Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 {Now I know this is slow going, why I put it in the title.  Wrote it that
way, but not so much to make a point as to illustrate the Setting.  Where,
and when they are, time is perceived differ'nt, because they have plenty.
They don't rush around, pretty much ever, because there's rarely ever any
need to hurry.  So, realistically, they're not going to rush into sex.  On
the contrary, they'll do what they always do, what they're good at:

   Waiting.  There's plenty of quick strokers, all over this site, and
others.  I write them too, but that wasn't what I woke up to this morning.
Sometimes, I like to take it slow, if I have the time...}

   ;

   Tess

   I remember the man.  He didn't tell me his name, and I never saw him
again.  This was a long time ago, and I was very young, but I remember it
clearly, because of what the grownups said.

   About sex, without really saying sex.  About a "Bad man" and touching
you.  In a way that made you feel bad?  It didn't I liked it, it felt
really good.  So, I didn't tell them, but I knew what they were talking
about.  Every time they said that, or I saw it on TV, it reminded me, of
him.

   He was real tall, of course.  Big, and tall, and for some reason I was
out a lone.  Far too young to be left alone, but I wasn't scared, I wasn't
crying, I just couldn't find a bathroom.  He was nice to me, he took me to
one, and even helped me up on the toiled, because they didn't have a potty.

   That young, potty trained, but still so young, I can't even be sure how
old I was, in years.  Maybe 5?  Again, I don't know what I was doing out,
alone, so young in the first place, but I pooped, and wiped, he helped me
down from the toilet, then he peed.  Right in front of me, standing up, and
I had never seen one before.

   He didn't molest me right there.  He didn't get hard or even try to
touch me while my underpants were down, he just helped me up, helped me
down, and peed.  Then, he asked me were I lived, I said something like
"Home" or equally ridiculous.  "With mommy and daddy" or whatever, but then
he asked me if I know how to get there, I said no, and so he took me in his
car to help me look.

   Up in his lap, to see out, then he drove around, and at some point he
got uncomfortable.  He pulled over, and made me scoot out, just a second,
while he moved something in his pants.  I asked him what it is, I mean I
knew what it was, as soon as I felt it, and scooched back in his lap, I
just didn't know what it was called.

   He told me not too worry about it, I was too young, but that's what
makes him a man.  He blamed me, for making it stiff, and told me not to
scooch around so much, but I was sick of looking for mommy and daddy's
house, so I wanted to play.  I giggled, and scooched back on his lap again,
to bump it with my butt, and giggle.

   "Now now, stop that." I distinctly remember him saying that, exactly how
he said it, but I giggled, and kept bumping it, because it was fun, so he
made me get off his lap.

   I wanted to see it, I didn't know anything about sex, nobody talked
about it, they even talked around it, and tried not to actually say it with
a sex abuse victim, like a molested child.  That's why we didn't know any
better, and adults could molest children, because they didn't warn us, and
gave us stories that were too open to interpretation.  He didn't look like
a big bad wolf, so I didn't even think of that.  Like my fiend, Marcy, who
didn't think of bad men when her mommy came in to tuck her in at night. 
So, if you're trying to warn us, you didn't do a real good job.

   "You want to see it?" Again.  "You really do?" He looked around, but I
guess nobody was around, because he undid his pants.  It wasn't soft, and
floppy, like when I saw it when he was peeing.  Of course, I giggled, and
he played with it, until I wanted to play with it too.  I didn't know how,
I saw how he did it, but I couldn't get both my hands around it anyway, and
I had more fun playing with it, like a toy.

   That's when he started touching me.  Bent over from the passenger seat,
so I could reach in his lap, he felt my bottom first.  Through my skirt,
but then he got braver, still looking around, and he reached up under it.
He was hairy, and I liked his balls more.  They were loose, and hairy, so I
could play with them, and roll them around, but he didn't mind.  He just
let me play with them, and stayed hard while he molested me.

   At first, I was just having fun.  Playing with this weird thing I had no
idea boys had, because they never showed me, or told me before, but then I
started feeling something else.  I had no idea, until years later
remembering it fondly, that it was erotic.  My sexual awakening happened
when I couldn't have been any more than about 5, or 6, playing with a
stranger's balls in his car, while he touched under my skirt.

   All over, especially my legs, but all over them.  Kneeling, and bent
over like that to get in his lap, it didn't tickle, but I didn't know,
anything.  It was new, and exciting, I stopped giggling, because it didn't
tickle, and I really started to enjoy the wonder feeling of his had on my
legs.  Rubbing all over, back and forth, down to my calf, and up over my
knee.  Under my thigh, and across my butt.  With a nice squeeze before he
moved on, to my other leg.  His fingers slipped out, brushing the inside of
my thigh, then he gripped it.  In his big fingers, and rubbed down the
front to the knee.  Then back up, so the thumb rubbed the inside of my
thigh, then his knuckles brushed my skirt under my skirt, and I felt them
with my tummy, before he felt my other thigh.  Up and down, only his
fingers were on the inside, and his thumb on the outside.

   And that how he turned me on, the first time I ever felt sexual arousal,
with no idea what it was, other than the best feeling ever.  Better than
tickles, or hugs and kisses, I said "I think I have to pee again."

   I lied, I didn't feel it, full inside.  I just felt it, in my pussy. 
Didn't know that's what it was, but he asked me, "In here?" And touched me,
maybe I even said that sou he would touch it again, since he barely did
before, going back and forth between my legs, but I just stopped.  Playing
with his balls, doing anything, I just sat down, and he turned me around.

