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28/05/2006 Rebellion - Part 3As I drove away from my parents house my mind was in turmoil. I had no real plan... was not sure where I would go or what I would do... all I knew at that time was that I was angry with my parents, and with the elders of the congregation. How could they all treat me that way? Why was it ok for one person in our "faith" to study with and then marry someone they'd met in the "world" and it wasn't ok for me to do that? I felt discriminated against. I felt that they were being unduly harsh with me, and that it was wrong of them to expect more from me than from someone else.
What I know now is that they were so stunned by what they saw as a complete, unexplainable, turnaround in me... in my behavior and my attitude... that they felt it would take drastic measures to "bring me back".
It was evening as I drove away. The stark white snow blanketing the trees and the ground, everything glinted and shimmered with bright sparkling diamond-like accents in the setting sun. Dark shadows began forming betwen the tree trunks and reaching back as far as I could see... concealing whatever was hiding there, my surroundings seeming somehow sinister and threatening. I could hear the packed snow beneath the tires of the car crunching as I rolled over it. I drove slowly, drowning in my thoughts. Fear began to take hold of me. Where do I go now?
I had a lot of friends, but none of them would support me in leaving my parents home out of anger and rebellion. Each person I could think of to call or approach could be ruled out almost immediately... no, that one will just tell me to go home... no, she'll just lecture me forever and then send me home... no, he's got teenage daughters too... there's no way he'll help me... and on and on went the list... growing ever smaller while my apprehensions grew larger.
There was only one place to go that I could reason was the "safest"... my thinking at that time was a bit warped and confused, but I KNEW there was one person in the world who would do anything for me... after all, he said he loved me. I would just make sure the rules were clearly defined. I would have a long serious talk with him and he would have to make me believe he understood and agreed to abide by my wishes. Yeah. That would work.
I drove to the Inn where K worked. I remember talking to myself, out loud, as I got out of the car. "Just be very clear with him... you have to be strong and make sure he knows you are an adult and you know what you want and what you don't want." Brave words for an inexperienced, somewhat sheltered (in some ways) girl with no where else to go.
As I entered the lounge area I could see K sitting at the bar. He looked up when the door opened and let in a blast of chilly winter air... and me. I don't think I'll ever forget that look on his face. It was a combination of disbelief, as if he thought he was seeing things, and pleasure... he was thrilled and amazed that I was there, and there was something else there that I could not identify at the time... although now I can, thinking back... there was a look of triumph in his eyes.
He rose from his stool and came to meet me halfway, holding out his hands for mine. I placed my hands in his and he pulled me to him for a hug. He said he was really glad to see me... what was I doing there? I looked at him, smiling so kindly and sweetly at me... and I broke down in tears... the realization of what I'd done swept over me and suddenly it was all too overwhelming... it was too much for me to handle.
K took me to the staff's private lounge area... his arm around my shoulders and his other hand holding mine... telling me not to worry, everything would be alright... hold on just a moment and we can talk in private. He got me settled on one of the couches and disappeared for a minute... returning right away with a cup of hot tea, and a box of tissues. I thought, how kind he is!
The meeting with the elders, the talks with my parents, the confusion and misery I'd been feeling for over a month... it all came spilling out of me. I was very young and unguarded... I saw no reason to hold anything back from him. I of course, was too young to know I was feeding him ammunition for the future... I didn't know how I was revealing my weaknesses... how I was an open book with a map to my most painful places laid out there for him to memorize for future use.
He assured me that I had done the right thing by coming to him. He said of course he would take care of me... he would watch out for me. My life would only change as I wanted it to... I could continue to go to church... I could study with him and he'd go to church with me... we would show them that he was good for me, that he would never do anything to hurt me... that I was the same person, no matter where I lived, and perhaps we could start a life together and show everyone that they were wrong.
There was something in the way he spoke that sort of stilled me. I gathered my thoughts and knew I had to make sure he understood the "rules". I rallied just enough to make sure he knew I hadn't come to him because I loved him. I made sure he knew I expected him to behave like a perfect gentleman. I would not sleep in the same bed as him. I would not let him touch or kiss me. I was very very adamant about all this, and he said he had no problems with any of it... he was content to just be near me, and to be able to see me every day again. He wasn't worthy of me anyway (he said), so I was right in putting an emotional and physical distance between us.
