Victoria and Helen, Chapter 2

by Jackie

Mom was already home, packing, when I came in from school. I'd packed over the last couple of days so I was ready to go. I knew her flight left around nine and my bus left at four so the plan was that the limo would drop me at the bus station and then carry on to the airport.

She hugged me really hard and cried a lot on the platform. It made me cry a little too. It was the beginning of the first time we'd ever been apart. I thought she was making much more out of it than it was. She kept apologizing for going. I told her everything would be fine and Auntie Helen would take good care of me. She gave me the strangest look when I'd said that. It was as though she wanted to say something but didn't know how to.

My emotions were mixed as I watched the city fading and the countryside open up with farm fields and animals. I was happy not to have to endure the last few boring weeks of school but I was not so happy about leaving my friends and familiar surroundings behind.

'You think school is boring,' I said to myself. 'What are you going to do out here in the middle of nowhere?'

The bus slowed down for what seemed like the hundredth time since we'd left the city. Sometimes we picked up and sometimes we dropped off. I knew Auntie Helen would be waiting for me somewhere along the road but I really had no idea where.

It was a relief when I saw her standing beside the road flagging us down. Finally I was going to get off this stupid bus. The brakes squeaked and hissed as we came to a stop. I grabbed my backpack and headed for the front as the driver got out.

She was waiting at the bottom of the steps with a smile that made me think of how I'd thought she looked like a movie star when I was little. She still did. There was no denying that she'd aged but to my eyes she was still so incredibly beautiful and sophisticated looking.

Her immediate forceful hug surprised me. I suddenly found my face pressed into her full mushy bossom—at least they were mostly mushy except for the hard ridges that I would later learn were the reinforced seams of her bra.

"Oh Vicki it's so good to see you again!" she said with so much feeling that I couldn't figure out how to answer.

Something about having my face pressed into her boobies made me feel funny, but it was a pleasant kind of funny. She wrapped one arm around my shoulder and kissed me on top of my head.

"We're going to have a great time together."

Holding me close with one arm, my head pressing into the soft flesh with the unidentified ridges, she pulled a bill from her pocket and handed it to the driver who had set my suitcase in front of us. The uniformed man's eyes lit up,

"Can I put this in your vehicle for you m'am?"

"That would be so lovely ... thank you," Aunt Helen replied.

I noticed the driver's eyes do a head to toe scan of my 'Aunt' and I decided that I wasn't the only one who found her pleasing to look at. I already knew what went on in the minds of men and boys when they saw an attractive female.

About a year ago I got my first period. My mom took that as the signal to have the conversation with me. We sat in the easy chair and she explained everything using a book with illustrations to help. As soon as she started with the basic difference between boys and girls the memories had come flooding back. They weren't crystal clear and complete because I'd been so young when it happened, but I did have recollections.

I also remembered being glad—relieved really—when Auntie Helen had helped mom get the house we were now living in so we could get out of the dingy apartment and have a little more space. It meant no more being 'minded' by the Menendez'.

Mister and Missus Menendez were the superintendents of the apartment building we'd moved into after Grandma and Grandpa died. We couldn't afford to keep the house. Mom didn't work for awhile after the accident even after we moved. I had started kindergarten and one day after school she sat me down and told me that she'd found a job at a diner.

"From now on Mister or Missus Menendez will pick you up from school and bring you to their place until I get off work," she told me.

They seemed nice enough, the little that I knew and had seen of them. I was nervous of being with strangers but I tried to be brave because I knew mommy was already sad and worried. Sometimes I'd hear her crying in the night.

Mom had said Mister or Missus Menendez but it was always Mister. His name is Pedro but everybody calls him Pete. He was always home, always in the building while his wife who's name is Angelique was usually out. She has other jobs and goes out to work every day.

It was a bit of a surprise that first day when we went into the superintendent's apartment and Mister Menendez told me that I needed to have a good wash after school.

"There are all kinds of germs and dirt there that can make you sick," he explained and told me that he'd run me a bath.

It seemed odd and I couldn't understand how my school, which always looked pretty clean to me, could be dangerous but I'd learned early to respect my elders. He was the adult in charge so I didn't argue.

He led me to the bathroom and started running water in the tub.

"Take your school clothes off and get in the tub as soon as you're ready," he instructed.

"I'll bring you some play clothes to change into when you're done."

I did as I was told and the only thing that seemed odd when he returned with my other clothes was that he had changed into a housecoat. He set my stuff on the closed toilet seat lid and I noticed something that looked like a short broom handle poking at the front of his robe before he knelt beside the tub. I was used to my mom helping me with my bath so when Pete said he was going to make sure that I did a good job it didn't seem too unusual.

Mommy always used a washcloth or one of those bath puff thingies but Pete just soaped up and used his bare hands. I never liked the bath puff because it was scratchy but Mister Menendez' hands were awfully rough too.

At the time it seemed like he was working very hard because he was all red in the face and seemed to have trouble catching his breath. It took him longer than mommy. He spent a lot longer washing my bum and between my legs. He kept saying how important it was for a young lady to be really nice and clean down there. It made me feel sort of strange in my tummy. It was a bit like being nervous but—different.