   I heard him, beating of behind me.  Even had some idea what he was
doing, having seen him play with it briefly, but right handed.  Now, I was
just laying back, it was hot, in the car so I didn't know that was part of
the feeling, but his hand felt so nice on my undies, then he kind of
scooped me up with his fingers?  I don't know, I felt them slip under me,
to squeeze my butt this time, I suppose he had to stick his elbow out to
reach around like that, I couldn't keep my eyes open.

   I could feel his thumb.  In front, his fingers squeezing my buttock, and
even one of them pushing the fabric in between them, but what I really felt
was his thumb pressing in the front.  Gripping me through the light cotton,
so his fingers could grope, and fondle my buttock, then he stopped.

   "Aw, dang!" That's what he said.  I opened my eyes, and twisted around.
To look up a first, but it looked like it hurt.  He grunted, but then I
looked down, and giggled.  At the mess he made, it squirted up on the
steering wheel, and dribbled down his knuckles, so I saw directly where it
peed out before he finished.  I touched it, on his hand first, then I
sucked my fingers to taste it.  Then, he held up his fingers, so I could
suck up the rest of it, and even let me kiss the shrunken head of his soft
penis before he put it back, but nobody came, and caught us.

   It was a small town, smal enough that he could just drive around, with
me in his lap, until I saw something familiar.  He didn't get hard again,
like I wanted him to, no matter how I scooched around in his lap so we
could stop, and play again, but he told me it was "Naughty." Not to tell
anyone he did that to me, or he'd get in trouble.  I promised, then I saw
the church we went to on sundays, and I know how to get back home from
there.  He dropped me off, cause you can't drive it, the way I know how to
go because there's somebody's fields in the way, and you have to gut
between them, but I got home all right.

   That was the important part, that and I just had my first sexual
experience.  I new I shouldn't touch myself, the way he did, or as close as
I could get with my little hands, and my elbows don't ben the right way,
but I figured it out.  Since he showed me, and thought about his balls,
remembering the smell of that, and the hot vinyl of his seats.  The
dashboard, and his wonderful hand, feeling all over my legs.

   I started playing with myself after that, it was years and years before
I ever even had a orgasm, and I never saw him again.  Which is odd, being
such a small town and all, but I suppose he could have passing through in
the summer, or left town shortly thereafter because he was scared of what
he done.  He didn't go to my church, that's for certain, but I looked for
him, and wished I could see him again.

   For real, feeling my legs to get turned on, then squeezing my butt with
one hand, while the other rubbed my undies between my legs.  That's how I
learned it, only instead of bent over in a gar, or sitting up to elan back
against his side, I lay down.  In bed mostly, and twisted sideways.  With
my leg up, so I could grope my bottom, and rub my panties between my legs.
I took them off, tried it that way.  Even naked in the tub, but the panties
always felt better.  Even a slip, or a nighty, to brush my thighs while my
hands made me feel good.

   I didn't know what else to call it, it felt good, so I thought about
"Feeling good." I didn't tell anyone for years, but whenever I felt scared,
or lonely, or sad, or whatever, I knew just what to do to feel better. 
Long before I could even have an orgasm.

   ;

   So, I suppose the next step was boys.  Or so I thought, but when I
started Kindergarten, none of them wanted to play, and the few times I did
manage to get in their underpants were disappointing.  They didn't get
hard, or anything, but I played with them anyway.  Their cute little balls,
and tickling them, molested them really, but they didn't really do
anything, so I stopped.  I guess I just missed him, the man, so I tried to
do it again with boys, and found it's not the same.  So I stopped, and just
played with myself to the memory for a couple more years.

   That's how I started, molesting children that is.  I'm not going to lie
to you, there's more than enough out there, making excuses, and lying about
it, when they can be bothered to talk about it in the first place.  "I
didn't know any better." Yeah I did, even in kindergarten, I knew it was
bad enough to lead them off.  In private so we didn't get caught, to stay
out of trouble.  "She came onto me!" Yeah, I did, but even then men can't
admit the truth, even as they fantasize that girls can want it too, they
completely neglect the fact that we can do it too.

   Be child molesters, too.  I'm here to tell you we can, I did, as early
as kindergarten, I just didn't know well enough to get anything out of it.
So, I quit a couple years, and just molested myself.  I don't remember, how
long it took, for me to figure it out.  That's what I was doing, I heard
the word "Molested," on the news, because a girl came forward, and the man
got away.  She told though, and the were looking for him.

   Drew a picture of him, and showed his car, or a advertizing photo of the
make and model.  Didn't have the license plate number, but I asked mom and
dad.  We was eating desert, in the living room after dinner, and we had ice
cream Sundaes, even though it wasn't sunday, come to find out later some
man called them that to bring in business, since the bars is closed on
sunday, so he made up a coctail.  In his drug store, which is why drug
stores used to have counters for ice cream cones, and sodas, mick shakes,
floats, and sundays.

   It's like a bar, for soda and ice cream, even kids can go to if we have
enough money from allowance, or saving nickles from our milk money.  It had
to be the summer between first and second grade, so I was 7, and I had
regular visits from the Tooth Fairy.  If you know what I mean, anyway that
was a steady supply of nickles to save up, all summer.  We didn't have a
lunch room at school, just milks for a nickle, to wash down our lunches we
brought from home, if you wanted.

   I saved mine for the ice cream counter, but mom brought ice-cream home,
and we had sundaes for desert for like a week.  I remember, cause that when
mommy sat down, and told me what molested means.

