Date: Fri, 15 Aug 2003 01:14:34 -0600 From: Tom Emerson Subject: HOLLYWOOD GRAFFITI - FILE I Hollywood Graffiti (Ped., Inc., Rom.) Copyrights are held by original publishers and nothing is used with permission. Nothing is implied or should be inferred regarding familiar characters used in this story. FILE - I "How old are you, anyway?" John asked as Carol flew in through the passenger widow of his chopped and channeled blue street rod. The gamin elf who'd been catcalling and whistling almost childishly from the lowered '58 Chevy pulled her blouse down over her chest as she settled in the seat of the radical little coup. "About as old as I look," she said, then blushed and said, "sorry. I just thought you looked kind of calm and above it all riding around solo. I do dumb stuff when I get nervous." "That's okay," the nineteen year old drivers said, "I do dumb stuff when I'm half asleep, like watching television." "Sometimes I think Saturday night cruising isn't much better," Carol said. "I don't have one," John said, "I work on the car and read." "What do you do?" the girl asked. "Design dials and gauges for airplanes," the twenty year old said. "I've never met anyone that did that before," the girl noted. "Well, I suppose it looks like there's a lot of them," the young man said, "but if it's your job, well, one person can pretty well handle it." "Is it complicated?" she asked. "It was for awhile," John said. "When jets first came into commercial use they experienced a large number of instrument failures, everything from fuel pressure gauges to the altimeter and artificial horizon. Random and frequent. No one but no one could figure it out. My dad was going over it with me up in Seattle at Boeing. I was about ten. I put my hand on the instrument panel of the plane while we were taxiing out for another test flight. Suddenly it dawned on me in a flash. "Dad," I said, "I know why and I know the answer." "What?" he laughed. I mean who wouldn't have. "It's too smooth," I said. "All the instruments have tiny gears in them, like a watch. In the old planes, the engines kept things loose because of the vibration. The jets are so smooth that doesn't happen, and a tiny mechanical imperfection can cause something like a gauge, which moves incrementally, in the first place, to jam." "'Son,' he said, handing me the mic, 'why don't you call ground control and get us permission to taxi back to the ramp.'" "Wow," the intelligent and bookish girl said, "I never heard a story like that. How'd they fix it." "Just bolted a little electric vibrator to the instrument panel. Cost about two hundred dollar per plane." Carol shook her head, her big gray eyes glowing. "I thought you were going to be bragging how this buggy will do zero to sixty faster than a mouse can sneeze." "The truth is it won't do sixty," John said. "It looks like it would do one-sixty," Carol observed. "That's a dummy engine molded from fiberglass," John explained. "Actually, there's a couple of truck batteries under the hood and two more in the trunk. The whole thing's electric." "You're lying," the girl said, "electric cars are silent." "Well," the engineer went on patiently, "there's a hi-fi system with speakers under the car. See?" He turned the volume control on the radio and the blast of a V-8 blatted off the pavement. "Jeez Louise," the girl whispered. "Most kids wouldn't be very impressed," John noted. "And what does that tell you?" Carol shot back, eyes fiery. "That I put my wittle toesy-wozies in my mouth when I said `kid'." "Yes," the girl said with a shy smile, "but you recovered with alacrity and aplomb." "You seem to be the right person to be sitting there," John responded, "and I'll try to be more careful in the future." "If you want," the girl said nervously, "we could get off Hollywood and go up in the hills." "Well," the young man mused, "that brings up the same issue, only in a more serious light, like a twenty-year red light on the cell door." "Okay," the girl said, "then the drive-in. I just ate so I don't want anything, but we could park there and talk." "That sounds great," the driver said, "what time do you have to be home?" "Don't worry," the eleven year old said, "I'll stomp your toesy-wozies before I go all pumpkin." "I take it that means eleven?" "Yeah, yeah; I guess anyone who deals with timers and instruments could have figured that out." "Hey, two hours," John laughed, "that leaves half an hour for the date and an hour and a half nap to recover." "From what?" Carol asked. "Boredom," John said, "the fogy and the tadpole." He switched the radio back to a.m. and pulled into the drive-in, waving the carhops off and parking in the rear. Wolfman Jack rasped from the speaker. "Howl-e-wood, how's it howling, howlers? And Vine, howl fine is that, eh? And howlin' live at ya from the capital of corn and the crossroads of pone. Or is it porn? Well, this is the Wolfman saying that's for me to know and you to find out. And spinnin' at ya and to ya and for ya and through ya, round-`n'- round they go, `cause Jack's runnin' the show." Eddie Cochran's "Three Steps to Heaven" beat out and a dozen cars in the area honked thumbs up. John lowered the radio to balance it with the muted blaze of rock resounding across the parking lot. "Cool," Carol said as distant speakers added a natural echoing depth to the music. "How close can I get?" Carol asked when they were settled, eyeing the expanse of Corinthian leather between herself and the cute driver. "How do you feel about Cleveland?" he replied, using a line that would one day be stolen by the very town he called home. "Yeah," the girl sighed, "I'm lucky they let me past the high water mark on either coast." "Have I stopped looking directly at you, traffic realities considered, since you boarded the Electric Room?" the young man asked, eyes maybe just a little hard. "Sorry," the girl blushed, "I hear a lot of stuff because I don't look like out of Liz by Rock." "What you look is right, right where you are," the hard eyes said. "Thanks," the girl murmured and they sat for long moments looking each other up and down. "And you can get as close as it pleases you." She slid to within a foot of the driver. Cars honked in the background. It was Hollywood, it was Saturday night, it was world headquarters Teen USA. "Mulligan wants to drag you," Carol said, "it figures, because he's drag one when it comes to the unfair sex, but I thought I'd pass on the word." "Well," John responded, "my other car is a Porsche with an extra engine fitted to the front wheels, so as long as he brings his title we can maybe hang out for six or seven seconds." "So you like cars, after all," Carol noted. "Yeah," John admitted, "I'm not all slide rules and calculators. A little burning rubber adds a healthy contrast." "How about an eleven year old girlfriend?" she asked, eyes bright. "Well," the young man mused, "I don't have any others, plus, it sounds like a place to start." "I'm serious," Carol said. "Nonsense," John retorted, "you're beautiful." Again there was a long silence as they gazed at each other. "I've got to take a big chance with you," Carol whispered. "I'm probably