Story: carlee at 14   
      
     a thing of beauty   
      
   david   
   young girls are awful; they're not sugar and spice, they're hormones and   
   hardons (pardon the expression.)   
      
   case in point, carlee at 14:   
      
   i suppose i was sexy, many told me that, my boobs had grown out of a   
   b-cup, but not into a c, maybe a b and a half. my face was alright, i   
   thought, a few blemishes here and there, but i doctored them well and if   
   they were too noticible there was always clear-o-sil to mask the bad   
   spots over. i liked the way i looked in a full length mirror, not as   
   curvatious as i wanted to be, but i think anyway could tell that i   
   wasn't a boy.   
      
   i had began to take on a few jobs around to buy a few extras for myself.   
   the colonel was big on this independance stuff, and frankly-i kind of   
   liked the idea myself. most of my jobs were around the neighborhood,   
   cleaning out gardens, and other light yard work. i loved working with   
   flowers, i fancied myself as a flourist when i grew up. i was asked to   
   baby sit a very sweet 3 year old by her mom, mrs. walsh, but i had so   
   little contact with babies, that i declined until i talked it over with   
   my dad. the walsh's were a couple in their early forties, maybe, who   
   lived a couple of blocks from us. i did speak with my dad about, and the   
   colonel said "of course carlee, why in a few years you will be thinking   
   about having children yourself. get all the experience you can dear."   
   dad was always so very practicle, if he didn't believe in anything else,   
   he believed in studying hard and learning. he believed that we were born   
   brain dead-- "a congenital disease cured only by education and hard   
   work." i always thought of him as general george s. patton when he went   
   on this particular tyrade, he was so so serious. god, i loved him, in my   
   fashion. i loved his solidarity and i wished he could have loved me   
   more, but, i knew he was doing the best that he could, and that was alright.   
      
   when mrs. walsh phoned me on thursday night, asking if i could watch   
   chelsey for a few hours the next night, i told her that i would be   
   delighted.   
      
   "now david can pick you up around six, no problem, and please call me   
   marsha." i had met chelsey one morning at the tennis court. there was a   
   lady that saw to her in the daytime when "marsha" worked (which wasn't   
   very often) the two of them work walk around the neighborhood, chelsey   
   seemed like a very nice little girl.   
      
   the next night, mr. walsh knocked on the door about 5:45. the colonel   
   answered it.   
      
   "hi, i'm david walsh, is carlee ready?" dad looked so funny, the   
   expression on his face, it was like this man were taking me out on a   
   date or something.   
      
   "he's picking me up to baby sit chelsey dad." a look of realism reappeared.   
      
   "oh...."   
      
   "your beer is in the freezer dad, it will be ready when the timer dings."   
      
   "oh, thanks carlee, 15 minutes?"   
      
   "yeah, 15 minutes.." he was such a creature of habit, a budweiser in a   
   can, chilled in the freezer for 15 minutes, ready at 1800 hours. it was   
   his way, and i didn't mind, in fact sometimes, i rather enjoyed it.   
   noone could accuse the colonel of "debauchery", but he loved his quiet   
   moments like everyone else.   
      
   david walsh was--wow!--what could you say......for a guy his age, he   
   looked great. tall tanned and beautiful, i was impressed. he made me   
   weak actually, and he had the greatest smile. he was dressed in a dark   
   suit with a red tie, i assumed he and his wife were going some where   
   special. we engage on light conversation relative tothe neighborhood. he   
   told me that he had watched me playing tennis back in the spring.   
   hormones got to flowing. he didn't say that i played a good game, so all   
   i could assume is that he was watching me.....   
      
   at their house, i met mrs. walsh ""marsha" and miss wolfenbarker the   
   lady that walked around with chelsey. i suppose she was going off duty,   
   and i was coming on. marsha was attractive, but not sexy or aluring, her   
   voice was pleasant but there was a ring to it that i didn't like. david   
   was a foot taller than her and another five inches taller than me.   
      
   then, chelsey appeared, clad in a pink pair of pajamas and looking very   
   sweet. she was very verbal for a three year old, and quite easy to   
   understand. marsha told me that chelsey would watch cinderella tonight   
   ("for the 300th time" david interjected)   
      
   "oh, that's alright, i've only seen it 200 times" i said. that got a   
   smile out of everyone, including chelsey. the walsh's said that they   
   would be home by eleven, and i nodded in acknowledgment. then, it was me   
   and chelsey, against the world.   
      
   cinderella was boring (as usual) but it kept the little girl quiet.   
   actually, she was very sweet, and very intelligent--maybe walt disney   
   was the curer of brain death. about 9:30, she got sleepy, and i took her   
   to bed. she was asleep before i got her to her room. she looked so sweet.   
      
   i went back downstairs and sat on the hugh sectional couch, and turned   
   on the tv. i scanned the channels from 0 to 99. the colonel always hated   
   that, he liked to watch the news on tv, but the rest of the channels   
   shoveled shit in louisanna, according to him.   
      
   maybe i would call him, tell him about my evening, no, he was in bed at   
   2100 i wouldn't disturb him. i watched mtv for a little while, no one   
   was on that i liked, i lay my head back on this luxerious sofa, and took   
   a cat nap. it was 9:48 when i awakened, i was scared, i ran upstairs to   
   check on chelsey, she was peaceful in her sleep. thank god....   
      
   at 10:30, the walsh's came home. marsha looked very stoned, david, a   
   little behind her.   
      
   "did chelsey do alright carlee?" marsha said, her speech was slurred.   
      
   "she did fine marsha, no problem."   
      
   "i'll drive you home carlee." he said   
      
   "you're in no condition to drive!!" marsha yelled as she ascended the   
   staircase.   
      
   "i drove you home marsha!" no reply. david looked at me, his dark eyes   
   gleaming with a sparkle to them. he looked dreamy. "well, aren't you the   
   pretty one." he said with a crooked smile..   
      
   "i really must go now, mr. walsh."   
      
   "i know, hop in my chariot and i'll take you to the moon." we got into   
   his car, mr. walsh and i, david and me....he seemed alright, a little   
   jittery, but ok. "carlee, do you mind if we take a little drive?"   
      
   "where to?"   
      
   "oh, it's not far and i would enjoy your company, if you don't mind."   
      
   well, i had not indicated how late i would be, so i said sure and david   
   hit the gas. he drove over the bridge into the indiana side of the ohio   
   river, then turned left on a gravel road. the banks of the ohio are   
   quite beautiful, the bottom is sand as are the beaches. it feels good   
   against your feet. normally, the beaches (which may be a bad term, sand   
   bars is better) are lit up with mercuryvapor lights, not on purpose,   
   just part of the city lights. david had driven far beyond that, and   
      
   [continued in next message]   
      
   --- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05   
    * Origin: you cannot sedate... all the things you hate (1:229/2)