BUY:
FFI.
FFII 'Patsy toEspionage'.
FFIII 'Equanimity':
Chapter 9
Immature Gratification
Monday was a school day. Next to the school on the downhill side was a
post office owned by Mrs Fry, she was of medium height with a friendly
temperament, quite large around the girth and very capable of exerting her
authority. In her tiny shop she dabbled in a variety of trade such as gift
lines and confectionary and proudly advertised in full view sweets stored in
jars along the counter and on the back shelf, they were specifically presented
to encourage the school kids to spend their money. Don’s mother owed Mrs Fry
three shillings and sixpence for stamps and stationary she purchased the
previous week. Before Don left home and boarded the bus for school his mother
gave him four shillings to pay the debt. Don, in his childish wisdom, thought
the money would be better spent on sweet treats for himself and his mates; the
four shillings was spent on a large bag of mixed confectionary. He took the
bagful back to school and at lunchtime he, Sam, and a few others hid behind the
weather-shed and scoffed the lot. Weepy, in-between wiping his eyes and blowing
his nose produced a small packet of cigarettes for which he was not going to
share, Don and the others wanted one so he gave Weepy the change out of the
four shillings for the rest of the cigarettes. They all puffed away while
chewing with remarkable alacrity, hurrying to finish their booty before the
‘bell’ sounded. Achieving this goal gave them the pleasure they sought, yet
whilst being pleased with themselves they were not feeling as well as they
should and went back to class suffering quietly as if nothing happened. At the
end of the day when Don arrived home his mother said;
“Hello. How did your day go
at school? What did you get up to today?”
“Good,” he said with a
downward stare. “Nothing much mum.” With a hint of trouble in her voice she
said;
“Okay, go and change out of
your school clothes.” As he undressed in the bedroom she followed him in;
“Did you pay Mrs Fry the
money I owed her?”
“Yes,” he replied. Don
goaded her trustful temperament with his blatant lie. In a harsh voice she
asked;
“Where’s the sixpence change
from the four shillings I gave you?”
Don whimpered, he knew by the hostility in her tone something was wrong
and feared telling her the truth would be detrimental to his ability to sit for
a long time, so with great and foolish temerity he wrongly responded;
“Sorry mum. I lost it.”
Without notice and with instant pain she held and squeezed his arm with one
hand and with great force her other struck his bare posterior over and over
again. While she was slapping him she did so with a raised voice insistent on
getting the message through;
“Don’t you ever, ever lie to
me again, ever, or else. Do you understand? You spent the money didn’t you?”
“Yes mummy,” he said
wailing. Don was in pain and full of regret. Apologizing frantically he sobbed;
“Sorry mummy, sorry mummy. I
won’t do it again, I promise.” Still smacking firmly but sporadically, she
said;
“I rang Mrs Fry. She told me
you spent the money on ‘lollies’ rather than pay her the money, which was hers,
not yours. That is stealing Don. Why did you lie to me?”
“I don’t know, sorry mummy,
sorry.” He was remorseful in reply, but this was mainly due to the hiding he
received, not so much for the lie told. She shouted;
“Get into bed! And don’t
come out until I tell you.” She scurried out of the room and slammed the door
shut behind her.
Hours passed before she returned. He was still awake and still throbbing
and sobbing from the spanking. She sat on the bedside indicating compassion by
addressing him with calm and sombre vocal inflections;
“What you did was very
wrong. I’m more disappointed in you for lying to me than I am for you spending
the money. Do you understand what I told you before? You can go to jail for
stealing. Did you know you can go to jail?”
“Yes,” he sniffled.
“I never want you to lie to
me again; or steal from anyone. Do you understand?” Subdued and with convulsive
gasps left over from such prolonged weeping, he replied;
“Yes mummy. I won’t do it
again. I won’t steal.” A short silence filled the room as she tried reaching
into her mental lexicon to say something to ensure this never happened again,
but it was a futile attempt because there were no such words either could say
to guarantee his future behaviour. She ordered;
“Because you did the wrong
thing and because you lied to me you are not allowed out to play or see your
friends outside of school for three weeks. Three weeks, do you hear? And
straight after dinner each night you go straight to your room. Okay? You’re
lucky your father isn’t here or your bum would be a lot redder.”
“Yes mummy,” he said, with
more teary-eyed snivels.
