Date: Fri, 7 Jul 2006 21:26:02 +0100
From: mozzie@zalau.ro
Subject: Suzie #13

This is the story of a girl's sexual awakening and her experiences and
those of her friends. How her curiousity and self-doubt bring her to
explore new heights in pleasure. The story will develop to show instances
of masturbation, M/F, M/F/F, F/F, M/M and incest - if any of this is likely
to cause you offence, please do not read on ....

Chloe and I left the hospital. We realised that if we hurried we would be
able to get the afternoon circle line bus back to our neighbourhood,
without having to take the long route or wait in the city centre for two
hours for the next bus, which was the early evening one. We scurried along
and managed to make it to the bus stop opposite the hospital's side doors
with about five minutes to spare.

Chloe gave me a sideways glance and smirked, "What did you guys get up to
in there? Liam seems pretty keen on you now." Her smirk became a
grin. Chloe continued, "I think I will let him join in our sleepover
... oh, if that's OK with you? I figured you won't mind posing for me and
the bro, I can always make it worth your while." Chloe would have no clue
what I had just done to her brother, or the offer that I had just made
him. She almost certainly thought that he wanted to join in with her
watching a girl, I wondered if he had done this before, so I asked her.

"This is the first time he's asked," She replied, "usually he just stares
through the keyhole or something. He thinks I don't know but I always
do. So girl, do you want him in the room to watch?" I nodded far too
enthusiastically, and before long we were both giggling hysterically.

The bus, as ever, was heaving with people. None of them seemed to want to
give up their seats. A lot of them stared at Chloe, this dark and
foreboding Goth in school uniform who expertly made them all look away
sheepishly with one glare. After about twenty minutes, we both got fed up
with the jostling and the endless diving for any seat that became vacant,
so we got off a few stops early.

It seemed only natural to invite Chloe to my home; it was a lot closer to
where we were than her house. She looked as if she genuinely liked my home;
compared to her house it must have seemed like a hovel but, if that was
what she thought, she gave no sign. My mother managed not recoil in horror
at the Goth that I had just brought home. Chloe spoke very softly and ultra
politely, smiling and nodding with interest at my mother's
conversation. Within a minute or so Chloe had won over my mum; now that was
impressive!

I took the opportunity to ask if I could sleepover at Chloe's house after
the dramatic society's performance on Friday. I knew that mum could hardly
say no after I had invited them to have such a nice break on Saturday
especially now she was so freshly impressive with my new friend. Just to
remove any lingering doubts Chloe cinched it with "I'll leave my address
and phone number in case there's a crisis." Mum didn't appear to hesitate;
she smiled and agreed before setting about making us all tea.

Mum offered to bring the tea through to the lounge but I suggested my
bedroom. Chloe seemed impressed. My room was nowhere as big as hers and
certainly it had more junk in it, but she seemed to like it. I opened my
cupboard and showed her my various outfits. We were chatting and laughing
happily when mum came it carrying a tray with biscuits, cakes and two cups
of tea balanced on top. Mum said, "I didn't know if you took sugar, Chloe
dear, so I've left some in the pot for you. Suze I've already sugared
yours." Mum was great, she didn't try to hang around or be one of the
girls, she simply said, "I'll leave you girls to it."

Chloe laughed, "Did your mum just call me 'Dear'?" I nodded embarrassed
before replying, "Yes, yes, I think she did."  The hysterics returned.

Eventually I showed Chloe my vanity case. Immediately she dived into the
net pocket on the underside of the lid. She skimmed through my diary and I
explained the floppy discs. Chloe lifted out a pair of briefs from the main
compartment and looked at me; she asked "Trophies?" This was it, the moment
of truth, my fetish was about to be revealed - I nodded. "Kewl." Chloe
replied. It was like a huge burden had been lifted from my shoulders.

I explained that one side was for boys that I had done it with, the other
two pairs were just taken from the laundry basket from boys that we had
been looking after and either I fancied or I just liked what had happened
to their underwear. Chloe cut my explanation short, "So you collect cum
stained underwear?" I nodded, my guilt swelling back up inside me. "Kewl."
She repeated.

