Chapter 21

Too early the next morning Harry and Marisol awoke, Marisol needing to get breakfast going before the gang headed early to go tubing. “You can rest,” she told him.

“I’m going check on Peg,” he replied.

He found Peg in bed but not asleep. “Chrissy woke you up?” he asked after the brief kiss.

“Yep. Want to work out before breakfast?”

“Sure.”

They changed into workout clothes, not bothering to shower the residue of sex and sweat still on them because they’d be showering after, and went to the basement to work out.

“You going to head to the bar?” he guessed.

“Yep. Long shifts today and tomorrow to give my bartenders a break.”

“I could break you.”

“Sure. I’ll train you.”

“After tubing,” he agreed.

“If you’re not too tired.”

“After training I can take a nap and finish the night.”

“Sounds like a plan, except your friends being here.”

“Not sure about the friends part.”

“I like Dave.”

“Me too.”

“I suppose he and his girlfriend could stick around and I could give them a ride back when we’re done.”

“That’d be up to them,” Harry shrugged.

“You going to tell me about that seventeen year old?”

“Blow by blow if you want.”

“Literally?”

“Yep. For a lesbian she’s a natural cocksucker.”

Peg laughed. “Any guilt?”

“Yeah, but at least I made sure she enjoyed it.”

“Which was her plan.”

“Yep.”

They finished up, shared a shower in the bathroom near their bedroom, which included kisses and caresses but didn’t get beyond that, and joined the others for breakfast served by Chrissy.

“Where’s Marisol?” Harry asked his lover.

“Doing beds since she’s joining you for the tubing.”

“Makes sense.”

“Maybe talk to Lizzy? She looks a bit distraught. She wouldn’t talk to me about it, but when I suggested talking to you, she seemed okay with that.”

“Sure. I’ll bring my breakfast to Tom’s office.”

“A reminder of better times?” Chrissy referring to her sister being with Tom.

“Couldn’t hurt. I take it you’re not joining us at the Apple River.”

“I’ll be bringing your sister breakfast in bed when you’re all gone.”

Harry chuckled and nodded.

“Bring your plate and cup and follow me,” Harry whispered to Lizzy sitting at the corner of the table away from others. She nodded and followed him through the door into the study which he closed behind her. They sat next to each other on the notorious sofa bed, using the low coffee table for food and drink.

“What happened?” he asked her.

“It’s embarrassing more than anything.”

“Doesn’t look like that.”

“Robin’s a charming kid, but he’s a kid even younger than Susie.”

“Is she part of it?” Harry asked.

“No Harry. Both she and Chrissy convinced me otherwise, that she’s curious but the only person she thought would salve her curiosity safely and well would be you, even how old you are, and in fact because of how old you are. I mean I found that out with Tom. I wish he’d been here.”

“You saw how William being with Frances was a slap in the face for her kids, especially Max.”

“Robin didn’t even care, but you’re probably right about me being with Tom upsetting him, mostly because it would have upset his mother.”

“You call him Robin,” Harry chuckled.

“Because he hates it,” Lizzy giggled.

“You seemed to like him earlier.”

“I did like him enough to accept his invitation to his room to make out. It didn’t go very far because I prefer not to jump in too far right off, Tom the exception, although it became pretty clear Robin wanted to go farther by the time we got called to dinner. I think he had a wank because he said to go on ahead. He’d have preferred I’d done the wanking.”

“Then it wouldn’t actually be a wanking.”

“Don’t be pedantic, Harry.”

“My apologies. Go on.”

“So I’m sitting at the kid’s table, you know, his friends and him, and I realized it’s the kid’s table and like what the fuck am I doing there? The kid’s cute and everything, but he’s fucking fifteen! And he’s like ignoring me, laughing with his friends, but his hand’s on my thigh creeping ever closer to its destination. So I gently remove it when it gets too close and of course he starts again but closer so I pull on his pointing finger until I saw his reaction, played down as much as possible, but he removed the hand.

“He’s confused. Hadn’t we just been making out? We’re all ready to go watch a movie in Frances’s cool projection room when he pulls me someplace where there’s some privacy and he’s pushing himself against me. I finally tell him he’s just too young for me and he takes my hand and presses it against his penis and asks if that feels like some kid. And like I guess for fifteen it was pretty big, maybe five inches or so, but nowhere near Tom or you.”