   Daddy took our dishes, in the kitchen, and washed them.  It wasn't a
usual thing, most times momma cooked, and cleaned up after summer, but
sometimes he did it.  Like tonight, so mommy could talk to me about private
things, in private.  She told me, in that roundabout way that grownups did
back then.  I knew right away what she was talking about, but I just
listened.  Didn't tell her about the one time it happened to me, because I
didn't want him to get in trouble.  The man, was long gone by then, it was
about 2 years since he did it, but the other man on the news.  Didn't look
nothing like my molester, a different car and everything, but even if he
got a new one, I knew it wasn't him.  He didn't look like the picture of
the other man, at all, so it must have been another one.

   In the big city, well big enough to have a TV station, anyway.  Our town
was to small to even have a radio station, so you had to drive to one side
of it to listen to the radio at all, and dad just left it tuned to that
one. The 1 station you could hear from there, if you drove up on the hill,
or around on the right side, so it didn't block it.

   She said "In a bad way." About touching me, she didn't touch me.  At
all, she set me on the couch, next to her where dad was.  His spot on the
couch, we watched TV on the floor, so it was almost like moving up to the
head of the table, and she sent the boys away to play too.

   My brothers, I had 2 of them.  No sisters, but mom and dad stopped
having kids after that, and again.  She sent the boys away, on the
assumption that this was a girl thing.  Something girls have to worry
about, because obviously bad men don't grab boys, and take them away, to
touch them in private, so it was just me and her.  She didn't even say
where, one would touch me, but I knew.  I pushed my skirt down, between my
legs, so I could rub the slip back and forth between them.  Right there,
right next to mom, and she didn't notice.  She didn't even look at me, she
turned away, like she was talking to someone, standing invisible in the
corner, but I felt that again.

   Thinking about him, the man, and that other lucky little girl, who found
another man like that.  They didn't show her, but I imagined, that man from
the news.  Or the picture they drawed of him, then when she was done I went
in my room.  Nice thing about having just brothers is I had my own room,
but before I got ready for bed, I lay down to molest myself.  I finally
knew what to call it, and stopped trying to imagine her.  That other lucky
little girl, and instead tried to imagine what he looks like.  His car, I
knew he'd run, as soon as he saw the news, he'd want to stay out of
trouble, and who's to say he wouldn't come this way?

   "Yeah," he'd have to stop for gas some time.  I know what his car looks
like, so maybe I'd catch him there.  Now, by that point, I just usually
would feel good, until I fell asleep, but I suppose I never really had a
sexual fantasy before.  Just the memory, and my legs to play with, but now
I was thinking ahead.  Indeed, I did go out to the gas station, for the
rest of the week to wait for him, hoping he would stop, even knowing the
chances were super slim.  But that was my fantasy, that night, and several
nights after, until I gave up.  Surely he was halfway across Nebraska by
now, if not gone past to Kansas, or Wyoming, I looked at a map, and
everything, but that just showed me the truth that popped that bubble.

   He could've gone anywhere, but here.  Chances are he went somewhere
else, besides our small town, with just the 1 gas station, or even if he
did, he might have just passed through without stopping, or I missed him
when he wasn't there, but that night was special for another reason.  It
wasn't just the sundaes, or talking to mom about it.  Or feeling good right
next to her, while she looked away, and tried to talk about it in the
corner.  I don't know what it was, other than finally knowing what to call
it, besides molested.  I don't even know what happened at first.

   Nobody told me about orgasms.  Either, of course, I still heard about
the stork, and the cabbage patch, not knowing which story to believe, since
my mom was never pregnant, that I remember.  All I knew is it felt good,
and how to feel good until I drifted off to sleep, and dream of him.  The
man, but tonight I wasn't sleepy.  I wasn't even ready for bed, when I was
supposed to be getting ready for bed, so instead I was wearing my slip, and
a summer dress, not unlike the skirt I was wearing the first time I was
molested.

   Then, I couldn't breathe.  I wet myself, not like the girls you see
squirting, and gushing in porn nowadays, nor even in the stories I found
later, some time in the 80s as a teenager.  No, this was piss, I didn't wet
the bed any more, because I got sick of waking up cold and icky, but then I
couldn't hold it, and I didn't even know I had to pee.  Because I was horn,
and I was still confused about the difference.  I knew about peeing, and
this happened in the same place, but when I could breathe again, I checked,
and was surprised to find that it wasn't.

   White, and sticky, like the stuff he peed, when he got off.  It was just
pee, but I remember, it squirted out, not like pee normally should, all at
once, but in squirts.  Quick little squirts, I come to find out later, once
I got my hands on a sex ed book that showed a picture of where everything
is, in relation to eachother.  You know the one, from the side like an
Xray, so you can see the Bladder, the Uterus, the Urethra, and Vagina? 
Yes, well, what happens is sometimes, when the sex parts start spasming
inside, it squirts urine out of the bladder, I didn't know that.

   So it was clear, and I tasted it, but it was gross, and bitter, because
it was urine.  Live and learn, I had to get ready for bed anyway, so I
picked out some clothes, and took them in the bathroom when the boys were
done with the bath water.  I got cleaned up, and dried off, and put on
clean underwear.  And my nighty, but I sat on the toilet, and peed as much
as I could first, to make sure it didn't happen again.  Thank goodness my
blankets were dry, the way I twisted over, so my top leg was up, and my
bottom one down, it soaked through my undies, and my fingers, but my slip,
and skirt soaked up the rest, so I didn't have to change the bed.

   I tried it again, molesting myself, and I didn't get another orgasm,
that night.  I just felt good, until I drifted off, and dreamed about men.
Molesting me, in their cars.

