Chapter 14
Rod came to with a jerk. Damn! Was he going senile at forty-five? Here he'd let his mind wander back thirty years again to that long hot summer with Myrt. His cock was as hard as if he hadn't woken with his dream girl that morning, hadn't spent a jolly hour pouring it to the lovely lissome Vera, hadn't finally unloaded his second round into Rambling Rose's deep throat.
But, Rod sadly admitted, that wasn't why his cock was hot, hard, throbbing, ready to explode again. It was that goddam naked girl in his bedroom. What in hell was she doing in there all this time? Was she getting dressed? Or was she up to some new teenage shenanigans calculated to drive a horny old man right up the wall? He wouldn't put it past her to come parading out here naked.
She had said she was a nudist. He wondered if it was true. What the hell? If she was he might as well forget it. They were all uptight about organic foods or some such shit -- weirdoes who took off their clothes but had no intention of doing what comes next. Once he had briefly dated a nudist. If he recalled it properly, he had given it the old college try, had actually thought he had it made. But so far as she was concerned it was look, don't touch. So next night Rod went out and found a fully dressed girl and undressed her and did what comes naturally.
And here he was doing what comes naturally at forty-five: daydreaming again. What in the abysmal execration was that girl doing in there? He sighed and stood up, suddenly realizing he was still wearing a suit. It was ridiculous to go about this way in his own apartment.
But if he had a brain left in his head -- if they hadn't all turned to peanut butter and flowed elsewhere, he knew he still ought to go out and call the county receiving home. But even more certain than this knowledge was the conviction that he was not going to do it. Sighing, he took off his jacket and tie. Damn! He wore shoes so seldom in this informal town that his feet were starting to hurt already. He kicked them off too.
"Ta TAH!" The girl flung open the door and imitated a trumpet fanfare.
Rod was afraid to look. If she was a nudist he knew his self-control would fail, that no matter how uptight, one look at that trim little body and his willpower would turn into rut and whether she wanted it or not, that little girl was going to get fucked.
"What's wrong?" This time the self assurance was all gone from the girl's voice. Rod remembered the sad way she had been shuffled from house to house. And now he must seem to be rejecting her too. He took a deep breath and turned to face her. The girl was not naked.
He didn't know whether to be relieved or disappointed. "Nothing," he managed. "Nothing's wrong. You look fine." Jesus, did she ever! This time the girl had combed her long blond hair and gathered it into a waist length ponytail. She wore a brief knit halter which barely concealed the contours of those twin pectoral peaks which had so fascinated Rod. Trying not to stare, he noted with one lightning inventorying glance that his guess had been correct. Jesus, those tiny tits must be firm! Even standing in the doorway there was not the slightest hint of droop or sag. They must have grown within the last few months. Probably the girl was still getting used to them, still bumping into things with that unexpected protuberance. Probably too, he realized sadly, they had grown so fast and stretched that lovely skin so drum tight that she would scream with pain the first time a strange hand touched her there.
But what the hell? It wouldn't be his hand. Not today. Thirty years ago maybe... thirty years ago any girl who exposed this much of her body would have been either alone in her own room, in a whorehouse, on a burlesque theater stage, or out of her mind. Nowadays... his glance drifted to her short shorts which were only nominally more than a bikini bottom, tight fitting, revealing every crack and wrinkle in the crotch of her firm little fundament.
Rod looked away and tried to breathe deep. His cock was hard, throbbing with frustrated desire. Jesus -- even his tongue had a hard-on! How was he going to get through a weekend -- no! a full week -- with this come-extractor walking around his apartment, distracting him, keeping him from getting anything done, leaving him incapable of thinking of anything apart from how nice it would be to grab her, undress her, bury his face in those lovely tits, drive his cock up between those long slim legs...
"Don't you like it?" little Ellie asked.
"Like what?" Christ! Lil Abner could do better than that!
"My outfit. Momma told me not to bring it."
"It's fine," Rod said distractedly. What the hell was she wearing? His mind was on her body -- on all that lovely unblemished skin. How the hell was he to know what she was wearing? Slowly the remainder of her remark soaked in.
"Your momma told you not to bring it?" he echoed. "She said I'd get raped."
Rod shook his head. It did no good. "I've got news for you," he finally managed. "Your momma knows more about it than you do."
"Oh, I've been raped before."
"You've what?"
"When I was eleven and Momma was playing a club in Miami."
Rod stared at the tiny blonde's untroubled countenance. "Jesus!" he muttered and sat down.
"I bet you don't believe me," Ellie said.
Rod was still staring. "Don't ask me why," he said. "But I do."
"It didn't hurt," the girl said. "But he sure scared me."
"Didn't hurt?" Rod echoed helplessly.
"It was the old man who managed the motel," she elaborated. "He was a nice old man. Used to give me candy and ice cream every day."
I'll bet.
"Then one day he raped me."
"And it didn't hurt," Rod echoed. Jesus! Only eleven!
"I don't think he really got it in," she said, as casually as if she were discussing the superiority of sugar pops over cheerios. "But he got me all sticky and dirty and he sure scared the hell out of me."
Rod shook his head. "He couldn't have scared you too much," he observed, "Or you wouldn't have come crawling into another old man's bed."
"Oh, that was years ago. I was afraid for a long time. Then finally I started screwing."
"Oh? And how long ago was that?"
"About a year ago -- when I was fourteen."
"And you've been going at it steady ever since," Rod concluded.
The girl shook her head. "I only tried it once. It was with a boy that used to park cars at a club where Mommy used to sing."
"Tried it once and didn't like it," Rod mused, echoing the punch line of a venerable joke.
"He was worse than the old man," Ellie said. "He didn't even touch me before he was shooting that white stuff all over me."