For a long time I held on to a picture, taken by him that first evening, of me, sitting in a chair in the corner of the lounge. I was wearing a white blouse with a frilly lace flounce from shoulder to shoulder (the style back then)... and my hair was down over my shoulders... I wore no makeup... my hands were folded in my lap, my knees together and my feet flat on the floor in front of me. The look on my face... scared and yet hopefull... in awe of K's sweetness, yet at the same time apprehensive... worried. I don't know where that picture went, but my face was so revealing in it... no wonder K was able to get to know me, inside and out, so quickly in the months to follow.
We started out living in the Inn where K worked. Part of his pay was room and board, and he had a small room, with two full size beds in it, a table and chairs, a small love seat, and a dresser on which he had a hot plate and toaster oven, and a few utensils and kitchen stuff. I started out by cleaning up his little place... putting things away and making the little room as homey as I could. I got my job back working there with him, and we went on for a while as room mates. He did not attempt to touch me, or even suggest it... verbally. His eyes devoured me, however, every time we were in a room together... his expression told me very clearly that he adored me.. he wanted me... and I was unnerved being around him.
He studied the bible with me on a regular basis, and he came with me to at least one meeting per week (we had three every week)... but people were distant and strange in the congregation around me. Word had gotten out that I'd moved away from home, and so of course... enter the elders again. I was taken aside again and questioned as to where I was living and what the exact arrangements were... I was very clear with them that I was still a "virgin"... that I'd not been with him, and he was very gentlemanly with me.
I know they didn't believe me though as shortly thereafter I was "publicly reprooved"... chastised in public to the entire congregation. I was not allowed to make comments during the services anymore, I could not read scripture aloud during the services anymore, or give talks. I was shunned for activities I had not yet indulged in. Needless to say, I was outraged. I was being not only discriminated against again, but I was being called a liar and being made to suffer for it because of their prejudices.
K had made it well known that he wanted to marry me, and I'd let it be known that I'd had no such plans... but that I was studying with him. Unfortunately, I was told that whether I was actually DOING anything with him or not, my living with a single man of the "world" looked very bad, and made the JW's look bad, and so if I was unwilling to change the situation, I must be disfellowshipped... that's like ex-communicated in the Catholic Church. After that no one from the congregation, actually from any congregation, could talk to me... ever... not even my own family. It took less than two months from the time I moved out to the time I was disfellowshipped.
Rebellion flourished in me. I was outraged that I was being punished for how things "appeared"... I knew what I had and hadn't done, and I was seriously angry that I was doubted... and to the point of being disfellowshipped. Who did these people think they were? God? I'd SHOW them! I stopped going to meetings at all. I stayed away from family and any friends I'd had. My life was completely devoted to working... and little else.
I was bored. I was miserably lonely. Crying became something I just did at the drop of a hat. Sadness consumed me, and I could see no way out of it. I was not going to go back home, no matter what... why? To "do what I was told"? Nope. Not me... no matter what happened. I was not going to go back to meetings... if I'd wanted to be re-accepted into the congregation it would have required me going to all the meetings regularly, with my "tail between my legs"... not talking to anyone for a few months... just showing my "submission" to their rules and silently begging forgiveness (for something I hadn't done), and then when they (the elders) felt I'd been properly chastised and showed the correct submissiveness, they would accept me back in, publicly. NOT A CHANCE! Rebellion wouldn't allow that... I'd been unjustly accused. Why should I have to apologise for doing nothing?
K was always sweet and kind. He was patient with me, and encouraged me to continue my religious studying, even if on my own. We had discussions for hours... in the beginning mostly about religion and Gods teachings in the Bible, but gradually, our talks included more and more about ourselves... our pasts, our families, what we wanted out of life, our dreams and our fears.
I began to see him as someone who had been wronged by his ex-wife (who was raising his three kids alone now... with NO help or support from him). That was explained away as well... in such a way as to make me feel he was right in not contributing... after all, his kids wouldn't see any of that money... his money-grubbing ex would just mismanage it... it was better for him to save money for them until they were old enough to make use of it for college or opening a business of their own. Yes, I was young enough to be sucked in by that story.
That was also the reason he had nothing in life. His b**ch of an ex took everything... and of course he had once HAD everything... a house, several cars, jewelry, a boat... etc. He'd have it all again one day though... he was a worker... he would work hard and give ME everything, if only I could love him. I was beginning to be so lonely... to feel so isolated from everything and everyone I had known all my life... that it started sounding good. To have a man who adored me, who would take care of me and give me all the "good stuff" in life... what would be wrong with that? Why couldn't I learn to love him?