   ;

   Oh, another thing I heard of, from mom is Strangers.  You know, don't
talk to strangers?  Well, it turns out that's why.  Again, this was a more
"Innocent" time, but this doesn't mean not guilty.  It's one of those words
that means something else, depending on what you're talking about.  In the
case of a man, who may or may not have touched a little girl, it means Not
Guilty.  When you're talking about a place, and time in american history,
like say rural Nebraska, it means Ignorant.

   For instance, people still believed that Strangers molest children, and
can't imagine it being someone else.  Not the shifty eye man who comes in
town, and spends a little too much time around the playground, you know to
keep an eye on him, and rush your daughters back in the garage.  Well,
anyway, there weren't much strangers around, except the gas station, since
we weren't exactly a tourist destination.

   About the only reason to stop on the way through, unless you had a flat
tire, or your engine threw a belt, to gas up, and keep driving through the
corn for wherever it is you're headded.  However, other than them being
few, and far between, the other problem is old man Olsen always being
there. Keeping his eye on strangers, and politely telling them to keep on
driving, while he filled up their tank.  When he wasn't driving the wrecker
out to sell a new tire, or drag back a car with a belt busted, which left
me lots of time with Nadine.

   Now, let me tell you, she's not a Tomboy.  She didn't have to tell me,
because I had overalls too, for playing in, or doing chores, if you're
gonna scrub out the bathroom, you don't want to do it in a slip, and skirt,
you put your overalls on, just like anybody.  Farm girls too, there's lots
of farm girls around, so they wear overalls, all the time, for working the
farm, the garden, or with the animals.  There mothers, and grandmothers
too, it's not Tomboy, it's practical.  Women drive tractors around those
parts, and we don't ride side-saddle, so we can cross our legs in a skirt.

   I wore a skirt, because I wasn't there to work on cars, I was looking
for strangers.  Nadine, lives at a garage.  One of two in town, the side of
town where you can play the radio, and her grandaddy even had a tower to
get the signal real good.  Oldies, I'd guess you call it, nowadays, but
back before they split it all up between Folk, Rock and Roll, and Pop. 
Country, we didn't have country back then, it was the 70s, we just had the
music they played, and never heard of what they didn't, unless your daddy
had some old Jim Hendrix records, and a phonograph to play it on.

   So anyway, it was also a good place to listen to the radio, because he
had an antenna, speakers to listen to in the garage, while he's working on
cars.  Or just set out there, in the shade with the big steel fan blowing,
to wait for customers.  Nadine made lemonaid, while the rest of their
family was out doing what they did.  Have there own lives, but that Nadine.
She didn't just live there with her grandaddy, she worked there, in the gas
station, all summer.

   So, I recon the first thing I remember was Steel Guitar, hearing that
while I rode my bike up, until I got closer, and started hearing the drums.
Then the bass guitar, and finally the singers.  2 of them, a duet between a
man and lady, I forget who or which one, cause I got used to it, as many
times as I went up there.  More then a week, it became my hangout
eventually, I went to hang out with Nadine, and sip lemonaid in the office,
waiting for somebody to pull up for gas.

   I remember her asking about it, why I gone up there, every morning, must
have been at least the second time, to pick up the pattern.  So, I told
her, or in that roundabout way folks'd talk about it, back then.  I asked
her if she watched the news, or not.  She said that they don't have a TV,
so they listen to the radio.  All the time, she hum along to the popular
songs a lot, but she got so used to it, she don't even think about it.

   Just tuned it out, but she liked me hanging around, for someone to talk
to, so I told her about the Stranger.  I heard about on the TV, and her
grandaddy Otis too.  Otis Olsen, like Nadine Olsen, them being related, and
all.  So, he got even more protective, and went out, on the lookout for a
powder blue Chevy Nova, and the man who would be driving it.  He never
showed up, of course, but it was as good a reason as any to hang out there,
with Nadine, in the office.  No air condition, and it got hot when the sun
shone in the windows out front, but the lemonaid was cold, and we talked
about everything.

   Or nothing, or just set there, together, watching the traffic go by,
waiting for someone to pull in.  Then, she'd get up, and go out to pump
gas, if her grandaddy was out, with the wrecker, or busy in the garage,
with something or other.  Also, the other garage, across the street.  I say
there was 1 gas station there, because the trucks pulled in across the
street, for Diesel, but mostly they sold tractor parts, and fixed them when
they broke, as well as Diesel.  The Olsenses sold gasoline, and worked on
cars as needed.

   Now, when I say she weren't so much a tomboy as like a farm girl, in a
gas station, I started thinking about her, more like a boy.  Then me, long
before she became my first girlfriend, on account of she done boy stuff
too. Like work on cars, wit her grandaddy, cause she likes them.  Not by
herself, even being older, she mostly just took off parts for him to put
back on, like an air conditioner belt, the first time I watched them. 
Busy, sitting in his chair with the fans blowing, back and forth, but set
up so they both stopped, and blew on it.  Then swung back the other way,
but the other one swung back to blow on me, and they took turns.

   So, there's one blowing on you most of the time, I sipped cold lemonaide
in between, just like Otis did.

   I got up, when he got done showing her how to take it off, and he
groaned.  Setting back in the chair, his back, and he's stooped from
bending over engines, and ducking under hoods his whole life.  He took a
sip of lemonaide, the same glass, I wasn't worried about cooties, or
nothing, and refilled it from the fridge in back when he ran out.

   I remember they come in, a convertible, and for once they weren't
playing the same song on the radio.  You get used to that, there being just
one station to listen to, because they had a tape deck.  And air condition,
but put the top down when it went out, and pulled up listening to ABBA.  I
never even heard of ABBA before, on account of it being foreign, and disco,
which weren't real popular around those parts.  If you wanted to hear that
or the Beegees in the city, why I imagine you'd go to the Discotech, which
I ain't never heard of, neither.

