Date: Fri, 12 Aug 2005 14:32:36 -0500
From: H. Rick Cantwell <zestful@myexcel.com>
Subject: Rascal 21

Rascal Part Twenty-One
Tell All and Who Cares

	It was my day off, Rascal's mom was spending the day at the
hospital with him and Lyle was busy with investigations. To my
surprise, Rover had phoned me and, when he told me what he had in mind,
I offered to pick him up.  Using the code on the digital lock at the
"Country Club," I said to Jeremy, Brad, and Rover, "After you."
	We put the extra-large containers of coffee and pop we'd bought
on the tables as we sat down.  I commandeered the wing back chair,
forcing Rover to choose one of the sofas.  Jeremy and Brad sat together
on the sofa across from their dad. Jeremy looked at the room with
obvious disdain.  The hodge-podge assemblage of furniture wasn't much
to look at but it was comfortable.
	"Jeeze, please tell me this place turns into a chrome and glass
interrogation room like the one in 'Men In Black'," Jeremy said.
	"Sorry.  I thought the same thing the first time I saw it," I
said.  "But I assure you, it's clean, just dusty."
	"So why here?" Brad asked.
	"It's totally private and we can all be frank with each other," I
said.  "Your dad has decided to ... enlighten you on a few things you
aren't aware of."
	"Propaganda?" Brad asked belligerently.
	"You can decide just exactly what it is after you've heard it," I
said.  "Rover, go ahead."
	After a deep breath, Rover said, "I was twenty-two when I met
your mom.  She was in high school at the time.  I had a promising
career as a fireman and the captain sent me to JFK High on career day
to speak to all the young guys about the day in the life of a fireman.
It doubled as a tool for recruiting graduating seniors.  The lecture
went well, as did the question and answer period that followed.  That
is, until your mom--just a girl in the classroom at that time--asked
what firemen did AFTER work."
	Rover's eyes got hazy in remembrance and in a suggestively
feminine tone, Rover said, "So, Mr. Wheatley, what kind of equipment
does a fireman take home to his wife after work?"
	Back in his own voice, Rover said, "'Uh, I'm not sure.  I'm not
married,' I answered her.  I was flustered by her remark and stammered
over the last few questions and answers before the bell rang.  I'd
never been popular in school myself.  Never dated.  So when your mom
came on to me after school, I was flattered.  She asked me out on a
date."
	"'Mr. Wheatley,' she said, catching up to me and walking backward
so she could look and talk to me at the same time, 'would you take me
back to the house and show me your equipment?'"
	"I didn't know what equipment she was talking about because I
didn't have any stuff from work at the house.  Anyway, I stopped
walking because I didn't want her to trip.  She locked eyes with me and
I fell in love with her right then and there.  I decided at that
moment, I'd do anything she asked.  Of course, I didn't know she was
propositioning me.  I thought she was talking about the firehouse, so I
said, 'The department doesn't train women to be fire fighters.  At
least, I don't think they do.'"
	"'I'm not talking about THAT equipment, silly,' she giggled."
	I smiled at the thought of Rover's young innocence.
	"Then your mom pressed against me and kissed me.  I wasn't used
to girls being so forward but I'd heard a lot of 'em were gettin'
bolder.  Anyway, I said, 'okay' and we went to my place.  As soon as we
got there, she called her mother and told her she was at Wendy's--her
best friend, I found out.  She spent the night and I dated her until
she graduated the next year.  We got married as soon as she graduated."
Looking at Brad he said, "You were born about a year later."
	"You make her sound like a tramp," Brad said.
	Rover's only response was to raise an eyebrow before he said in a
conversational tone, "Wendy, your mom's best friend, came over
frequently and one night your mom insisted she spend the night because
Wendy was too drunk to drive.  Your mom said they'd been drinking all
day and I knew she'd had six beers after I got home, so I agreed.  Your
mom helped her into the bedroom and, with both of them giggling, your
mom poured Wendy into the bed."
	"Oh, I get it," Brad accused, "Mom's a drunk and she made YOU
sleep on the sofa.  Oh, no, wait, I know what it was.  Mom's a lesbian
and she wanted to sleep with Wendy more than she did you, so you beat
her.  Is that how it got started?" .
	I wanted to say something but this was Rover's choice so I
decided to let him handle it any way he wanted.
	"To the contrary," Rover said, calmly.  "I offered to sleep on
the sofa but your mom insisted we all sleep together."
	"'My big strong man's got to get a good night's sleep so he can
put out fires and save lives,' she said, slurring her words."
	Rover sipped his coffee.
	"As soon as your mom fell asleep, Wendy started coming on to me.
She wasn't the least bit drunk--as far as I could tell.  When I
refused, she nudged your mom and said, 'You're gonna have to help me.'"
	"'Oh go on, screw her,' your mom said.  'She's got this thing
for firemen.'"
	"'Honey,' I said to your mom, not wanting to do it."
	"Yeah, and the Pope ain't really Catholic," Brad said.
	"Then your mom rolled over and started makin' out with Wendy.  I
tried not to watch but I couldn't help it.  I'd never seen two women
do it together.  Before I knew it, I was screwin' both of 'em, eatin'
'em out, the whole nine yards."
	"Surprise, surprise," Brad said derisively.
	Continuing like he hadn't been interrupted, Rover said, "The week
after Wendy spent the night, I had another career day lecture at the
high school.  Wendy's sister, April, was in one of the classes.  I'd
met her several times.  When Wendy was babysitting April, they would,
quite often, visit with your mom and they'd still be there when I got
home.  Anyway, April and I sat together at lunchtime with all her
little friends.  They were thirteen or fourteen, I guess.  The
following Saturday, April came over after Wendy and your mom went
shopping."
	"I suppose April was into firemen, too," Brad said, like it was
an accusation.
	Jeremy was being his usual quiet self but I saw him bristle each
time Brad interrupted.  I imagine it wasn't as much about Brad
interrupting his father, as it was about Brad just being rude.
	"Yes she was into firemen, to a certain extent," Rover said.
"She told me she wanted me to have sex with her.  I told her she was
too young."
	"'Am not!' she said petulantly.  'And if you don't fuck me, I'm
gonna tell Wendy you did anyway.'"
	"She's not gonna believe you.  She knows I don't cheat on my
wife."
	"'Except with Wendy,' April said.  'Wendy told me you fucked her.
She said you couldn't get enough of her.'"
	"I'm not gonna have this discussion with you, April, so just go
home and forget about it."
	"'Can I use your phone?' she asked, 'to call my folks to come get
me?'"
	"'Sure,' I said, glad to get rid of her."
	Brad rolled his eyes.
	"After she dialed the phone and let it ring for a moment, she
threw the receiver on the floor and started yelling, 'Help me.  Help!
Rape!  He's raping me.  Please help me.'"
	Brad's and Jeremy's eyes widened in surprised disbelief.
	"I picked up the phone and listened to see if it was a recording,
like when you call 'time' but I heard some woman saying, 'Who is this?
Where are you?' so I hung it up."
	"Yeah, like it couldn't be traced," Brad said.
	"That was before caller ID and stuff like that," Rover said.
	"Oh, yeah, pre Gen X," Brad said, like everyone over twenty-five
was from a different planet.
	"After her little performance, April asked proudly, 'So, you
gonna fuck me, now?'"
	"'Not until after your sister gets back,' I told her, hoping to
buy some time."
	"'I don't want her around.  All she'll do is hog you like she
does all my other boyfriends.'"
	"'All your boyfriends!' I asked her.  'How many do you have ...
HAVE you had?  You're only, what, fourteen?'"
	"Seven, not including you, but you're the oldest."
	"I'm not your boyfriend."