going to end up chopped liver because of my age, so I have nothing to lose, and I always promised I'd tell any guy I fell in love with, if that ever happened, right away. Tell everything on our first date so it wouldn't end up a pig-in-a-poke story." "And you have a lot to tell?" John asked. "Enough," the girl said, "so you wouldn't worry much about taking me somewhere private if you knew the half of it. And it's nothing to do with boyfriends or that I'm a secret drinker or wanted or hooked on anything or have anything." "So there's a chance I might live through the tale?" "If anyone could," the girl said. The car moved forward at a touch of the accelerator and Carol gave a yelp of surprise. Wolfman was going on about his last live gig in the bay-bay-bay area and they turned the radio off, both half scared their hands reached the knob as the same instant due to the profound compatibility signaled by a mutual preference for silence. The Electric Room had been built for the hills and moved inaudibly, like floating, several twisting, turning miles until they came to a secluded abandon property and pulled in to park. The walnut dash was indirectly lighted and glowed softly so the two could look into each other's eyes and see the questions. "It's all down hill back to town," Carol observed, "so if you want to leave me here when you know, I'll survive." "Hope I'll be as lucky if you stay," John said. "If anyone could make it easy, you could," she responded. "Some of the nicest people are on parole," the young man said to keep the ball rolling. "It's weird," the girl noted, "because it's something that makes absolutely no difference to anyone. It's as if it never happened, as if it could be a secret no one would even care to know, but, at my age, and at my stage of development or lack of development, it's all I've got to let you know that I'm real meat for the table, not a french fry." "I'm kind of satisfied that you know how to keep a conversation going," John said. "I've about done with engineering. I want to be a writer. I don't date, but I skulk around and listen in, trying to find out if any girl, and I mean five or ten years older than you are, could add a paragraph to a book. I'm not cynical and not downbeat, but I should be, because most of the chicks in chickland couldn't add a sentence if you dated them around the world." "And you think boys are different?" Carol asked. "There's always something worse," John observed, "a worse hurricane, fire, earthquake, or gender." "Or worse news," the girl added. "Or news so wrapped in delivery the bearer of said tidings is found moldering by a sniffing dog," the male said. "Do you have a sister?" Carol asked. "Britt is just your age," John replied. "I wonder if that will make it harder or easier?" the girl mused aloud. "Jeez, you've got a twin," the driver laughed, "every joke in the world about double trouble." "I have a brother, by coincidence, your age," Carol said, "no other siblings. My parents are off on location half of every year, so I live with him. He's a writer so he works at home. Stable." "Then we should have met at some kind of alternative-families function," John said, "because Mom and Dad are doing two years in the Peace Corps and Britt's with me." "I suppose the way things are in this part of the world, it's not really all that freaky," Carol observed. "Like the brother and the sister in `The Birds'," the man said. "That's right," the girl said, "and if I remember, she's kind of homely looking, too." "Well," John responded, "if you remember, she must not have been some glossy, frothy thing." "Is Britt?" Carol asked, flushing at her unintentional question. "Britt's plain," the engineer said, "totally not unattractive, and with a secret smile that would set off an orchestra, but she looks like the girl next in line, black hair in two braids, eyes maybe a little big, and brown, and otherwise just comfortable." Both could sense more, neither knew how to begin. Finally Carol said she felt she had to. "I don't want to tell you a lot about Juan," she said, "what he reads, what he writes, what sports he likes, and hear the same about Britt, on false pretenses; you know, build up a family common denominator more than we have, already, then have you find out the truth and the whole thing ends up in ashes." "Well," John said slowly, "that kind of makes two of us. Something is definitely rotten in our little domestic Denmark, most would think so, and most potential partners would head out the door and some might even go to Rampart." "Can you separate what happens from the scary part?" the girl asked. "I'd be scared to try," John replied. "Do you want to leave it at that?" she asked, "that we both understand, and the less said, the better?" "I want what you want," the young man whispered, "secrets and privacy, or every last graphic detail, and whatever you want to share, I do." "I like hearing you say, `I do,' " the girl responded, blushing again at the tongue-before-brain remark. "It sounds beautiful when you say it, too," the writer said. "It happened three months ago," she began in a faltering whisper, "on the east-bound train past Copper Canyon in Mexico. We'd left Mom and Dad off on the west coast for their project, and were coming back on the same train, our first time alone together, and on the eve of our moving in together, so to speak." "Carol," John whispered, "it began with Britt and I at General Hospital last Christmas holiday." They stared at each other trying to understand the monumental hurdle they'd scaled in a few carefully thought out sentences. Both bowed their heads and whispered Hi. His hands went to her blouse, hers to his buttons. "Display for me, darling, when I take your bra off," he whispered. She arched in the soft glow of the dash, linked her fingers behind her neck, and stared down at his hands as he reached gently behind her, fumbled with the clasp, then slowly bared her chest. In a moment, he was also naked to the waist and approaching her for their first touch. "You're absolutely beautiful," he murmured softly as he took one last look before moving to her. Slowly her hands came to his shoulders and she pulled him fully to her, his arms also pulling, her spiky nipples standing tall from their high, immature mounds grilling him with enough current to drag Mulligan. Slowly they moved apart and stripped out of their remaining clothes, piling them neatly on the dash of the pseudo deuce coupe. She lay back in his lap and as he began fondling her lithe, athletic body and budding breasts, she began sharing. "I think we were pretty tense even getting on the train back to Chihuahua," the eleven year old said. "It was so way married; going off, or home, to live together; both, off and home, what you said, double trouble. We couldn't get it out of our minds. "Do you keep thinking about stuff?" Carol asked her brother half an hour after the train had begun its overnight run. "I do," Juan said, immediately blushing, "I mean, I guess so." "Do you want to talk about it?" she then asked. "I just don't want to do anything wrong," the twenty one year old said. "Everyone trusts us." "I know," the