I reached for the door handle when I felt Rosario come up behind me. Before I could protest, she had pushed me against the truck and threw my skirt up to where it bunched around my waist. She pulled down my panties in one swift gesture, parting my legs wide. I inhaled sharply as her fingers entered me, two at once, and plunged deep into my wetness.
She thrust fiercely as I clung to her, clutching her shoulders. “You want me to fuck you like a man, don’t you?” she whispered in my ear while I bit my bottom lip and gasped. She pumped harder, demanding an answer.
“Say it,” she whispered harshly. “Tell me what you want.”
“Fuck me,” I moaned. “Do anything you want to me. Just do it.”
She let go of me sharply, just long enough to open the back door of the Studebaker and shove me inside. I fell against the back seat and she was on top of me in a flash, spreading my knees, positioning herself between my thighs. I reached up to caress her face, sliding my hands over the swell of her breasts, but she pushed my hands away. “Not yet,” she said.
I closed my eyes, feeling an ache rise in my chest, a hunger so fierce it seemed insatiable. Consume me, use me in any way you want. Suddenly I felt something hard against my opening and my eyes flew open.
“Wha—what is that?” I gasped.
Rosario watched me with amusement. “You don’t think women can do the things men do?”
I sat up on my elbows, only to see a thick male appendage dangling from her unfastened pants. It looked lifelike and engorged, jutting from her pelvis as though it had always been there and not fastened by a clipped belt around her hips. The thing both aroused and frightened me more than anything. I started to shake my head when Rosario placed a finger over my lips, hushing me, then pushed me back down. Then her mouth sealed mine in a scalding kiss that left me shivering for more.
“I’ll give you what you want,” I heard her say as her hand traveled underneath my blouse and cupped my breast, freeing it from the brassiere. Her thumb flicked over my nipple sharply, squeezing the tender, puckered flesh.
The dampness between my legs increased. Before I could protest, Rosario’s other hand shifted downwards, and suddenly I felt the thick head of the cock entering me swiftly. I gasped out loud, both from the discomfort and shock of feeling my most vulnerable place stretched in such an unfamiliar way.
Rosario hesitated, allowing me a moment to adjust to the sensation of fullness, before she moved her hips closer, plunging the cock deeper into my wet folds. Then she was pumping me faster still, the brutal cock pounding inside me as I arched my back higher, my legs spreading wider with every thrust. The sound of her cock slapping into my wetness, in and out, deeper and harder, filled my ears.
She wasn’t holding back anymore. The hand that still squeezed my nipples now traveled up to my face, caressing it before her fingers entwined in my hair and pulled it back, harshly, as she fucked me harder still. Her other hand now reached toward my clitoris, rubbing and flicking it in rhythm with every thrust.
A sense of both utter pleasure and urgent fullness reared up in me, striking panic. My fingernails dug into Rosario’s back. “You have to stop, I can’t take it anymore,” I begged, but the words had the opposite effect on her.
Her breathing quickened and she forced herself deeper and faster into me. She groaned in my ear and I knew that she was close, agonizingly close to her own climax, but that she was holding back, waiting for me.
Each thrust penetrated me to the core. My body suddenly took over; my legs wrapped around her hips and my back arched high as I clamped down hard on her cock. Rosario let out a shuddering moan and rammed herself hard into me, holding me tightly against her body as the orgasm coursed through her.
Her final thrust caused a rush of fluid to explode from deep inside, sending jolts of pleasure throughout me. As the pleasure abated, a mortifying shame overwhelmed me. “I’m so sorry,” I whispered, sensing the dampness soaking through the back of my skirt onto the vinyl seat. “I think I peed myself.”
I couldn’t believe it when Rosario started to laugh. I stared at her indignantly until I felt her soft lips brush my forehead. “No, silly,” she said under her breath, “you came. You let go completely. It’s not pee, look.”