	"'Yes you are, you just don't know it yet.  Come on, let's go in
the bedroom.  I want to get fucked right where you screwed my sister.'
When I hesitated, she said, 'You might as well do it.  I'm gonna tell
them you did even if you don't but I WON'T tell 'em if you DO.'"
	"So you fucked a fourteen year old." Brad said contemptuously.
Then, in a mocking tone, he said, "What can I do?  She was going to
blackmail me!"
	"You're half right, Brad.  I DIDN'T want to do it because she was
blackmailing me but I DID want to do it because she was fourteen."
	"You sick fuck!" Brad spat.
	"The way she was coming on to me made me feel like I was back in
high school, myself.  In my mind, I was the popular kid all the girls
wanted to fuck.  I was the jock all the guys admired."
	"In your mind you were all the things you never were and never
COULD be because you were one sick, perverted son of a bitch."
	"Not in high school, I wasn't.  I wasn't ANYthing in high school
but that's not what I'm trying to explain here today.  April, more than
anyone, turned me into a pedophile.  No, that's not right.  She caused
it to surface when it did.  Maybe it was always there, I don't know.
Maybe it would have surfaced later.  Maybe never.  All I know is, when
I saw her lying naked on the bed, her hairless pussy just itching to
get fucked, I jumped her.  I didn't even bother to get undressed.  I
just unzipped and fucked her.  I came as soon as I entered her, like
some adolescent virgin."
	Brad was shaking his head back and forth disgustedly.
	"Like I say, I was, in MY mind, back in high school--a fourteen
year old, again.  I tried to cover up the fact that I'd ejaculated but
she knew too much--even at her age.  She told me to get undressed and
fuck her like we were lovers.  She wanted to feel me up and see my dick
and balls and asshole."
	"Oh she did not," Brad said, "not your asshole, too."
	"For a thirteen year old, she had one hellava potty mouth on
her."
	"I thought you said fourteen."
	"That's what I thought at the time, until Wendy told me later she
was only thirteen.  Anyway, I was still hard after I undressed and she
said she wanted to blow me.  She was experienced, I can tell you that.
She took me all the way to the balls on her first pass.  Her tongue was
like ... like ... a dog's tail when he's happy.  It was all over the
place.  She felt my balls like she was grading hens' eggs for small,
medium and large."
	"Did you cum in her mouth?" Brad asked as he adjusted his growing
erection.
	'Brad is, obviously, as equally turned on by his dad's actions as
he is disgusted by them,' I thought.  I slightly adjusted my own
erection.  As for Jeremy, I couldn't see any change in expression or
temperament.  It was like he was watching TV with the mute button on.
	"I didn't want to.  I tried not to but she wouldn't let me go,"
Rover said.  "After I blew my load down her throat, she wanted me to
eat her pussy.  I'm tellin' you, boys.  It was the cutest looking piece
of crack I've ever seen.  You've got to remember, my reactions to all
this were like I was back in school.  In MY mind, I was fourteen, too.
To me, her cunt looked fresh and new ... unspoiled."
	"Unspoiled!  I thought you said she had seven boyfriends.  Get
real!" Brad accused.
	"I said, it LOOKED fresh ... unspoiled.  In my mind, she was
still a virgin.  She was all the things I wanted in a girl back when I
was fourteen."
	"So you went down on her?" Brad said, readjusting his hard-on.
	"Yeah.  It was as sweet as a watermelon fresh from the field,
still warm from the summer sun.  It was as juicy as a peach."
	"Well, yeah!" Brad snorted.  "You just had a premature
ejaculation in her slimy little cooze!"
	"I didn't think about that.  At least not at the time.  I just
knew it was delicious.  Then I fucked her.  It started out tenderly but
she kept cussing at me to fuck her harder--so I did."
	Rover stopped talking and had a look on his face like he was
debating about going on.
	"Did Mom catch you?"
	"No."
	"Wendy?"
	"No.  April kept it a secret.  Well, she said she'd keep it a
secret if I'd keep fuckin' her whenever she wanted me to."
	"And you did?"
	"Yeah."
	"End of story?" Brad asked.
	"Only the beginning."
	"No fuckin' way!" Brad shouted.  "It gets worse?"
	"By the standards of modern convention, yes.  The career day
lectures were so successful, the department decided to use them as a
public-relations tool.  I was the most eloquent of the speakers so they
sent me to the middle schools and grade schools to talk to the kids.
	"Oh my god," Brad said irreverently.
	"Several of us went, taking along some of the equipment like
axes, smoke masks, oxygen tanks.  Anyway, I went in the little boys'
room.  I was already standing at the urinal peeing when one of the kids
followed me in.  He stood next to me and looked directly at my dick."
	"He said, 'Can I touch it?'"
	"I told him no."
	"He said, 'I won't tell anyone.  I know the rules.'"
	"I was flabbergasted," Rover said.
	Brad was shaking his head in disbelief, again.
	"I thought that was the end of it but later that week, he showed
up at my house."
	"How'd he get your address?"
	"He was a friend of a friend of April's.  I guess word gets
around among the under-aged community when one of them finds a willing
adult."
	"So you were a target ... a victim, is that it?  You didn't WANT
to do anything with the kid but you were forced to."
	"Brad, you act like I'm trying to make excuses.  I'm not.  I'm
trying to explain what happened to make me the way I am.  I was your
age when it started--and I can see you're way ahead of me when it comes
to sexual deviance."
	"Hey, that's not fair," Brad shouted.
	"I'm not here to accuse people--or to point fingers.  I'm here to
explain my past life to you two.  Most father's talk about their past
with their kids on a day-to-day basis--what they're proud of, what
they're ashamed of, whatever.  I mean, they talk about awards, broken
bones they've had, toys and stuff like that.  But we didn't have that
luxury, so I'm keeping our little talk today focused on the one thing
that seems to be the biggest mess between us.  I'm not asking for your
forgiveness.  I'm not trying to convince you that what I did was right
... or WRONG, for that matter."
	"So what did you do to him?" Brad asked sarcastically.
	"It's more like what he did to me."
	Brad rolled his eyes.
	"He said, 'I've already seen your pee pee, mister.  I saw the
black mole on it just under that scar thingy.'"
	"I said, 'Anybody in any men's room could see that.'"
	"He smiled and said, 'But I know it's five inches long when it's
hard and this big around.'  Then he made a ring of his little fist."
	"I was pretty sure it was damn close to my circumference--too
damn close for just a guess--so I asked belligerently, hoping to scare
him, 'How do you know?'"
	"My friend told me.  He knows this girl who told him."
	"What's her name?"
	"I don't know but he told me that if you don't agree to have sex
with me to let him know and she'll make trouble for you."
	"What's your friend's name?"
	"Can't tell you."
	"Can you call him?"
	"Why?"
	"I want to know the name of the girl."
	"April?" Brad asked.
	"You got it.  She told one of her boyfriends about me.  He was
more gay than straight, apparently.  He had sex with this kid who put
him on to me."
	"And you did what with him?"
	"Everything.  He was as experienced at eleven as April was at
thirteen."
	"Oh my god, Dad," Brad said.  "So you got a piece of eleven-year-
old tail and decided it was okay to start fuckin' your own kids?"
	"It wasn't like that!  Jeremy hadn't even been born at that time.
Your mom and I were having some problems."
	"Uh, let me guess.  Marital?  Problems with pederasty?  Problems
with fidelity, maybe?"
	"Yes and no.  Wendy came over one night, spaced out on drugs.
She and your mom had gone out together that night.  I asked her where
your mother was.  She said the only way she'd tell me was in exchange
for sexual favors--one question, one fuck ... or suck or whatever.
