The Unexpected Visitor

Rowena, quite overcome, burst into tears. I cuddled her and said, "You mustn't cry or you'll curdle your milk or something."

We both laughed at that and Rowena said, "Talking of milk it's feeding time."

With that she sat down and unbuttoning her shirt, took out her breast, and began to feed Juliet.

This was torment time for me. I was so moved by the beauty of her breast feeding I felt a lump in my throat.

In all the excitement of birth, the buying of the baby things and bringing Rowena and the baby home, I had hardly taken a good look at Rowena. She had of course diminished considerably, and although all had not sprung completely back in place, she showed all the signs of being quite an attractive girl.

Even apart from her heavy milk laden breasts she was buxom. Her dark hair now frequently washed shone rather fetchingly, I had to admit.

Her face had been somewhat swollen during pregnancy, but was now fining down into rather attractive regular features. On the whole she was a good looking young woman.

She looked up at me watching her feed Juliet and smiled.

"You like watching me breast feed her, don't you?"

"Yes, I think it's rather lovely."

"I've heard that there are guys who find it revolting and even some women who won't breast feed their baby at all; I love it."

I was deeply puzzled by this girl. At our first meeting she had been coarse and loud mouthed, revealing what to me were shocking sexual adventures she had experienced. Once seemingly settled in my flat, whether I wanted her to or not, she had become gentler, more congenial.

On first acquaintance I would never had put her down as a potential tender loving mother, but here she was apparently transformed and showing all the signs of maternal attentiveness.

"How," I asked myself, "could so rapid a transformation take place? Was it the effect of motherhood or something else as well?"

I remained mystified.

The feeding over Rowena asked me, "Would you like to hold her while I get the things ready to change her?"

Not only had I not held Juliet, but to the best of my memory, I had never held a baby at all.

"I might hurt her or drop her," I protested.

"Of course you won't drop her or hurt her, just hold her firmly. Babies love to be held securely."

A nervous transfer took place...at least, it was nervous on my part, but once I got Juliet firmly in my arms I began to enjoy the feeling. She made a few sucking noises, and then appeared to go to sleep.

I thought, "I'm holding a little piece of humanity in my arms."

Rowena disappeared into the bedroom and I started to gently rock Juliet and hum some old nursery song. I began to meditate on the wonders of birth and growth then a slight noise made me look up. Rowena was standing by the bedroom door looking at us. Embarrassed I stopped rocking and singing.

"Oh, why did you stop, George, it was beautiful."

I think I actually blushed at being caught in such a sentimental act, so I said nothing and handed Juliet back to her mother.

Long into that night after Rowena and the baby had settled down, I contemplated my situation. How had I got into this state of affairs? Me, the woman hater who had for several years had defended himself against the presence of women in his life now, not only entertaining a female, but a self-declared sexually promiscuous girl and her daughter, and was actually beginning to like it.

I had noted the amazing change that had taken place in Rowena, but what about the even more amazing change that was taking place in me. I was beginning to behave like a husband and a father. With this thought I realised that if I was going to get rid of these two trespassers into my life I would have to act soon. If I did not get rid of them quickly I could see that they would continue to insinuate themselves into my life further than they already had.

Some time after I had gone to bed and dropped off to sleep I was awaked by crying. "The baby!"

I jumped out of bed and tore into the bedroom to rescue Juliet from whatever ailed her. Rowena was reaching over into the bassinet.

"What is it? What's the matter with her? Is she ill?" I gasped out.

"Whatever's the matter with you George?" Rowena asked, poised between picking up Juliet and looking at me, "you've gone white."

"Is she ill...what's wrong with her?"

"George, it's time for her to be fed, that's all. For an intelligent man you really can be dumb at times. You'll have to get used to her crying for her feed. Now stay with us while I feed her or go back to bed."

The temptation to see Rowena again feeding Juliet was too strong, so I stayed, watching Juliet suckling, making little slurping noises as she did so.

"Is she going to wake up for a feed at this time every night?" I asked.

"Probably, until I start to wean her." She laughed causing Juliet to give something that sounded like a hiccup. "You'll have to get used to it George. Now do go back to bed or you won't be fit for work tomorrow."

