Chapter 3
"Where were you all night?" Irene's mother demanded when she saw her daughter enter the dining room.
"I was over at my friends house," she declared, mustering all her composure to sound as if she was telling the truth.
"You know dinner's been on the table for fifteen minutes. Take off your jacket and sit down to eat."
Irene did as she was ordered. She sat across from her brother, Micheal, and avoided his eyes all the while the family sat at the dinner table.
The young girl found it impossible to eat very much. Her nerves were in turmoil and she couldn't relax sufficiently to swallow a full mouthful.
As soon as her mother directed her to serve the coffee, the young girl asked if she could be excused.
Her father nodded and she immediately left the table and went to her room. A few seconds later Micheal asked if he could be excused. Again, Mr. Whittier consented and permitted his sixteen year old son to leave the table.
Irene was in her room, preparing her clothes for her bath, when Micheal knocked and entered the room.
""'Can't you wait until I tell you to come in? I don't see why you even bother to knock; all you do is come barging in here as if this was your room."
Micheal ignored the reprimand. "What happened to you tonight?"
Irene was immediately shaken by the question, trying to guess how Micheal had come to the conclusion something was wrong. "Why? Why do you ask?"
"You just seemed funny, that's all. You looked sick or somethin' when you came in tonight and you didn't eat a thing either."
"I just wasn't hungry, that's all. I have an upset stomach and I couldn't eat very much."
"Anyway," Micheal continued with a shrug of his shoulders, "who was that guy who brought you to the door?"
"What guy?" Irene asked nervously.
"That kid that was with you. Who was he? I never saw him before."
"How do you know someone brought me to the door?" she demanded.
"I was standing in the kitchen getting a clean fork when I heard him ask you something about the time and then you told him what time it was."
"He ... was ... uh ... uh ... just a friend of mine."
"Okay, but who was he?"
"His name's Jimmy Dinsmore. He's in the same school we're in, and I met him after school one day. There's nothing wrong with that."
"I didn't say there was anything wrong with anything. I was just curious about the kid. Have you ever been out with him before?"
"No, I haven't been out with him, and I wasn't out with him tonight, either. I was on my way home, and I saw him coming. We stopped to talk, and he walked me home, and I saw him coming. We stopped to talk, and we walked me home, and nothing else happened after that."
"How old is he?"
"Hey, man, you really are curious about a guy you don't want to know anything about. What difference does It make to you how old he is? Oh, well, I guess the only way to get rid of you is to tell you: he's fifteen. Are you satisfied, now? I'm going to take a bath and I don't want you to keep on bothering me, so get lost."
"Can I watch?" Micheal asked with a hoarse laugh.
Irene was accustomed to Micheal's warped sense of humor, knowing that even if she said yes, he probably would be too chicken to come into the bathroom with her.
"No, and drop dead, while you're at it."
"I don't see why you won't let me watch you take a bath, seeing I am your brother and everything like that."
"What would mom and dad think if they knew you were watching me take a bath? They would think we were both sick in the head."
Irene almost hated her brother. She considered him the world's biggest pest. Wherever she went, whatever she did he wanted to know all the details. Ever since she was twelve years old Michael had been bothering her. He almost acted like an over-protective parent-something which Irene despised with a passion.
"I don't care what they might think. Besides, how would they ever find out? Unless you told them, they would never know. I wouldn't tell them."
"I really don't care if you would tell them or not. I'm still not gonna let you watch me take a bath!" Irene was firm with the final statement, and Michael knew that he had lost again.
The brown-haired, tall, lean, muscular youth, left his sister's room feeling slightly depressed. He quickly went to his room, locked the door and stripped off all his clothing for his nightly session of autoeroticism.
Irene, meanwhile, had gathered her clothing and headed for the bathroom. Her major intention in taking this bath was to cleanse her body of Jimmy's, by now, dried semen. She felt it sticking to her body and clothes, and she thought it was one of the most comfortable feelings she had ever experienced.
Sitting on the edge of the tub, she ran the water until she found a comfortable temperature. As she sat, she thought: what she had done with Mm my-was it right?
As the water filled the tub she pondered the morality of the question, trying to decide if it was wrong or if she should continue doing whatever feels good.