Eventually, after fuckin' her and eatin' her out and gettin' a blowjob,
I found out where your mom was and what she was doing."
	"Oh, I get it.  Here it comes.  It was all mom's fault, right.
You're just the poor innocent victim."
	"God damn it, Brad!" Jeremy shouted--almost giving me a heart
attack.  "He's trying to tell us something we need to know.  God only
knows WHY, but he feels it's important.  Will you just shut up?  If
it's a lie, we'll be able to tell."
	"How?"
	"Or find out the truth," Jeremy finished.
	"We don't even know where she is.  How we gonna find out?"
	"I know where she is," Rover said calmly.
	"Where?" Brad and Jeremy asked together.
	"The deal is, you listen to what I have to say.  Then, if you
want, I'll take you to see her."
	"If we want!" Brad shouted.  "If we want!  Dad, we haven't seen
her in over ten years.  Why wouldn't we want to see her?"
	Rover remained quiet for a minute.
	"Okay," Brad said, "go ahead.  I'll try to be quiet."
	Rover took a deep breath.  "When I got there ... where your mom
was ... she was so spaced out, she didn't recognize me."
	"Where was she?"
	"An abandoned warehouse."
	"Where'd she get the drugs?"
	"She wouldn't say ... or couldn't.  I don't know.  I put her in
the car and took her to the hospital.  They said she looked like she'd
been raped."
	"Was she?"
	"She didn't remember being raped.  The doctor suggested I submit
to an exam to prove I wasn't involved in any spousal abuse."
	"Yeah, like you'd be able to pass THAT test."
	"Shut up Brad!" Jeremy said, seething.
	"Your mom went through detox and life went on.  I didn't accuse
her of anything and she didn't confess to anything.  Then Jeremy was
born."
	"Are you saying I might be somebody else's kid?" Jeremy asked.
	A single tear rolled down Rover's cheek.
	"Was I crack baby?" Jeremy asked.
	"I don't know.  Records weren't kept back then.  Not like they
are today.  All I know is you cried a lot."
	"And threw up a lot," Brad said as if remembering something
crucial from his past--some valuable bit of repressed memory.  "You
always had trouble keeping food down."
	"When you were six or eight months old, your mom couldn't stand
it any longer and started going out, again, after I got home from work.
At first she'd come home before I went to work.  About the time you
turned three, Jeremy, I had to call your grandma to come sit with you
so I could go to work.  By the time you were six and you were ten or
eleven, Brad, she was a total ..."
	"A total what?"
	"Even now I can't call her names.  Not after all the things I've
done.  I don't know if she could have controlled it at the time--even
if she tried."
	"It, what?" Jeremy asked, showing some real interest for the
first time.
	"That's something you'll have to ask her."
	"What I don't understand is what all this has to do with us,"
Brad said.  "What did mom do that made you decide it was okay to treat
us like you did and fuck up OUR lives?"
	"It's not that I WANTED to and it wasn't any ONE thing.  Your mom
had a major problem that she kept hidden from me.  Or maybe I was too
blind to see.  Or maybe it was the era we grew up in.  Anyway, one
problem compounded into another and another until it was too
overwhelming for her ... or me for that matter."
	"She had a problem so you beat her?" Brad asked.
	"She ... had ways of infuriating me.  She knew my weaknesses and
she'd use them against me."
	"Weaknesses, like little boys and girls."
	"No.  She wasn't even aware of those kids at the time.  For the
most part, they would stop coming over after the first three or four
visits.  Kinda like how kids lose interest in a new toy after a day or
two."
	"So you stopped having sex with kids until WE got old enough to
molest?"
	"No.  Those kids told other kids, their younger brothers and
sisters, mostly, and they passed me around like kids swap Pokemon
trading cards, nowadays.  Don't get me wrong.  There weren't a lot of
'em.  Maybe a dozen or so over a four-year period.  And I won't lie to
you.  I liked 'em.  I liked the idea that they liked having sex with
me.  It made me feel wanted ... needed.  Something I wasn't getting
from your mom."
	"So now it's her fault again." Brad said.
	"Shut up," Jeremy spat.
	"Not hers.  Not mine," Rover said.  "If anything, circumstance is
at fault.  The kids filled a void in my life.  I got passed over for
promotion and I blamed your mother because I was spending so much time
keeping track of her--or fighting with her after she'd come home.  I
couldn't even volunteer for overtime because of her."
	"I don't remember her being gone that much," Brad said.
	"By the time Jeremy was four, she'd agreed to stay home until you
boys went to bed.  You probably never realized it but she wasn't there
when you left for school.  Only when you got home."
	Brad got pensive for a moment.  "Hey, you're right."
	"I know I'm right.  Most times, your grandma would come stay with
her during the day ... to make sure she was all right and to take care
of Jeremy."
	"What was she doin' all night?"
	"I had no idea.  I didn't WANT to know.  All I know is ..."  He
took a deep breath, "... when she pushed my buttons, I flew off the
handle and I'd hit her.  Not hard.  Just enough to knock some sense
into her ... and, even then, not often."
	In a quieter tone than his usual outburst, Brad said, "Bullshit.
I remember seeing mom bouncing off the walls."
	"Oh, she bounced off the walls, all right, but not because of
anything I did."
	"All I want to know is why did you rape me?" Brad said.
	"By the time you were nine or ten, I had had so many boys around
your age beg me to have sex with them that I thought it was natural--
natural for ALL boys to want to do it.  These were kids who were beaten
at home for masturbating, so they'd come to me for the love they didn't
get at home.  At least that's what they told me.  They said they were
denied sex education at home and at school and I was so cool to teach
them without making fun of them or punishing them.  So, one day when
you asked me what a cocksucker was, I showed you.  I figured you were
ready to learn."
	"I remember that," Brad said vaguely.  "Mom called you a
cocksucker and I didn't know what she meant."
	"She called me a lot of names from time-to-time," Rover said.
	"I think it was the next day when I asked you what a cocksucker
was.  I remember, Mom was out shopping."
	"Your mother never went shopping.  At least not the way you mean.
I bought everything that went in your mouths, on your bodies or ... or
went down the toilet, from the time Jeremy started eating solid food
until your mother ... went away."
	"What?"
	"She couldn't be trusted with money.  I couldn't even leave your
lunch money lying around for you.  I mailed it to the school each
week."
	"That doesn't explain what you did to me," Jeremy said, a slight
trace of venom in his tone.
	"Jeremy, I don't have any recollection of doing anything to you.
Age six was too young, even for me!  I admit, I sucked your brother's
little pee pee when he was nine or ten.  I got angry at your mom--and
the way my life was going--and I took it out on your brother.  Like I
say, at that time in my life, I thought I was giving Brad what every
young boy wanted.  I didn't know until after I'd lost you that the
kids I was dealing with were precocious sex fiends and that they were
turning me into a pervert.  But I swear, I don't EVER remember touching
you.  Not sexually.  Not like I did with Brad."
	Tears trickled down both of Rover's cheeks.
	"If I could remember it, I'd try to explain it."
	"You put your finger up my ass, Dad!" Jeremy snapped.  "You
played with my ... my ..." Jeremy shuddered in disgust.  "Jesus, Dad!
You did it every night for almost a week and every time you'd do it,
I'd throw up.  Not right away but within an hour or so."
	"How old were you?"
	"I'm not sure.  But for several months after that, you'd put your
finger up my ass once a week, like you wanted to make sure my asshole
wasn't growing shut or something."