“Uhm.”

Lizzy laughed. “Don’t worry, I’m not interested in giving you the trifecta of the Peterson sisters. I like you but...”

“I like you too.”

“And you wouldn’t kick me out of bed.”

“Not in this or any other lifetime,” Harry admitted to the beautiful, voluptuous blonde.

“The cocky studs approach me and the timid nerds are scared of me. I’ve actually been working on one of the latter, he’s cute despite himself and his stutter has been greatly reduced. Unfortunately school’s over and he lives in Indianapolis. That charmer who you and Chrissy convinced me was evil incarnate, the devil being known for his charm and seduction, was probably the first one who managed to find the chink in my armor, basically raping me. A fifteen year old kid could have been the second until I realized he’s an arrogant, overindulged conniver who, I learned, has a hard time hearing no.”

“Tell me,” Harry growled.

“Yeah, so for some stupid reason, maybe to not shoot down his fragile male ego, instead of squeezing it until it hurts I let go and tell him it’s impressive and rush away from him. He sits next to me in the theater instead of with his friends and tries pulling my hand back where it was and tries kissing me, and I tell him, whispering into his ear, that I’m not interested and to go play with the girl who I knew had a crush on him. She’s the sister of a friend, tagging along because of her crush and couldn’t be older than fourteen. So he sits beside her at the end of the row and ends up sneaking her to the back so they can make out! He’s got this sneer when he sees me watching, and I’m watching because I can’t believe his nerve and maybe to protect the girl, I don’t know, but to him it’s like it could be you enjoying my palming.

“Too bad for him his friends all have to ride home before curfew, giving him a case of blue balls I imagine which he attempted to relieve when he snuck into my room, and onto my bed while I was asleep.”

“Fuck,” Harry growled.

“This time I wasn’t as gentle with his penis, giving it a big squeeze and going lower to crush his balls. I dashed to his mother’s room, asked if I could sleep there, telling her I’d had a nightmare.”

“You know about...?” Harry began.

“Her and Chrissy? Chrissy told me and I promised to keep it a secret, but if I tempted her, she didn’t let on, and she let me sleep there. Of course I noticed Robin peeking in on us, freaking out. Let him. I imagine he’ll figure it out when his mother doesn’t say anything to him, but I’ll warn him if he tries raping me again, that I will tell her.”

“Shit,” said Harry.

“You know it was partially my fault.”

“Rape is never the woman’s fault.”

“Chrissy’s trying to convince me of that too.”

“Whatever the circumstances, however intimate you’ve been, no always means no. Always. It’s not about any legal bullshit that would probably make it difficult to prove rape. It’s personal, and it’s effect is the same. You feel assaulted, vulnerable, abused, scared.”

“How would you know?”

“I’ve known rapists and have heard their bullshit. I’ve counseled victims, even though they were all male. I had a girlfriend who’d been raped and who felt she deserved it, and we talked through it and it helped, at least I hope it did. Things ended when I was arrested. She was probably the hardest I had to let go.”

“Sorry.”

“You shouldn’t be. I made my mess. I wasn’t about to have her pine for twenty-five years, and being the beautiful and intelligent woman she was, it would have been foolish to believe otherwise. I’m going to talk to Robin.”

“I wish you wouldn’t.”

“He’s my nephew. I can’t imagine my sister thought she’d raised a rapist. Maybe I can nip it in the bud.”

“He kind of is ashamed of you.”

“The black sheep for the budding politician,” Harry laughed. “Maybe I can scare him straight or act the felon and attempt blackmail. Tell me why I shouldn’t?”

“I don’t know. That he hates you mostly, but it sounds like you could use that.”

“Or you don’t want him to know you told on him.”

She began sobbing which became heaving sobs and then the heaving that accompanies vomiting and Harry quickly brought her the garbage can to release the contents of her stomach. He stayed with her until she finished. “Sorry,” she murmured.

“Don’t be. I’ll be right back.”

He rushed to the downstairs bathroom, but it was occupied so he rushed to the kitchen, dampening a dish cloth and finding a plastic shopping bag to replace the one in the garbage can.

Chrissy met him there. “She okay?”

“No.”

“Need my help?”

“I got it.”