   But, they drove in, under there own power, and even walked into town,
the wife talking about seeing if they got Antiques.  They do, only it's the
second hand store, right around the corner, or the hill the road got to go
around, so Otis told them where to go.  It ain't mainstreet, we didn't have
a mainstreet, just the road, county road, 170.  Right through town, no
other streets, or even railroad tracks, that's it.  The pavement, and a
bunch of dirt roads off of that with mailboxes for farms.  Like mine, my
family's, and all my friends'.

   Except Nadine, the Olsens own the garage, and the tractor dealership. 
Other then that, the secondhand store was run by farm girls, and the drug
store, except the men what owned it, and run the soda fountain, all come
from farms, and families around these parts, which is why there aren't any
strangers.  Nobody stop, long enough to get into trouble with, any longer
than it takes to get a new belt put on, and grab a soda from the fountain
at the drugstore.  They had money though, the couple with the busted air
condition, the only air condition in town, till they drove back off.

   "Done daddy." She just called him daddy.  Like his wife did, and her
daddy Owen.  Not her uncle Otis Jr.  She just called him Jr.  like anybody
else did, but she stood up, wiping the grease off her hands, and went to
help him up out of the chair.  I took his other hand, and tried to pull
too. It was cold, from holding the glass of lemonaide, empty save for some
ice down in the bottom, but then he went to show her how to put the new
belt on.

   I went in for some more ice, and lemonaide, while she hooked the belt
down off the wall with the reaching stick.

   Then I nodded off, in the chair.  Holding onto the cold glass, listening
to him tell her how to change a belt.

   "Now, you don't want to leave it too tight, so's it wears out to fast,"
the fan blowing over me, then back.  "but at the same time, you don't want
to leave it to lose, so it falls off again, on down the road."

   He's old, and country, so that's how he talks.  Lazy like, says the same
thing, over and over but mixed around again in a different order, but
gentle, and wheezy from the Pall Malls he smokes, and stains his fingers
with, so I can smell the ashtray from here as the other fan blows over,
this way.

   "Getup!"

   "Huh!" I dropped the glass, so it broke, and splashed lemonaide all over
the floor, and ice skated over it under the car.

   "Sorry, mister Otis."

   "Don't be sorry god damnit, git!"

   I never heard him swear, or raise his voice before, so it shocked me,
what with getting jolted awake, and the glass breaking, and I started
crying before I even got in the office, then Nadine come and patted my back
to calm me down.

   "I'm sorry, he don't mean nothing by it, he just got grumpy with his
back aching, but he knows better then to take it out on you." I sniffed,
and nodded, "Now, you want to help out?  Why, he sure would appreciate it
if you helped out, insteada sitting around, drinking up the lemonaide all
day, but I tell you what.  How about you go hop on that bike of yours, and
run down to the second hand store, go tell that man and his wife there car
is done, to save us the trouble of waiting, huh?"

   "All right," I wiped my eyes, and got on my bike.  They weren't in the
secondhand store, but I saw the people standing around, looking in the
window at them in the drugstore, having lunch and some sodas at the
fountain.  Strangers, rich ones with money, she bought a table, and sent
him to go get the car and load it in while she finished drinking.  Both of
them, but she left a big fat tip too, before driving off.

   Then I rode back, but I heard all about it later.  Everybody did, all
they talked about for a couple days, on account of it don't happen often.
Not to make a big deal about it, but most folk didn't even have color TVs
back then.  I knew 1, had 1 friend, who could watch Police Squad [In
Color!] so, mostly the mommas talked about Love of Life until it got
canceled.

   Until something interesting come along, like a rich couple in a
convertible.  She said "I appreciate you riding your bike all this way in
the heat," and gave me 5 hole dollars.

   I never had 5 whole dollars in my entire life, but they had plastic
cups, there in the drug store.  So, to show my appreciation to Mr.  Otis,
for letting me hang around, drink their lemonaide, and wait for a stranger
to pull up, I bought him one to replace the one I broke.  It's the least I
could do.

   ;

   Nadine

   That Tess, sure is nice to have her around, and talk to.  So, I cleaned
up the ice, and pieces of glass, washed up, then went back into the office.

   Biting my nails, "Spt!" scraping between my teeth to get the gunk out,
and spitting it off my lip.  "Spb!" I tried scrubbing it out, there ain't
no better way, but it comes off with my nails, and I can wash the taste out
with more lemonaide.

   She drank a lot of it, and who's to blame her, it's hot!  He just had to
sit down, quick, and he gets cranky when his back starts to hurting, so I
had her make herself scarce, and he nodded off before they got back.

   Her first, I pulled out the car, and put the top up, to try out the Air
Condition.  It's nice, why I can just dream of getting one of them from the
Sears catalog, to put in the office, sure would make these long summer
evenings a whole lot more enjoyable.  I hoped she'd come back, instead of
being scared off, but I'd see her again in church.  After sunday school,
but there just aint enough business to occupy the time, in between school,
and she sure made the waiting better, the last day and a half.

   Not like she needs to, wait around for the Stranger.  Why, as soon as he
heard tell of it, he took the wrench out of his pocket, and pulled the
pistol out from under the register.  Loaded it up, and everything, so I
knew he ment business.

   "I hope he will stop by." He tucked it in the same pocket, "I'll fix
him."

   Then the convertible pulled up, but "Huh!" I just put my head back, on
the head rest, and the vents up to blow on my face.