	"Oh, Jesus H. Christ, Jeremy!  That was when you had Typhus or
Typhoid or something like that.  Because you were so sick when you were
young, you didn't get your regular childhood immunizations.  That, and
your mother forgot to do it.  I didn't know anything about such things
back then.  Most guys didn't.  Anyway, whatever it was you had, caused
vomiting and intestinal hemorrhaging.  The doctor told me to put my
little finger up your butt to check for bleeding.  He said, I'd be able
to tell if you were running a fever that way, too."
	"That doesn't explain playing with my jewels."
	"I wasn't PLAYING with them.  I admit, I admired them.  Both you
boys had beautiful equipment back then.  Still do.  But you had a rash
and there was this salve I had to apply once a day.  It was expensive
as hell and I didn't have insurance, so I had to work a part-time job
to pay for it.  Jeremy, that HAS to be what you're remembering."
	"What doctor did I go to?"
	"You were in such bad shape when I got home, I took you to
Emergency at Mother and Child Hospital on Appletree.  Why?"
	"I wanna see my medical records."
	"I wanna see Mom," Brad said.  "You forced her to leave home
before we ..."
	"No I didn't.  But she can tell you about that if she wants."
	"Well, all I know is Mom would never have left home for good if
she'd known you were gonna put us in foster homes," Brad accused.
	"I hadn't planned on that either but we all agreed it would be
best for the two of you."
	"'We all' who?" Brad asked.
	"Grandma, grandpa, the doctors, social services and me."
	"But not Mom?"
	"We couldn't find your mom."
	"But you know where she is now?"
	"Yeah."
	"When can we see her?"
	"Right now if you want," Rover said, looking at me for assurance.
	I nodded to confirm it was okay with me because I hoped it would
help Jeremy.
	"Brad," Jeremy said, "I don't even remember her.  I have no idea
what she looks like.  For the last eight years, the Barrettes have been
my family."
	"Even so, Jeremy, your mom would like to talk to you." Rover
said.
	"How do you know that?"
	"She told me.  That's why I decided to finally tell you two all
this."
	"Well, I don't remember her.  Hell, about all I remember of my
first foster family was they kept telling me I was only there until a
permanent foster family could be found.  I was there almost two years
and the whole time I was there, I felt like I shouldn't unpack my
suitcase.  I think they were just in it for the money.  There were
eight of us kids and none of us had the same last name as the foster
parents."
	"Poor little fella." Brad whined in mock sympathy.  Then in
disgust, he said, "Two families in ten years.  Hell, I had eight
families in eight years.  Shit, half the time, I'd start walkin' home
from school and halfway home I'd remember I'd moved to the other side
of town.  The only constant in MY life was high school and that was
only the last three years ... four years, I repeated ninth grade."
	I had been quiet the whole time but I finally had to say
something.  My heart was breaking so I knew it couldn't be any easier
on them.  When I cleared my throat, all three jumped like they'd been
caught masturbating in the choir loft at church.
	"Uh, can I interrupt here for a minute?"
	Three nods assured me I could.
	"From what I've been hearing, I'd like to recommend a time out.
A few minutes of quiet time to reflect ... to let the information take
shape.  Then, if you'll trust me, I'd like to discuss with you,
individually, what's happened."  After about five minutes of silent
reflection, I said, "Rover, can I see you outside?"
	Once we got outdoors, Rover asked, "What's this all about?"
	"How important is it that Jeremy see his mother?"
	"Very."
	"Important for you?  For her? ..."
	"For him," Rover said.  "I can't have him going through life
thinking she abandoned him."
	"But she did."
	"Under the circumstances, that's what they were allowed to
believe," Rover said sullenly.
	"Say WHAT!" I said astonished.
	"It's very important," Rover reiterated.
	"As you know, Jeremy is my sole concern here, not you, not Brad."
	"I know.  The only way Jeremy can be happy is if he and Brad
somehow come to some friendly ... and with any luck, brotherly kind of
bond."
	"In light of what you just said, should Brad be discouraged from
seeing her?"
	"No.  It will be good for both of them.  It'll be bad.  No, it'll
be devastating ... but hopefully they'll understand--eventually.
Jeremy won't admit that his mother's leaving home has had an adverse
impact on him sexually ... hell, he probably doesn't even recognize her
desertion as being part of his repressive sexuality."
	"And you're not gonna tell me about her, right?" I asked.
	"She can tell it whatever way she wants.  I've lived my life in
Hell because of her.  I don't want my sons to live that way."
	"Why now?"
	"Because it's time."
	"Jesus, you're exasperating!  You endure humiliation, deprivation,
torture, pain, everything ... but you just won't give it up."
	"Her information is not mine to give."
	"Okay.  I'll talk to Jeremy.  Would it be all right if I go,
too?"
	"I think Jeremy would want you to."
	We went back in and it didn't look like either one of the boys
had moved a muscle.
	"Jeremy, can we talk outside."
	Without a word, Jeremy got up and I followed him out.
	"I have no reason to go see her," Jeremy said adamantly.
	"I agree," I said.
	"Oh, sorry.  I thought you were gonna try and talk me into it."
	"I am."
	"End of discussion.  Let's just go back inside," Jeremy said.
	"Can we play a game first?"
	"Spunky, I don't play games.  I never win."
	"Oh, sorry, I thought meeting Rascal was a win.  I thought being
touched by Juanita would be a win.  I thought cumming in your virgin
girlfriend's pussy would be a win, but what do I know?"
	"That's not fair.  Of course those are wins.  But that's not
what I'm talking about."
	"What ARE you talkin' about?"
	"The mind games.  The hidden agendas.  All Dad wants is to get
himself off the hook.  That's all.  He doesn't care about us."
	"You know what?  I couldn't have said it better myself.  How
much do you know about my past?"
	"Enough I guess.  I know where you were before you met Rascal--
the real place--if that's what you mean."
	"You know how I got there?  Not why, but how?"
	"Kevin was a cop that set you up.  He ... 'entrapment' is the
word, right?"
	"Right.  I was set up to be captured and I spent six years ...
there ... for something many guys do every day.  You might say I was
hung on a hook to serve out my time.  One I couldn't get off of.
Kinda like that hook your dad wants to get off of.  There was nothing
I could do to get off it.  Every day I'd pray for a chance to explain
what I did, to rectify what went wrong.  But there was no one to
listen--no attorney, no judge, no jury to talk to that could make a
difference."
	"And you think talking to Mom, my biological mom, will change
something?" Jeremy asked skeptically.  "She wasn't there for me when I
needed her, so I don't need her now.  That's her tough luck.  Maybe I
don't want things to change.  Maybe I'm happy just the way things are.
I don't want her to be my mom."
	"Maybe.  But then, maybe she doesn't want to see you just to
invite you back into her life.  Maybe she wants to explain why she
couldn't be there for you."
	"Yeah, like she was kidnapped."
	"Maybe, like me, she was in prison--or worse."
	"Yeah, like what could be worse than prison?"
	"I don't know but you'll never know until you see her.  I'm not
asking you to love her or even see her again afterward.  You listened
to your dad and you found out a few things that you can investigate
further.  If you listen to your mom, maybe you won't have to--or
maybe you'll have even more stuff to investigate but it's worth
hearing, I think."
	"I don't see how it'll make any difference.  I'm damaged goods.
Juanita's willing to accept me 'as is' and I'm okay with that."
	"Wouldn't it be more fun if it were better than just 'okay?'  I'm
not saying your mom can 'heal' anything that you think is wrong with
you but she might be able to offer some explanation as to WHY you're
the way you are.  Maybe ... disperse some of those demons lurking in
the shadows.  Then, between Juanita and yourself, you can work out the
kinks to an even better relationship together."
	"Spunky, if I had a choice of all the brothers in the world, it
would be Rascal--not Brad.  If I had a choice of all the dads in the
world, it would be you--not that man in there.  Lyle and Jason would be
close runners-up but my first choice would be you."