She lifted the grey Wolsey briefs and lifted a quizzical eyebrow. "Marc." I
said. Chloe smiled and placed them reverently back into the case. Then she
asked, "Is that all you have?" I was so pleased that she was taking an
interest in my collection and treating it so matter-of-factly. I said, "No,
no, I did have more but I started to sell them on eBay. But before I could
get going, this happened ..." I dug into one of the pockets that surrounded
the side of the case and pulled out the eMail from eBay telling me that I
was banned for selling used underwear. Chloe laughed and wagged her finger
at me. Jokingly she reproached me, "naughty ... naughty ... naughty."

We schemed how we could set up an Internet business. We were going to sell
Goth clothes and stuff. It was never serious, just a trip of fantasy, but
it got more and more complicated the more we worked at it. We were just
into our forth variation of making our millions without having to work,
when Chloe's phone rang. She had to go home.

Chloe made a point of saying goodbye ever so nicely to my mum. Reinforcing
mum's impression of this pleasant, if somewhat oddly dressed, young lady.

I walked with Chloe to the bus stop, chatting about anything and
everything. Chloe seemed really overjoyed that I was going to be at her
sleepover on Friday. The conversation was cut short as we saw Chloe's bus
pull in at the stop a little way down the road. We both had to run the last
bit. Chloe climbed safely aboard and I waved at the back of the bus as it
left in case she might be waving back through the grime-encrusted windows.

I started to stroll back home. It was a lovely evening and far too early to
just go straight home, so I simply wandered. I had already made up my mind
to go to bed early though. I planned to relive my hospital visit again and
again in my mind, while pleasuring myself. I really couldn't wait until I
had 'earned' that butterfly thing from Chloe; I wish that I had it already.

Wanking Liam in the hospital, so close to so many unsuspecting people, had
been a new thrill to me. As I walked I imagined try to walk along the
street with the butterfly blasting me into ecstasy deep inside my skirt,
with passers-by completely oblivious to what was happening. My mind
wandered, I tried to imagine what Liam's toy looked like, tried to imagine
him using it - strangely I couldn't get a clear mental image. I had seen
Artemka masturbating a few times, but I simply couldn't imagine any sort of
object helping that process along.

A piercing whistle broke my daydream. I snapped out of my daze and looked
round. Marc was clambering over a low wire fence that separated a soccer
field. He had taken the time to change out of his school uniform, a light
brown T-shirt and a pair of dark grey baggie shorts seemed to go so well on
him. A few boys on the other side of the fence were turning back to an
interrupted game of soccer; clearly Marc had seen me and run out on them
mid-game.

Marc arrived in an exaggerated jog. "Hi Suze," he started, "I've been
trying to talk to you for a while, but never seemed to get the chance. I
hadn't forgotten you or anything, I really never got a chance." I suddenly
realised that the boy was apologising for something that really hadn't
occurred to me.

He walked alongside me as I ambled along. He was pleased that I had hooked
up with Chloe. He knew Liam by sight but he went to a different school to
us so they really hadn't had the chance to meet up. I had allowed him to
beat around the bush for ages, trying to bring up the subject again and
again but losing his nerve at the last moment each time. Eventually he
managed to blurt it out as a hushed whisper, "Suze, when can we get it
together again? It's like you're just so great, just thinking about us
makes my balls ache. We just have to do it again sometime, please, sometime
soon." His confidence grew as he spoke, his next question was almost
urgent, "Are your folks home?" I laughed. He had gone from skirting around
the issue, to asking if we could do it eventually, to asking if we could do
it almost immediately.

"Sorry," I replied, "Mum's home" Marc looked dismayed, both of his parents
were home and, worse yet, decorating his room. He continued; Claire's
parents had also been home for a few days preparing for their summer
holiday trip to Italy. It seemed that this was sort of the last straw for
their relationship, a whole lot of things, including the arrival of
Claire's period, had kept them apart and not being able to spend quality
time together at either of their homes was the last straw.

"I haven't even got a door on my room!" Marc exclaimed in frustration; he
continued, "I mean the last time me and Claire got it on was weeks ago,
before we came over to join Art and you. Since then I've only scre
.... err, got it on with you."

"Twice," I reminded him, "once that night and then the evening you snuck
over." He cheered up a little at the thought and I continued, "Surely can
sort of relieve yourself until you and Claire get a chance together."

Marc shook his head. "I've been waiting," he said, "in case Claire can
manage something, but it simply isn't working. Every time, every darned
time, something stops us. Even now your mum is home, I am really beginning
to think someone up there wants me to become a monk!" I laughed at his joke
but realised he was simply trying to make light of his bad situation.