   "Huh?" He knocked on the window.

   "Sorry sir," I got out.  "The air condition's working."

   "Good, and here's for cooling it off for us."

   Rich folk, hand out money like candy.  I'll take it, a ten, tucked in
the bib pocket.  Think of something to get with it, or save it.  Take a
whole lot of tips like that to save up for that Air Conditioner I'm looking
at.

   She's in the back, I saw her bike, but suppose she rode up while I's
napping in the car.  In the kitchen, cutting up lemons on the cutting
board.

   "What's this?" A tumbler, like the one she broke, but plastic, and even
a little bigger inside.  What with being thin plastic, instead of thick
glass, like the old one.

   "For Otis." She squeezed them in the pitcher, and stirred up the sugar
water, so I filled it up from the tap.  Got out a ice tray for her to crack
out in the glass, while I mixed the hot simple syrup in.

   Just like I make it, lemonaide's like the unofficial drink around here,
not that lemons grow around here, but they come in, on the regular, on
account of it being so popular.  She does it just the same, as anyone I
reckon.

   "Mr.  Otis?"

   "Huph?"

   He blinked, and looked down at the end of a Pall Mall, that gone out
between his fingers.

   "I'm sorry I broke your favorite cup, but." She held up the new one, "I
got you this.  I know it's not the same but."

   "Why bless you child!" He got out another, and his box of matches, out
of his bib.  Took a good guzzle, and grinned, "Kah!"

   Good, he ain't scared her off.  We went back in the office, to let him
nap it off.  He already started snoring again, holding the cup, like
always. I put his feet up, and tipped the chair back.  Put out his smoke in
the ash tray.  He just held onto the lemonaide, to wash his mouth out when
he woke up.  Same as always.

   "Thank you, that was such a sweet thing to do."

   "Least I could do."

   "Well, you made him happy.  Real happy, even if he don't know how to say
it." He's old fashion, but you gotta love him.  "So anyway, no sign of that
Chevy, while you's gone."

   "The nova?"

   "Uh uh." Shake my head, "Nobody, really.  Since that rich feller came
back and took off."

   "Oh, his lady gave me five whole bucks, just for riding down to tell
her."

   "Oh yeah?  Well, he gave me 10 for putting up the top, and air
conditioning on inside."

   "Must be nice."

   "Bein' rich?" I nodded, "Yeah, suppose that's why folks watch rich folks
on the tevee."

   "Yup!" She shrugged, "I hear all about it, since I missed it this
mornin."

   "At the swap shop?"

   She nodded, "The drug store."

   "That where you got the tumbler?"

   "Yup."

   "Uh huh." Just nice, to have her there, to talk to.  Thought about it, a
minute, "Well, I don't really care to much about Love of Life, but I was
thinking about what you said.  About that man, in Omaha?"

   "The child molester?"

   "Yeah, uh." How to ask this, "Uhm, how'd you know about.  All that, you
said about, what he done on her?  I mean, they didn't say all that, on Tv,
do they?" Even after eleven.  She stayed up, not like it's a school night,
for a couple months, but still.  "It was pretty graphic."

   "Well, there mightabeen, another man.  Here.  A Stranger."

   "In town?"

   "Uh huh.  This was some time ago, and he never come back, so I ain't
never seen him again, but."

   "Go on."

   "He gave me a ride home, once.  Then I never saw him again."

   "That it."

   "Well?"

   "He touched you, like you said.  Yesterday?" And I was up, all night,
just thinking about it.

   "Yup!" she giggled, "He molested me."

   "Uh!" I shook my head, "And that's, all right?"

   "Yeah, it felt real good, then I." She blushed, and looked down.  In her
lap, she squeezed her skirt around her hands, and didn't say nothing. 
"Huh! I think, I'll go to the restroom." She hopped up, "Real quick.  All
that lemonaide, you understand."

   She lied.  I could see it, which could only mean one thing.  I could
think of.  She's touching herself, in there.  I believe, why now that I
think about it, I was wondering why she was hanging around here, the last
couple days and, she lied then too.

   She wasn't waiting for that stranger, in the Nova, to come here.  Or
maybe she is, but not to stop him?  No, it can't be, but is she?  Really,
waiting for him to come buy, and get her, and molest her again?

   I can't imagine.

   Shifting around, uncomfortable, just thinking about what she's doing. 
But right quick, while nobody's looking, I felt down to the rag.  Twisted
up in my britches, just in case anything leaked out, on account of it feels
like, something might start to leak out.  I got cramps, and feeling icky,
so I know what that means, and got a rag out of the laundry.  They're dark
blue, Navy blue he calls it, so the blood don't show, any more then the
grease, and road grit, but just real quick, while nobody's looking.

   I can't go in there, with her taking up the restroom, there's a bathroom
in back, but popop's napping, and somebody might pull up.  You never know,
but since I bit all my nails off, I got out the file, and started taking
all the burrs of.

   The only way to get the grease out, from under really.  Just cut them
off, so the grease comes off with it, but that leaves them rough, and
scratchy.

   Maybe she can watch the store, while I go in there, and see what's going
on.  Down there, I ain't used to it, yet, ain't been doing it so long, but
it feels different, and I got some idea what it might be.

   "Huh!" She come out, sweaty too.  Her hair stuck to her head, but it was
a hot day.  Hotter then most.

   "Feel better?" Sure was in there a long time.

   "Yup!" She sure looked real happy.  "Huh, you want to talk about it,
some more?"

   "It made you horny."

   "Yeah, sorry."

   "Don't be, it's just.  Well, I know there wasn't a man like that, here.
Or we would've heard about it."