	"Thanks.  That means a lot to me."
	"So ... if you really think this is important, I'll do it."
	"I do.  And I appreciate the sacrifice you're making.  I know
it's not easy to consider one woman your mom for so long and then have
another one appear out of the blue like a pop-up ad on a computer.
It's annoying to say the least."
	"You'll be there, right?  I'm not going with just the two of
them."
	"I'll even hold your hand if you want.  More if you'd allow it,"
I smiled, hoping to lighten his heavy mood.
	With a sad smile, Jeremy hugged me and in a whisper so low I
could barely hear it, he said, "I love you, Daddy."
	I didn't want to embarrass him by acknowledging I'd heard
something meant to be so private, so I suggested we go back inside.
	"Where to, Rover?" I asked.
	"It's a little complicated.  I'll give you directions when we get
in the car."
	Jeremy sat up front with me.  Rover and Brad sat in back, each
looking out the side window rather than the road ahead--or each other.
We drove out of town, then switched onto secondary roads into farm
country, taking several turns along the way.  After about thirty
minutes, Jeremy shifted his weight, like he was changing which butt
cheek he wanted to sit on.  In the process, he slid his left hand over
to the center of the seat.  I casually dropped mine to my lap and then
slid it over, allowing my right pinkie finger to touch his hand.
Jeremy kept his eyes on the road but gripped my hand so hard I heard
the bones crack.  I'm pretty sure it was just a knuckle popping because
there wasn't any lingering pain.
	A little later, after he let go, he whispered, "Thanks."
	'Apparently," I thought, 'not every form of comforting needs to
be tender.'
	"There's a split-rail fence coming up," Rover said.  "When you
get to the entrance, follow the driveway up to the house.  Okay?"
	"Sure," I said.  As I turned into the drive, I saw the house
quite far away on the horizon.  The closer we got, the bigger the house
got until eventually it looked like a mansion.  As we got closer, I
realized it was larger than Lyle's.  Much larger!
	"She lives here?" Brad shouted.  "We live in fuckin' foster homes
and she lives here?"
	"Do they have valet parking?" I asked.
	"Park near the door.  It'll be okay.  They don't get many
visitors."
	We all got out and walked up the fourteen steps to the porch.  I
was going to count Lyle's the next time I went over.  I was fairly sure
it was less than fourteen.  Rover opened the front door.
	"Shouldn't we knock ... or something?" I asked as I followed
Rover in.  I turned to wave the reluctant Jeremy and Brad in behind me.
	"This way," Rover said as we climbed the grand staircase--one
straight out of 'Gone With The Wind.'
	We walked down a long hall of the 'east wing' that was flanked by
doors of both sides.  As Rover opened one, I realized they all looked
alike and I hoped he hadn't miscounted.  I didn't want to end up in
someone's bedroom by mistake.  The whole time, we never once saw
another soul.  As we entered, I saw the room was well appointed with a
suite of French Provincial bedroom furniture.  There were fresh flowers
in Victorian vases and brightly colored curtains at the windows.
	The pale, bony, bald-headed woman half-reclining in the bed was
in stark contrast to her beautiful surroundings.  My first thought was
'cancer.'  Upon closer inspection, I saw the faint remnant of what was
at one time a very beautiful woman.
	"Laura," Rover said quietly, "it's Vinny.  How you feeling?"
	"Vinny?" Laura asked, blindly reaching out with a frail hand in
the direction of his voice.
	After he rested her hand in his, he leaned over and kissed her
forehead.  "I brought you some company.  Are you up for some company?"
	"Yeah, I'm feeling pretty good today.  I went out by the fish
pond this morning, so I'm a little tired but otherwise I'm okay."
	Rover, known to Laura as Vinny, motioned for me to come over to
the bed.
	I turned my index finger toward my chest and silently mouthed
'me?' while looking back and forth between the two boys.
	Vinny waved his hand insistently.
	"This is a ... friend of mine, Dick Hickey."
	"Oh my," Laura smiled as I allowed Vinny to rest her hand in
mine.  She felt the top and bottom of my hand, squeezed each of my
fingers and my thumb.  Then she said, "Oh, dear me!" followed by a
gentle twitter of laughter.
	Rover smiled before he waved Brad over. "There's someone else.
His name is Brad."
	She did the same blind-touching maneuver on Brad's hand.  With a
quizzical expression, Laura said, "Hi, Brad, it's nice to meet you."
	"And this is Jeremy."
	Laura was halfway through feeling Jeremy's hand when she said,
"Vinny, please tell me these are my babies.  Are these my Bradley and
Jeremy?"
	Jeremy withdrew his hand, abruptly.
	"Yes, Laura, it's them."
	"You mean they came, even after they found out about me?"  Tears
formed in her lifeless eyes.
	"They came because I DIDN'T tell them, Laura.  You have to do
that.  I told you that."
	"Vinny, please ... I ..."
	"I'll be in the car," Jeremy said.  Then turning to me he
growled, "I can't believe you tricked me into this.  You think I'll
break down and love her just because she's sick.  No fuckin' way."
	"Jeremy, I didn't know.  I swear."
	"Laura, for once in your life, take responsibility for what you
did," Vinny said.  "Please."
	"Jeremy, don't go.  Not yet," Laura said.  "Please, give me a
minute."
	"I suppose I can give you a minute, seeing as how that's about
all you ever gave ME in your lifetime."
	I stared at Jeremy like an alien had inhabited his body.  I had
no idea Jeremy harbored such hatred for his mother ... or such a
vindictive tongue, for that matter!
	"I deserve that." Then spreading her hands to let them rest,
palms up, by her sides--as if resolved to her fate--she said, "I
deserve all of this.  It doesn't mean I like it but I'm not going to
pretend otherwise."
	She held up her hand again and Vinny clasped it gently and sat in
a straight-back chair he'd drawn up by the bed.
	"I suppose you want to know where I've been and what I've been
doing.  Well, you better sit down 'cuz it ain't gonna be pretty."
	Brad took a chair while Jeremy and I sat on a little love seat
kind of settee near the window.
	"I met your dad when I was sixteen.  Your dad was the most
handsome man I ever met.  He was a fireman who came to our school on
career day and the moment I saw him, I knew I was in love.  I told my
friend ..." Laura looked up at the ceiling like she expected to see the
answer there.  "What was her name, Vinny?"
	"Wendy."
	"Yes, Wendy.  I told her, 'I'm gonna marry that man.'  We giggled
at the prospect and she dared me to talk to him.  He was much older
than me at the time--four or five years.  All the other girls were hot
for him, too, so I made my move before he even left the school grounds.
I talked him into ... well, let me put it this way, he was such a
virgin, I had to practically rape him to get him to sleep with me.  I'm
not going to apologize for anything I say, boys, or the way I say it--
partly because that's the way I am and partly because it's the
medication I'm on."
	"She tires easily, too," Vinny said, "so don't interrupt unless
you have to."  His eyes were glued on Brad.
	"Vinny was so shy," Laura chuckled.  "I asked to go back to his
house and he thought I meant his firehouse.  I asked to see his hose
and he thought I meant his fireman's hose.  Oh my, I should have known
right then."
	Brad opened his mouth to say something but a look from Vinny
stopped him.
	"Later, I found out he'd never dated--not even once.  Me, well,
let's just say I was raised a little more liberally."  Laura smiled at
her attempt to soften her intended revelation.  "What the hell.  I was
raised to believe the only way to receive affection was to put out.
Put out or get thrown out.  But for me, that was normal, so I didn't
know there was a difference.  Wendy and me lived in similar households.
I remember once ... we were, oh ... ten ..."
	"Laura, the boys are here," Vinny said, patting her hand.
