there, and I was introduced around. I sat and talked, passing the joint around.

The music was playing in the background, and Gwen and I got into a rap about our backgrounds, moving close together on the couch so we could hear each other above the din of the Rolling Stones. We were really tripping on the grass-it was some really dynamite shit, not the spacey kind, but sort of speedy. We really got into rapping, and the whole conversation was punctuated with 'far-out's' whenever we'd find out something else Gwen and I had in common.

We both had a lot of the same likes and dislikes, even though she was older than me. Remember ,a couple of years was a big thing back then. Like me, she had been advanced a year back in grade school, that's when they used to skip kids pretty frequently. I used to make pretty good grades back then, and I had a jump on the public school kids starting out in the parochial school system. Even though we had both had good early records in school, we both had become unhappy, stemming mainly from trouble with parents, and weren't interested in going to college. I was jealous of Gwen since she'd already gotten out of high school and soon would be moving out of her parent's place. She thought that she might go on with school later on, but wanted to pay her own way. Remember, this was back at a time when kids were fed up with the so-called "Establishment" and higher learning institutions were considered to be a part of the problem.

After rapping for awhile, she gave me a lift home. As the days rolled on, my friendship with Gwen grew, making up for all the days I was missing at the beach. Linda and I did manage to make it to the beach a few times on my days off, but I felt like a lobster when I came back, not having built up a tan to speak of.

I began to gravitate towards Gwen's group of friends, all of them older than myself, except for the occasional times I'd go out on a date. My mother always objected to me hanging out with older people, but after she met Gwen she didn't mind so much. Gwen really put on a bullshit job, and so did I making Mom think that she'd be going to college in the fall and every thing, and it got to Mom's shallow values. I'd learned that the best way to deal with Mom, by this time, was to beat around the bush about it, or bullshit her.

About halfway through the summer, Gwen got a single apartment in North Hollywood, and I got to help her fix it up. It would be a place I would always be welcome to come to, she told me, either to visit or to crash if things got too rough at home.

As I was helping her hang a plant, I asked her why she didn't need a roommate. I knew that she'd been planning on that earlier, and knowing she didn't make too much at the shop as she spent a lot of her money on clothes, so it was surprising to me that she'd been able to afford the pad.

"Oh," she said coyly, "let's just say I've got my ways."

This sort of left me out in the cold. It was unusual coming from Gwen, who'd always been really open with me. I just shrugged it off though, figuring that maybe she'd hit up her parents for some front money and was too embarrassed to mention it to me. Little did I know how she came about her extra money, and it would have shocked the living shit out of me if I could have foreseen that I'd be earnning some extra bread of my own in the same manner in the not too distant future. But we'll get into that when the time comes.

Another thing happened that summer that was to have a deep and lasting effect upon me. It was the end of the summer, just about time for me to quit my job and go back to school. It was about a week after my fifteenth birthday. It was Gwen's day off, and I didn't want to upset myself by having to ride home with my folks, figuring that I'd just hitch a ride the few short miles to my house as I often did. I never let my folks know that I sometimes would hitch a ride, as that would have been more of a hassle.

So I'm thumbing towards home when this fat guy in a Ford picks me up. He was around forty I guess, and he really gave me the creeps. He began hinting around about sex, and I just slid as far away from him as I could. The guy kept going past the point where I wanted to be let out, and I started to protest, but he pulls this gun on me.

I just about shit.

"Don't try anything, Baby," he told me, keeping the gun down low on the seat so it couldn't be seen from outside the car. He went on to tell me that he would have no qualms about killing me if I tried to scream or jump out of the car. My mind just froze in flat panic. This was the kind of thing that happened in the movies.

A lot of things ran through my mind as I sat there terrified out of my skull. But every single time I'd think about being some kind of heroine and jump from the car, or maybe go for the gun, I'd think of the awful possibilities. I had a couple of chances, like when he'd pull up to a light. He had to keep his eyes on me and on the road at the same time, so I had a few chances. But I figured, trying to be as calm as possible under these trying circumstances, that he might just shoot me, and nothing was as bad as that. It's weird, but my mother's warnings resounded in my head a couple of times during that ride, and I couldn't help but silently agree with her.