   "Yup, that's why I was looking for strangers."

   "Welp, you want to.  Get molested again?"

   "Yeah," She looked down.  "Why?"

   I looked down, and my nails.  That one looked good, so I blew on it,
wiped the file on my leg, and started on the next.

   ;

   Tess

   "Well, there was this one girl.  Once, she showed me something."

   "What's that?"

   "Well, some things.  I suppose, would be more accurate, but stuff.  Her
momma showed her."

   She stuck the tip under her nail.  Like my uncle, cleaning out under
his, with his pocket knife.  Or tried to, then stuck it in her mouth. 
"Smch, Tph!" Spat something between her lips.

   "Uh huh?"

   "Well, it's not really, my secret.  So, I can't say, who exactly.  You
understand, but.  When I said, I know there ain't another man like that. 
Around here."

   "You mean, her momma?"

   She nodded.  Stuck 2 fingers down on her shoulder.  The strap of her
overall, and buffed off the tips.  "Yup."

   "Molested you?"

   "No, molested her, if you want to call it that, but.  She liked it, like
you did.  What that man did it, and she showed me."

   "Yeah?"

   "Uh huh."

   She turned, looked up, over her shoulder.  "Well, it's getting late." At
the clock, "So, I better start, closing up, while popop gets some rest. 
You mind, watching the pumps?"

   "Not at all!"

   "Good." She pulled the door, to the garage, and hot greasy air blowed
in. "If you want to call your momma, I can ask him.  If you can stay the
night."

   It dinged, when she let it shut.  I practically dove for it.  So
excited, I don't know if she was saying, what it sounds like she was
saying.

   I'm not even used to, talking about this kind of stuff, just like the
first time, the only time, I ever been with a man, he barely said nothing,
but the way she said it.  Or asked me;

   "You really wanna.  Get molested again?"

   Then she started talking about.  Stuff, her friend showed her.  That her
momma, molested her, and I kind of put two, and two together.

   I was so excited, I couldn't even get more exited when momma said yes. I
ran out to tell her, when she came back, helping her popop back up the step
from the garage.

   "All right.  Lets get you to bed." He nodded, half a sleep, and even
more bent over then usual, so che could help him, under his arm, and I put
up the little leaf on the end of the counter.  Like a table leaf, only it
folds up by the register, instead of down, and he held the 2x4 on the wall
like a banister.

   I got the door to them too.  On the way back, bye the restroom, then the
one at the end of the hall to the kitchen.

   "Thanks Tess.  I can take him from here.  Go watch the pumps, call me if
anybody pulls in for gas before we close."

   "Okay," they did that.  Yesterday, and the day before, closest thing we
get to a rush, and sure enough a couple pickups come.

   Mexicans in back.  Farm workers, but I can pump gas all right.  It's not
too high, I asked them if they wanted there windshield washed, but the
farmer just said "Nah, that's all right." Looked up at the pump, and got
out some bills.  "Keep the change." Put his sun glasses back on, over his
tan.  Or the white part around his eyes, and pulled his cap down by the
bill.

   "Thanks, mister." I fixed the cap, and closed the little door, so he
could drive off.

   For the bar, probably.  Long hot day, out in the fields, I don't know
why I never thought of the Mexicans.

   They're like strangers, or they don't stay long, and never talk to you.
I don't know enough Spanish, but some folks around here hire them for
helps.

   White folks can't take the heat out here, in the summer.  To be honest,
but never mind.  I just, never thought about them, just like I never
thought about another girl.  Or a woman, why would I?  I had no reason to,
but I'm glad I rubbed off in the bathroom before they started showing up.

   She rolled the door shut, and came to help me with the pumps.  2 of
them, or 1 hose, on either side.  She got the windshields too, being
taller, and all.  I bet I could reach, but not the big pickups, like her.

   Not a lot of cars, maybe that convertible, if I'd thought of it.

   ;

   Nadine

   "Huh!" Wouldn't you know it?  "Yup." I checked, after I got popop
settled down, and sure enough.  I wiped it up, and got another rag out of
the drawer.  It's just a couple days, a month, if I'd've said something
yesterday it would've been a problem, but terrible timing.  I will say
that, but take your time.

   Speaking of which, I do got work to do, so I rinsed out the dirty rag,
and dropped it in the bucket with the rest.  Pulled the garage door, since
we weren't going to be taking any customers, but we got gas to sell, and
bless her heart, she tired to.  I'm greatful, but I could pump gas, and
wipe windshields in my sleep.

   It wasn't what she said yesterday, so much as what she didn't.  Kept me
up all night, wondering, but she said enough.  To doubt, and realize she
would've had to been there, to know so much.  That reminded me, of the one
other time I ever heard another girl talk about it, quite so much.

   Girls don't talk about it, quite so much, none of the ones I know
anyway. Except one, don't matter who, but she showed me how to cut my
nails. Like hers, she helped me, so we didn't have to be so careful.  Not
to scratch each other, or myself, when I kept at it.  When I'm not sick,
it's just a couple days, but till then.

   Well, I don't want to scratch her up, neither.  "I really appreciate you
helping out." I'll show her, "And keeping me company." Tonight, and her
momma said yes.  So, I don't have to sleep alone tonight, neither.  Try
that, I never slept with nobody before, and I always wondered.  Naked, it's
too hot for bedclothes, or covers, should've thought up putting up the box
fan, to blow out in my room.

   "So, how come you stay with your grandaddy, instead of your folks?"