	Using her free hand, Laura ran her splayed fingers through some
imaginary hair and used the back of her hand to flip it behind her
shoulder.  "I was pretty back then.  Vinny told me every day before he
went to work how beautiful I was.  No one ever told me that before."
Then, in a colder tone, she said, "Not my dad, not my brothers, none
of the sons of bitches who ever fucked me told me I was pretty."
	"Wendy thought you were pretty," Vinny said calmly.
	Calming down immediately, Laura said, "Wendy wasn't what you'd
call a pretty girl.  She was always a little big for her age.  Her
height, not her weight and she had a long, square-jawed face.  The boys
at school made fun of her ... called her 'horse face.'  They'd say
things like, 'She's so ugly her own brothers won't fuck her.'"
	"The boys want to hear about you, pet," Vinny said.
	"Did my boys grow up to be as handsome as you, Vinny?"
	"They're very handsome, pet."
	Running the flat of her hand over her bald head she said, "I'm
not pretty any more.  But my baby was.  He could charm the pants off
all my girlfriends even before he would walk.  After he started
walking, though, he loved to run up to them and bury his face in their
crotch and giggle.  He'd do it to you, too, Vinny.  There were times I
thought his head hit you so hard it was gonna damage your goods.  I
know it must have hurt but you never flinched.  Then he'd stretch out
his arms for you to pick him up.  He'd kiss you all over your face like
you'd do to me every night when you got home from work.  Remember that,
Vinny?"
	"Yeah," Vinny said, tears threatening to spill, "Yeah, I do,
honey."  There was an audible hitch in his voice as he spoke.
	Laura's face got thoughtful and it was like a dark cloud crossed
over it.  "That's when I first did the bad thing, isn't it?"
	"It wasn't conventional, no," Vinny said.  His tone was non-
judgmental.
	"There was this vacant warehouse on the west side of town and I
used to go there.  It was where all the truckers and bikers went.  I
don't know why THEY went there but I know why I went.  I bet I could
get screwed by a hundred guys in one night out there.  Never the same
one twice.  Well, I mean, the guys would screw me again the next
time," Laura said defensively.  "I wasn't a rotten lay. What I meant
was, there was always that many men available."
	Laura coughed politely and Vinny handed her a glass of water.
"Sip this."  When she was done, he replaced the glass--never once
letting go of her other hand.
	"One night I didn't come home and your dad found me.  I was
strung out on some dope one of the guys had.  At first, I didn't feel a
thing, the dope didn't have any effect on me, so I took some more.  It
wasn't the first time I'd done dope.  It was just the first time it
didn't affect me.  They were pills.  I didn't get into shootin' up
until after Jeremy was born.  But that night, for some reason, I
couldn't get enough.  Pills OR sex.  I remember a bunch of guys from
the college showed up.  That's about all I remember, this many years
later, about that night.  But I remember THEM because they were wearing
white fraternity sweaters with their Greek letters on 'em.  Pop and my
brothers had always fucked me the regular way--never in the ass but
these boys wanted to take me in my ass."
	Vinny had a surprised look on his face like he'd just learned
something new.  'I wonder if it was her revelation about the frat boys
or the mention of anal sex.'
	"I thought that was funny," Laura continued.  "I remember
giggling the whole time ... well, until I passed out.  I woke up in the
hospital.  The doctors treated me for substance abuse first.  I was in
detox ... what, a month or two?"
	"Two weeks before you came home."
	"Before I went home but after I was thinking straight ... well,
better anyway, they asked if I remembered being raped.  I told them no.
In my mind, it wasn't.  I went to the warehouse looking for sex, so
when they said 'rape,' it just didn't click in my mind 'sexual abuse,'
or whatever.  Every damn day, this same doctor came in and asked that
same question.  Thanks to his persistence, he finally got the answers
he needed because I was diagnosed as ... uh ..."
	"A nymphomaniac," Vinny said.
	"That's right, I'm a nymph."
	'Nympho,' I thought, 'there's a difference.'
	"After I recovered, Jeremy was born," Laura said sourly.  "He and
Bradley were as different as chalk and cheese.  All he did was cry and
puke.  Usually he never kept enough down to poop but when he did, it
was like a toxic waste dump.  Phew!" Laura said, fanning her hand in
front of her nose.
	Vinny looked at Jeremy with a wry smile and nodded.
	"Were you still having sex with Rove ... Vinny while you were
doing all this?" Jeremy asked quietly.
	"Oh my yes," Laura said, squeezing Vinny's hand.  "I never could
say no to Vinny--not that I'd ever want to.  He was always concerned
for my comfort.  Not like Pop or the boys.  To them, I was just a
convenient cum dump--one they didn't have to clean up after.  Let me
put it this way.  Those boys never had much need for Kleenex as long as
I was around.  Wendy's dad was nice, though, but more like Pop than
Vinny.  Should I tell 'em about Wendy?"
	"If you want.  I told them what I remembered about it ..."
	"Oh good.  I didn't want to tarnish your reputation," she said
sincerely.
	"There's no fear of that," Vinny said.
	"Wendy and I did everything together.  We told each other our
darkest secrets and our brightest hopes.  From the day I met your
father, though, we agreed that if one of us got him, we'd have to
share.  Well, let me tell you, I wanted him for myself, so it wasn't
until after we were married that I devised a plan for Wendy."
	Jeremy looked bored.  I don't think he got the answer to his
question that he wanted but he was too polite to disrupt her pre-Jeremy
reverie.
	"We pretended to get her drunk.  She was good at it.  If she
pretended she was drunk, she could get just about any boy to fuck her.
Well,  Vinny wanted no part of Wendy sleeping over.  I told him she
couldn't drive home because she was too drunk.  He offered to drive
her.  I had to think fast, so when I told him I was too drunk to be
left alone with the baby, he agreed to let her sleep at our place.
There was no way he would endanger the safety of his baby boy."
	Vinny didn't move his head but his eyes looked in Brad's
direction.
	"He took Bradley down to the firehouse every Saturday for a
couple of hours, just to show him off.  It didn't matter to him to be
seen with a diaper bag.  The guys kept up a running joke, kidding him
during the week about forgetting to bring his purse to work.  He just
went along with it.  Nothing they said or did ever changed the way he
felt about his Baby Bradley."  Laura smiled warmly at the recollection.
"Well, somehow, we finally got your dad to screw Wendy.  I don't think
she'd ever been so happy in her life.  Like I say, he was such a sweet
lover."
	"Did he tell you she kept coming over?" Brad asked.
	"Oh, yes.  There's not a dishonest bone in his body.  You see,
Wendy and I got your dad used to three-ways.  I don't think he was ever
really comfortable with it but when Wendy and I would do each other,
your dad would get as hard as his helmet.  You see, I felt my nympho
... whatever, coming back, so Wendy kept him happy at home while I was
out.  And, while your dad was a wonderful lover, I needed MORE--not
BETTER.  And I don't mean size.  God knows, your dad's not the biggest
hung man in the world but he sure knew how to use it ... once I showed
him where to put it."  She snickered again.  "Hell, ANY size was fine!
What I needed was multiple partners--the more the merrier."
	Vinny nodded, agreeing.
	"But I already mentioned that, didn't I?"
	"Yes," Jeremy said.  "Did you have sex with Vinny ..."
	"Oh yes.  I forgot.  Your dad was so understanding and he loved
me so much.  While I was recovering, he just about wore himself out
trying to work and keep me satisfied sexually, too.  You gotta
remember, I was used to doing it all night, so with him working days
and fuckin' most of the night, he only got two or three hours sleep."