"The nagging wife," I thought, and returned to bed and sleep.

Rowena's and Juliet's stay with me extended into six weeks. I had moments of stern resolve when I fully intended to ask that they leave. I would of course, I told myself, give them all the help I could to get settled somewhere.

In the meantime Rowena increasingly took over. From looking after the flat and cooking she inveigled money out of me in order to do the shopping. Unexpectedly she was meticulous about handing me recepts for her purchases, accounting for every cent.

I had not asked for a report, fully expecting she would try to use some of the money for her own purposes. I found myself extremely moved by her accounting, but after the first couple of times I did not even glance at the receipts.

For all my stern resolve to be rid of them, every time I was about to make the attempt, there was just one more thing that stopped me. Increasingly the stoppage was connected with Juliet who seemed to have reached my heart. I refused to admit that I was developing paternal feelings for her, but looking back, that is exactly what was happening. I loved the little thing and took every opportunity to hold her. I even got around to changing her nappies.

One morning when I was leaving the flats to go to work I was stopped by Mrs. Gordon at the front door.

"If you don't mind me saying so," she began, "that young woman's clothes are in a bad state. Do you think you could do something about it?"

It was true that while I had provided for Juliet I had not thought about Rowena with respect to clothing. What she had and wore was just what she had originally arrived with.

I had no idea what sort of clothing I should buy for Rowena, so having Mrs. Gordon right there I resorted to her again.

"Look, could you help out. I mean would you take Rowena out and buy her some suitable clothes?

Again I got a "typical man" look from her, but she assented eagerly enough. We arranged that Mrs. Gordon would pay in the first instance and I would reimburse her. I did not ask her how much she thought it necessary to spend in case I changed my mind.

Before we parted Mrs. Gordon repeated what she had said before; "These flats are not a fit place to bring up a child you know."

Arriving home that evening I was greeted by an ecstatic Rowena. She flung her arms round my neck and kissed me, pouring out her thanks for my "generosity." How generous I had been I still had to learn from Mrs. Gordon.

There had to be a parade of the items purchased that included a couple of dresses that looked quite nice, a pair of jeans and a black suit that I believe is called a "pant suit." Then came a pair of flat heeled shoes (Brenda always wore high heels), stockings and finally came the revelation, along with some ordinary items of underwear, a set of very flimsy panties and bra.

"These are for when I stop breast feeding Juliet," she said. "Mrs. Gordon thought I needed something to make myself feel nice."

I had an image of Rowena clad in these items and tried to quickly dispose of it. I made some comment about how good she would look in them and left it at that.

Rowena seemed disappointed and came to me and kissed me again in a manner I can only describe as fervent.

"George," she said quite blatantly, "I'm perfectly okay now, when are you going to make love with me?"

I felt the blood drain from my face. I had never been the world's greatest lover, in fact, in Brenda's estimation of my virility on a scale of one to ten I scored about two. She had constantly derided me for my lack of technique, withering such zest as I had.

When she left me she at first told me she just wanted to have her "own space." Later, after I had argued and pleaded with her, and at the point of her departing the flat, she had one final vicious remark to make.

"If you really want to know, I'm going to live with a guy who's twenty years old who's been fucking me for the past six months. He's got one the size of a rolling pin and isn't afraid to use it."

With that she departed and only made further contact when she wanted to take me for all she could get.

If her description of her lover's sex organ was an exaggeration, it was also her final and successful attempt to psychologically emasculate me. Add to that my sister Phoebe's lectures on the evils of her own gender and the stage was set for the entrance of George the woman hater.

Behind the misogyny was the fear of the very moment I now faced, the challenge to perform sexually.

"I have no intention of making love with you, Rowena," I said with all the hauteur I could muster.

Rowena looked at me for several moments before responding. Then said, "George, I thought you loved me; you've been so kind to us, Juliet and me, and you gave me red roses, I was sure you loved us. Is it because of what I told you about my father and the other guys? It didn't..."

I couldn't listen to her going on about her immoral sex life. I cut across her speech and said "No."

"Then what?" Don't you find me attractive? Do you think I'm defiled, not fit to be loved like a man loves a woman? Come on, tell me. Let's have the truth."

"It's not that."