I began looking at him differently... trying to get to know him, trying to learn to care about him. After all, what else did I have in life? I had no one else to turn to... for some reason, it never occurred to me to contact anyone on my father's side of the family. We'd never had much contact with them while growing up, and I suppose I just didn't factor them in to my life at that time... at least not as people I could turn to at this time.
K started "courting" me actively. He'd play romantic songs on the juke box and we'd dance... him pulling me closer and closer each time he got me on the floor. I'll never forget... one time we were dancing to one of Neil Diamond's songs... one from his "love songs" album... K was holding me so close I could feel him becoming excited against my tummy as we danced... it was so arousing to me... I wanted more of this holding and touching stuff. He was nuzzling my neck and rubbing my back as he pressed himself against me. My breath became labored, my eyes were closed, and my arms were around his neck, holding on to him... feeling weak and as if I could fall if he were to let me go. We were dancing, but we were barely moving... he slid one hand down my back and into the tight back pocket of my jeans, gently squeezing my cheek... I was dizzy. I spent the rest of the evening in a haze... everything looked kindof fuzzy to me... I suppose drinking rum and coke didn't make anything clearer either... I'd begun to drink in the evenings... to "fit in".
That was the beginning of the end for me. Later that evening K kissed me. It was the first time he'd attempted it. If he'd asked for permission, I might have had enough strength to say no, but he held me, and he petted me softly, and then he leaned in to kiss me... I accepted it with desire. I returned his kiss, and he, being 32 years old, and me only 19 now... he knew what he was doing. My earlier experience with G was coming back to haunt me... I wanted that feeling again. I don't think it hurt that I'm a latin woman... believe me when I tell you that it's true about latin women... we're HOT blooded... I don't think I know, to this day, any latin woman who isn't.
After that night K took every opportunity to touch me... to pet me... and to kiss me... deep searching kisses that went on forever it seemed. I'd become breathless... hanging on to him for support. His hands began to wander...almost innocently it seemed. He'd touch me by "mistake" at first... then he'd ALMOST touch me... and I'd be so on fire that I'd be waiting for his hand to move... I'd be wishing he'd take it a little further... I was putty in his hands, and he knew it.
At night he'd hold me and kiss me and barely touch me... this went on for about three weeks... me trusting him more and more because he didn't "take advantage" of me (that I could tell at the time)... and me wanting more and more because he was building me up to fever pitch each night, and then saying good night and going to his own bed while I lay in mine just itching... on fire and no way to fix it (good girls didn't take care of themselves... I was told that was bad anyway... even if it HAD crossed my mind, I could NEVER...).
We lived like we were a couple anyway. We shopped together, worked together, went on pic nics and to the movies. I cleaned house and cooked when we didn't eat dinner at the Inn... and he did the laundry. We studied the Bible together regularly, and as far as I was told by him, and I believed it... we were going to be married in the near distant future. He was adamant about it... he was GOING to marry me, and I figured that I had to marry him now... here I was being all physical with him... you only did that with someone you were going to marry, right? Ok, so I said I'd marry him... if he didn't mind that I loved him, but was not IN love with him. He didn't mind... he said that would come with time.
Once I'd decided I was going to marry him, it seemed pointless to "hold out" anymore. I'd decided that if the occasion arose, and things seemed right, I was going to "give myself to him" (young girls think in such romantic terms... at least I did... of course... in the language of romance novels). It wasn't long before I was put in the position to make just that decision.
We'd both been drinking that night... me rum and Coke's, and he his usual beer. We'd been dancing in the lounge, and there were a bunch of firemen up from the city on vacation. I'd been serving them dinner earlier, and aparently, the more they drank, the more attractive I was to them... there were only a couple of other girls in the lounge/bar area, so I got my fair share of attention. I danced with several of them, and when they got fresh with me (as of course drunk men will do), I slapped their hands away, or pushed them away, and left them flat on the dance floor. All this attention made K a little possessive I think, and he "took charge of me"... not letting me out of his arms the rest of the evening.
We went to our room, and the petting and kissing became very hot and heavy. He turned it on, using every trick in the book... teasing me, and arousing me to fever pitch... all the while saying he "wouldn't do anything I didn't want him to". Well, I WANTED him to! I was burning up inside and I could barely breathe... my hands pulled him as close to me as they could... I kissed him back ardently... wanting more... and he knew I wanted more. He was smart though... he made me ask for it... and I did, hungrily.