	Again Vinny nodded his head in agreement.  Jeremy's expression
implied to me that he wasn't pleased with the answer.  If I knew
Jeremy, he wanted her to say 'no' so he could deny Rover being his
father.  Now, he couldn't be sure without a DNA test.
	"I saw what I was doing to your father so I started sneaking out
again.  Mostly during the day.  That way my mom could stay with the
crying baby while Bradley was in school but there wasn't much action
during the day.  It only took two years, I think, and I was as bad as I
ever was.  The warehouse out by the new state complex--I think it's a
sporting goods store, now--was busier than ever.  They had a police
academy out there and they'd bring new recruits over.  In fact, the
state police kept the warehouse stocked with condoms.  They were
supposed to be for the officers and the new recruits, so they wouldn't
catch anything from me, but most everybody used 'em--anybody who wanted
to, that is.  You see, since I wasn't gettin' paid, it wasn't
prostitution and since it wasn't in public, they couldn't arrest me for
that, either."
	Vinny shrugged his shoulders.
	"Is that why he beat you?" Brad asked.
	"Beat me?  He never beat me!  He was always there to pick me up
but he never knocked me down.  The pills I was taking caused a ...
neuro ...."
	"Neurological imbalance," Vinny offered.
	"... that made me fall down all the time.  Of course I didn't
care 'cuz I preferred being on my back anyway."  Laura chuckled.  Then
her mood darkened.  "But it was hell on Vinny.  He'd try to talk me
into not going out or to quit takin' drugs and I wouldn't be real nice
to him.  I'd call him names.  Accuse him of doing things he'd never do.
I even threatened to tell social services that he was a bad father,
that he beat you and ..."
	"But he did!" Brad shouted.
	Calmly, Laura said, "I know he did.  But that was only after I
accused him of it so many times.  I'd get in an argument with your dad
and when I realized I was losing--which was most of the time--I'd pull
out my incest card.  I bet I did that ... well, for two or three years
before he finally had had it.  I think you were nine or ten and you
asked me what a cocksucker was.  I told you to ask your dad because HE
was one."
	"I remember," Brad said quietly.
	"A few weeks later, I once again accused him of butt fuckin' you
and he blew up at me.  He smacked me in the face and called me a liar.
Then he snapped.  He said, 'If I'm gonna be accused of it, I might as
well get the pleasure of it, too!'  He dragged you out of bed and fucked
you right in front of me.  I knew then, anytime I wanted to make him
mad, I could accuse him of molesting you boys."
	"Why would you want to make him mad?  You said you loved him."
	"I did.  I still do.  I just needed to get him so mad at me that
he wouldn't come looking for me while I did my nympho thing.  You see,
back then, they had a NAME for what I was but they didn't have a CURE
for it.  Hell, they hadn't even looked into treatment or intervention--
none of that stuff.  Just like my incest.  You see, I accused your dad
of fucking you because I knew Pop fucked my brothers.  Your dad kept
denying it but I didn't believe him.  Then he snapped."
	Vinny grimaced.
	"You didn't have to see a shrink?" Brad asked in disbelief.
	"Yeah!" Laura said dismissing the idea.  "All he said was I
needed to take charge of my life, get off drugs and practice
abstinence--except with Vinny.  Hell, for a shrink, he didn't have any
idea what nymphomania was all about.  It doesn't have some light switch
attached to it.  Shit!  It's ALWAYS on.  I'm on the most powerful
medication known to man right now and I'd take all of you on at one
time, right now!  It's not just a desire.  It's an itch so deep and so
powerful no amount of scratching touches it."
	I saw Brad was getting a thoughtful look.  Jeremy's expression
was still rather blank, like he wasn't hearing any of this.
	"It's like a mosquito bite.  When you scratch it, it feels good.
Well, I had a hundred mosquito bites inside me and the more I scratched
'em, the better I felt.  So I got addicted to the scratching--the
fucking--and mentally, I guess I ended up with TWO hundred mosquito
bites."
	Brad nodded knowingly.
	"Anyway, one day, I just gave up fighting it.  I left the house
and never came back.  I knew your dad thought I would be back, so that
worked to my advantage by buying me some time.  I talked a biker into
taking me out of state.  Then I started hitching rides at truck stops
in exchange for blowjobs.  This one trucker figured he'd found a
goldmine and asked if I'd do some of his buddies.  They set me up in
his apartment and every trucker who came through town fucked me--or I
blew them ... or both.  But there weren't enough of them at any one
time to satisfy me.  Quantity not quality, remember?"
	Vinny handed Laura the glass again.  "Here, take a sip."
	She did but continued.  "I headed to Las Vegas.  It was the
fastest growing city in the States about then.  Well, I only lasted a
month or two because people were more interested in gambling than sex
and besides, sex was legal.  Not in Vegas but in a nearby county.  I
thought there would be lots of horny construction workers but there
weren't--not horny ones, anyway.  So I moved to Frisco."
	"San Francisco," Vinny said, "they don't like it to be referred
to as Frisco."
	"Well, all I know is, it was too queer for me.  Not that I got
anything against queers, except, the little cocksuckers ruined any
chances I had of getting laid.  Stayed in LA a week or two after
Frisco.  Hooked up with a drug-dealing pimp who put me on a bus as soon
as he found out I was a nympho."  Laura took a long pause and looked
like she was getting tired.
	"To where?" Brad asked after about a minute.
	"San Diego.  The dealer in LA knew nymphos were bad for business.
We'd give it away rather than haggle over the fee.  So that's when I
met this guy from the Navy base.  He found me an apartment near the
base.  Between him and word of mouth, I became pretty popular.  I think
the three years I was out there, I must have taken on the whole Pacific
fleet--and not just the American's.  I'm not bragging, boys.  I really
do believe that.  I was so busy suckin' and fuckin' ... you know,
scratchin' my itch, that I didn't find time to do drugs.  You wouldn't
know it now, but San Diego was the best thing that ever happen to me."
	"Yeah, like morphine is a cure for heroine," Brad said snidely.
	"Actually, you're closer to the truth than you know.  People take
morphine for the pain--usually just before they die.  San Diego dried
out my drug addiction.  I didn't know it at the time but that guy from
the Navy base, Sergeant Winslow, was makin' a fuckin' fortune off my
ass."  Then Laura started giggling until she couldn't stop.
	We all sat and watched as tears streamed down her face from
laughing so hard.  She finally caught her breath.
	"Oh my.  Oh my.  That's just too rich.  Makin' a fuckin' fortune
... get it?  A fortune from me fuckin' ... a 'fucking' fortune.  Oh
my," she chuckled.
	Apparently, neither of the boys saw any humor in it.
	"Those were some of the most peaceful days of my life.  The itch
for sex was still there but it wasn't as urgent because it was being
scratched all the time.  I could spend hours suckin' cock, and gettin'
fucked. I even learned to enjoy gettin' butt-fucked.  I had a couple
of Navy buddies who always came in together.  They'd fuck both holes at
once--one in front, one in back--but instead of kissing ME, they'd kiss
each other.  They swear they're not gay and you know what?  I believe
'em.  Sharin' me was exciting and forbidden and I think they felt the
same way about that kiss.  I really don't think they kissed each other
except when they were fucking me.  It was kinda like they were sharin'
a cigarette or something.  I really think it takes all kinds to make up
this world."
	Jeremy perked up slightly, then sulked.  "How much of this has,
uh, Vinny ... coached you to say?"
	"Not a word.  In fact, I'm guessing some of this is even news to
him.  We never talked much about what I did or why I did it.  He
figured out early on that I was raised in an incestuous atmosphere.
And I know Wendy's sister started having sex with Vinny.  She thought
she was going to make me mad by telling me about it.  Instead, I told
her about some of the things Vinny liked best.  Little tricks I'd
learned."
