Chapter 4

Patient Narrative - Christina Melendez - entry four: the first streaking adventure with Yvonne

I had to spend the next three nights alone. Yvonne told me that she had to work over the weekend, but that if I wanted, she could come over Sunday afternoon. Seeing her Thursday and Friday at school, but not being able to talk to her and knowing that I wouldn’t see her until Sunday, was pure torment. Still, I was able to get caught up in my homework and finish my assignments for the week. On Saturday I cleaned up the house and bought some stuff to cook. And, during those three lonely nights, I masturbated like crazy, thinking about her.

I got a text from her late Sunday afternoon telling me that she was on her way over. I started dinner and had it ready by the time she rang the doorbell. Just before she arrived I remembered something important from her last visit, that had told me that she wanted me to be naked whenever she was in the house. I wasn’t sure if that was a joke or not, but I remembered there was a tone of seriousness in her voice when she said it. I figured it would be better to not risk pissing her off. So, I took off my clothes and tossed them in the dirty laundry basket.

When she came in, I could tell that she was pleased that I had obeyed her desire that I have my clothes off when she was in the house. And I realized that yes, she would have been mad had I disobeyed her.

Yvonne looked somewhat different from the way she normally looked in school. She was wearing tight shorts and a loose sweatshirt and had a large backpack with her. She smelled like scented oil and incense. I could tell that she was very tired and very hungry. As soon as we sat down in the kitchen, she ate ravenously.

“I didn’t have much time to eat at my job, so thanks for doing this.”

She didn’t much have time to eat at her job. That, and the smell of scented oil that permeated her clothes, made me wonder about her work. I wanted to ask what exactly she did, but I decided that might be a bad idea.

After dinner, she went into the laundry room and unpacked her backpack. She dumped all of her clothes into the washing machine, including what she was wearing. Then moved to the folded massage table she set down some items that she told me we’d be using for my next massage: two large bottles of professional massage oil, a tube of lubricant, and a box of surgical gloves.

“Whenever your folks come back, make sure you hide these.”

She rinsed off in the shower before getting into the hot-tub, but even so, there still a whiff of scented oil when I got close to her. She held me for a while, but she seemed in a serious mood, like she wanted to tell me something. I assumed that it was about her job, but she had a surprise for me:

“I got a confession for you. Maybe you’re wondering how come I knew about the tunnel? And why I wasn’t really scared when we were streaking?”

“Why’s that?”

“That wasn’t the first time I’ve streaked your neighborhood. I’ve done it plenty of times before.”

“Really? Streaking? As in, running around, totally naked? And you do it by yourself?”

“Yeah. Totally naked. I like to do it totally naked. And, until I ran with you from school, I always did it alone. I guess, it’s something I like to do it when I’m stressed out. I got a lot of stress. My life’s kinda fucked up, at home, and with everything else. So when my old man and that bitch he’s living with get on my case, I gotta go out and do stupid shit to get myself calmed down. So I like to go streaking. For me, that works better than anything else. And your neighborhood’s a safe place to do it. A lot safer than Eastwood. That’s why I like coming over here.”

“The tunnel. Do you ever go over in the direction of the school? Uh ... When you’re streaking, I mean?”

“Sometimes. It’s the best shortcut. I can streak around the school, and if anyone tries coming after me, I can use the tunnel to get away.”

“Did you ever get caught?”

“As in seen? Yes. A bunch of times. Although, it helps a lot that I’m black, if I’m running at night in the dark, I’m harder to see than a white girl. Chased? Yeah, that too. I’ve had security guys come after me a couple of times, but I’m fast and I always outrun them.”

There was a awkward silence. I wanted to hear more about her streaking, but I didn’t know what to ask. Finally, mostly to get her talking again, I changed the subject.

“And your family? You’ve said things aren’t good there?”

“No. My life at home sucks. I hate my old man, ‘cause of that bitch he brought in off the street. Fuckin’ whore. She’s got a couple of kids she brought with her, and now she’s gonna have another one, with my old man. I can’t fucking stand her, and she can’t stand me, but with the baby she’s not going anywhere. And she’s always bitchin’ at me. Hey, you take care of the kids. Fuck her! I’m not taking care of her fuckin’ kids! We’re always fighting about it and my old man’s always on her side. So yeah, I got stress. And I run it off.”

“I guess my problem’s the opposite of yours. I get bored ‘cause my parents aren’t around a whole lot, and I’m in this house by myself.”

“I wouldn’t complain. It’s a nice place you got here.”

There was another awkward silence, because I knew she’d give anything to exchange her problems for the ones I had.

“So, when’s the next time you’re thinking about going out?”

She was quiet for a moment.

“To be honest, I’ll probably go out tonight. I’m stressed and kinda tensed up from work and I was thinking about it, but I figured I was gonna do it after midnight, while you were sleeping.”

My heart raced and I had to take a deep breath. Streaking. On the internet I had read stories, both fiction and real experiences, about streaking. I was fascinated with the idea of running around outside naked. If a story was written well, I’d have fantasies of my own, but I was always too scared to act on them. And now I was with a girl who did it for real. That made me think: I’m much closer to streaking, if I want to, than I’ve ever been in my life.

“Then ... I ... I got a question ... I ... when you go out ... I mean streaking ... can I come along?”

“I guess ... Yeah ... Yeah, of course ... I’d have to teach you some things about not getting caught, but I’ve love to have you come with me.”

Yvonne’s streaking plans changed when I invited myself to go with her. She had been planning on sleeping for a while before her run.

“I go to sleep real easy, but then I always wake up around 2:00 and that’s when I go out.”

She decided to move the time up and go around 11:00, so that we’d be back to get a few hours of sleep. She also chose an easy route that was much safer than what she was used to, so she could see how well I could run and to be able to bail out if there was any sign of trouble.

At 11:00 we stepped out of my house and stood next to the hedges, where we were hidden in the darkness. I was both terrified and excited, standing in my front yard wearing nothing but my shoes. I thought we were just going to take off running, but Yvonne looked to make sure none of my neighbors were watching. Then she became very businesslike as she gave me an “event briefing”.

“We’re going to Sutter’s Park first. We’re gonna run to 93rd, turn left at Oak Street and run to the end of the cul-de-sac. There’s a trail there between two houses that goes to 90th. That’ll get us to the park. That’ll the first part. Got it?”