She stopped his momentum and kissed him. “Thanks.”

“She’s family,” he nodded and dashed away.

He wiped Lizzy’s mouth and the sweat on her brow, then replaced the plastic in the garbage. She swirled the juice in her mouth and drank it, then, amazingly, began to eat.

“Really?” he chuckled.

“Just made room for it didn’t I?” she giggled, though with the sadness still there, it was sort of heartbreaking.

The smell in the room wasn’t conducive to an appetite, so he left, promising to be back soon, went out to the outdoor garbage to dispose of the bag, found some scent spray in the toilet just made open and brought it to the office, sprayed and sat down. “Now I can eat.”

Lizzy giggled, less heartbreakingly.

“Do you know why I’m not interested in you sexually?” she asked.

“Because I’m an old fart? That seemed to be your opinion. Which confused me since you ended up with Tom and he’s almost a decade older.”

“Tom was like sleeping with a longtime hero and crush. He’s handsome, but so are you in more of a roughed up way I guess.”

“So you’re a groupie,” Harry smirked.

“I suppose so,” she laughed. “Though I’d never fuck a rock star.”

“Only old playwrights and poets?”

“Most of whom are either gay or dead. But really, he just felt ... vulnerable.”

“Interesting. He puts up a brave front, but I agree. You don’t think I’m vulnerable?”

“The opposite actually. Not arrogant, but confident maybe? Tough skinned? Probably from being in prison.”

“It couldn’t help but affect me of course, but I’ve always had a peculiar attitude, and despite all the years it’s still hard to describe because it’s almost a paradox. I kind of stumble into things.”

“Women mostly,” she giggled.

“Apparently, but it’s never really been my intent because I’ve never been much for intention. I’ve never had much ambition, but I have a tendency to stumble into things I happen to be good at, like acting and drawing and writing as it turns out. I suppose it surprises me, but I guess I’ve gotten used to it.”

“What’s the paradox?”

“My attitude. It’s like why I’m most effective as an actor is because I don’t ever really give a shit about it, but not in the sense that I don’t care about the work or especially how I respond to my fellow actors in character and so forth, but that there’s anyone else there. I don’t give a shit about the audience, let them take me as I am. I’ve never been one to please anyone, except myself or the one I’m with. So like with drawing, and it’s always been portraits for me because drawing anything else just doesn’t interest me, but I’m like one on one with my subject and I really care about them. I guess with writing it’s probably a little more abstract except when I worked with Tom, then there’s the usual dynamic. But I guess with writing it’s an audience of one, myself. I write only to please myself, or possibly with dialogue like for a screenplay it’s for the actor or actors. Maybe it’s a dialogue with myself, but what it isn’t for is an audience. If it works for them, so much the better. If it doesn’t, oh well. So far, like with my acting and my drawing, it seems to for whatever reason.”

“You care but you don’t care.”

“Yep.”

“Would you ever read for me?”

“If you write me a role. Even better if you write one for Marisol. I want the impossible for her, a Native American movie star. You ever think of acting?”

“You’re not the first to ask me that.”

“I imagine not.”

“I’m sensitive to manipulation, maybe overly so...”

“Or maybe not.”

“Yeah. It’s like that dynamic, actor and director. In a sense the actor has to give herself up to her director, and I’m not comfortable with that.”

“Directors are notorious seducers.”

“Exactly.”

“Then he’d have to be gay.”

“I’m comfortable with gay men. I’ve even tried relationships with them,” she laughed.

“Didn’t work out?”

“One did for a while, but him either putting me on a pedestal or only tolerating blow jobs and fucking from behind got old.”

“Anal?”

“We tried that too, but being the go to hole didn’t really work for me.”

“How did he put you on a pedestal?”

“Let me show you.” She pulled out her phone and found a file, paintings and a couple sculptures of her, somewhat crudely done, but realistic enough for Harry to recognize her, always in taunting configurations and always, if sometimes minimally, dressed.

“He literally put you on a pedestal,” Harry laughed.

“Yep. We’re friends still but I’m no longer his model. He’s going for trans now, and a lot more explicit.”

“More comfortable with them.”

“Probably.”

Marisol poked her head in. “We’re heading out. Frances said you can drive the Suburban, Harry, and we packed all the towels available.”