girl responded, "but did you ever think they do it on purpose? That by letting us live together, no questions asked, they're giving us a strange gift that will magnify the intensity of any mischief we might get into?" "Taboo as an aphrodisiac?" Juan murmured, then his musings were interrupted by a couple standing by their double-seat. He was an older teen, she about nine. "Are you guys brother and sister?" the girl, Electra, asked. Both nodded. "Juan and I are, too," the girl smiled. They laughed over the duplicate names and invited the Juans to join them, completing introductions as the visitors sat. The Villarreal's were from the west terminus, Los Mochis, in The American School where'd they learned enough English to perfect the language on visits north. They spoke easily and gently, often pausing to watch the scenery pass by the windows of the climbing train. After an hour it began getting dark and the two couples began focusing more on each other. The tenor of nice-to-know-you conversation changed, and not to a small degree. "Have you noticed that there about a dozen couples like us?" little Electra asked. She was a heart-faced delicate beauty, a classic of her heritage, so delicate she couldn't have weighed fifty pounds, yet with fiery eyes contrasting with a shy smile that played yin and yang with twenty violins. "Is there some kind of convention?" Carol asked. The girl looked at her Juan. "Even if you were from Mexico, you probably wouldn't know," the tall, rangy eighteen year old said, his slightly craggy face as much a contrast with his sister as were the little girl's eyes and smile. "If a lot of people did," the girl added, "you couldn't get on this train with Poncho Villa's army. "Gold in them thar hills?" the older Juan asked. "Los Hermanos Felize," Electra said, "The Happy Brothers." "It's a secret club," the Hispanic Juan explained, "and it's not for cow tipping or tequila chugging. It's kind of for families that have talented kids that pull at the oar through school. It turns out that certain liberal dioceses keep an eye on such students and award the involved students a special and secret dispensation, half the wonder of which is that it's free." The American couple laughed, but the fact there was another half didn't leave their minds. The two couples were now focused almost openly on each other, beauties of beautiful races the more so because they were regular specimens, Electra alone pinning the needle. There it stood for awhile as a porter came through taking dinner orders and there was a general milling around in his wake. Electra pulled Carol aside at an opportune moment. "Some of the stuff to do with the club is pretty mature," she whispered to her slightly older friend, "and we'd be really embarrassed if we said things you or Juan thought were inappropriate." "We like you," Carol said. "We like you, too," Electra whispered, "and what we want to talk to you about is when the train stops at the edge of the canyon. Usually, you ride on after half an hour, but you can also stay. Some tourists do, then catch the next train, and some couples like my Juan and I do, brothers and sisters with special meritorious dispensations from the church, and," she giggled slightly with embarrassment, "we look at the views, too." "We'd like to talk more," Carol said and the found their seats. Electra gave her brothers a smile and nodded at the American siblings. "Would you like to get off the train with us?" the craggy and almost rough Indio said. Carol brought her brother up to date with a minute of whispering, and the boy nodded. The American couple then told their new friends of how they were setting off to live together. That broke down any residual barriers and the two pairs of siblings huddled and whispered. "It's an amazing story," Electra said, "the most so in our country's porcupine history. Shortly after the Chihuahua-Pacific railroad was completed a novelist from Durango rode the route, spending several days at La Vista, the village where the train stops. He was traveling with his sister's children, three nephews and three nieces, age seven to nineteen. There was no hotel, they knew that, of course, and had come prepared, but rather a well build stable to serve as a camp. The local people were used to the usual flow of adventure tourists, but six brothers and sisters apparently set them agog. One thing led to another, apparently fairly quickly because La Vista is high and cold at night. In summary, the isolated village were going to allow a brother to mate with his sister. Since god couldn't be expected to watch over such a union, it was agreed the people of the village should, but, to temp god to maybe give a second glance, the villagers wanted more than a single incestuous event, in fact, the more the better as long as it could be accommodated in the stable. Gabriel Sandisto, the writer and chaperon was, in his words, `at the base of a large mountain consisting of not one single rock.' To a Mexican, that would meant at least silver and maybe gold. And that's just how it started. He followed them up, after all, they were his own family. All three girls became pregnant, and all three bore children, two girls and a boy, who astounded everyone who saw them, starting as four months of age. "Mexico is a religious country," the pretty young storyteller went on, her brother gazing fondly down at her raven hair in a page-boy cut, "and Sandisto was nephew of a bishop. He described the even to his uncle, asking for advice. Apparently he went to the right place, because the bishop proceeded to select three brothers and their sisters for a trip. The writer knew another village couple was to celebrate their marriage at a certain date, so, with efficiency never dreamed of since Columbus, himself, the plot was hatched and everyone sat back to await the outcome. Again the day-long stay, again the softly lighted ritual in the stable, again the heavy bellies of all three sisters, this time from different families, and again prodigies, obvious at four months." Here she nodded to her brother to take over. "Science was called in," Juan continued, "the six babies were repeatedly picked out of groups of a hundred by experienced teachers. That led to conferences and a policy. Mexico does a good subway, a good lottery, and well by its lucky brothers." "Amen," Carol said. "It became a joint project after that," Juan went on, "saint and science, I guess you might call it. It was always restrained, but soon a number of incest couples visited every month, no fixed number, and a dispensation was issued to the village to allow use of the stable, even though there was no local couple. The results were almost as good. Eight out of ten sisters were impregnated, eight out of ten of them produced children with prodigy or savant characteristics, though skeptics pointed out it was a little hard to be certain because the babies were petted and nurtured by their families, all in the know, by the way, that their exceptional development could be attributed to those factors. Where the skeptics came up empty-handed was when they tried to document adverse abnormalities, where, once