Divine Depravity Ch. 01

He still didn't talk about it much. But I remember the close times, after we'd get her to sleep and sit together watching the dying embers in the fireplace. Sometimes we would just hold each other while we cried together. It was a painful time that I would never want to repeat. But I will always treasure the closeness as we shared such painful feelings of impending loss. I never understood until later years why this didn't continue after she was gone.

Mom knew that we had grown close and was very comforted by this. "Knowing how you care for each other is so special to me," she would tell me. "I hope you will always care for your father. He's so very special and I worry about who will be there for him when I'm gone."

"Oh, Mom, you don't have to worry," I tearfully assured her. "You know how much I love Daddy, and I'll always be there for him."

"I know you say that now," she responded. "But people change, especially as they mature into adulthood. Often kids become more distant with parents in their teens and they tend to go their own way. Your father is a very giving person. But he also has needs and often won't express them. I want to know that someone will be there for him, meeting his every need, even when he doesn't ask for it. I'm just worried."

"Worried about what?" I asked. "You know how much I care about him. Why would you be worried?"

"Oh, I know you'll always care about Daddy. But that's different than caringfor him and his needs. You're going to grow up and move on with your own life. I guess I'm not so much worried—just wishing that..." She trailed off with a wistful look.

"Wishing for what?" I persisted.

"Oh, I don't know. It's hard to explain." She paused. "The other night I was up and saw the two of you in the living room. It was so special, seeing you holding each other, as you gently kissed the tears from his cheek. That beautiful image will stay with me always. I just wish that instead of growing apart, you could be even closer. Your dad and I have had such wonderfully close times, and I wish it could be the same for you."

"But Mom, we're close now," I observed, feeling confused.

"I know, honey. But it's possible to be even closer." Her eyes filled with tears as she continued. "Most parents have needless boundaries with their children that limit the closeness. But it can be so much more when they let God's Golden Rule play out in their lives, especially for fathers and daughters. Very few experience the depth of intimacy that comes from giving completely to each other. That comes only comes with taking risks of vulnerability and closeness, willingly dropping the protective barriers that are all too common."

"What barriers?" I asked, feeling increasingly confused.

"It's hard to understand. I wished to God I could explain more to you when you're older." Mom paused and sighed. I felt her hand stroking my cheek, gazing intently into my eyes, as though trying to convey some special understanding. "I hope you can experience how special your father is as I have—inevery way, ways that you could dream of at your age. He really loves to care for a woman's needs. Nothing could make me happier than knowing that someday both of you will have a special kind of closeness that only a father and daughter can have. Always remember you can trust him more than anyone else in the world."

"I know, Mom. But you know I trust both of you." I responded with some irritation, wondering why we were discussing the obvious.

"Of course you do, honey. But I mean trusting him even more, totally and completely, in every way—ways that are only possible when you are older, learning his needs and how to love him in the way you'd want to be loved if you were in his place. That's essence of the Golden Rule. Sometimes I picture...It's hard to explain. I mean, it's just that...Well, most adults couldn't understand it, let alone someone your age. If only...Oh, forget it, honey. Don't worry about it. Just know that I love knowing you are close with each other, and always remember that an even closer relationship is possible as you mature."

I knew there was something I was missing as she continued. "You both have so much to give to each other. Never try to hold back, or worry about getting overly close. Daddy sometimes disagrees with me on this, but when it comes to parents and their children, I don't think there's such a thing as being too close.

"I want you to always remember this talk and the promise you made. That promise may give loneliness and pain at first. But over time your patience and discipline will pay off. As you mature and hopefully come to fully understand the meaning of your commitment, fulfilling all the passion that is possible will be a source of unending pleasure in your life. If you remember what I've told you, when you're older, it will make more sense."

I replayed that conversation over and over, and reflected on it many times. However, it would be years before I came to fully understand it.

After Mom's death, changes in my relationship with Dad lead to even more confusion. Initially, we still had close times and would cuddle together in the evening, sharing in our grief—until things suddenly changed. It happened so abruptly, I still remember the last time he held me close. I was in my silk nightie, being kind of silly while I danced around to some oldies Daddy was playing.