His mother valued the hiding he received as absolutely necessary because
through experience she knew incessant pettifoggery with a nine year old was
near impossible due the child’s inability to apply extended logic other than
which is egotistical or self- centred; dialogue itself would have no meaning,
it had to be reinforced with a penalty. The sequence of events which took hold
on that day did educate him towards the wrongs of stealing, and untrue
justifications, but more importantly he took another lesson from his
unfortunate encounter; the lesson of logic only a child could figure. From his
ignominious capture he reasoned, deceit and veracity were separated only by the
fact of getting caught, and appropriate punishment was convened due to the
belief of the arbitrator; in this case his mother. The memory of a sore bum
from her hand and the humiliation of his vapid inanity in excuses also taught
him; if he were to wrong again he would need to ensure better planning and
constructive fabrication of a pragmatic account of his actions, then if he were
caught again he would be believed.
Don’s three weeks of home detention passed slowly and the time spent in
his room had insignificant didactical meaning towards the offence committed.
Being housebound on the weekends had its benefits, it allowed him to appreciate
life around his family somewhat, and he even realised better the exertion put
into the business, yet what gave him the greatest pleasure was remembering the
exhilaration attained from attempting deception. While he moped bored in his
room Sandy was with him more than not. She would whine outside the bedroom door
until Rene got sick of the noise and let her in. At the end of his detention he
was allowed to return to his normal day to day routine and visit his friends on
the weekends. Seeing all was now well at home he set off early Saturday morning
and tried to ‘hitch’ a ride to Sam’s, but to no avail; he slogged the two mile.
When he arrived the greeting from Sam was typical of friends and the drink and
food from his mother appreciative. Sam knew of the strife Don got himself into
from their conversations at school and was elated Don did not involve him in
the fiasco. This showing of comradeship contributed in cementing a more
trustful and congenial relationship between the two.
In the three weeks of Don’s absence Sam’s parent’s built a bedroom on
the front of the house adjacent to the wash room. The whole inside of the house
had its timber studs covered here and there with fibro sheets, only some long
enough to reach the ceiling joists. Most of the roof cavity was bare, exposing
the frame and giving view to the inside of the corrugated tin roof. In very
cold weather with the kerosene heater on, condensation would form inside on the
tin and run down the slope, when obstructed by a roofing nail it would drip
annoyingly; the new bedroom was no different. On what was a rare occasion,
Sam’s parents decided to go to Skishon
pub for a few hours relaxation. His oldest sister Doris was left with the
charge of watching over the five children and prepared a bath in the copper for
all to use; Don, Sam, herself and her three sisters. Before they utilised the
bath there was a cement sink and a few plastic pails filled to wash off the
extra dirty bits so as not to soil the bathwater too much. In accordance with
regular practice and procedure she organised herself and her three younger
sisters to wash first, when they finished it was to be the boys turn. Through
the thin wall Don and Sam could hear the mirth shared by the girls. A
compelling urge to satisfy their curiosity beget a plan to spy on them. They
climbed onto the ceiling rafters by way of access from the new room and crawled
just far enough to peak undetected into the washroom. Nobody was in the
‘copper’, they were all standing around in a mischievous and teasing mood,
slapping soap suds everywhere, laughing, joking and lathering each other
liberally to hair and private areas. Don walked in on his sister before while
she was showering and quickly censured, he was told to scat. This was the first
time he witnessed live naked girls in this type of environment and was
astonished at their sexual characteristics, the beauty of their femininity and
pleasant form pleased him no end.
The two younger girls were gifted with long blonde tresses and hairless
smooth bodies, each not yet old enough to sprout maturity in breast formation.
The next oldest had small breasts with prickly looking pubic hairs and short
light auburn coloured locks. The oldest, Doris, was well established in all
areas. She was slim and captivating with a curvaceous form, her hair was brown
and short but it was the perfect breasts attracting Don’s undivided attention.
They were the largest he had ever seen, upright and firm with light brown
nipples protruding slightly and ostentatiously with poise. The girl’s infantile
behaviour was exciting Don, his focus in ‘perving’ quietly but attentively
brought on salacious unexplored feelings of arousal. He could feel desires from
his lower abdomen through to his thighs he had never before encountered until
now. As most children of his age he experimented with himself, but never had he
psychologically or physically experienced such sexual urges. Mesmerised by the
girlish frolic and innocent charm he continued to cast covetous eyes upon them.
Stunned by their magnetism he was in a trance until a tap on his back from Sam
caused a startled acknowledgement and such absorption in the spectacle was
unfortunately interrupted; he was signalled to retreat. Don mumbled his
disappointment on leaving the vantage point. The reasons for Sam’s decision to
get Don down could have been due to a moral dilemma over the lecherous
scenario, or maybe because of Don’s intense concentration on the girls and his
disregard for Sam’s presence, or he could have suspected not all was as it
should be, or he could have simply been bored. Either way, they backtracked
through the ceiling, down the wall into the bedroom, then went into the lounge
room and waited for their turn.