again the issue of premium nurture possibly covered up for any cases of retardation or overt defect. As the years passed, the experiment was allowed to continue, and recently it was expanded. The reason it was expanded is, I suppose, a little Nazi, but everything's spelled out, and no one is paid or coerced; just the opposite. By Nazi, I mean that the results have been so positive for so long, it has been decided to allow younger girls to accompany their mature brothers. The footnote here is it was observed every time a local couple mated, for the first time, in the stable, all girls, and sometimes there were ten or more, bore children nine months after their night with their brothers, and these children were the best of the prodigies, measured the way science does. That set in motion the idea that exposure to the taboo of watching a boy with his full-blooded sister increased the potency of males witnessing the event and the receptiveness of the girls. In Mexico we do not not do something because certain Germans at certain times did do it. Specifically, the club did not deny the next obvious step, and that was to determine how young a female could be and still conceive from the seed of her highly aroused brother. Electra is the youngest girl ever to be invited by a full year." The girl blushed and looked almost moonily up at her rough, craggy brother with the kind eyes and shy smile. Neither Juan or Carol blamed her. "The ten year old who gave birth a year ago," Juan continued, "developed fully in her last six months of pregnancy and had an easy birthing and healthy girl. She was Electra's build, in fact, a pound or two lighter." That ended the explanation for awhile and they rode in silence listening to the clack of steel as they wound into the high mountains. The triangle sounded for dinner, and they laughed when they found they couldn't stand, making jokes about the thin air, which were silly because they were only three thousand feet above sea level. Eventually they found their knees, and, bracing on seat backs, were able to proceed to the dining car, where they were glad to sit. No one was shooting peas. Peas had been served. Half the people at the first seating were preteens. A few flying peas, good fun, not leading to anything other than maybe a little flirting, that would have been natural. Not a bit of it. Tables of two and tables of four as subdued as sober adults. Yet the undercurrent was so electric the older Juan (Tyne) wondered if a tourist passing through the dining car would sense it. Every word spoken softly and clearly, every word listened to avidly and responsively. Gentle eyes, soft rather than fey smiles. Prisoners plotting escapes couldn't have been thicker. It was electric and all eyes swept Electra repeatedly. "I'll bet some of these boys and girls have little sisters your age," Juan Villarreal said to his tiny nine year old sister. Their American friends nodded, joining all who were secretly cheering the pixie in the page boy and the doors she could open. "I wonder if the two of you could make up for the absence of a local couple?" Carol said. "We were picked for this particular trip," Electra explained to her older friend, "because for the first time in two years, there is to be one. He's seventeen and she's your age, Carol, eleven." Whoever had taught this girl to add to a conversation had been at the front of a very important line. They tried drinking without spilling, and blamed the train, eating without choking, and blamed the cook, but not flipping peas. At the meal's end the atmosphere in the coach had not changed. If familiarity was the yang, the long night ahead -- they'd stop in La Vista around noon the next day -- was yin, squared. "The ride on to Chihuahua is the same," Electra said, "everyone is very excited, very happy, and very quiet. It's meant to take a full week or more to recover." No doubters in her audience. They huddled and talked on. The porter turned out most of the lights, turning the passenger car into a den. The tourists conked out early so the children could whisper a little more openly. "Carol," Electra said very softly, "we girls are allowed to show our breasts to our brothers, if we want to, while we ride." "I understand," the eleven year old murmured very softly. "And there is one kind of rule," the nine year old dart added, "there's no requirement that either the brother or sister be virgins, but if the sister has let a male, any male, be complete with her without having used a condom, she's meant to tell. Both the clergy and the clinic want to know." The Americans nodded. They could imagine. "Also," the young Mexicana went on, "boys are meant to tell everything to their sisters. Men like young boys very much here, as they do in the States, maybe more so, or maybe they have more opportunity because you always see nice boys with truck drivers, for example, anyway, the boy and girl, brother and sister, are meant to tell everything, just as the local boy and girl will before their fathers bring them together." Here was a thought; why wasn't every boy on the train, and there were plenty if not dozens, standing in line at the washroom? Because their athletic young legs that could play soccer four hours a day couldn't support the weight, even to stand, of their fit, trim bodies. :"We've all spoken to girls who've spent a day at Hermanos Suerte, that's `lucky' rather than `happy', so all the girls are explaining things because, by tradition, the boys are along as scientific and religious vessels, with the girls in control every step of the way." "If it gets any cooler than that," Carol said, "we'll have to burn the coach." "No slave or dominatrix stuff, though," Electra cautioned, her friend's American alertness taking her aback for a moment, "and no spankings or eventing." "Nicely put," Juan Tyne said, "I just don't feel that way about my sister." "It's prosaic, that's the only word for it," Electra said, "Husband and wife. Missionary position with a couple of pillows, very little foreplay or romantic touching. In full yin, the boy is meant to devote himself to total concentration while the girl yangs out by lying inert with her arms stretched high above her head, nor is she meant to lift her heels from the silk of the conception pallet." All blushed slightly as they nodded. Yes, the concentration factor would be overwhelming, the boys imagining the swelling melon tummies of their flat bellied sisters, high on their arms to minimize distracting contact, able to see the pretty breasts as stimulation, listening to and seeing some of what was happening on the pallets around them. Ah, the church when it came to imagery, four altar boys could fill a cathedral, having inspired its existence. Nowadays, there were so many other vectors; pity, but life goes on. It can also stand still. Electra began explaining that the conception pallets would be set on the stable floor in the pattern of a horse shoe with a pallet at the center for the local couple with space surrounding it for their young, athletic fathers. "There are mirrors for the girls to look up into," she elaborated, "and they're kept very clean. The