Youth Turn
Copyright © 1996; 2018 by Peter Weiss
All rights reserved.
This is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.
She kissed him once, lightly, took his hand and placed it on her breast, allowing him one short feel.
“Take us somewhere,” she said.
He imagined her dripping clear fluid down the inside of her thighs. Virgin juices, he thought. All he could think of was virgin pussy, her white skin, pink nipples and shiny pink pussy lips. Nipples and pussy lips and clear nectar. It was twenty-nine years since he’d met and married Debra and there was never anyone else. But he wanted Melina to sit on his face and then on his lap. He wanted to slurp her nectar and push inside her up to her navel.
Oh, he thought, how life leaves us so needy.
The letter came to him at the school about a week later. It was addressed to Mr. Joel Kagel, care of the English Department, and it had no return address. It reminded him of that afternoon, of the trip to the motel, of how they had spent several hours together. It did not state the things they had done. It didn’t have to. It was simple, a subtle reissue of the event.
His knees buckled and he felt faint. What did she want? It said nothing of what she wanted. He thought he was home free, that he had gotten away with the one-time, out-of-himself experience. You only live once. It was time travel, back to young and alive and unafraid. She was this nymph and he might never have another opportunity like this. He could never repeat such a thing. Never.
So what does she want? He wondered.
The second letter told him. It came shortly after the first. She wanted to meet him again. It gave a day, date and time. But he did not want this. There was no room for such a thing, no room for anyone but Debra, the kids and the grandchildren.
Melina was waiting. She was wearing jeans, her school blouse and sneakers. She was not sexual in any way, she was just a kid, just a kid
“Hi,” he said.
She got in the car. “So you got my letters.”
“There’s no more, I hope.”
“No.”
“So, why are we here?”
“Didn’t you like me?” Melina asked. “I mean,” she said, “you picked me up and then you did those things to me.”
“I thought it was mutual.”
She laughed. “Yeah, right. You thought I wanted to do those things with an old guy like you?”
“But I didn’t force you.”
“No, you paid me.”
“Well, what do you want from me now?”
“What do you think?”
“I have no idea. You’re not pregnant, are you?”
“God no. Who needs another little you running around?”
“So, what then?”
“Well,” Melina said, “a girl like me needs money, you know. I have expenses and my parents don’t give me a big allowance cause they don’t want me running around meeting perverts like you.”
“So you want money then.”
“That’s about it.”
“And what do I get?”