At the end he gave this big grunt. He turned toward the door as he was standing up but I thought I saw him sort of clutching between his legs as he was leaving.

Mommy usually helped me dry but I did the best I could and got dressed in my play clothes. When I came out Mister Menendez was wearing his regular work pants and shirt again.

I went over to him to ask if I could go out and play. He looked sort of nervous or upset or something, and he was sweating even though it wasn't that hot in his apartment. He looked at me and then he sort of looked away.

"Missus Menendez doesn't like any on using her bath tub ... so could you maybe not mention to her that you had a bath?"

I thought that he must be pretty scared of his wife because I could see that he was shaking. It seemed strange that Missus Menendez would have a rule about nobody else using the tub, but it didn't matter to me, so I agreed not to mention it to her. He seemed relieved but then added,

"I don't think you should tell your mom either because she wouldn't know about the rule, and she might tell my wife ... it'll just be our little secret."

When he said the last he looked at me like he was begging—that's what it seemed like. It made sense so I told him that I wouldn't say anything. He gave me a hug and thanked me before I went out to play.

The next day after school when we got to the apartment I asked if I should have a bath. Pete got all nervous again and said that it was okay if I really wanted to. He didn't come in that second day at all. It was the first time that I'd ever had a bath start to finish all by myself and it made me feel pretty grown up. That's how it became my daily ritual I enjoyed it and found it refreshing after a hard day with the crayons.

Pete always seemed nervous until after I'd had my bath and set about to play. Only then did he seem to relax and be himself. I came to think that it was because he was afraid his wife would find out that I was using her tub but I always asked and he never said no.

One day when it was raining out I was playing with my dolls around my sitter's apartment. Pete had gotten call and told me that he had to go and do a repair. He told me not to answer the door for anyone and under no circumstances to leave the apartment. He locked the door behind him saying that he wouldn't be long. I continued to play.

The superintendent's apartment wasn't much bigger than my mom's and mine. I scolded one of my dolls and told her she needed a time out. I decided to put her in the bedroom closet as punishment. Nobody had ever put me in a closet but I thought that it would be a fun—kinda mean—thing to do.

I opened the closet door and thought it smelled funny in there; almost fishy. What really caught my attention was that I could see light on the back wall. I pushed past the clothes to see where it was coming from. When I put my eye up to the hole I realized right away that I was looking into the bathroom. The position of the little hole allowed me to see just about everything. I sort of wondered how the hole had got there and just thought somebody had pushed something in the closet too hard.

'Maybe they don't even know it's there,' I thought.

'I should tell Pete when he gets back.'

I decided that maybe that wasn't such a good idea. He might wonder what I was doing snooping around in his closet, so I put it out of my mind.

The weeks went by and everyone contentedly settled into the routine, including me. Even Pete was more and more relaxed. We never spoke of the first day's bathing experience. I never said anything to anyone about my daily after school baths either. Even when my mom wanted to give me another one later in the evening I went along and didn't spill the beans.

One day Pete came in while I was enjoying my bath. He was wearing the robe again. I'd never seen him in it other than that first day he'd picked me up from school.

"I just realized that I've not been doing a proper job of supervising your baths," he said kneeling beside the tub.

"Have you been doing a good job of cleaning yourself all this time?"

I nodded my head, convinced that I had grown up enough that I could do it all by myself. Even mommy was impressed when I showed her how well I could wash and now even she didn't always come in when I took a bath in our own apartment.

"Well you'll have to show me ... I can't just take your word for it," Mister Menendez challenged and I thought his voice was kind of shaky—like it used to be.

I wasn't sure what he meant so I just sat there in the warm soapy water wondering what he expected.

"Stand up and show me how you've cleaned your bottom," he elaborated.

I was sure that I was doing it properly so with the complete lack of modesty typical of young children I stood up. Pete's calloused hands turned me around and spread my little cheeks. I took the deep grunt as an approval. Then he turned me back to face him and did the same with my pee-pee (that's what I called it in those days). It took him much longer to inspect than it had taken me to do the cleaning. I got a funny sort of feeling when he was poking around that kind of made me twitch.

He wasn't putting out any physical effort like the day he'd washed me so I couldn't understand at the time why he was all red and sweating. Maybe it was just because it was too warm and humid in the bathroom I thought.

Finally he looked up at me with those nervous eyes I remembered from weeks ago and said,

"Boys and girls are much different down here ... did you know that?"

"Uh-huh," I answered because I was aware that there was a difference but was entirely unclear on what exactly it was.

"Have you ever seen a boy's ... you know ... thing?" Pete asked almost in a whisper.

I remember shaking my head. I was too young to see where it was leading.

"Would you like to see mine?"

I remember a really funny feeling washing over me. It was somewhat like what I felt when he'd washed me but it seemed more general as if it affected every nerve in my body. I honestly thought at that moment that I was just curious.

"If I show you, you can never tell anybody ... promise? Just like you did such a good job keeping the bath a secret."