He even asked if I was sure... YES I said... and he pulled back, reminding me that once we had "done it" there was no turning back... I know, I said... are you absolutely sure?.... I grabbed him and pulled him down on top of me, holding him close and kissing him as deeply as I knew how... pushing up against him to tell him what I wanted... he finally shut up and "prepared me"... so I'd have as little pain as possible (he told me later). He still hesitated... both of us naked, me lying below him... him poised... ready... and he hesitated... me waiting... I looked up at him to see the look of worry and love on his face... I smiled. Then I took over, pulling him to me... and losing my innosence in one movement. The pain was brief, but the pleasure was long lasting.
We were inseparable then. I, of course, mistook physical desire for being "in love", and I was dopey about him from that moment on. I consider myself lucky that my first real lover was as experienced as he was, and that he was so considerate of me. He took his time and taught me everything he could. I was an eager pupil, and we made love several times a day... every day for the next few months. We couldn't get enough of eachother, and as far as I knew, that was love.
We began to get to work late... he began to get attitude with the owners, feeling he deserved more money... money they didn't have... it was the slow season, and there were few guests. Finally, he was laid off, and though they still wanted me to wait tables and clean rooms, he was offended that he was let go, so I left also. He found another situation in another Inn down the road... again a situation where we could live there and work together... he didn't want me far from him.
Money was not in great supply, and though we both worked, we also got paid a big part of it in room and board. We couldn't save anything... or so he said, and he began to get restless and impatient. Our love life was still very healthy, but his manner with me started to be less patient. He wanted me to grow up... but I didn't know what else I could do, or how I was being childish.
I was soon to find out that there was a whole lot more to this man and his background than I would have ever suspected.
To be continued...
19/05/2006 Rebellion - Part 2I remember driving away from the Inn that last night. It was the night I told him that I couldn't see him anymore because my parents forbid it, and as I lived in their house, how could I go against them? I remember his face, and how he told me he loved me.
I went in and told the managers that I wouldn't be back, and why, and they understood. They were from our same congregation, and although they didn't go to meetings regularly, they knew the teachings. One of those teachings was that we were to associate with those of "like faith". This is actually sound advice as it is hard enough to maintain a relationship in this world without adding the stress of differing religious beliefs.
I was in the back seat of the car, behind my step dad who was driving, and all I could do was look out the window and cry. It was dark outside, my brother and sister were in the back seat with me, and they couldn't say anything... just occasionally pat me on the arm in silent compassion for my misery. Mom was saying soothing things to try to make me feel better, but I didn't hear them... I didn't want to hear them.
The trees were going by in a dark blur... tall ghostly shapes, devoid of greenery... standing stark against the blackness of the forest behind them. It was dead of winter... a strange December for the Catskills as we hadn't had any snow yet. There must have been a moon because I remember the trees reflecting shards of silver which glinted off of my tears, catching my eye every once in a while... blinding really. I remember thinking how appropriate it was that the forest should be so black and empty, devoid of any signs of life... somehow reflecting how I was feeling inside.
I knew I didn't love him. I also KNEW he did love me. Who would cry like that if they didn't? No one was that good an actor surely. How could I have somehow misled the man so much that he had fallen in love with me? I was crying for his pain. I was crying because I had never had someone who loved ME... the real me. I had never talked to anyone, let alone a grown man, about what was inside me before. I had never spent so much time sharing my thoughts, dreams and plans with anyone before.
Of course, I had my friends, but those conversations were surface. They were of what I had done on such and such a day... of my wanting to be a pioneer... of Gods word... not of my own deep down desires... not of my own thoughts.
I tried to put it all behind me. I went on working, now full time at the Inn my mom had worked at full time for years, and I had, until then, worked at only part time over the summers and on vacations. I continued to save money so that I could move into my own apartment when it came available... hopefully by February 1st.
Being JW's we didn't celebrate the holidays like everyone in the "world", so we worked through them each year. This year was no exception. Christmas rolled around and mom and I worked the holiday at the Inn. The cook, "K", was on my mind constantly. I had not seen him or spoken to him in three weeks. I watched people celebrating the holidays... happy families taking their kids over to the tree in the lounge to pick out a toy. Couples snuggling by the huge fireplace. I had almost isolated myself and was wallowing in my confusion and misery.
There was a small light though.