"Those are some great moves, pumpkin." He smiled, his eyes flashing with excitement.

"Stop teasing me," I said, shaking my finger, as I cocked my hip to one side.

"Now who's teasing?" He laughed. "Seriously, honey, you really looked great, just like...You know your Mom was a great dancer and the way you were moving to the music...Well, it reminded me of...." He swallowed hard as he teared up.

"Oh thank you, Daddy," I bubbled, scampering over to give him a kiss. As he grinned up at me I suddenly wanted to feel our closeness once again. I slipped into his lap to cuddle as we had so often done during Mom's recent illness. It was always so warm and comforting. But this time was different; as I snuggled down, instead of the usual soft lap, I felt a hard object digging into my rear.

"What's that, Daddy?" I asked, squirming as I tried to get comfortable.

"Wh-what?" he stammered.

"That." I shifted once again. "It's digging into me. Can't you feel it?"

"Aah, well it's...umm, you know I-I..." he stammered, seemingly at a loss for words as he reached under to move me off him. "I-I'm sorry; I guess I...Well, it's a tool I left in my pocket. I'll go put it away," he said as he quickly stood and walked to the garage. When he returned he was suddenly awkward and seemed to be avoiding me, as he busied himself in the kitchen.

"Come on, Daddy," I encouraged, patting the sofa beside me. "I'll clean up later."

"Not now, honey," he responded firmly. "You're getting too old to cuddle. Besides, it's getting late and we need to get to bed."

I was so vulnerable at the time, still reeling from the loss of my mother, that the rejection felt devastating. Unfortunately, my disappointment went beyond that night, turning into ongoing confusion and sadness over my father's continued distance and avoidance. He would seldom hug or touch, leaving me feeling even more hurt alone.

What had happened to the closeness Mom wanted and assured me was possible? Years later I understood Daddy's sudden withdrawal that night, but during my teens the feelings of rejection were often unbearable. Little did I know that the hard object pushing against me was no ordinary tool, or that one day I would be wanting—no, begging—to have that same tool driving into me once again.

Soon after the devastating loss of Mom, I had another loss. Rick and his parents had given us tireless support during her illness. He was always so caring a sympathetic over what I was going through. But the hoped-for support after her death was all too brief. After Ricks parents divorced, he and his mom moved to Florida.

I could have made friends, but was too grief stricken and had little interest in connecting with others who could not share my experience. Besides, I couldn't risk the pain of losing anyone else. I remained a loner over the next few years, settling in to a life that was anything but that of a typical teen.

Daddy was very overprotective; something my mother insisted upon before she died. I assumed she was concerned that I might get hurt or be burned like so many teenage girls who are used by guys. One of her girlfriends got pregnant at 15 and another eventually died of AIDS. She told me that teenage boys were immature, inexperienced lovers on hormone overload who were so driven by their own desires, they were hardly in a position to meet the needs of others. She taught me well, and I had no interest in becoming another sad story of a teen falling victim to her hormones.

At first, keeping my promise was easy. After losing Mom, I was so depressed I had no interest in even dating, let alone sex. Although I didn't know it at the time, I now realize I had a figure cheerleaders would die for. After I began developing, I noticed that guys would stare or come on to me. But remembering the promise and the risks Mom had warned me about, I was uncomfortable and did all I could to discourage this. Wearing layered or loose-fitting clothing successfully concealed my shape to the point that I was left alone, which suited me fine at the time.

But by the time I turned 18, things had begun to change. I had the normal urges of any girl and was becoming increasingly frustrated with the situation. I was totally committed to honoring Mom's wishes, but I also felt isolated, thinking I would never participate in life as a normal teen. As I sat alone the night of my birthday, lost in thought, I realized my loneliness was about more than just about not having friends. It was also about my father who had grown increasingly distant. This was not what Mom wanted, and his distance made me miss her even more.