She brought her hand from between my legs and I looked at the clear fluid glistening on her fingers, devoid of any acrid urine smell. Awe filled me as I realized how little I knew of my own body. Who wouldn’t thought women could experience that sort of release, just like a man? No, I corrected myself. Not like a man, but better.
Sometimes I really had to pinch myself to make sure I wasn’t dreaming. Never could I have imagined that I would fall in love like this, both with a woman as amazing as Rosario and a place like southern California. Less than six months earlier I had hated every single thing about this part of the country. If you were to have told me that one day soon I would be enchanted by the magic adrift in the air, I’d have told you to get your eyes checked. Yet here I was, sleeping each night curled up next to my beloved, feeling like nothing in the world could shake up our little life together, the wonderful nest we had created for ourselves.
But as cozy and warm as life in that little house in Pacoima was for us, a hollowness intensified inside my chest whenever I thought about my family. My mother’s birthday was coming up soon, and as the days counted down to the date I found myself pestered by the nagging thought that I should at least telephone her, if only to let her know that I was all right. I knew that Rosario was of the opinion that no good could come out of such a phone call, that they might plead with me to come back home or threaten me in some way, but I just couldn’t shake the thought that perhaps I could set things right with her, somehow.
On the Friday night before her birthday, I waited until we were at Brothers and snuck out back to the hallway where there was a payphone. I slipped a nickel into the coin slot and dialed the number.
My mother answered on the second ring.
“Happy birthday, ma,” I said, forcing myself to sound cheerful.
Her voice sounded panicked. “Diana? Is that you, honey?”
“Yeah, it’s me.” I could tell she was working herself into a tizzy, so I cut her off at the pass. “Everything is fine, ma. I’m all right, don’t worry about it. Just wanted to call and wish you a happy birthday.”
“But sweetheart, how could you do that to us, running off like that? I was out of my mind with worry. We telephoned the police…”
I took a deep breath, forcing myself to keep from placing the receiver right back on the hook. “Please don’t go there. You know exactly why I had to leave. It’s better that way.”
“But how are you managing to take care of yourself? How are you supporting yourself? You’re not involved with some unsavory types, are you? Please do come home, darling. If only to talk, that’s all.”
“But Mother…”
“I just need to see you, Di,” she said, her voice trembling. “We can even go to lunch, if you’d like, in neutral territory if you will. I admit things went bad between us, but Albert – he was so stressed, you see, never having lived with a woman and a child before…he didn’t mean to –”
“I’m hanging up, Ma.”
“No!” she screeched. “Just wait, sweetheart, just give me one more minute. One more minute with your old ma on the line isn’t going to hurt you now, is it?”
I hesitated. She sounded desperate, genuinely remorseful. But of course she’s sorry, I chided myself. Of course she’d apologize just to get me to go back home, but one minute there and she’d turn back into the same old witch.
I sighed. “Everything is all right, I already told you. Quit worrying about me, I’m fine. How are you holding up? Are you and Albert still together?”
She gave off a little harrumph sound to show her displeasure. “But of course, darling,” she said indignantly. “What a question!” Then she lowered her voice. “Are you taking care of yourself?” Her mouth was right up against the receiver and I could h
ear her breathing, the rasping caught in the back of her throat. I could see her curling the phone cord around her lacquered fingertips, something she did frequently when she was fighting back her nerves. “Do you have a job?”
“I work with a friend, Ma. I make my own living.”
“Doing what, exactly?”
“We do deliveries, odd jobs…what does it matter? I didn’t call to be interrogated.”
“No, of course not. I’m only trying to figure out if you’re all right. Do you need money? If you come back here, I can see what I can do and give you a little something – ”
“I’m never coming back there. Jesus. You might as well forget about it. Look, Ma, I don’t think this was such a good idea calling you like this.”
“Look, Diana, I just want to make sure you’re taken care of. Is that so difficult to believe? That you can put food on the table –”
I hadn’t expected that she’d try to back me into a corner and make me feel so defensive. Rosario was right – it had been a mistake to telephone home. “Everything’s okay, Ma,” I snapped. “My friend has a good job now and is going to be earning enough to take care of the both of us.”