brothers can look straight ahead some of the time, but most look down at their sisters most of the time" The clock advanced not one millionth of a second during the girl's foray into whys and wherefores. It can stand very still. Nor was the girl about to tamper with the frozen escapement. "Carol," the Mexican beauty whispered softly, "this is really embarrassing to ask, because we're still getting acquainted, but have you, you know, had anything up inside you from a male within the last three days?" "Juan," the girl responded softly to her brother, "I was never going to tell you, is it okay if I do, because we're going to be together whether or not we stay with Juan and Electra, and if you'd rather not know the answer to that question, we can find a seat with some tourists." "I never asked you anything about that," the young man said, "I guess I just figured you were so beautiful to me you must be to other boys, and if you ever wanted to tell me, I'd be willing to listen, never forgetting you're my full-blooded sister." "God," the girl responded, "I knew you'd say something almost totally, exactly like that." "It's just something I never thought of, sis," he said, "I mean I was going to have you with me most of every day and all of every night. Wanting more than that would might have tempted even our lazy old slacker god into retribution. That's how I feel. I guess I could summarize it by saying: `Like I care,' but that would imply I didn't care about Carol Tyne." "Is it very fresh?" Electra persisted, the discipline of her faith as evident as the kindliness with which she asked. "At ten o'clock last night," Carol said, nestling openly against her brother. "Will you show us your breasts while you tell us?" the Catholic girl asked. "Yes," she whispered. Crowd instincts are universal, look around, see what's up, and follow suit. A glance around the swaying car showed blankets arranged as tents in various sheltering manners. Ten minutes before, the conductor had passed through to report there would be no more visits by staff during the night and advising where he could be found if he was needed. Silence. Clacking silence. They all pictured the assortment of schoolgirls who'd been their distant companions lying back on the seats as their brothers sheltered under blankets to look at them in privacy. Carol nodded to Juan to strip her, and the American allowed his Mexican counterpart the honor of lifting his sister's training bra from her and baring her breasts. All looked for a long time, her beauty magnetic nearly to the point of being toxic. Electra, being a girl, was aloud to touch. "Was a man's chest against you last night?" she asked, her fingers lightly grazing cherry nipples standing on small, alabaster sculpts, "or a boy's" "Was he against you for a long time, or was it something that happened more like in the barnyard?" "From about ten to a little after eleven," the girl whispered. "Did he have a hairy chest, or boyish?" "Crinky black hair," the girl panted. "Where your nipples touched him?" was the next quiz. "Yes," the girl blushed. "Did you like the feeling, or was there an element of rape involved," Electra asked. "I liked it," Carol said. "I welcomed it, and it felt beautiful, but it never took my mind of living with my brother." "Did he talk to you?" "Yes," Carol said. "Did you like that part?" "Yes," the panting girl rasped, her nipples swelling hotly at the chiquita's feather touch. "What did you talk about?" the whispering went on. "Juan," Carol said, "he wanted me to imagine our first night together. I didn't know about spending a day at La Vista and I said I thought it would be romantic if it happened on the train." "Does he know your brother?" she said. "I was with our dad," Carol said, "on the beach. Wearing a polka-dot summer dress with spaghetti straps, cut low in front, and no bra. We talked about my living with my brother, and I said he'd raised me, and taught me everything from Morse code to the Dewey decimal system, and that I wanted to take a long walk with him but not go very far. He resisted, but I asked him to at least take me in the dunes and touch me inside my summer dress because I was uncomfortable from thinking about the train ride. He asked me if I was sure and we walked along for another quarter mile. Then I took his hand very gently in mine, and by one finger led him off the beach. Big moon. Surf in the background. Soft breeze. "Your brother is a very lucky boy," he whispered as we found a sheltered spot. I turned my back to him and he whispered in my ear, "Yes, darling." I heard him slip out of his clothes then felt his fingers a the back of my neck as he unhooked my dress. "'Has anything happened before?' he asked and I whispered No. `Darling,' he whispered, `do you know what "cum" is?' "What they call sperm in biology?" the girl said, "Marcie's told me some stuff like that." "Yes, baby," Mallory Tyne said, "semen is a heavy clear fluid a male emits when he has sex. The semen is mixed with sperm, which makes it white, and that's what wriggles deep inside the female and finds her egg." "That part we had in graphics," the girl whispered as her father dropped her dress to the sand, his hands going to her budding breasts. "Oh," she whispered, "that feels so natural." "It will feel natural with your brother, too," the man whispered, "you're very lucky to have fallen in love with each other." "Juan's beautiful," the girl murmured in agreement, panting at the touch of the naked male behind her. She hadn't worn panties and was also naked and in his arms and to his hands and against his jutting penis where it pressed hotly to her bare back and to his hands which wandered tentatively all over her slim, young body as she squeezed his muscular forearms in welcome. "Would you like to watch me cum before it happens inside you?" Mallory asked. "Will I be able to see it in the moonlight?" she asked in return. "Yes, darling," the man whispered, "but it will leave you very wet on your tummy and chest and it might splash on your face." "I though it was just a drop," the naked child said. "After a male has ejaculated several times in a row, there is just a little, but the first two times there's a heavier amount." "How many times can it happen with a boy?" she whispered. "Juan will probably be successful seven or eight times your first night together," the man explained to his kitten, "after that, a girl as beautiful as you will probably be taken two or three times every day. It depends on the circumstances." "So if he works at home and I'm home before four and with him all day on the weekends and vacations, it might be more often?" "Yes, darling," the thirty year old athlete said, "four, five, six times a day. As often as you want. Your breasts are absolutely beautiful and he'll want to feel them against his bare chest time and time again." "Do you want to feel me that way?" the panting child asked, turning in her father's powerful arms and drawing him to her. "Kissing's for outside the family," Mallory whispered, but did kiss her repeatedly on her brow as her arms drew him tight and she mewed at the tension of his light matting of crinkly