   "Well," I grabbed the towel out of the bucket, and got the windshield,
"Somebody's gotta," Shrug, and go around, to get the other side.  "Popop's
getting kinda ornery, in his old age.  His back, makes him cranky, but he's
got to keep the shop open until I'm old enough to take it over."

   Pulled out the dry one, to dry it off.

   "Here you go." He winked, held it pinched a minute.

   "Uh!" I jerked it out.

   "Keep it."

   "Thanks," I shook my head, "Sir." Well that's attractive.  He drove off,
should've said something about the loose hay, before half of it blowed out
the back, and all over the lot.

   "That it?" I squinted, up the road, and back down.

   "Maybe," I shrugged, "Some more might roll in, before I finish ringing
them up, but I still got to put the tools up.  Dip the tanks."

   "Right now?"

   "Well, yearh!  I suppose we got all night, so the tools can wait, but. I
got to ring up the till, and count it.  Dip the tanks, business is
business." I hit the shutoff, for the pump, "Flip the sign."

   Pointed, she reached up to turn the Closed side back to the Open.  Let
it swing.  I got out a pencil, and pulled the wad of bills out of my bib
pocket.  The folded 10, that's mine, no telling how much I got in tips
until I count it all up.  And dip the tank, and guestimate how much we
sold, and compare it to the totals on the pumps.

   "Huh!" I tucked the pencil back, behind my ear, and put on my glasses.
At least there's a fresh roll of paper, in the calculator.  "Lets see,
$20,40,60,80,one." Open the till.  "$20,40, 50, 60, 5, seventy, five..."

   ;

   Tess

   Well, that was boring, but it went faster if I didn't interrupt her, and
since I was allowed in the kitchen, I checked on the crockpot.  Beef stew,
Mr.  Otis woke up and called for "Nadine?  Where are you, Nadine?  Can you
hear me, girl?"

   So, I went in there, and he didn't recognise me.  It'd been 3 days, and
confused me, but I told him she was busy, and brought him some stew with
some tea to wash it down with.  Because it's what he asked for, then his
pills, while she finished up.

   He was getting senile, but while I was in there, I saw his gun.  An old
.45, Government, I took it out to her, because I saw where it was supposed
to go a couple nights before.  "He asked for his pills."

   "Thanks," she pulled the magazine out, and the slide back to get the one
in the chamger.  I didn't even think to check if it was loaded, but I grew
up with guns.  I had one, a Ruger Single Six with stag grips my momma gave
me, when I got old enough to go out plinking with the family.

   So, I wasn't really scared or anything, I just noticed it wasn't where
it's supposed to be, just guess in case of robbers, and she put the spare
bullet in the box under the drawer.  That's it, then she went in to get him
his pills.

   I went in with her, and she told me he was in the army.  'Heard about
the Nazis, then we got attacked, he enlisted,' but whispered about it in
the kitchen while she crushed them up.  I ate some of the stew, it was like
pot-roast, but kind of mushy, because he doesn't have that many teeth left.
I was still growing some of mine back, and had a few more to lose, so I
actually appreciated not having to chew so much.  Especially without too
many molars to rub together.

   "Why're you whispering?"

   "He doesn't like to remember, or war stories."

   "Why not?" I never thought to wonder, but Otis Olsen Sr.  was the reason
none of the boys, Otis Jr.  nor her father Owen went in the military.  In
my family, well it was free schooling, not to mention my uncles talked
about Vietnam, and my grandaddy Korea.  We watched M.A.S.H.  at home, as a
family.

   "Because I seen war, and it ain't great." He leaned up, against the
door, and held out his bowl.  Shaking, she gave him seconds, and put the
crushed up medicine in it.  "She forgot my pills."

   "I know, poppy.  She never done this before."

   "Oh," he just nodded, walking back down the hall, and scratched his
shorts.  I giggled.

   "He gets like this, some nights, especially after a bad day.  That's why
he needs me, to take care of him."

   In a pair of boxer shorts, and fuzzy slippers.  What little hair he had
left screwed up, and standing out in whisps, like he got too close to the
cows, and they liked the way his head tasted.

   Cowlicks.  It's not just a saying.

   So, I heard water running, and she helped him into the bath.  "Oh, these
old bones."

   "I know, pappy."

   "Got to soak these old bones." Almost singing.  Okay, I saw him naked.
He looked like a skeleton wrapped in bleached leather that didn't fit quite
right with a jackolantern head stuck on top.  But I saw it.  Shrunken,
wrinkled and hairy.  About as sexy as a bucket of bait.

   She loves him, so much, you can tell.  The way she takes care of him,
how gentle and patient she is, and even when she puts up with his
outbursts. Yeah, she got the gas station too, left it to her when he died a
few years later, but it was a small reward for her dedicated care, for
years.  She babysat him, instead of kids, and watch him get older, and
worse as he drove himself into the ground.

   He got like this, wiped out, helping her replace an Air Conditioner
Belt. She didn't have him for much longer.  A junker, rotting away before
her eyes, it was bittersweet.  Heartwarming, and heartbreaking enough to
watch, I can't imagine going through that to this very day, but I fell in
love with her, and I can say without a shadow of a doubt, that's when it
started.

   When I saw how she loved him, even when he didn't recognize her, chased
her out of his house, in a fit, because nobody else could stand to take
care of him, and somebody had to.

   We had sex after that, but I'm glad I waited.  It takes a long time, to
get to know someone, but that's when I started to.  Truly appreciate what a
wonderful loving woman she was.  At 14, I could just imagine how she could
be when she was older, and only hope to be there with her.

   ;

   {Okay, so I'm experimenting with splitting the sexual action away from
the back story, but I have to get that out of the way first.
   2B Continued...}