"Then for God's sake what is it? George, I'm twenty years old; I'm not a nun vowed to chastity. I'm a sexually vibrant flesh and blood woman, I need a man and preferably one I love and you damn well know I love you, so tell me."

"I can't."

I had physically backed away from her into a corner of the room. Without thinking my hands had covered my genitals.

"Then what is it George? Do you find me repulsive? I've only loved one other man in my life and I lost him. You said you're not gay, so what is it?"

"I can't tell you."

Tears of anger were rolling down Rowena's cheeks. I felt utterly lost and wretched.

"George, if you don't tell me what it is about me that you find so repugnant that you can't fuck me, then it must be something pretty terrible, so what is it?"

"It's not you, it's me."

There was a long pause as Rowena stared at me.

"She did something to you, your wife; she's made you..."

"All right, if you must know, I can't do it, or as you would say, 'I can't get it up'."

"Oh George, you poor sod, of course you can. It's just a matter of the right woman. There are some women who aren't yielding enough, not giving enough. I can help you; I can fix your problem."

"I don't want it fixed."

Rowena released her anger. "Then why have you been so keen to watch me breast feeding Juliet. I'll tell you why; you wanted to look at my tits. You lusted for me and haven't got the guts to admit it."

"No it was Juliet. I loved looking at her as she..."

"Yes, yes of course, its Juliet you want. It's her you love, not me. You can love a baby because it's safe. Love a grown woman and you put yourself in danger of being hurt again. That's it, isn't it? You've put up with me for her sake."

"No, it's not like that..."

"Sod you, George."

She went into the bedroom shutting the door firmly behind her.

I had a hell of a night. She was right, I did want Juliet. I wanted something I could love and care for unconditionally; someone who would not challenge me at my weakest point, someone I could give to without fear of being confronted sexually.

Next morning Rowena did not appear before I left for work. I spent the day in mental turmoil making all sort of unforgivable mistakes in my work.

Arriving home that night worse was to come. An aggressively miserable Rowena had prepared my evening meal as usual, but in the midst of it there came a knock at the door.

When I answered it I was confronted with the Jesus look-alike and Mr. Ape from upstairs.

"Hey man," said the Jesus look-alike, "you got our babe living with you man."

"Yeah, man" mumbled Mr. Ape, "we figured she's okay by now, so how's 'bout you release her to our care, man? We saw her first man, so we figure it's time we took over, man."

"I don't know what you mean."

"This guy don't listen good," said Mr. Ape.

"Cool man," echoed Mr. Jesus.

"Listen man," said Mr. Ape, "We don't want no trouble, man. We just want to talk with our babe, man."

Ape tried to push past me into the flat.

"Please, don't do that," I asked politely.

"Get out of our way, man, or well fix you good," responded Jesus.

Ape was foolish enough to raise his arm as if to strike me.

I do not wish to boast, but earlier in life, realising that I was not the violent type, and at the same time understanding that some people took advantage of a mild disposition, I began a course in martial arts which I have continued to maintain. I truly had no wish to hurt anyone, but felt it necessary to be able to look after myself.

When Mr. Ape raised his arm, without thinking I sent him spinning back into the corridor, his head striking the wall.

"Hey man," wailed Jesus, backing off at some distance, "we don't want no trouble man. We just wanted to let the little lady know we're still upstairs."

With that Jesus, helping Mr. Ape to rise, departed upstairs.

I anticipated no further trouble from that direction, but trouble there was from elsewhere.

Returning to the table to finished eating I was confronted by a belligerent Rowena who looked as if she was spoiling for a fight.

"I heard all that," she growled. "They wanted to see me and you had no right to stop them."

"But...I..."

"Who the hell do you think you are? You don't want me, so what's your problem."

"I do want..."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, sure you want me. You want me to cook your meals and clean this lousy place, but I'm telling you, I sick of playing the Virgin Mary. You don't want to fuck me, but they do, so why shouldn't I go up there?"

"Rowena, the baby!"

"Yes, the baby; that's what you want isn't it? Something you feel safe with, something you can love and fuss over without any challenge to your manhood. Well I've had enough. I'm going up there and you can spend the night listening to us fucking."