“Peg leave?”

“Yep.”

“I’m ready. You still coming?” he asked Lizzy.

“Yep. Let me just grab my bag.”

“I suppose I need one too,” Harry realized.

“Nope,” said Marisol, lifting a backpack. “You can use mine.”

“Okay then,” he grinned and walked out of the office with Lizzy, his phone out, calling Peg.

“Sorry,” he said.

“I heard you were needed,” Peg responded.

“Yep.”

“I’ll see you later. Have fun.”

“See you,” he replied heading into the garage and putting away his phone.

“Shit,” he thought when he got into the Suburban full of kids, specifically Robin’s little gang and including him. A noisy trip wasn’t Harry’s only concern.

“Bob’s car is full of Bob’s family,” Marisol informed him when she settled into the passenger seat. “Dave’s has Max and Susie in it, with room for Lizzy or she can sit up here with us.”

“Could you catch her and tell her her choices?” Harry asked.

“Sure.” Marisol smiled and exited the large vehicle.

Lizzy surprised him when she chose to sit beside him. “You sure?” he mouthed. Her response surprised him even more, pulling his head down for a kiss. Marisol chuckled.

“Ready,” Lizzy announced.

“Anyone know how to program the GPS?” Harry asked.

“Already done,” said Marisol.

“Then I guess we are ready.”

The trip turned out to be quite a bit easier to take than Harry feared. Aside from the ridiculous glare he got from Robin in the far backseat, and he’d encounter it mostly to make sure the young girl he sat with didn’t duck her head down or sit atop him bouncing, he had side mirrors to check the road, the backseat occupants were too busy attached to their phones either via wire to their ears or the stare at the screen. And the front seat kept him entertained with conversations about acting and writing. His fear of music choices also became resolved by not needing any.

He found floating on the river atop a large inner tube incredibly relaxing, especially when he managed to get ahead of Robin’s gang finally letting off their youthful chaos. The closest to him, continuing their bonding, were Lizzy and Marisol, and they’d let out drips and drabs of conversation, but mostly kept quiet.

When they reached the end of the floating, where a bus awaited to transport them up to the cars, it seemed to be just the right time to stop for Harry. It really was better than expected. Driving back home, even the gang getting boisterous instead of hooked in and silent, and the music finally blaring from the speakers, didn’t bother him. It helped that the music was chosen by him and because it was synthetic loud pop on the weird side he got away with it as he thought he would, since he found current top forty pop incredibly plastic and thoroughly dependent on synthetic devices. It was as close to what they were used to while being bearable at the same time.

There was an exchange of occupants of the Suburban eventually, adults taking over for kids, Marisol becoming the oldest person to watch over the younger ones, though they were old enough to look after themselves, mostly. This was after being at the mansion for a bit, eating a Chrissy created and Marisol finished dinner, of which a significant portion was brought to Peg.

During that time between arriving in the Suburban and leaving in it, significant conversations ensued. The first, purely out of curiosity on Harry’s part, perhaps creating his choice of eating with Susie and especially Max, he found out what happened between Max and Harriet while he was giving Susie her first experience with a man.

It came up, conveniently, when Max told him, “Susie and I are meeting up with Harriet for an evening ride.”

“Is it safe riding in the dark?” Harry asked.

“Of course,” Max replied. “The horses know their way.”

“You okay with it, since you haven’t rode much?” Harry asked Susie.

“Sounds romantic.” She and Max both giggled.

“So I take it...?” Harry started.

“The experiment was a success!” Max told him, blushing. “Not a complete success since Harry had to go home early. Their stable is quite busy this weekend and she and her mom had to be home for an early start, but enough of it that I want it to continue.”

“What about your relationship with Harriet, Susie?” Harry asked.

“Neither of us minds Max joining us for whenever she chooses, because of Harry’s crush and I think Max is pretty damn delicious as well.”

“How do you know I am?” Max giggled, and Susie giggled too.

“Harry told me you are!” Susie said. “But seriously I think you’re hot and cool, and you seemed to have gotten over yourself.”

“I guess I deserve that,” Max said. “I never even thought of myself as elitist, and maybe it was partly I was scared what Harry’s interest in me might mean if I reciprocated.”

