STEPS

CHAPTER THREE A secret

Numerous times, minding my parent's store he had helped me after I had peed, watching through the open door until I'd finished. The toilet situated in the dark and damp basement below the store. Each time, lifting my skinny body on the narrow wooden bench and using a handkerchief to wipe between my legs. His eyes glued to my small hairless vagina, panties down around white ankle socks or bunched up tights.

The assumption that this was normal, something all minders did. He was family see, my father's side; married to his niece. Driving a truck and clearing out septic tanks, in-between looking after the store when my parents travelled to the big city on business.

What did I know about what normal was? Yet sometimes I'd hold my pee too long fearing the dark basement. I'd wet my pants. He'd see, and he'd take me down there anyway, to clean me up. He never scolded, never raised his voice, only smiled and tended to me with patient, silent devotion. The handkerchief always folded and placed in his pocket afterwards, which I found odd, since it was dirty? And his mouth? Times he kissed me down there too! Dirty! I'd been taught to wash my hands after going to the toilet. He never did...

... William sensed my withdrawal. This the first time I'd not displayed the eager hankering for conversation familiar to him. I asked to leave, wanting distance between my physical body and this tea-house, needing to disperse the converged similarities depositing me back into the nightmare.

I accompanied him to his next meeting. He talked a lot on the way, filling the silence; the occasional nod from me assumed participation. My mind still anchored there though, William's words heard yet unabsorbed, not whilst the other one was speaking in my head.

"Don't be afraid, my little one."

The nightmare continued to play out. I sat in an armchair outside an office while William negotiated behind the partially closed door. Thumbing through a magazine I could hear his smooth tones, the other's animated voice, perhaps enticed by yet another promising deal. I tried to focus on my being there with William, the anticipation of yet more time alone, dinner and conversation in a cosy restaurant later perhaps...

... It was different this day. The other's hand was fumbling at the front of his trousers. I dared glance sideways and saw this thing! It poked out of his pants, and he gripped my hand and pressed it there. A scream was bubbling inside me, eyes wide, fear making me jerk in spasms. He trapped my hand underneath his own larger one and started rubbing it over the thing.

"No!" The word escaped my mouth over and over. My head shaking from side to side, my eyes clenched shut. "No! No!"

He persisted, odd moans accompanying the rubbing. His other hand was down there where I peed. He tried to lower my tights and I crossed my legs. I pursed my lips, face twisting in terror. He was insistent. The struggle ineffective but I suspected I had to not let him do these things. I squirmed some more, pushing myself against a door refusing to open.

He leaned across, his mouth slithering to my evading lips, leaving wet streaks across my throat, my cheeks. It felt forever, I saw only darkness through scrunched-up eyes. Heard only his accelerating panting, some weird squishy sounds. I smelled the sewerage from the back of the truck, the garlic in his breath. I felt lips, fingers, that thing bringing pain. Some sticky wetness, his body contorting, then at last, pulling away from me.

I could breathe again, longer, panting breaths.

It was then I screamed. Mouth wide open, I screeched! Tears streamed, inadequate fists flailed, connecting with his arm, his chest. Maybe he panicked; maybe what he'd needed was a loud noise, a persistent piercing sound to waken him from the glazed stupor. He withdrew further. I in turn tugged at my tights, raising them up, pulling my dress down as far as I could stretch it. I pleaded, my voice puny and full of entreaty again.