For some more necessary background... The eldest son of the people who owned (and still do to this day) the Inn we worked at was a GOD. He was right out of one of my romance novels, and we had become friends. I used to sneak down to his room over the years (the maids when we had to stay overnight would sleep in the quarters provided in the attic of the house (which sat over the kitchen and dining room and lounge of the Inn) and he and I would shut his door and talk into the wee hours of the morning listening to "forbidden" music. "G" and I talked about school (he was about a year older than me), and his girlfriends, and about the trips he was allowed to go on and his adventures while there, and he played me music I was not usually allowed to listen to (Prince for example, especially the Darling Nicky song, which of course I wanted to hear over and over).
His mother slammed open his door once while we were talking... me sitting on the floor leaning my back on his bed, him laid down on his bed (she didn't know it but he'd been playing absentmindedly with my curly hair... to my ultimate "holdin my breath the whole time" thrill). She looked down at me (TALL woman) and said "I think it's time you went to your room now Edith"... shudder... she used my whole name. Ugh!
We'd gotten in trouble for our "association" several times, but it never stopped us taking the risks to spend time together. I don't think he was attracted to me physically until that last year... but I'd always had a school girl crush on him. That started the summer I was 16 and worked at the Inn full time while out of school.
I'd had a few hours off of work, between lunch and cleaning rooms, and the time we had to "suit up" for waitressing in the dining hall. I was sitting by the pool and G walked out of the dressing house in his short skin-tight shorts... he sauntered over to the diving board and climbed up on it. He stood there a moment, the sun directly behind his blond hair, shining through the soft tendrils framing his almost manly 17 year old face... I squinted and held up my hand to shade my eyes and he dove. His body lean and tanned... as if in slow motion... sailing through the air in a perfect arc to slice into the water with barely a splash. He swam the length of the pool underwater, his body perfect below the clear water until he came up at the other end and shook his head to clear the water from his face, the sun glinting off each drop of water flying from him, and off of each drop of water clinging to his gorgeous body. He turned and looked at me... and he smiled. His teeth perfect and white and the deep blue of his eyes reflecting sky and water. What young impressionable girl wouldn't have been smitten?
The last day I worked there that summer I got the most memorable treat from him. I was up in Des Alps, one of the buildings on the hill with several rooms in it and shared baths along the halls. I was making a bed in there, by myself, and G came in to see me.
He was holding my little green diary. I froze. (Thoughts running through my brain all at once: OH NO... he's read my diary... did he see the parts I wrote about him? Does he know I have a crush on him now? How did he get it? Is he going to hate me now? What do I say? What should I do? I don't want him to think I'm weird or some kind of nerd or something. What is the RIGHT thing to do? What would he do if I were to throw myself at him and kiss him? Do I know how to kiss? HOW are you supposed to kiss? What if I did it wrong? He'd surely hate me then... or laugh at me which would be worse. Am I worried over nothing? Impossible... look how he's looking at you. What do I do now?) These thoughts happened almost simultaneously, and repeated themselves at least 100 times in the one minute it took him to actually stop looking at me with a half smile on his face (probably waiting for me to say something... which I was incapable of doing) and speak.
He said he was flattered by what he'd read, and asked me if I really hadn't ever been kissed before. (OH GOD he read THAT part.... now I was super frozen... inside and out) I said no, I hadn't (which was true... I know, 16 and had never even been kissed (except for when I was in 1st grade and little Willy with the kinky black hair all over his head cornered me on the playground and kissed me on the cheek... YUCK!)... I'd be considered a real geek these days for sure).
He came over to me (again, picture all this in slow motion because even today, that's how I remember it) and he stood beside me for a moment... me frozen with a half folded blanket still in my hands. He deliberately took the blanket out of my hands and placed it on the bed. He turned me to him, his hands on either side of my face, turning me to look up at him. I'm pretty sure I closed my eyes, because I don't have that "blurry face close to mine" memory, and his head came down closer to mine... and his lips pressed against mine. I did not open my mouth, and he didn't kiss me long enough to provoke that, or teach me how to do that. But he pressed his lips to mine for what seemed like an eternity... a little firmly at first, and then softening slightly... I can still feel him if I close my eyes and remember.... mmmmm.
He pulled away, and somehow his arms were around me... my hands on his firm, shirtless, hairless, smooth chest (don't ask me how that happened). He looked down at me, smiled his perfect smile, then stepped away and left the room without a word.