“I guess that makes sense,” Susie nodded. “I’m not even rich, barely middle class, and you never shunned me unlike your brother.”

“He is definitely an elitist,” Max frowned. “And you’re too bright and spunky to ignore.”

More giggles.

And speaking of the elitist brat, Harry confronted Robin after dinner. “We need to talk,” he said.

“Fuck you, Uncle,” Robin replied, the last word practically spat.

“Or I could talk to your mother about what you tried to do with Lizzy.”

“What I tried to do? She was practically begging for it until she got all frigid on me.”

“Her sobbing and vomiting suggests otherwise,” Harry growled. “Your mother will believe me, and she’ll believe Lizzy with how distraught she was when she climbed into your mother’s bed. Distraught and scared because of you you little fuck.” Harry discreetly wrapped his hand at the back of Robin’s neck and squeezed.

“Ow. Fuck. Okay.”

Harry marched him to Tom’s office and shut the door. “Sit Robin,” Harry growled.

“It’s Robbie,” Robin muttered, sitting on the sofa.

“I don’t care,” Harry said, pushing aside the coffee table and bringing the office chair to face his nephew. Then he surprised Robin by saying, “She’s beautiful isn’t she?”

“I couldn’t believe my luck,” Robin replied, wide eyed.

“Unfortunately your luck was her mistake. She was attracted to you too, and I think, aside from your precocious charm, her mistake was thinking you were at least somewhat gay.”

“I’m not a faggot,” Robin growled.

“You’re a real piece of work aren’t you? Looking down on anyone different from you. Sneering at Chrissy’s car for instance and Chrissy for being your servant. You really need to work on that if you want to be president, although it’s been proven that presidents can be womanizers and rapists and narcissists like you. But let’s put that aside for now and talk about your victim, and yes, that’s exactly what she was.

“Lizzy’s gorgeous and voluptuous, and it’s a curse as much as a blessing. She’s become very careful about sex. Once bitten, twice shy. Her first time was essentially rape, though, like with you, the circumstances, what preceded it, made her feel like she was somewhat complicit. And like with you, she was wrong. No always means no. They’re not playing hard to get, they’re telling you no, and disregarding that means its rape. Understand?”

Robin nodded.

“So her remedy to avoid that again is dating men who were essentially gay, and I mean the swishy stereotypical kind. They were safe, and whatever sex they ever had with her took time to evolve. That’s what she’s comfortable with, not the predatory stud looking to score a hot babe. She’s not the one night stand type of girl. What she found in you was a surprisingly charming pretty boy, and your prettiness gave her the wrong conclusion, that, if anything, being with her would be like an experiment for you, trying to find out if you were straight or something. The petting for her wasn’t a quick preamble to getting laid. It was just an enjoyable interlude for something, if it developed, for some future completion.

“But then she saw how young you were when you were with your little gang, and not just young, but immature. I don’t know if she felt embarrassed or silly, but it was a wakeup call which you decided to ignore. Like I said, I can’t blame you wanting to ignore it, but you most definitely should have respected her choice. Pulling her hand to your penis I think stunned her, and not because of your size, dickhead, so instead of kicking you in the balls, she passively squirmed away. But you kept at it, didn’t you, freaking her out even more, making it clear you weren’t some curious pretty boy, but a full on heterosexual who wanted to fuck her as soon as possible. Again you ignored her telling you to stop, not right away because you moved over to playing with your friend’s kid sister, giving Lizzy taunting glances like this could have been you, when of course she was happy that it wasn’t.”

“No, you’re ignoring her came later, when you came to her room, woke her up, laid on her, trying to rape her. Thankfully she finally gave your balls what they deserved. So no, she’s not some frigid bitch. She’s a young woman once more reminded why she should be scared of men. Do you fucking understand what you did to her?”

Robin nodded.

“Did you learn anything?” Harry asked, looking carefully at Robin’s response, and when he nodded again, Harry asked, “What did you learn?”

“To be sure she wants what I offer.”

“It’s always what she wants, Robbie. It’s ultimately always her decision.”

“How can I tell? The girls my age like to take things slow unless they have a reputation.”

“You mean they’re victims of gossip.”

“Isn’t there always some loose girl?”