I felt so depressed that I went to bed early, crying myself to sleep. Later, I woke in a sweat, shocked as I realized I had an erotic dream—my first. I tried to remember the details, but it was confusing. Still, that dark form somehow felt strangely familiar. I suddenly felt wetness between my legs, much to my dismay. It left me totally confused, wanting to forget it. I got up to take a warm bath and try to relax.

After drying, I looked in the mirror, trying to picture what others saw. While I was shy, I knew that men found me attractive from the looks I got. My reflection showed very full breasts. They were too big for my comfort, and I'd always been self-conscious about attention they tended to garner. I felt better about my small waist and flat stomach, though they tended to further accentuate my breasts and a very full, round ass, making both look even bigger.

I sighed as I turned and observed the roundness of my rear. I could blame this on my father who was coal black, from the Jamaica. But while I was uncomfortable about the protruding parts, I was generally satisfied with the rest of the package. My almond eyes, high cheek bones, olive skin, long slender legs and arms along with straight jet-black hair past my hips came from mom who was French/Vietnamese. I certainly didn't have the look of an all-American-girl, but I still thought my parents' genes had joined to give me a very unique, exotic look. I was beginning to hope others would think the same.

After turning eighteen, I started taking more interest in my personal appearance, wearing some makeup and doing my hair. But I still wore clothes to hide my body, hoping guys would overlook the protruding parts I felt self-conscious about. I wanted them to be attracted to my other assets—my integrity, sense of humor, discipline, etc. (I know—I was truly clueless!) I noticed I was starting to get some looks, but felt very hesitant to act on anything, remembering my parent's expectations. I was feeling increasingly frustrated, wondering whether I would ever have a boyfriend.

The opportunities for this dwindled further when I dropped out of traditional schooling. I had missed several months of school with Mom's illness and death, forcing me to repeat the grade. The only way I could graduate on time was to take extra classes. I did so by completing my senior year at home, taking several correspondence courses. I studied hour after hour, wondering if it was worth it. I was indeed a nerd and smiled to myself, thinking that Mom certainly didn't need to worry about me keeping my commitment. At the rate I was going, it would be years before I'd have any chance to fulfill that promise for passion with another.

Then there was a ray of hope with Daddy suggesting a major shift. "What do you think about us moving?"

"To where?" I responded, thinking anywhere we went had to be a better life.

"Florida, near Nola and Rick."

"Wow! That would be fantastic! What brought this on?"

"Well, if you remember, Mom wanted to be sure that you had input and guidance as you matured, and I thought Nola could give you the needed feminine perspective."

"I thought Mom said you were going to teach me."

"Well...Yeah...I-I think that was her idea, but I think there are some things best dealt with by another woman. Nola will be a wonderful mentor and companion for you. I've already spoken with her and she's looking forward to seeing us."

I had been very close to Nola as well as Rick, and the thought of having her in my life was very comforting. While I felt sad about her divorce, I was secretly thrilled, knowing I'd have more exclusive time with her.

With his writing career, Daddy worked from home, making the move easy. We found a beach rental right across the street from them. Suddenly, for the first time since Mom died I actually felt hopeful. As I gazed out our window at the Atlantic Ocean and the ebb and flow of the surf on powdery sand, I felt my own pain begin to ebb away, knowing this was a new beginning.

I was excited to see Rick and renew an old friendship. However, I was hardly prepared for the physical attraction I felt. I still get tingly when I think about that first meeting after our four year absence. He had just turned 20 and looked great—strong jaw, piercing eyes, 6'1" and very buff. His black mom and white dad gave him a beautiful golden brown body that I was dying to get close to. I was more than thrilled to realize the attraction was mutual as I felt his admiring gaze.

Our parents quickly realized that our interest went beyond mere friendship. They feared we would get too close too fast and tried to discourage the relationship. Their concern was heightened when they caught us sneaking out and getting together on the beach. Their attempts to punish, however, had little impact. Finally they realized that we were adults and they couldn't really stop us. Instead they decided to try working with us to setup some ground rules.

