Chapter 9

I blacked out.

I came so hard, I blacked out.

I heard those three words, and my body exploded in a pleasure I had never known before.

“I love you, Mommy.”

The voice. It was the voice.

Shelly had whispered those words.

I would know the whispers of my daughter. For years, we would cuddle and whisper little jokes into each other’s ears.

There were times when I started running and would have a tough time; I would get home, and she would be there waiting for me. She would hold me, caress me, let me know how proud of me she was, whisper little bits of encouragement into my ears.

That was one of the things that made me keep running. Those whispers of encouragement.

Those whispers.

After Hubby left, there were a couple of nights when I had a tough time. Once again, Shelly was there. She held me. She whispered in my ear that it would be all right. She told me that I was beautiful, that I was a catch, and that somebody would scoop me up.

I think she already knew about May at the time.

But it felt good being in her arms.

I had long thought the words “for her age” were a silly phrase. But I heard those words all the time from other people talking about Shelly. She was mature for her age. She was smart for her age. She was very caring for other people for her age.

But of course, she was. She was my daughter.

But I found it to be quite easy to be in her arms, to be held by her, or to hold her ... because, and here it comes: for her age, she knew how to touch people. Deep inside. Emotionally.

And, as it turned out, sexually.

Shelly had been sexually active for quite some time. For her age, she had become very sexually experienced. Yeah, I know. There is that word again. But it did ring true.

To most of the kids in the school, she was just another girl in the first-year class. Yes, she was charming and brilliant, but she was not part of the it crowd. She kind of hung around in the back, so it seemed, through the sea of other students, unnoticed by the popular crowd, the heads, the roughies, the jocks, the smarties, or what have you. She was in her club.

But there was one. It was not an official club, but the members were mostly aware of each other. They called themselves the Girls’ Girls Club, an unofficial lesbian club in the high school. The club had been around for much longer than any of the members; it may have been around when I was in high school. But it was very secretive. It was much like Fight Club, but for girls who loved making love to other girls.

Membership was never official; there was no initiation, no members list, or anything like that. Shelly said it was a group of girls who, for years, had been drawn together by their common sexual interest.

Shelly had earned a reputation in the Girl’s Girls Club as quite the lesbian slut. Quite simply, she loved other girls and loved making love to them. Even before her high school years, she had already accumulated numerous lovers, lusts, and one-night stands.

She also earned a reputation as a very generous lover, with her experience growing almost daily, it would seem. At one point, she had a torrid affair with a teacher. It was said she had bought seven cheerleaders to orgasm, sitting them all in a row and eating each one until the girl came.

Yet, she never left a trail of broken hearts, always making it noticeably clear to her lovers that she was a free spirit, that she was to anchor herself to no one.

That changed when April came along, a college student whose family had recently moved into town. April was a Black girl, and Shelly found her attractive immediately. The two almost instantly fell in love, Shelly spending almost every night at April’s house. At least then, I knew the friend she was spending the night with!