I nodded my head feeling slightly woozy and no idea why.

Mister Menendez stood up and opened his robe. I think I nearly fainted. I didn't think of it until later but that was the short broom handle thing that had been pushing out the front of his robe that first day weeks ago. It looked like a long sausage sticking out from his hips, and it was pointed right at me. Every couple of seconds it seemed to jerk all on its own. I was fascinated and I guess it showed on my face because he asked if I liked it. I couldn't deny that it was about the most amazing thing that I'd seen up to that point. So I nodded my head again.

He reached between his legs and cupped the strange looking thing like a sack hanging down. Then he put his hand around the thick sausage and said,

"This is my penis and his hand returning to underneath- these are my testicles."

I remember being aware of how wide my eyes were and the fact that my mouth was hanging open but I was so entranced by the sight that I felt completely frozen—unable to move. Meanwhile my mind was anything but frozen it was spinning with so many thoughts and feelings that I was unable to focus on any of them. I did find it peculiar that I caught a whiff of that faintly fishy smell I'd noticed in the bedroom closet, which brought back the memory of the unexplained hole. It would be years before those observations made any sense.

Mister Menendez still had his hand between his legs and I thought I could see his finger sort of wiggling around as he was saying,

"You can touch it if you want to."

His voice was strange like he had a sore throat or something.

I was as curious as a kitten but a little scared too so I continued to stand in the tub naked and unmoving with the first dick I'd ever seen pointed right at me. I was scared but also curious as to what it felt like so I put my hand on it and it really jumped and so did I. It was so hot and hard I was shocked and tried to pull my hand away, but Mister Menendez grabbed it and held it there.

"No honey ... hold it ... squeeze it, doesn't it feel nice," he rasped.

I really had no choice so I tried to wrap my hand around—it only went about half way.

"Good that's good," he encouraged me. "Slide your hand along it and feel how bumpy it is."

With persuasion from his hand on top of mine I began to work up and down the length of his sausage and it did feel sort of interesting. When he took his hand away I continued. The end part looked so different it was all shiny and a sort of deep red, almost purple. Mister Menendez was making little noises, like 'ugh, ugh, ugh.'

I knew that he wanted me to keep my hand on him but I was curious about the end part so I brought my other hand up to feel it. It was so different than the other part. It was really smooth and softer feeling. As soon as I touched it Mister Menendez let out this strange sound and a second later something came shooting out the end of his sausage. It hit me on the cheek and I squealed in surprise but it spat three more times before I'd really figured out what was happening. Now I did yank my hands away and wiped at the goo that was trickling down my face.

My babysitter was groaning like he was in pain and I could see the hand that had been between his legs the whole time seemed to be working harder, squeezing his sack. Meanwhile there was stuff that looked like milk or maybe yogurt dribbling out the end of his penis. I was so shocked that I started to cry.

He sat me down in the tub again and used a wash cloth to clean my face. He was speaking very soothingly but I don't really remember what he said. By the time he had dried and dressed me I was much calmer.

He took me into the kitchen and said I deserved a treat. The scoop of ice cream really was a treat, because mommy almost never bought it. She said it was too expensive; she didn't have the money for it. As I sat at the kitchen table eating it Mister Menendez told me that if anybody found out about what we'd done that mommy and I would have to move out and find a new place to live. He said all the other apartments were more expensive so that would be hard on us but we wouldn't be able to stay.

As young as I was I knew that money was the first thing on mommy's mind. She was always counting how much she had and sometimes cried about it. If we had to move to a new place that cost more it would be even worse. I promised him that I wouldn't say anything.

I decided that my mom didn't really need to know and if Pete was right it might be really bad if I told her—so I didn't.

It went on like that for the next year or so; not every day but at least a couple of times a week Pete would come in while I was having my after school the bath. I didn't really like it but I quickly learned to point his penis away from me when it was about to shoot. I got extra ice cream if I kissed it.

Once when I was having my second bath after mommy got home I started feeling around between my legs to see if I could get those funny feelings started. My mom came in and not only pulled my hands away she slapped them. She was obviously upset and it was so rare for her to hit me that it left an indelible impression

I was really happy when mommy told me that we were going to move to a new place, like the one we'd had with Grandma and Grandpa.

Over the next couple of years I gradually came to realize how Mister Menendez had used me and lied to me. It made me kind of mad. It's hard to say when I expanded my anger to all men and boys. Mommy gradually told me about how I'd come to be in this world as I got old enough to understand. I could feel the tension and resentment whenever she talked about the boy who had made her pregnant—my biological father. I hadn't been acquainted with very many men and the only two I really knew anything about were both selfish bastards.

The bus driver put my suitcase in the back of Auntie Helen's SUV and I saw the smile she gave him. I didn't look at his face; my eyes went immediately to the front of his pants. It could have been my imagination but I thought I detected subtle movement.

'Men!' I was thinking as my mother's friend—the one I called Auntie—held open the door of her luxurious wheels.

Climbing in I was conscious of the way the older woman who'd be looking after me studied my body. It gave me a warm shiver for some reason.