“Doing what, exactly?”
“She performs at a bar downtown on weekends, all right? Between that gig and the delivery jobs, we have enough to live on.”
My mother scoffed. “You’re living with a girl? Well, at least you’re not going to get knocked up that way, thank the Lord. But a performer? Surely you’re not serious?”
“Yes, Ma. And she’s good, real good. And besides, I’ve managed to line up a job at the bar where she plays, waiting tables and tidying up, and the tips are great. So you see, I’m doing just fine, thank you very much.”
A long silence followed. I bit my lip, wondering why I allowed myself to feel so bad whenever my mother judged me harshly. After all these years growing up with her, you’d think I would have learned my lesson. But a part of me, as small as it may have been, still hoped against hope that someday my mother would approve of my resourcefulness, or my brains, or anything for that matter.
Today was not that day. “You’re really determined to throw your life in the garbage, aren’t you?” she spat out viciously, wielding each word deliberately, like a weapon. “Such a disappointment you’ve turned out to be.”
It was a slap in the face that I had not anticipated. I slammed the phone down on the receiver crook and rubbed my eyes, as though to shake a horrible vision away from my consciousness before it took hold.
I turned away from the telephone, a sense of unease growing in the pit of my stomach. Not that I could put my finger on it, but something didn’t seem to be right anymore. Suddenly I was overcome with regret at having made that call. Perhaps I should have let sleeping dogs lie and not looked back. I struggled against the foreboding sensation that crept up in me as I painted a smile on my face and ran up to Rosario, thinking it best not to make mention of what had just happened.
We had left Brothers shortly after closing time, when the streets were empty and long shadows wound around the block, unbroken by the sparse yellow light drifting from unevenly-spaced street lights. As we walked toward the backstreet parking lot where she’d left the Studebaker, Rosario’s hand hovered against the small of my back, her reassuring presence dismissing the restlessness growing in my belly.
In my ears I could still hear the hissing catcalls from the leering men who had lined the streets as we made our way to the bar earlier that evening. Thankfully they were gone now, their presence erased by the long, crescent face of the moon, but the apprehension I felt refused to subside.
I turned my gaze toward her to say something when a screech of tires punctured the silence. Rosario’s arm instinctively tightened around me and she sped up our pace, but not before we heard car doors slam.
“Run,” she whispered urgently. We bolted forward but made it merely a few steps only to find ourselves face to face with three men dressed in dark clothing.
“Where do you think you’re going?” one of the men scoffed at us.
“We’re just out walking,” Rosario said. “We don’t want any trouble.”
“Yeah, sure you are,” the man said spitefully.
Abruptly, one of them lurched forward to grab my arm. Cringing, I tried to pry myself free from the vice grip that held me captive. “Let me be,” I cried.
Rosario went to dislodge me when a fourth man suddenly came up behind her and shoved her against a brick wall. He punched her in the stomach, making her double up, gasping for air.
“No,” I shouted, trying to kick at him while struggling with the ape whose fingers bore into my flesh.
“Let’s not make a big scene here,” a familiar voice broke through my terror.
Twisting my neck, I could just make out a face I thought I would never have to see again: Albert. Nearly unrecognizable in the darkness, he motioned to our attackers. “Let’s make this quick, before anybody sees.”
Albert sat back on his haunches and lit up a cigarette. In the fleeting glow of the spark from his lighter, I saw the glee on his monstrous face. “Aren’t you going to tell your dyke friend that it was you who told us where to find her? We oughta make sure bitches like her don’t mess around with stupid little girls from good families.”
From the corner of my eye, I could see that Rosario had abruptly stopped struggling. Her voice sounded strained as she called out to me. “Is that true, Di? You told them where to find us?”