	Vinny frowned.
	"I guess once she found out I didn't mind Vinny fucking her, she
stopped seeing him.  She told some of her young friends to stop over,
though."
	"Did you know they were little boys?" Brad asked vindictively.
	"As long as Vinny was kept happy, I didn't care.  I loved him."
	"Loved him so much you went away." Brad spat.
	"Loved him so much I came back."
	"Loved him so much you deserted us ... all of us." Jeremy said.
	"Loved all of you enough to get my sorry ass out of town before I
ruined YOUR lives, too.  There's no way you two could have had a happy
childhood with me.  What you had to endure WITHOUT me was a hundred
times better than the life you'd have had WITH me.  A thousand times
better."
	"You don't know that!" Brad accused.  "You're just saying that to
make yourself feel better.  I didn't have a home!  I didn't have any
parents!"
	Calmly, Laura said, "My life was not pleasant by any means but
I'm sure yours was worse ... because you were the ones who had to live
it.  You had to SURVIVE it.  But think back on your life--that unhappy
childhood--that painful childhood.  Now add to that all the kids at
school calling ME names: whore, slut, cocksucker, crackhead, doper,
liar, cheater, thief, home wrecker, pervert, unfit mother.  I was all
of those things, so they'd have every right to say them and you'd have
no right to defend me.  And you know what?  Even if I'd stayed here, I
still wouldn't have BEEN here."
	"What's that supposed to mean?" Brad asked.
	"I was spaced out on drugs.  If I was sitting in the living room
watching TV with you or helping you with your homework, I wouldn't be
there.  My mind would be in that damn warehouse having sex because no
matter where I was, I was thinking about sex.  If I'd have stuck
around, I would have fucked both of you.  Just like Pop fucked me.  I
didn't know any better.  I grew up thinking it was okay.  So to me,
taking you to bed would have been natural."
	"Better my mother than my father," Brad said, "at least it would
have been heterosexual."
	"Don't fool yourself, Bradley," Laura said, "You were queer for
your brother from the minute I brought him home."
	"What!" Brad shouted.
	Jeremy's eyes suddenly showed a glimmer of interest.
	"Such a queer little boy."  Again Laura had that lost-in-memory
expression.  "You'd suck on Jeremy's little pee pee the whole time I
was feeding him a bottle."
	"Did not."
	"Yes you did."
	"Why didn't you stop me?"
	"That's what I'm trying to explain.  At the time, I remember
thinking you were jealous of all the attention the sick baby was
getting.  Kinda like when kids go back to sucking their thumbs after
they've broken the habit.  I thought you were looking for praise by
being so nice to your baby brother.  To me, the way I was brought up,
sucking your brother's wee wee was okay ... an expression of love."
	"You HAD to have been taught otherwise once you were in school."
	"They tried to tell me it was wrong, but when I went home and
told Pop, he told me they were a bunch of liars.  Who ya gonna believe,
a bunch of strangers or your own family?  So, when your daddy came home
one night and saw what you were doing--sucking your brother--he took
you in the bedroom and gave you a stern talking to."  Laura chuckled
again.  "You gave him such a fit that night.  He asked you not to do it
again and you said you liked doin' it.  Then you started crying and he
asked why.  You said you thought you'd done something bad.  He told you
that what you did was 'okay this time' but you weren't to ever do it
again.  When you kept crying, he asked again and you said you were
afraid you were gonna be punished.  You know what he told you?"
	"What?"
	"He said he couldn't punish you for his shortcomings."
	"What does that mean?"
	"The way he explained it, it was his fault that he didn't teach
you better ... teach you not to do it before you did it.  But he said
you'd be punished if you ever did it again."
	"Great green whoopee for him." Brad said.
	"You were about seven or eight," Vinny said, "and I thought maybe
you'd somehow seen me with one of the boys I was telling you about.  So
when I saw YOU doing it, I thought it was my fault.  I couldn't punish
you for something I was doing myself.  I just didn't want you to keep
doing it ... hoping, I guess, that you'd turn out normal."
	"Why don't I remember any of this?"
	"Trauma blocks out a lot of memories," Vinny said.  "The brain
has an amazing capacity to hide or store things away for later use,
memories we don't want to process or cope with at that exact moment.  I
bet if you started talking to your best friend from high school about
the events of the prom, you'd be amazed at what he remembers and what
you've forgotten--and vice versa."
	"Are we done here?" Jeremy asked, "or is there some other tidbit
of disgusting information you want to dump in my lap?"
	"This isn't all about you, Jeremy." Brad said.  "I know these
people don't mean a damn thing to you but there are some things I'd
like to know.  I haven't lived the charmed life you have.  Your
memories of them might be vague but mine are still vivid."
	"What's on your mind?" Laura asked.
	"First, why didn't Dad ever tell us this shit?  Why make us wait
this long?"
	Laura said, "He was trying to protect me ... to keep you from
hating me any more than you already did because I left.  If you hate
him for anything, hate him for not wanting to hurt you."
	"He could have told us."
	"It was my life.  It was up to me to try to explain it."
	"Why now?" Brad asked.  "Why not later?"
	"Because there isn't much 'later' left.  You see, in my lifetime
I've had syphilis, gonorrhea, herpes, and now I have full-blown
AIDS.  One or more of those diseases has left me blind.  Life's ironic
punishment, I guess.  I chose not to see my boys grow up and now that
they're grown, I can't see them ... admire them."
	"Is this supposed to pull at my heartstrings so I'll welcome you
back into my life?" Jeremy asked dryly.
	All day I kept thinking he was acting rudely to mask his emotions
but I finally decided he really DIDN'T have any emotions for these two.
He was too young to really get attached to them.  Brad, on the other
hand, was just old enough to feel he'd been robbed of a home life and
abandoned by those who were supposed to love him.
	"Why now?" Laura said.  Again, she seemed to be one question
behind, like the diseases had slowed down her ability to 'think fast.'
"Well, your dad's been telling me that you two have some ... confusion
about his love for you.  I can assure you, if he EVER did anything to
hurt you, it was unintentional.  Either he didn't know it was wrong or
he was provoked or he wasn't aware that his actions would cause some
emotional issues, later.  I don't think he's capable of hate, or
dishonesty.  But since I won't be around much longer, I wanted you to
know, no one has ever loved you more or wanted to protect you from harm
more than him."
	"How is it that you can afford to stay here?" Brad asked.
	"That sergeant I told you about in San Diego--the one who," and
Laura smiled, "made so much fuckin' money off my ass?  Well, it seems
he was an honorable person.  He put money away in an account for me the
whole time I was there.  It's paying for me to be here, near your dad.
He's been a great comfort to me the last few months 'cuz you see, I
still love him--always will."
	"Till death do us part," Vinny said, tears spilling over.
	"If you want to know more, you'll have to come back.  I'm pretty
tired.  It's exhausting reliving all those men I fucked."
	I stood up and escorted the boys out to the hall, leaving Vinny
to say goodbye in private.  As the three of us walked down the grand
staircase in silence, I thought, 'I wonder if all this will help Jeremy.
I sure hope so.'  I knew we wouldn't be able to talk about it on the
ride home but I hoped I would be able to find just the right time to
discuss it with Jeremy.  He's a bright boy and he can usually figure
things out but, sometimes, you just have to hear them being said aloud,
coming from your own mouth, for it to make sense.  I wanted to be his
sounding board--since Rascal was still hospitalized.

To be continued.

Thanks for coming back for more. Maybe some of you readers know of websites
that buy stories.  Or maybe you know of agents who represent authors.  If
so, let me know.  Thanks.  Keep in touch with me at
zestful@myexcel.com