They passed the time by listening to the record player spinning ‘seventy
eights’. When the girls finished they made their entrance through the front
door, each covered only by a small towel. It wrapped the younger ones with
sufficient cover, yet proved very scanty on Doris, barely covering anything but
her middle section. Don needed little encouragement to indulge in horseplay and
their half naked presence helped promote an indulgence to gratify a desire his
mind still pictured in the washroom; he was inspired by what he saw and wanted
to see it again. In playful gesture he reached out to pull the towel off Doris,
with a flirtatious whine and speedy reflexes she pushed his arm away just in
the nick of time. Her slight prissy scream was met with a knock at the door;
this immediately subdued further action except the girls charge into the
bedroom.
“Bastard!” Don exclaimed in
disappointment of the interruption. Sam opened the door. It was Weepy, he brought
with him two large bottles of ‘DA’ (beer). They left the girls inside and went
out to the paddocks edge where they lit a small campfire and sat around
swapping stories, smoking cigarettes and drinking. Don told Weepy of their
stimulating escapade involving the girls in the washroom but he seemed
unimpressed and uninterested. Sam offered no help in relaying the story,
leaving Don bemused why this adventure was not raising discussion and
curiosity; especially from Weepy. He was to soon learn why.
Because Sam and Weepy had been neighbours since birth they saw each
other every day and built a special bond in which no outsider could ever
infiltrate to share replication. Living in such close proximity to each other
gave them lots more time to engage in a social network. There were stories Don
had yet to hear; secrets yet to be relayed; eventually they informed him of a
few youthful exploits. Weepy told Don;
“Sam’s been ‘scrapping’ my
sister for a long time now. Sally likes him and won’t leave him alone. She’s a
real pain, and annoys us all the time.” Don was already aware of Sally’s
feelings for Sam but did not know they had sexual encounters. Weepy went on;
“And I’ve been doing his
sister for ages. We do it all the time.” To add to Don’s look of incredulity
was his envy, and making worse his enigma was when they told him they were
experimenting sexually with their other neighbour Fran. Both spoke in
accordance and told him Fran was willing to play with anyone and always wanted
sex. Apparently she loved to put into practice novel abstractions. They asked
Don;
“Do you want to fuck Fran?
She wouldn’t say no if we asked her. Are you game or chicken?” He never tried
anything like this before, the thought of it terrified and excited him. Anyway
he could not say ‘no’ because to refuse would expose his trepidation and
cowardice, so he gingerly agreed to join in the fun and asked;
“When? I’m not chicken. When
will she do it?” Weepy replied;
“Next weekend probably.
We’ll ask her during the week if she wants to. I know she will. Then we’ll go
for a walk to Fowler’s next weekend. You’d better show up.”
Don had been to Fowler’s place a couple of times before, with Sam, Weepy
and Sterge. It was a place to play and catch ‘yabbies’. The deserted and
desolate old busted up homestead was near a fresh water stream surrounded by
stagnated ponds. Light scrub was slowly engulfing the once cleared land
encircling the house. It was situated across the road from Sam’s but a good
distance away; far into the thick bushland. On approach they weaved between old
ploughs, rusty farm equipment and large blue stones covered in moss. Everywhere
was fenced by tall grasses and shrub which swallowed everything into hiding.
The house itself was an old shack with walls of obliterated fibro and tin. The
remains of the eves barely clung suspended due to the weight of the hornet’s
nests, and the leaking rusted tin roof had more holes than tin. Low woody
perennial plants grew wildly through the floorboards around a single
dilapidated iron framed bed. This bed was minus one leg and without a mattress;
for horizontal stability it had an ‘Arnotts’ biscuit tin under the legless
corner keeping it level. Rags and old towels lined the wire base of the bed and
next to it stood an old cupboard and a three legged wooden stool. There were
beer bottles, empty cigarette packets and confectionary wrappers scattered
throughout. At various times Don participated in the fun and secrecy of this
place; but never with girls in the way planning was taking effect.