I worked the rest of the day in a floating on a cloud, feet never touched the ground, mind was elsewhere (repeating that kiss over and over) way. I was young, and inexperienced, but I was smart too. I knew he was just giving me what he felt I wanted... he was a kind young man, but he wasn't interested in me "that way". I can't say it was a pity kiss, because I don't think he felt that either... it was the curiosity of a young man who couldn't fathom a 16 year old girl who hadn't kissed yet. I took it that way, and I didn't pine over him or worry myself to death. It was a gift, and I accepted it and moved on... crush still in tact mind you, but it wasn't a desperate kind, nor one I ever felt would be satisfied any further.
Since that time he would come down to the basement with his walkman (he was a rich kid with a walkman... we didn't have that kind of stuff in my house) and he'd play the recent "forbidden" music for me and talk to me. Little by little I had a formed a very firm crush on him, but I would do little about it but write in my small diary each time we came into contact.
OK, now you have the background info on G, which was necessary for the next part of this story... soon to involve K, the cook, again. (I can't help it... too much happened back then that became intertwined... I had to "tangent" a little bit)
I was not allowed to date. I did not have a "boyfriend"... even to the time I was 18. Dating was for persons who were ready for marriage, and then you dated only with a chaperone. Very old fashioned I know, but to my knowledge it's still done that way in the JW's congregations. It's the way it was done in biblical times, and it seemed to work better than what we do now a days, so really, I still can't logically fault them for thinking that way and acting on it... though I don't follow that religion any more.
It was New Years Eve and we were waitressing for the Inns yearly party. It was a huge event with wealthy people all showing off their latest party garb and laughing fakely into the night... toasting each other and putting on airs... silly people with nothing else to do but show off "well, MY new car has..." "You know what Mrs. so and so DID last year?" "If I ever caught MY husband doing that..."... and so on. I paid little attention really. After dinner mom left to go home and I stayed to serve at the party. I was supposed to babysit for the owners' two younger sons after the party. They were going out and G had plans of his own as well... he was going to a young peoples party with his latest girlfriend... Olga I think her name was.
On an impulse, when everyone had gone home, the kids were in bed, and I was left by myself in the lounge with nothing to do but watch the fire die down in the fireplace, I called K. I don't know why, but I just did. He answered the phone and I asked him how he was. He didn't say a word for a minute... I asked if he was still there. His words came out in a rush.
He said he was praying I'd call him. That he'd been miserable without me and had been wondering what I was doing and how I was, but was afraid to call. He hoped I didn' hate him (OF COURSE I don't hate you I said) and he would study with me if I wanted. He would become a JW if it meant he could see me (that's not really the reason to become a JW I said)... even if I didn't want anything to do with him romantically. He couldn't face life without me... without seeing me (what do you mean by that I asked... you wouldn't DO anything bad would you?)... no answer to that question. He'd make sure we were never alone... always with a chaperone if I'd feel better that way. He realized more and more how much I meant to him... he had to be able to see me... he'd never do anything I wasn't comfortable with.
I said I'd think about it. I told him I knew I didn't love him, nor was I "IN love with him"... he said he didn't care... maybe in time I'd learn to love him, and maybe not, he just had to be near me. I'd never had a man declare so much love for me. I'd never had to analyze anyone's feelings for me before... I didn't know what to believe, but hearing him... he had to be for real. This man really did love me... he actually NEEDED me. He needed ME... no one ever needed me before. Confusion set in... big time.
Meanwhile, I get off the phone and go to sit by the fireplace, and looky there... G is sitting on a couch by the fireplace. I asked what he was doing home so early and he said he'd broken up with his girlfriend. He was drunk, and he was obviously sad, so I went over and sat next to him. He pulled me toward him and I laid my head in his lap, his arm over my shoulders. We talked for a long time in front of that fireplace. He would stroke my hair, and I played absently with his shirt front, not meaning anything really... I wasn't thinking. Slowly we became more and more aware of eachother, and that we were all alone, in a big empty lounge, in front of a romantic fireplace, drinking champagne.
He looked down at me at the same time I looked up at him... both of us acknowledging with a look that we were hot for eachother. He leaned down while gathering me up in his arms and pulling me toward him (I was cradled to his chest so beautifully... all in one smooth motion that seemed to be so right at the time)... and he kissed me.
This time he took his time... teaching me by kissing the corners of my mouth and my cheeks... trailing to my neck and nuzzling me... I was breathless, my heart pounding and caught in my throat. I gasped and he caught that with his mouth... his lips pressing against mine and coaxing my mouth open gently... and once there, he consumed me... teaching me things by example that I was more than willing to learn.