It was a beautiful evening and I still had an hour or so to fill before I
would be expected home. We were alongside one of the smaller park gates at
this time, "Let's go in here." I suddenly suggested.

We were in a family area. It was basically a flat-grassed park with clumps
of trees and bushes and stuff. Here and there were fenced areas with swings
and stuff, surrounded by that wood bark chipping stuff. Marc and I wandered
up a path that snaked through the whole park. One side stretched out for
hundreds of metres. On the other side was a small embankment maybe two
metres long, it rose slightly until it met a hedge that was maybe knee
high. The grass continued for another metre beyond the hedge before it met
a large clump of trees whose shade had successfully reduced the grass
underneath to a sort of balding brown flat moss.

We came to a park bench dug slightly into the narrow embankment and I sat
down. Marc dutifully sat down beside me, we still chatted quietly about his
problems and worldly woes. He seemed happier to be getting all this off his
chest. I listened to him with just one ear. Children were screaming and
playing in the play areas nearby and protective parent's stood watching
them. I suddenly had a vision of me having the butterfly strapped on and
working with all these people so close and yet completely unaware. I
suddenly had a plan, undoubtedly raised by my 'whore core' that seemed to
be governing my whole life of late.

I whispered urgently in Marc's ear, "You reckon you can get over that hedge
behind us without being seen?" Marc glanced behind, started to look at me a
little puzzled and then, as the idea dawned on him, he replied "Sure."
Without any further discussion he looked to check the coast was clear and
quickly walked across the 'keep off the grass' grass and hopped neatly over
the hedge and disappeared into the trees just a few steps beyond.

I looked around; no one seemed to have noticed. I hoped I could be so
skilful or maybe it had just been luck. I walked quickly to the hedge and
jumped over. OK I wasn't half as agile as Marc but I got over. I didn't
walk over to join Marc in the trees, instead I settled down on the soft
unused grass with my back to the hedge and beckoned Marc back to join me.

Within seconds Marc was sat at my side, our heads just a fraction below the
top of the hedge. I touched the side of Marc's chin and turned his face
towards me. I kissed him, just a peck at first then a gentle open-mouthed
lip embrace.

I let my right hand slide quickly up the leg of Marc's shorts and onto his
groin. His dick was sort of half hard as I grabbed it. Immediately I
started to rub it back and forth through his board shorts and it very
quickly became rigid. Marc's fingers splayed across the back of my head as
he started to dominate our kiss, his tongue snuck in between my teeth and
started to play with the tip of my own tongue.

Deep inside me a warm glow started to burn its way through a barrier,
familiar ripples started to bounce around my chest towards my belly. My
fingers played with Marc's shrouded shaft, fingering it and jerking it
around harshly inside his clothes.

One of Marc's hands let go the back of my head and it strayed down the side
of my face, smoothly sliding down to my right breast and tweaking my
still-hardening nipple on the way past. The hand continued downwards
pulling my white school blouse from my skirt's grey waistband, until it
could slide under my blouse and back up the smooth skin of my stomach to my
bra-covered breast.

Marc smoothed and stroked the front of my bra, teasing the bud of my nipple
that pushed through its cotton tomb. His hand slid around my bra strap and
there was a moments fumbling behind my back. The bra fell forward loose
inside my blouse. Although our lips were working hard against each other, I
managed a smile - that was one practised movement he had just done.

I broke our kiss long enough to pull my buttoned-up blouse over my head, my
bra got swept along in the motion. Marc looked startled, perhaps realising
that I wanted more than a fumble behind a bush. "God Suze, like here?" was
all he could say before my mouth clamped back over his. I lay back pulling
his T-shirt over his head as I reclined. Marc was hunched over me before my
head gently touched the soft, slightly cold, grass. His mouth starting to
pleasure my aching tits, as his hand slid up under my skirt.

The ripples had started to flow back and forth from my stomach to each
breast, the pressure built in my breasts as they swelled and rose to his
teeth and tongue. Each lapping ripple sought to snatch my breath away; each
nip of Marc's teeth on my hardened nipples seemed to push the air out of my
lungs in small gasps.

Marc's hand had slid smoothly up my thigh and his fingers brushed across my
mound. At first his fingers simply moved from side to side, then up and
down. Instinctively my hips rose to press against his stroking hand; Marc
responded instantly, pressing his hand hard against me through the thin
cotton of my panties. One of his fingers, by chance, bore down hard on my
swelling clit; another pressed a little inside my lips parting them.