hair against her virgin nipples. For long minutes the explored and experimented with tracing their fingers over each other, the girl coming more frequently to touch the huge, circumcised erection held between their panting bellies. "I want to watch you cum, Daddy," she whispered when she was ready. "We'll have to be careful because of the sand," the father said, lowering his daughter gently against the bank of a dune. He guided her hands behind her neck, then knelt between her widely spread legs. "This is called masturbating or jerking off," he said as he began stroking is eight inch shaft. "You can do it with your brother, but the first time it's best to just watch." "Can I do it with him a lot?" the wide-eyed child asked. "Yes, darling," he answered, "it never gets less beautiful for a boy to be touched by a girl he loves. It's easy to interpret as an invitation to make a baby, and that's liquor in a man's mind." "Will I get pregnant?" she whispered up from the sand. "Yes, sweetheart," her father said, "probably very soon. When it happens, we'll zip you out of school after four months and shanghai our beautiful son and daughter off to Europe, where, by gosh, wouldn't you just know it, we'll `adopt' a tiny boy or girl." "I wish it could be open, that everybody could know," the girl mused. "Many people will," he said, "family secrets like that tend to be formalities, more artifices of manners than exercises of veracity, I guess because there's comfort in convention." "Sort of like coloring outside the lines with invisible ink, and inside with crayons," the girl said. "Did I mention how lucky Juan is?" her father whispered. "I am, too," Carol said, "it's beautiful watching you." "I love having you watch," Mallory said, adding: "darling, when you get home it will be okay if you find a boy of your own, maybe your brother's age. Date him. Tell him all your secrets, bring him into the family." "And I can have a girl, can't I?" the eleven year old asked, instinctively raising her hips to her father's stroking hand, "they can do that, right?" "Yes, baby," her father panted. "That must be a lot of science," the girl panted, her thighs pressed against her dad's stroking hand as the adult male braced himself over her with his muscular left arm and masturbated her with the ridges of his knuckles, "because it's hard to imagine you or Juan leaving anything inside me but a very boy boy." "Yes, darling," the man said, now obviously tensing as his girl thrust wantonly against him, staring first into his eyes then at their waists, "you can have a little girl." "Daddy," the child went on, "I don't want her to have to wait until she's eleven for you to teach her. I would have loved watching what you're doing in the bathtub when I was four or five. Promise?" "Yes, darling," the man rasped. "Pretend, Daddy," she whispered wantonly, her head lolling in her hands, "pretend. Her name is Tessa. She's five. She loves you. She knows you won't do anything to hurt her. She's calling out for you to show her. At first you're frightened because someone might hear, then you remember Juan and I have slipped out for a pizza. She calls louder and you let her. Oh, Daddy, teach her, show her, get her wet with sperms." "Oh, god, baby, I'm cumming on you," he growled, his heavy splashing starting half a minute later, slicking her with spurts that splattered her wide-eyed face and fell heavily over her nipples and heaving chest, finally flowing heavily on her belly until there was an ebbing an and ending. Her hips remained rigid and high, he shifted slightly, her hands came from behind her neck to guide him. Kneeling and moving carefully in the sand, he moved into his daughter, her legs and arms both delicate and careful in her welcome. Thrusting tenderly, he let two gentle minutes pass until his hard belly finally pushed solidly against her thighs. Carefully he moved forward to lie on her and she pulled him to her, arching her wet nipples firmly against his heaving chest. He found by whispering she was okay and began a heavy, deliberate movement. She relaxed and sighed, her hands moving from his back and toying with his handsome face as he alternately rose high on his arms so they could look down between their beautiful bodies and lay lightly on her, hissing at her hard nipples and nibbling at her hair. "Find a man you can kiss while this is happening," he whispered. "Yes, Daddy," she promised, her eyes glowing, hands tracing his. They mated long and gently in the sand and moon, panting into each other's faces, whispering welcome and encouragement. In half an hour, he became still over her. "Oh, Daddy," she hissed, "I can feel everything." She came gently in his arms, giggling softly at the fullness of her entry into womanhood and the pure pleasure attached to being a girl. Ten minutes later he ejaculated inside her again, and they rolled like otters in the sand, splashed each other in the foam of the surf, dried with his tee shirt and the breeze, and she slipped back into her summer dress, nestled in the crook of his right arms as they walked back to civilization, talking about things. The train bucketed on through the night, winding ever higher. The blankets became more and more useful. Electra asked if anyone was ready to sleep. They were young and fit and shook their heads as they huddled to watch her fingers trace Carol's swollen cherry nipples. "It's not like taking turns or anything," the younger girl said, sensing completion to Carol's story, "but Juan, if anything special has happened with you, would you please tell us?" "I looked for Carol last night," he replied, "and Mom said she was taking a walk down the beach with Dad and she didn't think they'd be back for a couple of hours. The pool was still open and had the lights on, so I decided to hang out there. Just after I got there, a man came up with two children, a boy, Roddy for Rodolfo, twelve, and Nina, nine. He said he'd seen us during the day and that he wanted to meet a friend in Los Mochis, and he'd pay me fifty dollars if I'd watch his son and daughter until midnight or so. I shook my head to the money, because they were really cute kids and kept smiling at me, and he shook my hand and handed me his business card and the key to their room. My mind was pretty full of being alone with Carol, so maybe I saw more in the situation than I otherwise would have, but both kids dragged me in the pool and started climbing all over me and piggy-backing and diving between my legs, and it seemed to me they were, you know, more than just being friendly and playful. When they found I was going to be living alone with Carol, I guess you could say they became intense and maybe even a little insistent. They wanted me to come to their room and tell them all about it, because they'd seen her swimming and thought she was really beautiful, Roddy and Nina. By that time it was getting a little chilly, so it made sense to get inside. Their room was on the ground floor, so we just ran down the hall in our suits and ducked through the door. They threw me a towel from the bathroom and I just caught a glimpse of them changing, back-to-back, and they