School day; Friday afternoon arrived so fast it was as if a romantic
prestidigitator performed an illusory feat with the calendar. Weepy and Sam
reminded Don of their plan to coach Fran to Fowler’s, although he still agreed
to the idea he was strongly befuddled by thoughts of responding to unversed
upcoming activities. Not having any knowledge of the intended events he would
be required to undertake when alone with Fran petrified him, yet the capacity
to reflect on the sight of those naked girls in the bathroom filled his senses
with inquisitiveness and sexual stimulation which helped to overshadow his
fear. Ultimately he was unsure of his own total readiness; even so, he prepared
to try anything involving nude girls.
Weepy and Fran were older than Don and Sam and in their last year of
primary school. For Don the age difference was never a problem, it was the sort
of play expected of him with Fran that was baffling. He was past the phallic stage of
psychosexual development, and well aware of his own erogenous zones. Self
exploration of his penis led to pleasurable experiences demanding orgasmic
sexual satisfaction, but he never touched or really saw a vagina until his
encounter with Sam’s sisters’. However, he felt he had one thing in his favour,
although he was shy and reserved around most girls in general he believed he
had sort of an encouraging connection with Fran and figured this kindred spirit
would make it easier to falsify a display of courage. The day had come to ask
Fran if she wanted to go with them on the coming weekend. In the school
playground Weepy called out to Sam and Don;
“Hey,” he shouted, waving an
arm for attention. “Come here.” Sam was first on the spot;
“What ya want?” Then Don
showed. Weepy asked;
“Com’n, are ya’s ready,
we’ll go and ask Fran if she wants to go yabbying with us tomorrow.”
“Ok,” replied Sam. Don
agreed with a nervous response;
“Oookaay.” Weepy could sense
the hesitation in Don’s voice, he suspected Don may demur so he made sounds
like a chicken;
“Brrk, broookkk, brook,
brroook, brk, brk; chickening out are ya? Defensive in reply Don barked;
“No! I’m not.” They walked
over to the bench where Fran and her friends were sitting. Weepy did most of
the talking;
“Hi Fran, d’ya wonna come
yabbying with us tomorrow?” “Woooooohh,”
harmonised the other girls before singing in tune;
“Fran has a boyfriend, Fran
has a boyfriend.”
“No!” Fran’s rejection was
more from embarrassment than desire. Sam retorted with indignation to her blunt
refusal;
“Why not?” She moved off the
bench away from the other girls and made her way through the assembly area
before responding;
“My mum goes crook when I go
out with you boys.”
“Com’n,” pouted Weepy
attempting to apply pressure so she would change her mind. “It’ll be good fun.
We’ll have a good time and play doctors and nurses again.” She said;
“I don’t know yet. Ask me
again tomorrow morning and I might.” “Ok.”
C’mon fella’s let’s play brandings. You’re in Don,” said Weepy, as he threw a
cricket ball at his leg and branded it with a bright red welt. Don was nearly
in tears but dare not show weakness. While holding his leg with one hand and
picking up the ball with the other, he was two minded in the outcome of Fran’s
deliberation. He felt relieved in one way; she was not thrilled about joining
them, and yet disappointed he may not get to partake in things he could only
characterize through subconscious and imaginary design. He put the perchance of
intimacy in the back of his mind for now and chased Weepy.
After branding him on the back, Weepy in turn branded Sam. Sam now had
the ball and set after Don through the school yard, he was in full flight
making a hasty escape, then he turned his head slightly to see if Sam was
gaining and, ‘BANG’, he ran head on into a galvanised iron water tank. The
sudden stop knocked him backwards, and nearing an unconscious state he lay
there with blood drooling from his mouth, tears gushing, and cries of pain
echoing. The other kids gathered around and thought it a great joke. It was no
joke for Don. He was seeing stars, cut his gum, and took a large chip out of
his front tooth. Fran was the only one who took the trouble to assist him, none
of the kids showed any sign of concern or sorrow but she did. She stood over
him looking down and graciously put out a hand to help him to his feet. Don put
on a brave face as Mr Tems the teacher came to his rescue with a hankie, he
soaked the hankie with water from the pesky tank of cause and wiped away the
blood and tears from his face. The teacher promised Don he would live, when he
finished attending his wounds he said;
“You’ll be okay but it looks
as though you’ve chipped your front tooth. Does it hurt? Is it sore?” Don was
speechless; he shook his head in a positive up and down motion to explicate a ‘yes’.
Tems held his mouth and squeezed his cheeks to get a good look at the damage
before commenting;
“You’re a lucky boy you
know? You should be able to spit water a fair distance through the gap it
created.” He was right. Don rinsed his mouth out and tried his new cutting-edge
toy, it worked great, he could spit a steady stream about six feet further than
anyone in his class.
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