My juices were flowing like a hot river of liquid metal, spilling over some
flimsy wall deep inside me and gushing down my love tube to ooze through
the slit held open by Marc's intruding finger. Marc pressed on and off my
mound, forcing his fingers deeper inside me oblivious to the school panties
that were preventing his fingers sliding inside.

His lips left my breasts and made their way up my body back to my mouth. He
moved further up me to allow this, his hips came in reach of my fingers and
instantly I was pulling on the waistband of his Baggies. The heavy duty
elastic moved to part way down his thighs, his boxer shorts came down with
them. The combined elastic caught momentarily on his swollen erection,
until it sprang lose and slapped back against his stomach. A small drop of
pre-cum flew off the end and landed on my heaving stomach, a steady stream
was dribbling down from the slit in the distended glans that hung below him
and he balanced on all fours above my half-naked body.

We froze. Two chatting voices were just the other side of the hedge. We
both peered between the sparse branches at the very base of the low
privet. Two women were just sitting down on the bench that we had left; a
small boy and girl were running around on the park in front of the bench
chasing a propeller shaped Frisbee. It looked like the women were settling
down for the long haul.

I could almost feel Marc sigh, like another act of God had stopped him once
more. I reached down to his member; it was starting to go soft but soon
sprang back to its iron hard state at my touch. My fingers started sliding
slowly up and down its satin-like flesh.

Marc looked startled, glancing at the women who were less than a metre away
from us. None too gently I used my free hand to pull his head back onto my
tongue-hugging kiss; my other hand built up its speed on his hard, hot
skin.

Marc's hand started to rub more against my panties. I started to fear that
Marc was thinking of no more than a mutual masturbation session. His hard
member swung between us with my fingers working at it, it was difficult to
judge if he was close or not.

I let go of his penis and reached under my skirt, pulling the front of my
own briefs under Marc's fingers and part down my thighs. Marc's displaced
fingers fell naturally onto my slit and slid inside without any
resistance. My hips bucked against the sudden invasion, I would have gasped
but Marc's lips were welded to my own to stifle any sounds.

Marc manoeuvred slightly and soon the swollen head of his penis was nudging
my sopping mound. The glans settled just in between my lips, Marc leant
very close to my ear and murmured, "Suze, I'm not going to last long, I'm
fucking bursting. Can I come inside you again?" I nodded.

Marc's length slid slowly inside me. Again our kiss stifled the moan that
should have echoed across the busy park. His length oozed deeper and
deeper, a slick slippery violation, pressing in further and further until
our groins met. Our pubic hair intertwined, glistening juices rubbed from
my pussy onto his sweat and pre-cum beaded hair. Although he was completely
inside me he pushed a little further. His pubic bone forced mine along the
floor just a little bit. My hips raised to great that first push.

Marc slid out a little, and within seconds, was settled into a slow
rhythm. He couldn't really thrust; the women who were still sat chatting so
close to us would surely have heard the noise. Instead he slid slowly all
the way in and then slowly pulled himself all the way out.

Our lovemaking continued in complete silence. Well almost complete, there
was a slight slurping noise as his young flesh powered between my dripping
wet lips.

Each time his member slid out it felt like a vacuum was sucking the juices
from deep within me. When he slid in it was like a piston was ramming the
same juices back. Slowly the juices were forced back and forth, more hot
squirts from deep inside me added to the quantity moving inside me.

I started to tremble, my hips ramming hard against his, desperate to get
him inside me more than was possible. My orgasm rose and came streaming
through my mound. The trembles became spasms as my back arched
uncontrollably, my hands pulling on his hips forcing his tool into the
liquid balloon that swelled up inside me.

His first spurt slammed deep inside me, I felt it like a flame slapping
against the side of my sex. He was sliding his penis out of me when he
came. Later I wondered why, Marc had rammed his full length into me when he
had cum before. This time his own orgasm seemed to have caught him by
surprise. His bulky semen, a massive accumulation of nearly three weeks,
shot the full length of my tube. The off spray splashed its way along its
route, before the bulk stung my cervix. My whole insides curved down to
drink at the boy's semen as it spilled inside me.

Our kiss finally ended and Marc rolled off me, allowing his wilting penis
to pull out from my gaping sex hole. His member was shiny and wet with a
combination of our love juices and sweat. We lay there breathless, silently
trying to regain our breath. We were desperately trying not to laugh. One
of the women was so close we heard her say how peaceful it was, on hearing
that we both had to concentrate hard on stifling our giggling.