The guy seemed fairly nervous, like he might have done it before-in short, a freak, so I just sat still. All those things that you're supposed to do, like check him out for scars, features ... I'm afraid I was too freaked out to think of that. He was just a big ugly guy.

He didn't go too far past my house. He pulled down this lane that led to an orange grove, a place I'd sometimes play when I was a kid. The whole area used to be rural, and there were still some orange groves growing in between the various tracts of houses.

He stopped the car in a cluster of trees and shut off the engine. The nearest houses were a long way away, and the darkness of the grove, the wind whispering through the trees, was really ominous. Once in a while, kids would park in here to make out, and I looked around in vain, hoping to spot a car. Shit, I would have even welcomed seeing a cop car. But we were well hidden.

The man, roughly ripped open my dress and began pawing at me, telling me to be very quiet or he'd blow my brains out. He had the gun in one hand, but I didn't offer any resistance as he crudely went about his task one-handed, fearing that the gun might go off.

"You could make this whole thing a lot easier, Baby," he finally told me. "Strip!"

I wasted little time in doing what he wanted. It wasn't easy to do in the confined space, and I felt a shame mixing in with my fear as his beady eyes pinned my titties. One thing I did notice-he had on a gold wedding ring. It was only after the ordeal was over that I found out that many rapists are married men, hiding their perversion from their wives. The same thing goes for other deviates such as child molesters. Of course, I wasn't really thinking about such social phenomena at the time.

I finally struggled out of my dress and panties, trying hard not to look at the weapon, but nevertheless very aware of its presence which predominated the entire situation. Once I was naked, he stared at me for awhile, and it gave me the creeps. He reached out with his free hand and fondled my boobs roughly, making my skin crawl.

"Please, Mr. I've..." I began, stuttering in my fear.

"Shut up!" he cut in harshly. "One more word out of you, and you've had it."

He shook the barrel of the gun at me menacingly, leaving little doubt as to just how I would have 'had it' if I got it. I was practically hysterical, but I bit my lip to keep from making anymore noises. I tried to calm my mind, remembering hearing somewhere, certainly not from my mother, that a girl shouldn't try to put up resistance during a rape. And that's what was about to happen to me.

He commanded me to lie down on the seat, moving aside so my legs could take up his side of the seat. Then he tugged down the baggy pants he was wearing, then the shorts. He had a hardon already. Just from seeing me in this condition I guess. The guy was a real sicko.

I was trembling, tears filling my eyes, but I made up my mind not to fight him. It would be difficult to relax, although I heard you should try to do that in situations like this. He bent over me, breathing heavily and crushed himself to me, guiding his cock into me.

I let out a sharp hiss, from the pain, as my pussy, as was the rest of my body, was all tightened up in fear. But I didn't want to make much noise. He brought the barrel of the gun up against my temple and reminded me not to yell. Shit, I was scared out of my wits, but all I did was whimper a bit, praying that he wouldn't lose control of himself during the rape and squeeze the trigger.

At least it was over in a hurry. He huffed and pumped over me, as I found myself silently praying. It hurt like hell, and I knew I was bleeding down there. But he finally let out a gasp and a shudder, and came.

I was still petrified as he zipped himself up, wondering if he might kill me now that it was all over. It was all like some nightmare, not really real. But he just told me to take my clothes and get out of the car.

"Don't look around," he told me. "Just keep walking out across that field and don't turn around until you've heard my car leave, or I'll plug you."

I was so glad to be out of the car, I didn't turn around. I clutched my clothes to my naked body, my bare feet stubbing over the plowed ground, but I just kept walking for what was the longest walk of my life. I finally heard the car start up and pull out. Then I started running and running, falling over stumps of trees and everything, so that I was cut and bleeding, covered with mud. When I got to the end of the field, I came to my senses.

I stopped and pulled my clothes on, not bothering to arrange them very well and ran up to the first house. When a man answered the door, I just put my arms around him and began screaming hysterically. His wife was right behind the astonished man, and they finally got the story out of me.

Everything after that is kind of hazy to me. The police came and took me to a doctor ... in a small hospital. Lots of faces and hands checking at me. Then my folks ... my father all pale ... my mother screaming and crazy. Someone gave me a shot. I fell asleep on the way home.