I was about to protest when my mind flashed back to the part of my phone call to my mother last week where I’d told her that I was waitressing in a women’s bar. There was only one such place in all of Los Angeles. Of course they’d had no trouble tracking me down. How could I have been so stupid?
“Leave her alone!” I cried. “I’ll come with you, just leave her be!”
Albert nodded to the man holding Rosario, who he hit her again, twice more. I could hear the muffled sound of his fist impacting against her body. I screamed at the top of my lungs. The brute holding me tried to put his hand over my mouth and I sank my teeth into the back of his palm.
“Fuck,” he yelped, letting go of me. “Goddam bitch bit me.”
I tried to run around the corner and into the middle of the street to flag down a car, any car. It was late, yes, but surely somebody had to be out there to hear my screams. I had just made it when a powerful blow struck me in the side of the head. I fought hard to hold onto consciousness, blinking to ward off the dizziness that began to descend over my eyes. I flailed against the hands that took hold of me against my will, but gradually the world went black.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Burning white lights were tearing through my retinas, sending rings of fire through my brain. I blinked, turning my head away from the flashes. Nausea took hold and I coughed harshly, a rancid taste of vomit on my tongue.
“She’s awake,” distant voices faded in and out.
I struggled to focus. Like a wave called back to the sea, the blurriness receded and the stark white of a hospital room came into view. An antiseptic stench assailed my nostrils, making me violently queasy. A nurse was bending over me, a little flashlight in her hands. Shaking, I reached up to rub my eyes. The right side of my head throbbed hard, as though a boulder had smashed into my skull. I winced.
“That should not have happened,” a consolatory male voice spoke out. “Completely unnecessary.” I peered over the nurse’s shoulder and saw a man standing there who was obviously a doctor if I were to go by the white coat he wore and the stethoscope that dangled like a silver medallion from his neck.
He stepped toward me. “I’m Dr. Kefir,” he said, reaching his hand out. I shook it limply, still trying to grasp where I was. As if he read my mind, the man spoke again. “You’re in LA County General Hospital. Your parents felt that a medical intervention was needed for someone in your condition.”
I made an effort to stand. “Wh—what? An intervention?”
He nodded grav
ely. “We would have preferred if you came in of your own accord, but your stepfather felt that you would not cooperate so he arranged for you to be brought in.”
“Is that what you call it?” My head spun, trying to recall the last thing that had happened before I was knocked out. “Rosario,” I gasped. “What did they do to her?”
“Relax, Miss Morris. In your state you need to –”
“What did they do to her?” I screamed. “Just tell me!”
Dr. Kefir gave the nurse a knowing glance. She nodded back and walked out of the room. I tried to get out of the bed but Dr. Kefir blocked my path. “Miss Morris, just settle down now.”
”Why can’t you tell me?” I yelled again. “Let me go, you have no business holding me.”
“On the contrary. We are authorized to hold a patient for up to seven days, even if it goes against their wishes, if it is deemed that they are a danger to themselves,” he said patiently as the nurse returned, a glistening syringe in hand, and passed it onto him.
Seeing it, I started crying. I knew exactly what they were going to do. I pleaded with the doctor. “Look, I’ll be quiet, just tell me if my friend is all right.”
“Now Miss Morris, please sit back and relax.”
“No! You tell me right now,” I sobbed. He leaned over, grasping my arm. I pulled back, trying to kick him.
The nurse flew around the bed, knocking my shoulders back onto the pillow. The needle penetrated my skin in a flash. A warm sensation coursed through my body, and I felt my legs going numb.
“Now that’s better, isn’t it,” said Dr. Kefir.
“Go to hell,” I growled. He turned away and I heard the syringe fall into a metal tray by the bedside.
Halfway to the door he paused and turned partially toward me. I just looked at him wordlessly. He cleared his throat. “Your friend is fine. Your stepfather’s friends did what they had to in order to bring you in, but she was unharmed. You can relax now; this process will go much easier on all of us if you’re not resisting it each step of the way.”
Follow the Sun Page 15