We had a meeting during which they admitted that as adults they couldn't really control our behavior. But I was reminded of the commitment I had made. Nola had been in on some of the discussions with Mom, so she knew of her wishes and wanted to honor them. She and Dad both expressed concern that it would be hard for me to keep my promise. They told us if we wanted their approval, they hoped we would agree to honor Mom's wishes and accept some limits. We both strongly valued family, leading us to accept some rather strict ground rules in order to gain their support.

I had already discussed things with Rick and let him know that in keeping with Mom's wishes, I wanted to avoid any heavy petting, something our parents were relieved to hear. But Dad still had strong reservations and asked that we allow Nola to chaperone us at all times. I think Rick was rather irritated with this, but secretly I was somewhat relieved. Having heard so much from Mom about young men being animals, I wanted some safeguards to help ensure that one day I would experience the pleasure she had assured would be forthcoming if I waited.

I thought that talk on this was done, until overhearing a conversation between Dad and Nola. They didn't hear me come in, and when I heard my name, I naturally hung back, electing to eavesdrop on their discussion.

"...and I'm not sure keeping her that sheltered was such a great idea." Nola was talking.

"Time will tell," Dad responded, "but that's what her mother wanted. And now that she's eighteen and nearing graduation, it's time she got in touch with her sensual side."

"Don't you mean her sexual side?" Nola chuckled.

"Alright, alright; that too," Dad conceded. "But seriously, she's unbelievably naive and has so much to learn."

Thanks a lot, Dad, I thought.You're the one who made me this way!

"No kidding," Nola agreed. "You've certainly got your work cut out."

"Me? I-I didn't think...I mean, why me?"

"Hello...You're her father!" Nola laughed.

"Yeah but...I-I...Well...Like I told you, I think this calls for a woman's perspective too." Dad paused before continuing. "I know this is asking a lot, but was hoping that you'd be willing to maybe sort of help her with..."

"Of course, Trey," Nola interrupted with a chuckle. "I was wondering when you were going to ask; like most fathers, this isn't exactly your thing. You know how special Lisa is to me, and I'd love to help with her education."

"Thanks Nola; that's a relief to know you'll teach her about...Well, you know, things like dressing nice, wearing makeup, learning to project that allure—everything you know about being a sensual seductive woman."

"Anything and everything?" Nola pushed.

As I peaked around the corner, I saw Dad give her a knowing smile as he shook his head. "Knowing you, that could be a lot. She's such a sweet innocent thing, it's hard to think of her..." He paused, staring off. "But yes, I know what Lynne wanted her to learn, applying the Golden Rule as she learns the joy of passions. And feel free to share anything about our lives and experiences that would help. She's bound to learn it sometime and I can't think of anyone else I'd rather she learn from."

"Thanks, Trey; I have a feeling she'll be a quick study." She chuckled.

"You don't know how much that means to us," Dad said. "You have been such a special friend and helped out so much. Now that she's turned eighteen, I trust you to bring her up to speed, sharing all that you have experienced and learned. She's so unbelievably innocent and naive."

"Yeah, I wonder why," I blurted out as I rounded the corner.

"Lisa! How long have you been listening?" Dad asked accusatorily.

"Now just calm down you two," Nola broke in. "She has a right to get in on this discussion, Trey. And Lisa, your Dad was only going along with what your mom asked. You trust what she wanted for you, don't you?"

"Of course," I agreed.

"And now the promise you've kept all these years is almost ready to be fulfilled."

"But first, there are still some things you need to learn," Dad said.

"And your father has asked me to teach them to you," Nola added.

"Like what," I questioned, feigning ignorance.

"Like learning all about your sexuality and how to use your feminine wiles and charm to meet your needs and the needs of others," Nola answered. "Your father has asked me to tutor you on this. Would that be OK?"

"I'd love that," I bubbled. "And when I'm done will I know enough to...Well, I don't want anyone saying I'm stupid or naive."

"Don't worry, sweetie," Nola assured. "By the time we're done and you've graduated from my course, no one—including your father—will be able to accuse you of being naive in these matters. Maybe you'll even have some things to teach dear old Daddy," she chuckled.