I had never been so consumed by FEELING before... the physical reactions of my young inexperienced body crying out for more. We made out for a while, but it wasn't enough... not for him, and certainly not for me. The cautions of my religion echoed faintly in my head, but I shooed them away. The words of my mother (you only do these things with someone you are in love with, court, and marry) echoed also... I didn't listen to those either... shutting them up in a closet in the back of my consciousness... this felt too good... and after all I was 18 already... my parents couldn't tell me what to do anymore. (Rebellion was having a field day inside me!)
G and I separated, but only long enough for me too straighten up my then partially unbuttoned blouse, him to adjust... well, to adjust... and for him to take my hand and lead me upstairs to his bedroom. We were being quiet so as not to wake his brothers, or any of the maids who might be sleeping in the attic.
We entered his room... not bothering to turn on the light, and he shut the door. There was a finality to the sound of the door closing... it was as if I'd unconsciously made my "decision", and there was no turning back. I refused to be considered a "tease". Thank goodness G was much more experienced than I was.
I did not intend to hold back. I was going to enjoy this, whatever it turned out to be, and I would not regret it. We laid down on his single bed... him a big boy, and me a size 16... not a tiny girl, but we didn't mind... we WANTED to be smushed together. We kissed for a while more and the tension mounted in the room... I swear if I had opened my eyes I would have been able to see it floating around in there. He began to fondle me, though when I tried to respond in kind he held me back. I thought absentmindedly... wow, he must really like me to want me to enjoy myself first before he "gets his"... all this stuff floated around in my head back then... fragments of moms cautions and teachings... things to look for and look out for in a relationship.
He took me, for my first time ever, to climax... but manually. Afterwards I wondered why he didn't take it further... why he didn't want to "go all the way" with me... didn't even suggest it. I was young, honest, and open enough to ask him... worried that I wasn't desirable to him, that somehow I'd failed to arouse him (all evidence to the contrary from what I could feel through his pleated dress pants). He was wise for his age. He said he wanted me more than he'd ever wanted anyone before (I think that part was to make me feel better), but that he was going away to college, and neither of our parents wanted us to be together, and he didn't want to take any chances on my becoming pregnant. OH. I hadn't thought of that... thanks G.
We went our separate ways after that. I never spent time with him again. He was busy getting ready for college, the Inn was closed until April spring cleaning time, and I went on with my life... which took an interesting turn very soon thereafter. There was only one problem which I believe was a direct result of that New Years Eve adventure. My sexual desires had been roused. I liked it. I wanted more. This was not a good thing for a "good religious girl". Not at all.
A couple of days later I was called in to talk to the "elders" of our congregation about my misconduct with K. HUH? What misconduct? I hadn't done anything with HIM. (Could they know about G?... Nah) I tried to tell them I'd not done anything with K... they continued to lecture me. Once again... enter Rebellion.
I started playing devils advocate... after all, if I'm going to be accused of it... Ok, WHY couldn't I see K? But he wanted to STUDY! But we were never alone! But my cousin had met, studied with, brought into the religion, and then married a man she'd met in the "world"... I was in her wedding for cripes sake! But what if he came to meetings with me? But what if we saw eachother only with a chaperone? But ... But... But... on and on for hours. I came away from that meeting feeling thoroughly discriminated against. I felt they were harsh with me for no reason.
I went home resentfull of their interference and I had a very harsh talk with my parents. I stated... didn't ask... stated, that I was going to study with K, and that I knew what I was doing. I told them I knew him and that he would never hurt me, and I told them there was nothing they could do to stop me.
The reply was short and simple. Do what we say while you're in this house, or you can move. I packed up my stuff that evening, loaded it into my 1971 Dodge Duster (three on the collumn... dad had driven it out to me a few months before for an 18th birthday present for me...wow), and said goodbye to my sister and brothers. I huffed into the car, put it in gear, and backed down the driveway... and landed in the ditch! So much for the dignity of a clean get away. My step dad came and got me out of the ditch, and I drove away... not knowing where I was going, or what I was going to do.
To be continued... 16/05/2006 Rebellion - Part 1When I was 18 years old my life changed dramatically. This was due to my rebellious nature, and I can only blame myself for what happened, but in my defense, I felt I was being discriminated against. Of course, I'm 40 now, and I realize that people were doing what they thought was best for me, but I look back on the events and realize... they WERE discriminating... although not against me.