came out after they'd hung their suits to drip in the shower. They took mine and hung it with theirs, then guided me to an armchair and sat on my knees facing each other, Roddy with a towel around his waist, Nina wearing hers the way girls do, and their eyes big as saucers. "We have almost two hours so we want to hear everything," Nina began. "It's something that's going to happen, not something we've already done," the twenty-two year old said. "That's the same with me and Roddy," the girl continued, "Daddy's completing a big deal here, and for the next six months it's going to keep him away from home most of the time. Our mom was a wild child and got brained in a pool room fight, so she's not on the scene and with Roddy a domestic prince, and me not to bad of a princess, we don't need anyone but Mrs. Grasso to come in once in awhile from down the street, probably not even that but we like her, so it's cool. Give us someone to demonstrate our behavior to." "Well, if any kids could pull if off, you guys could," Juan said. "Thanks," they said, Roddy adding: "we're so excited we can't sleep. Like it was coming up to Christmas and there was a huge crate on the front lawn. What would that do to a kid?" "We want to be mature," Nina said, "and pretend a lot of adult stuff. Is it okay if kids our age do that?" Juan asked their ages and nodded. "Do you hear rumors about any kids at your school?" he asked. "I guess three," Roddy said, "three boys and their younger sisters." "Plus Gendra and her dad," the little Nina added to her brother's nod. "Are they nice, you know, regular?" the older male asked. "Yes," both said together. "How about at recess," Juan asked, "are there any girls who sit off by themselves and just look down at their feet until it's time to go back inside?" "Christine," both murmured, also bowing their heads. "Okay," their guest said, "that can happen to girls who get too mature too fast. It's probably just a phase, and may have more to do with a dead pet than anything mature, but it is a risk. She'll probably outgrow it in a few years and come to be more understanding and sympathetic as an adult, but it can be like going through a disease for a young girl, and some don't recover, even mutilate themselves, go mad, or commit suicide." "I guess we kind of figured it wasn't guaranteed to be perfect," Nina mused. "And my guess is," the older male said, "that for the two of you, it will re-define perfect, not just once, but for years, maybe until you're too old to be interested, like eighty or something." "Even if it's just nice it will be nice," the twelve year old smiled "Do you think it will be perfect with Carol?" the filly asked, diligent little conversationalist that she was turning out to be. "It's that word," Juan said, "the way things are now. Eating with her. Doing homework. Listening to her in the shower. Very perfect. Anything more is locked away where heaven's meant to be, or at least that's how it feels." "But you know what to do when you're alone together and she comes out of the shower, right?" Roddy asked, his pretty sister adding: "that's what we don't know. I don't care if he hurts me. I'm a girl. Someday I'll have babies. But he's afraid, plus, I really want to see what happens with a boy, and I can't do that if its happening in my tummy." "Could you show us?" they asked in unison. "Some, if you really want me to," Juan agreed, "but with boys it's kind of best if they wait two or three days after something happens, you know, if they really want to show their partner that they love them. I've been not doing anything, the things boys usually do, for a few days so Carol will know I love her." "That's like a tiger being sweet," Nina giggled, her big brown eyes flashing, "but we have something to tell you." "We weren't spying, well, I guess we were," Roddy said, "and we saw your sister go down to the beach with your Dad." "It took Roddy about two seconds to figure out she wasn't wearing her bra," Nina said with a nudge, and he asked me what it meant, since she's old enough to need one. He made me pretend I was eleven and starting to develop, and then tell him why a girl would have her chest bare when she didn't at dinner. She said that the girl would want to be a girl, then we went and found Dad and a few minutes later we were at the pool." "Is your mom with you?" Nina asked. "No," the twenty-two year old said, "she is, Juan said, "but when she has a series of story conferences she stays on the set, so she hasn't been home most of this week." "From what I've heard and what I can figure out on my own," the girl said, "plus seeing how your sister's arm was around your dad's waist, well, the way I figure it, with the bright moon and all, he's probably showing Carol how much a male can love a female, and if that's the case, then maybe you can stay with us the way we want you to." Both children hugged him, the girl whispering very softly, "please." "How much experience have you had," Juan said in answer. "I'm getting molested in the shower after gym," Roddy whispered with a blush darkening his light golden skin. "Has it gone all the way?" Juan asked, Nina's eyes huge as she stared at her brother and took his hands in hers. "No," the boy said, "just for not even half a minute. The shower drips so he comes in to tighten it after the last boy is finished." "How many times has it happened?" Nina asked. "Six or seven," the boy said, "once it was for only like five or ten seconds so I don't know if that counts." "Roddy," Juan whispered, "are you kind of, you know, the last boy on purpose?" "Just the first time, that's when it just lasted a little while," the boy replied, "since then I guess I got kind of slow getting in the shower." "How old is the man?" Nina wanted to know. "He's a college student working for the school part time," the boy said, "he's nineteen." "Do you like him?" the sister asked. "Yes," the boy answered, "all the kids do. He's really quiet, and keeps things going just as much as some of the regular teachers." "Is he special friends with any boys?" Juan said, "do you hear things about him?" "No," the twelve year old answered. "How will you feel when you go back to school, will you still be last one in the shower?" "Yes," the boy said, "and I hope the leak gets worse. I know that's probably crazy with a sister as nice as Nina, but that's the way I feel and I don't want to lie to anyone about it, except, you know, if someone was trying to make trouble." "If that ever happens," Juan said, "you immediately accuse the person who's interfering. Claim they're the one touching you, the police will have to investigate, and pretty soon you'll have a lawyer's delight that no jurisdiction can afford, so it will all go away." "Even the papers will get tired of it," the Hispanic beauty said, all but danger in her fiery eyes, "you know, the same-young-same-young." Both her companions were glad of her warning, as a display of unleavened mirth might have brought forth suspicions of an adult drinking with minors. Nonetheless, they found her spontaneous witticism delightful and took turns kissing her pretty face. "Kissing is an issue you have