I was standing in the darkness stark naked, feeling the rush of excitement while I watched James in his bedroom. He looked forlorn. His jacket dangled from his hand that hung limply at his side. He looked from place to place around his bedroom and seemed unable to decide what to do. He was obviously suffering from distasteful thoughts about his room, his bed, and the things that Rhoda had done there. My heart was breaking for him, but I couldn’t see that there was anything I could do about it. Besides, it wasn’t really my business. We had shared a very good time, and I admit I had developed feelings for him. I even admit that I was hot for him, but I wasn’t about to rush into anything while my Larry wounds were not yet healed.
In spite of everything that was going on around my little courtyard, I slept soundly until after nine in the morning. I guess the combination of rich food, good wine, and the emotional impact of my experience with James had left me pretty fatigued. I had my mug of coffee before I showered. I didn’t see James, of course, because he’d have gone off to work before I got up. I couldn’t help thinking about him, though, and I masturbated with the water-pulse massage in my shower to the thoughts of sex with such a gentle lover. I shook the thoughts away after the relief of the orgasm in the shower and had my breakfast of a second coffee and a bowl of raisin bran with milk.
I still had to earn a living, so I set myself up to transcribe Mrs. Clarkson’s dictation. I don’t like to use the headset if I don’t have to. The apartment was very quiet during the day, while most people were at work, so I just turned on the dictating machine and let it roll. Mrs. Clarkson’s voice, firm although mature, spoke without hesitation. I found a startling difference between the dignified, upper-class way she had of speaking and the things she was saying. At first I was shocked, and then… well, I’ll let you read it for yourself.
“I celebrated my eighteenth birthday by leaving home. I didn’t decide to leave just because Dad fucked me. He’d been doing that since I was fourteen. My brother Donny was only sixteen and he’d been fucking me for two years. That’s not why I’ve left home either. Truthfully, Diary, I liked it. That’s the really terrible thing about me… I liked the feeling of my father sticking his cock into me, the smell of him, and his skill with his tongue, and how he taught me to suck his cock and make him cum into my mouth. I liked it all. I must be a horrible person. I even enjoyed Donny. When he first sneaked into my room, he was scared, and didn’t know what to do. I taught him, like Dad taught me, how to do what I like.”