“How do you know she’s loose? One of your dickhead teammates bragging about his conquest? You believe them? Or are they just trying to pretend to be some fucking great cocksman for some fucking reason? In my book there’s nothing worse than bragging about fucking some girl, whether true or not, and at your age I’d say probably not. A true gentleman, a mensch, never talks about such things. Girls gossip and that has its own problems, which, fortunately, men are never privy to. But gossiping men are the worst, not just because its cruel and sexist, but it’s baseless and just plain wrong. Did you listen to them? Maybe hoping to get your dick wet?”

“I...”

“Fuck. Tell me.”

“There’s this girl I’ve been with, very pretty and very smart, and it’s been fits and starts getting into sex with her. It’s frustrating really, and confusing. How do you know when she’s ready for more?”

“There’s usually clues, like when she starts touching you in new places, like your chest or your thigh or your ass it means she wants you touching those places too. But the best way, and the hardest probably at your age is just to talk to them, let them air their reservations. Maybe they’ll want to go further than you thought or maybe not. Maybe they’re worried about becoming vulnerable, wanting to get to things like oral, which by the way should be your priority more than hers, and never force a woman to give a blow job, but being that available it gets to fucking before she’s ready for that.”

Robin nodded. “The way she’d move my hand off her made me shy away from furthering things, but I think I could have advanced more thinking back.”

“Instead you found an easier target.”

Robin sniffled. “I thought she was supposed to be a party girl, but ... it went farther than she wanted. My condom ... and I knew she had this reputation ... it had blood. She just froze there, like with this sadness ... and then she just moved from under me, pulled herself together and walked away.”

“Both your first times?”

“I didn’t know.”

“You held her down.”

“I thought it was a game.”

“It’s never a fucking game,” Harry muttered. “Unless it’s specifically chosen, like some rape fantasy, but at your age ... It’s just fucking rape.”

“I just thought...”

“Not you. Your fucking penis.”

Robin sobbed.

“At least you’re not psychotic,” Harry murmured. “What happened to her?”

“She withdrew, and I don’t mean out of the school, it being so elite and everything, but she got shier I guess. Sometimes she’d look away when I glanced at her and sometimes she’d meet my glance and just be ... placid. I just thought ... I mean how quick I was she just didn’t want to be with me or something, maybe me forgetting what happened, what that implied. Before, she’d tease me sometimes. I think she was attracted to me but I had my girlfriend. In fact the way she’d flirt I’m pretty sure she was interested. Then I heard the story from my teammate like you said and then I snuck off with her after a game, and we were kissing and she let me touch her breasts and then...”

“Things went fast.”

“Yeah.”

“What happened with your girlfriend?”

“We broke up.”

“You just broke up, or...”

“She never knew about Bridget. I guess she kept it to herself. I guess I did too, because a teammate was a friend of my girlfriend probably more than anything else. I guess it was our little fucked up secret.”

“Then why did you break up?”

“Because I tried to force things, okay? I was just frustrated and...”

“You wanted your dick wet again.”

“I guess.”

“Your second rape.”

“Fuck you. I didn’t...”

“She wouldn’t let you.”

“She was pissed off and slapped me. It freaked me out that I’d do that to her after spending all that time working towards those last steps. And we were, because we’d been getting each other off just rubbing together you know, her in my lap, but that last time she actually brought my hand to her tit, but then I ended up fucking it all up.

“Then I ended up meeting this older girl in Max’s class, a slut who had her eyes on me.”

“How did you know she was a slut?”

“Because she was easy? She blew me right off the bat, then had me suck her and fuck her at least a couple times until she came. She wasn’t any real beauty, sort of looked like Harry, you know? Kind of chunky but had some really nice tits, and really appreciative. She said I was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen.”

“How did you hook up? I imagine your girlfriend and this Bridget were attractive.”

“Helena’s probably the prettiest girl in my class and I guess Bridget was more cute and sexy. Georgia just approached me, basically told me what she would do for me and she wasn’t lying,” Robin chuckled.

“Setting you up for things to come.”

“Older girl, this one unbelievably gorgeous,” Robin agreed. “But ... lesson learned.”

“I fucking hope so. Rapists tend to be serial. Just think on how disturbed you were earlier, how it can haunt you. And you’re obviously a charming kid, and good looking to boot, so be tactical about it if you want, which you obviously do, but make sure the seduction is complete.”