I pulled up my knickers, feeling the slime smear inside the gusset as my
dripping mound hit the cotton like ink on blotting paper. I lay back and
lifted my hips to smooth my skirt around my hips. A quick struggle managed
to get my bra and blouse back on.

Marc had pulled his orange boxer shorts back on. Almost immediately a large
dark stain appeared across the front. It seemed that he was in the same
position as me, his oily dripping, wilting tool had smeared it load across
his shorts at the first touch. Of course, he didn't have a skirt to hang
loosely away from the wet material. He just had some heavy Baggies to push
the wet mass against him. He peeled his shorts off, wiped the last few
obviously wet patches from his groin, and slid his board shorts over his
nakedness. He went to throw the boxers away but I raised my hand. Marc
smiled understandingly and passed me the soft jersey shorts to add to my
collection. We half crawled our way further up the hedge before risking the
jump and short few steps back onto the footpath.

We walked hand in hand back along the path, giggling as we passed the two
women who were still sat on the bench completely unaware of what had just
happened right behind them.

"Thanks Suze," Marc said, "I was getting desperate. Sorry it was so err
... quick. I was kind of desperate. I'll last longer next time Suze,
honest." I smiled back, not missing the heavy hint that he was expecting a
next time. He gave me a lopsided 'had to try it' grin.

It seemed just a few minutes before Marc had run off back to his house and
I was slipping back into my house. Within the hour the washing machine was
removing all evidence of my whore-like behaviour from my school uniform and
Marc's orange boxers had joined the collection growing in my vanity case.

That night, that very night, my period started. Instantly I realised that
this would spoil Chloe's sleepover so I sent her a text. A few moments
later, she had replied asking me to come over during the holidays that
instant I was curse-free.

Chloe was disappointed but said something that really made me think
seriously about what was becoming my way of life. She mentioned how
relieved Claire had been when her period had started after she had had
unprotected sex one night.

I realised at once that Claire had been talking about the night that
Artemka had cum inside her, the night his condom had fallen off at the last
moment. To hear that my friend had been so worried about the risk,
especially so that she had been so relieved when her periods had started to
mention it to Chloe. My periods were something that I dreaded and never
really talked about, in anything other than the most vague terms to my
friends.

It might seem odd but it was only at that moment that I really realised
what a risk I had been taken. I thought of the times that Artemka had cum
inside me and I hadn't had a second thought about the possible
consequences. Realisation continued to grow when I added Marc to the
equation. By the time I was finished thinking I was scared.

The very next day I visited the youth advisory service office. I always
thought I was above these sorts of places; they were full of nosey
do-gooders after all.  It was a really neat set up. The place offered loads
of different services, from careers advice to stress and grief
counselling. Amongst the long list were the sexual health options. No one
would really be aware of why you went in there which, as far as I was
concerned, was the most important thing.

The receptionist was a nice lady who gave me a registration card. Nothing
to it - just name, age and address really. Underneath that was a row of
tick boxes that allowed you to chose what service you were there for. The
lady took the card back with the best poker face I have ever seen and
directed me to one of the seats in the reception area.

The room was as pleasant as they could make it I guess. Pastel coloured
walls, a few posters, plastic plants - you know they type of place I am
sure. There were two huge wall racks containing leaflets on just about
every subject you could imagine. A low coffee table was covered with neat
piles of free magazines. I was looking around to see if there might be a
coffee machine to go with the coffee table, when someone called my name
out.

A pleasant but casually dressed lady made eye contact with me as I
instinctively rose to the sound of my name. I followed her along a short
corridor and into the very bowels of the building.

The lady introduced herself as Anne, a nurse. She was quick to explain that
most clients preferred her blouse and trousers look, but made a joke
offering to change into her white coat if I found that more reasonable. I
laughed nervously, but she ignored this and smoothly carried on with the
business at hand.

Her 'matter of fact' attitude was really quite calming. Before long she had
gathered quite a lot of information about me, and what I had been up
to. She was very non-judgemental, which was a relief. She took a smear test
and a small tube of blood to check I hadn't caught anything bad. She gave
me a handwritten note with a telephone number and an ID number on, it
didn't look official at all - certainly not the sort of thing you would get
at a clinic, it looked more like a note that might be passed amongst
friends. I had to call back in three days to get the results.