"But Rowena, the baby, you've got to feed her..."

"You fucking well feed her you're so keen to have her."

She made for the door and almost like Brenda when she left, she turned to fire a final shot. "Tell you what I might do, I might let those two suck my tits...I'll feed them."

With that she stormed out and I heard her going upstairs.

Rowena had been yelling at me and this had awakened Juliet who was now howling. I went to the bedroom and picked her up. I was utterly devastated. I had given up the idea of getting rid of Rowena and Juliet. They had become part of my life; in fact they had given me back my life. Now it was all being wrenched away from me again.

I held Juliet who was still crying and began to weep myself. I rocked the baby saying, "It's all right sweetheart, daddy's here, daddy's here."

I knew it was Juliet's feeding time and was at a loss to know what to do. I raged against Rowena. How could she leave her baby knowing it was dependent on her for nourishment!

I was about to resort of Mrs. Gordon for advice when I remembered that we had bought a baby's bottle and a tin of some powdery stuff, "For when I start to wean her," Rowena had said.

I had no idea how to go about preparing it, but I found detailed instructions on the tin's label. I began mixing the stuff and warming it and when, having put it in the bottle I tried to feed Juliet with it, the response was rejection and a further crying cacophony.

We sat, two utterly wretched creatures, one hungry for food the other hungry for...for what? What did I need from Rowena? Perhaps she was right; what I wanted was a cook and a cleaner.

No, it was more than that. Rowena had anchored me in life. She was right too about Juliet; she posed no threat to me and my wretched impotence.

"You're not a real man, I told myself, you're a bloody pathetic wimp."

Juliet yelled for a while then went back to sleep in my arms. I sat, a bundle of misery for I don't know how long. I heard noises and raised voices upstairs and my tortured imagination pictured the sexual activity going on.

There was a bang, then silence for a few moments, then the door opened and Rowena walked in. She stood just inside the door looking rather like a child about to be reprimanded for some misdeed.

"Did you have a good time?" I asked bitterly.

"No."

"Do you think you can spare the time between fucking to feed your child?"

"Yes; give her to me."

I handed over Juliet and Rowena sat down and exposed her breasts.

"Don't tell me you've got some milk left after feeding Jesus and Ape!"

Tears started to roll down Rowena's cheeks.

"George, you silly bastard, you don't think I really..."

"That's what you said."

There was a long silence. I looked away from Rowena, not wanting to be moved as I always was by her breast feeding. Finally she broke the silence.

"George, if you don't want me because of what I told you about all the guys I'd had sex with, I want you to know it wasn't true."

"I don't believe you," I said maliciously.

"I didn't think you would, George, but I promise you it wasn't like that."

"Really, not even with your incestuous father?" I asked sarcastically.

"All right George, if you want to put it like, I did have sex with my father, and as I told you, I was the one who initiated it."

"You would."

"Bloody well listen to me George," Rowena yelled, setting Juliet crying again.

I took up the weapon; "See, you don't care about upsetting your baby."

She calmed a little. "George, I want to tell you about me and my father; will you listen to me?"

"If you must tell me, then tell me, but for God's sake don't take all night about it."

"I loved my dad, George, really loved him. He's a good man, like you..."

"Huh," I snorted.

"My mother made it very plain she didn't really care for him or about him. She even boasted of denying him what she called, 'His conjugal rights.' I don't know what was eating her and perhaps I never shall, but I do know my dad was always very good to me, and I wanted to give something back to him."

"When I got into my mid-teens I came to realise that dad was having no sex life at all, and I thought it was one way I could show him how much I loved him if I offered myself. It may have been wrong and you are probably condemning me, but I really did want him."

"When I first approached him he was horrified and it took a long time to bring him round to the idea of having sex with his own daughter, but I can be very persistent."

"Don't I know it," I thought, but did not interrupt.

"I don't doubt he could have got himself another woman on the side, but I think he had been so humiliated by mum, that like you he wouldn't risk another woman. He knew I loved him and wouldn't do anything to hurt him, and I finally won him over."

"If you need another confession from me George, I really won him over by a trick. I didn't have any reason to suppose he was anything but a normal man, sexually speaking. I started to watch him closely and I finally caught him masturbating."