A bit of background is appropriate here. First, we were, from the time I was about 12 years old, being raised as Jehovah's Witnesses. My mom had lived a very "hippy" life... until that time. She was looking for answers to life's questions, i.e. why are we here? where do we come from? does life have a purpose? why do people get sick and die? She found the answers she was looking for with the help of Jehovah's Witnesses and the Bible.
This meant that my life, as I had known it up until then, changed drastically. Whereas I was kindof "in charge" of my sister and two brothers before... they had to listen to me... now I lost my "power"... now mom was going to be a mom. They were told they didn't have to listen to me or seek me out for decisions anymore... they were to listen to mom and seek her out.
To make a long story short, we all began studying the bible, and we all got into the religion. We moved Upstate New York to live on my grandpa's land in the Catskills when I was starting 8th grade.
The family structure is taught as a good thing, and we were being raised to respect it then. I began to get very involved in the congregation, even planning to be a pioneer... and perhaps a missionary later on. To that end, I had been working part time in different country Inns in the area... most of the time along side of mom. I wanted to go out on my own, and so I was working and trying to find a place that my parents would approve of that I could move in to and be independant.
One of the families of another congregation not far away had an apartment they rented out inexpensively to pioneers, and it was agreed that I could save up for the deposit and first months rent, and I could move in there when it became available in a couple of months time. I was 18 at the time and had just graduated high school.
I took a job at another Inn... independently of my mom. She had started it with me, waitressing and cleaning rooms, but she had her own cleaning business to run and a full time job at another Inn, so she left me to work there after making sure she felt I was safe to do so without her. I was safe... for a while.
They hired a new cook after a while. He was not a person I would have ever looked at in a romantic way. My idea of an attractive man was straight out of Harlequin romance novels. Tall, dark, arms of steel... intense eyes and of course big and strong... somehow mysterious. I was always romantic at heart, and I just knew that my "knight in shining armor" would sweep me away one day on his horse and I'd live happily ever after... held in the arms of my lover. This wonderful man would make sure I had everything I'd ever wanted... he'd listen to me and understand me and he'd instinctively know me... inside and out.
Well, this cook was about an inch taller than me, blond, thin, and my first impression was that he was annoying and full of himself. I didn't like him at all. I didn't know at the time that men find this challenging... knowing that some attractive female doesn't like them is like putting a red cape in front of a bull.
He began teasing me. I took it as annoying me. He quit that approach and began asking me questions about me... about my life... and ultimately about my religion. Well, of course I'd talk about my religion... that was my main focus in life then. He was 32, and he was a game player. I didn't see this at the time... I was too young and inexperienced... but mom saw us spending more and more time together (something I didn't think I had to hide... I'd talk to her about him all the time, and about our conversations... I was not suspicious, but she was.).
I began feeling "funny" around him. He would slip innuendo into the conversation that would confuse me for a moment... and of course at 18 years old I knew everything, and I knew that I could "handle" anyone. Mom knew differently, saw what he was doing, and forbid me to have anything to do with him anymore. Enter rebellion.
I believed what he was telling me. I felt that he WANTED to know about our religion, that his attentions to me were innocent... that they were an attempt to find out more about the Bible, and that the personal information that was exchanged between us during the "learning the Bible" sessions was just a by-product... nothing wrong with it.
What I was too inexperienced to know was that he was gathering information about me so he could learn how to push my buttons. The information he was feeding me little by little about himself was designed to build up a "feel sorry for him" foundation which he knew would be enough to get me to NOT believe my parents when they cautioned me against him.
I was told to have nothing to do with him... so I stopped telling mom about our conversations. I spent time talking to him on every break. I spent an extra hour or two after every shift talking to him in the lounge. We were in public... what could be so wrong with that? He began paying little attentions to me... cooking my favorite dishes... playing the songs I liked on the jukebox... making references to some of my favorite movies that he knew about from our conversations.
At one point, trying to do the "right thing" and follow my parents direction, I told him I could "no longer see him"... for any reason... and he cried. Literally cried tears, while telling me that he had fallen in love with me, but that he didn't want to come between me and my parents. If I felt I couldn't see him anymore, then he would honor that, but he wanted me to know that he never meant me any harm. He had gotten to know me, I was a beautiful person... the most amazing person he'd ever known in his life, and he loved me. He knew he didn't deserve me though, and he knew my parents had figured that out, so I was doing the right thing by not seeing him any more... I'd find a much better husband later on in life.
WOW. He LOVED me? He loved ME? OH. Now what?
To be continued....
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