"I seem to remember having the same trouble when I was a boy," Rod mused.
"Somebody raped you?"
"No," Rod laughed. "I mean about shooting all that white stuff before I could get around to the interesting part."
"Is it fun?" Ellie asked. "Do you do it a lot?"
"Yes, and yes," Rod said.
The girl's eyes widened. "No kidding?" she asked. "Can you still do it?"
Rod didn't know whether to be complimented or insulted. "I can still manage it once in a while," he conceded. "But of course, with an old man like me you've got to realize it takes a while if you want to get a look at all that white stuff."
"I don't believe it," Ellie said.
"What don't you believe?"
She shrugged. "I don't know. But that old man grabbed me and he was huffing and puffing and then Arthur was wheezing and having asthma and -- "
"You sure know how to pick 'em," Rod sympathized.
"You got any coffee?"
To Rod's mild amazement, this last request came to him as a relief. The whole situation had been drifting askew. This was not the scenario he had envisioned. But... why, he wondered, couldn't adults try to remember what it had been like when they were adolescents instead of retreating into some dream world where children were swaddled in cotton wool and never exposed to the grim realities of life until some magic legal date when they were suddenly adults with all the rights and privileges and responsibilities of a taxpayer?
So some old man had tried to rape her -- and gone off before he could even get it in. So she had finally gotten up the courage and the glandular pressure to try again -- and some pimply faced car parker had let his imagination outrun his staying power... it was a wonder well built clear skinned girls like this ever found a man who could keep his cool long enough to blow theirs.
"In the kitchen," he said. Ellie followed him, a clear-skinned dream of delight in the briefest of possible shorts and halter. The coffee pot was empty. She followed him about the kitchen as he washed it and reloaded it, bumping into him each time he turned around. "I'll give you a half an hour to cut that out," he said. Obviously, she didn't know what he was talking about. Rod sighed. Little girls were such a complicated mixture of sophistication and innocence. He wondered if she knew how close she had come to being raped right here in this apartment.
Finally the coffee pot was doing its thing and Rod sat at an edge of the table. Ellie sat across from him, within reaching distance across the tiny table. "You ought to listen to your mother," he said. "Just because it didn't hurt once doesn't mean rape can't be a very ugly business. You were lucky."
"Did you ever rape anybody?"
Rod managed to control himself. "Never had to," he said smugly, "But I've had some hard-up women almost -- " Stop bragging, he told himself.
"No kidding? You really do screw?" she asked, dragging out the ooooo.
"Not more than five times a day."
"Awwwwww -- " Rod shrugged and glanced at the coffee pot. It was not ready yet. He sighed. Ought to be thankful, he guessed. All this talk had taken the fine edge off his hard-on. Talking is the enemy of fucking, he reminded himself. By the time she was twenty this girl would be able to talk any superstud into flaccid impotence. What the hell? Now that he had control and knew he wasn't going to make a juvenile fool of himself and come all over the inside of his underwear... he decided he might as well give it the old college try. "Has anybody ever tried to give you advice?" Foolish question number twenty-two.
Ellie gave him a cautious look.
"Relax," he said. "Everybody screws. I'm willing to believe you do too and I'm not going to go telling you not to. But if you're interested I can tell you how."
"How what?"
"How to get more fun out of it and not talk your boyfriend to death before he can get started."
"Oh!" She gave him a searching look. "You mean I'm doing something wrong?"
"It's a very complicated art -- like flying on instruments," Rod explained. "If you keep talking you distract a boy's attention and he can't do it right."
"Awwwwww!"
"Well, just look back over what's happened every time."
"But I've only done it twice," Ellie wailed. "And the first time I was so scared I didn't say anything!"
"Rape doesn't count," Rod said. "And your biggest mistake the second time was in getting a boy with no more experience than you have. Somebody has to know what they're doing."
"You mean I should do it with an older man?"
Rod didn't answer.
"I think the coffee's ready."
Down it goes again! "That's what I'm talking about," Rod said dryly.
"What?"
"You've got to keep your mind on your business," he explained. "Sex is lots of fun but you can't go asking for a cup of coffee in the middle of it."
"In the middle of it --?" Suddenly Ellie's wide open 'blue eyes narrowed slightly. "You and me?" she asked in a dazed tone. "Do you want to do it with me?"
What can you do with that kind of innocence? This goddam little girl with the prick stiffening body had just brought him back down to sanity. Of course he didn't want to do it with her -- not as long as she was going to keep asking those stupid questions and destroying his hard-on. Now wouldn't he look fine kneeling between those long lovely legs trying to get it up and little Ellie asking if he fucked, if he liked to drink coffee, if rape was fun, if he liked her outfit, if -- oh shit! "Let's drink our coffee," Rod growled. He got cups and started pouring.
He put a cup of black coffee in front of the infuriating girl. She picked it up, sipped, and said, "Aaaaaaaaahhhhh!" Rod nearly dropped his cup, so like it was to the sound of joy overflowing that the lovely blond and lissome Vera emitted every time his cock managed to touch that secret trigger deep inside her lovely fleshy funnel.
Little Ellie sipped again and once more uttered that long drawn happy "Aaaaaaahhhh!"
Rod stood in the middle of the kitchen with coffee cup and pot in his hand, trying to decide whether he ought to go out and make that phone call. The danger didn't seem half as acute as it had a few moments ago before this prick stiffening girl broke the spell by opening her mouth. She'd do just fine, he thought ruefully, with a piece of hot throbbing meat stuffed in that mouth to stop her chatter.
"Guy!" little Ellie exclaimed. "Your pants bulge in front just like Arthur's used to every time he kissed me." Rod looked down. Sure enough, in spite of her infuriating and distracting chatter, he had a hard-on. Now how about that!