to address," Juan intoned when they were once again sitting relatively calmly. "I mean on the lips. Carol and I haven't talked specifically about any of what's going to happen, but I think we agree that kissing is not part of incestuous relationships; a barrier, acknowledging what it is, deviant, crooked, out of step. Refraining is tribute, maybe humility or something like that." The children looked softly at each other and raised fingers to their partner's lips, then nodded solemnly. Both were smart enough to understand that a blocked avenue increases traffic on parallel avenues. In other words, they were good losers. "Juan?" Nina asked, "if my brother would let you, will you show me what happens to him while the teenager is turning off the water valve?" "I can tell him everything," the beauty volunteered. "And it's too late to be running the water in the hotel, plus we're clean, so we could use our imaginations for that part," Nina suggested. "He kinda uses soap on me," the twelve year old bushed. "Okay, just a little water for a few minutes," Juan said, feeling judicially suave and omnipotent for three or four seconds. Two nods. He'd won a landmark case. Roddy got to his face, panting. Juan held his hand. "Roddy," he whispered, "has he seen you with a boner? Has he ever looked down at you?" "No," the boy replied, "I'm really embarrassed when I get that way, so I kind of stand against the tiles while he jams the water valve. "Has anyone seen you?" Nina asked. "No," the boy said as Juan rose to follow him. "Can I be the first?" she asked. Both males agreed as Roddy led their tall, athletic guest into the bathroom, his towel-wrapped sister at the adult's right hip. The boy clicked the door open and closed it behind him. He turned on the water and they could see him soaping himself through the frosted door. "I think it's still leaking, Martin," he said as he turned off the valve "Is Martin naked when he comes in with you?" Juan asked. "Yes," the boy replied. "I want you to see your brother, first," Juan whispered to Nina. She nodded an looked away as the young man hung his towel over the door and opened it, stepping in. The tall, fully built child was pressed to the wall, his back sensuous enough in it's play of waist, buttocks, thighs, and silky legs that he didn't need a front. "Does he move this close against you?" Juan whispered as he pressed against the child's wet, soapy body. "Yes," the boy whispered back. "Nina, you can come in if you want," the older male said, and in a moment Roddy's sister was again at his right hip. "Tell us where he first touched you," the girl said. "My neck," the boy whispered in response, then down my back to just above my waist." "Like this," Juan said, touching the child. "Yes," the boy said, "now down... a little more... that's as far as he got, then he whispered that he'd never touched a child before, and he was sorry, and finished with the valve, and put the towel he'd used on the handle over my shoulder and I could hear him go into the next shower and work on its plumbing, so I put the towel in front of me and went to my locker to get dressed." "Did he get his hands around in front of you the next time?" Juan asked. "But up pretty high," Roddy whispered, "yes... like that but more in front." The young man continued molesting the twelve year old for several minutes as Nina watched from a foot or two away. "I'm going to turn to the wall now," he said, "and move you so Nina can see you, and you can take her towel off I think. Tell me when you're ready for me to look at you." He waited another minute, then turned to his left, moving Roddy to his right. He heard Nina's gasp, then, after a minute, sensed the boy reaching to his younger sister and heard and felt his sharp intake of breath as he bared her budding nipples. "Take us in on the bed," Nina said. Juan turned from the wall and displayed for the children, bracing against the wall, spreading his legs, and clasping his fingers behind his head. "Now," the both whispered seeing his seven inch circumcised penis jutting straight out from his hips. As the watched, the young man's erection hardened and soon was nearly against his flat, swimmer's belly. "Now," the repeated both reaching for a hand. Huddled on either side they made the bed, and Roddy lay his naked sister back, bringing a pillow under her head so she could see everything. Juan too the kneeling boy in his right arm and hugged him close. He found the twelve year old's six inch uncircumcised penis with his hand and gently pulled back his foreskin as Nina started. "Will you let Martin do this with you when you have more privacy?" he whispered to the child. Roddy nodded and so did his sister. "It's beautiful," she said. "Boys are really beautiful together." Sensing the rapid rise in tension in the preteen, Juan eased from him; a beauty like Nina almost within touch, he felt it best not to take chances and guided Roddy's right hand to his hot erection. The boy emulated the tension and rhythm he'd just been taught. "Nina," the young adult gasped, feeling he had little time to talk, "do you think you'll want the same thing with your dad my sister wants with ours?" "Yes," the girl said, "once his project is established, he says we'll be spending more time together, and he and I will take a trip to Greece and stay on a weird island. He even called it a honeymoon." Picturing the handsome and accomplished father with his nine year old beauty reduced Juan to a single hoarse whisper. "I'm cumming," he said softly, riveting four eyes plus his own to Roddy's stroking hand. Nina moved closer and it started, almost like it was an accident at first, then settling into a series of forceful series of pulses every few seconds until the girl's slender chest was thickly laden. As he ebbed, his seed cascading over Roddy hand, he moved from the girl and brought the boy into position, guiding him until his panting chest was pressed firmly to Nina's hot, slippery chest. The couple's arms went reflexively around each other, and the young man brought them together. They looked into each other's eyes, but did not kiss. Roddy took up a slow, stead rhythm as he penetrated the nine year old until his belly was hard against hers. His whole body clenched and released again and again as Nina mewed and wriggled beneath him, arms and legs devouring the boy. Juan huddled over the pair, molesting both openly and everywhere, sometimes ferreting his right hand between their thighs so he could feel the sturdy young male's dominance of the pretty girl and her responsive welcome Then slowly the twelve year old stilled and his sister's eyes went huge. She stared up at their handsome babysitter. "I never dreamed I'd be able to feel it happening, I just never thought of it," she hissed, her knuckles whitening as she pulled Roddy fiercely to her, hissing on: "yes, baby, oh yes, yes, yes.". Smiling shyly, moving languidly, the man got the two children into their nightwear. The father returned just before midnight, again proffered money, again refused, and Juan went back to his room and fell asleep dreaming about tomorrow. HOLLYWOOD GRAFFITI -- END FILE I xxx