A few more basic health checks and she handed me a small bag containing
three boxes. The boxes contained blister strips of very small contraceptive
pills.

It was that simple. The whole process was not just anonymous it was
positively hidden, buried among the host of activities of the service. Anne
explained about how to take the pill, how the arrows on the packaging
literally led you on to the correct pill on the correct day. She did tell
me that I should consider having my partner using condoms for at least a
month until the pill had taken effect but, even then, she mentioned that if
I found this difficult I could always come back each week for a check.

Anne didn't so much lecture me about STDs and why condoms are the best
choice for casual sex in addition to the pill, but she simply made sure
that I knew; another great relief for someone who had expected some sort of
matron chiding her for her wicked ways. She let me know there was a second
option if the pills she had given me made me put on weight.

I had expected to be handed a small rainforest's worth of leaflets but
instead she handed me a couple of magazines about career advice - this
place's cover was great. I certainly wouldn't mind be seen emerging from
their place with those under my arm.

I picked up the bag and the magazines; I even shook her hand, I was
genuinely grateful for everything. As she rose from her chair she mentioned
a well-known brand of vitamin tablets. I stopped, a little unsure what she
was on about. Anne smiled, "The box is the same size as the pills, they're
in blister strips too ... unless someone actually reads the printing
they'll be none the wiser." She hunched forward conspiratorially, "The
perfect cover."  Anne smiled and I burst out laughing.

Within the hour, the contraceptive pillboxes were in a roadside
trashcan. Nearly a hundred vitamin tablets had been popped out of their
blisters and were floating in the storm drain.

My real pills were safely camouflaged inside their vitamin boxes and in my
vanity case. I even had kept one box of vitamin tablets, with a few tablets
popped for authenticity, in my bedside cabinet. I added them to some other
half used but long abandoned jars of cod liver oil capsules to make it look
like I had restarted my health kick. Mum, if she noticed, would simply
dismiss it as another teenage fad - she hadn't mentioned anything at all
about my sudden return to joss sticks, or my interest in Goths.  All I had
to be now was a little careful and to make sure that I settled into a
morning routine of taking the pill.

The next few days and my period went on. The holidays were a slow
start. Mum and Dad were planning the family holiday abroad; the fostering
was bringing in enough extra money to what we had had before to allow them
to consider a better-than-usual break. It sounded good; I dutifully pawed
through the brochures but knew that ultimately they would decide. I had a
spam email offering me a free website, I wasted a few days struggling to
build it, it looked OK and it was kind of fun but knew it was never going
to be a work of art. I gave up

My room, however, was a different matter - my Gothic side was coming
through big time; various shades of dark blue matt emulsion neatly coated
each hand-sanded wall. I had a massive clear out of my junk, much to Mum's
relief, and the minimalist trend really took hold. By chance I mentioned
that my change of heart had been influenced by Chloe; Mum had smiled
remembering that nice, pleasant (if somewhat oddly-dressed) girl I had
brought home that afternoon. It seemed that Mum actually approved of
Chloe's influence on my life, if only she knew the full extent!

I telephoned Anne for my results. She answered with a simple "Hello", at
first I wondered if I had the correct number but it seemed it was all part
of their efforts to keep their clients' business anonymous. I introduced
myself and gave my ID number. There was a brief shuffling of papers and
then Anne simply said, "All clear, no problems. Is there anything else I
can help you with?" The last of my concerns evaporated at that moment, I
said my thank you and hung up.

I had just completed my call, and was folding my clothes away in my room,
when Dad knocked on my door. He entered like he was coming into a black
magic coven but was diplomatic enough to try and hide his opinion of my
decor. "This is looking good Suze." he said. I knew that was the
introduction to a subject he was having trouble bringing up. A moment of
panic hit me - eBay had contacted him, I had left my vanity case open, the
immigration service had complained - all of these deep rooted fears came
rushing foward. They vanished as quickly as they had arrived. The family
holiday planning was a diversion; Dad had already planned to take Mum away
on a second honeymoon. "Of course, you can come along too, if you want." he
added. I could take the huge hint. It took only minutes to reassure Dad
that I wanted them to have some really quality time together and that I
would be fine and could make my own arrangements. His task accomplished Dad
made his thanks and stole out of the room, one last silent glance at the
dark glossed doorframe reminding me that he was having trouble coming to
terms with my Goth side.

to be continued ...