Irene pulled oil her clothing, accompanied by sounds of tearing paper as she pulled the cloth from her belly. She remembered how warm it felt as it spurted all over her, and how warm she felt for a long time alter Jimmy had withdrawn his finger.
It was new and exciting. Something she had never even come close to experiencing. The only other way she was sexually relieved was with her own hands. Other than that, there was nothing.
That night was the first night she had ever been kissed by a boy, the first time a boy ever caressed her breasts, her vagina and finally ended by inserting his finger into the hole. It was also the first time she had ever touched a male organ before.
Climbing into the tub, she heard a knock on the door. "Who is it?" she demanded angrily, refusing to step out of the tub to see who was at the door.
"It's me," Michael answered. "What the hell do you want?"
"Mom and dad went to the movies, so there's no one in the house except you and me. Can I watch you take your bath?"
"Drop dead!" Irene exclaimed, letting her body slide into the tub.
Michael left the door and returned to his room to continue his masturbation. Irene, as she washed herself, tried to come to a final conclusion about boys, intercourse, and pregnancy.
She knew there were quite a few ways to avoid pregnancy. Precautions the male and/or female can take to prevent the unwanted child from being born. But the precautions were not the things which weighed upon her mind. Should she let a boy put his organ into her? She constantly asked herself.
At some times she decided that it was permitted, and then just as quickly she would determinedly declare she would never let a boy touch her again.
Finally, Irene realized that she would never come to a conclusion by herself and that she needed some kind of professionla help to give her an answer.
Her parents, she concluded, could never give her a totally objective answer. They would always take into account the fact that she was their daughter, and no parent would allow their child to engage in pre-marital intercourse. Her brother couldn't give her an answer. As far as Irene was concerned, Michael was inclined to be the first to fuck her if she ever asked the question.
Jimmy, she also knew, couldn't help. He might be the type who would say yes solely for the sake of satisfying his sexual needs. Irene finally concluded she had to go to some other adult. Someone she doesn't know, and who really doesn't care what she decides to do. He would be able to tell her straight whether it was right or not, and nothing else.
Happily, she dried herself. She finally came to a definite conclusion about intercourse. She was of the opinion that it was permissible-now she only had to find some adult who would either agree or disagree with her. Whatever he told her, he would have to prove with conclusive evidence, and not just opinion.
Dressing in her sleeping gown, she opened the door and walked the few steps to her room, making sure to lock the door, just in case her brother was still curious. Irene didn't care if Michael saw her in her sleeping gown, but she knew he would get that funny look in his eyes, that usually frightened the hell out of her.
Irene lay in bed thinking of possible adult males who could help her without trying to take advantage of her. She could think of no one she knew, and decided to let the problem go until the next day.
As she slept she dreamt of Jimmy's erect organ in her hand, and Jimmy's finger masturbating her. When she woke the next morning she found that she was dreaming quite heavily, because her vagina was wet. Instinctively, she massaged the sensitive area until the feelings of Jimmy's finger passed away.
As Irene went from class to class she tried to figure out who she could go to. All her teachers knew her well enough to tell her parents about what she was thinking. Irene knew, however, that her best bet would be a teacher from the school. There were enough teachers in the school to give her a pretty good choice of people.
At the end of the day, Irene waited outside the teacher's office. As they passed, she nodded to the ones she knew, and discarded most of the others. She found just two teachers who looked as if they might do.
One was a history teacher, she knew, but that was all she knew about him. He looked to the young girl to be close to middle age, but he was one of the few teachers who kept their hair a little longer than the national average. The other teacher was young, too young she considered, but he looked better than her other choice.
He was just out of college, which was obvious, she knew he had been teaching for just that year. She estimated his age to be under twenty-five.
That evening, as she ate dinner she played with the fork trying to decide which teacher to choose. The older teacher was on the left, and the young teacher was on the right Every few seconds she would let the fork move from side to side as she changed her mind.
She leaned more towards the new teacher because of his age. Irene felt that if anyone should know what's going on now, it would be he. The history teacher would be good, too, she decided, because of his maturity, but she was afraid he might be a bit behind with what the youth were thinking.
Finally, with a sharp stab of the fork into the tablecloth, she decided it was to be the new teacher. Now, she thought, all she had to do was find out his name, make an appointment, and he would settle all her problems.
Never did she think that he might Income a major problem.