Cairin's Quest

"Well, he looks to be about twenty-five," she concluded with a grin.

It had never occurred to me to ask Missy's age, but she volunteered it as she rambled, which is what she usually did.

"I'm twenty. If we went on a date, no one would even blink an eye."

"Except for the fact that you look to be, hmmm, let's see...twelve? Possibly fifteen?"

I was surprised to find that, tiny and mousy as she was, she was two years my senior, and yet a freshman. It was then I realized how little I actually knew about Missy, where she lived, her family, and other things like her age.

"I can only see one problem," I told her, "He has to ask you first."

"Oh, he will," she replied without hesitation.

"And how can you be so sure of that?" I asked, "You saw how he rebuffed Ginny."

"Hmmph!" she answered, "Ginny and I have known each other for years, and she's taught me a lot."

"Like what?" I was curious to know.

"Like what NOT to do," she responded, and we both started laughing.

Dinner was a simple, but satisfying affair. The professor was a gracious host, and a good cook to boot! We ate until we all were stuffed, while carrying on conversations that ran from paleontology to plate tectonics. He was engaging and talkative. Missy spent most of the time smiling and staring. I tried as best I could to make up for previous disasters by not showing off my panties to the world, and impressing him with my accumulated scope of knowledge. I had a lot of ground to make up before I told him who I was. Maybe tonight would be the night, or at the latest, Christmas.

It was a long, conversation-filled Thanksgiving dinner, complete with a glass of wine for each of us, the professor promising they were not drugged, which caused a renewed round of giggles and laughter. I had much to be thankful for; friendship, trust, good company, and a chance, though neither of the others knew it, to get to know my father better.

Missy and I insisted on cleanup duty afterwards, as we started clearing dishes off the table and giggling from the slight buzz the wine gave the two of us. Missy was as happy as I think I've ever seen her, singing and dancing around the kitchen like a little songbird. I pulled the roasting pan, containing the grease from what was left of the small turkey carcass, out of the oven to put it into the sink to cool. Just then Missy, who had finished the dishes in the sink, did a pirouette behind me and slammed me against the stove, splashing the hot grease all down the front of me.

I let out a scream. The hot grease saturated my dress and seemed to adhere to my skin. The searing pain was like a hot iron burning into my chest and down my stomach. I couldn't stop screaming, and Missy with panic in her voice kept yelling, "Oh my God! Oh my God!"

It would have resulted in terrible burn scars had not the professor thought swiftly, and, not hesitating a moment, quickly pulled the dress over my head and threw it to the side, and instantly stripped me of my undergarments, which were also quite saturated with grease.

But still the burns were severe. He picked me up and laid me on the couch and convinced Missy to stop screaming and fill some plastic bags with ice cubes, while he fetched some dish towels that he wetted with cold water.

The soothing coolness of the towels, along with the icepacks placed on the reddest spots, was most welcome. I was shaking from the trauma, and the professor was examining the burns closely, trying to determine if an ambulance was necessary. He was so concerned about the burns, as were Missy and I, that it didn't occur to us that I was naked. It didn't seem to matter really.

"I'll run these through the wash," he said, taking my clothes and underwear in hand, "Missy, keep moving the ice packs around and we'll see how it looks in another fifteen minutes before we decide whether an emergency room visit is necessary. In the meantime, there is a blanket in the linen closet over there. Now that the worst is past, you need to cover yourself up. Tent it over the back of the couch so it doesn't touch your skin."

"No!" I said in a panic, "My whole body is sensitive to the touch of anything. I don't think I could bear it."

I couldn't believe this was happening.

"Why me?" I cried, "Why me?"

I began to cry like a child that has skinned a knee falling off a bicycle. I cried because it hurt so bad. I cried because I was such a clumsy idiot. I cried because I had ruined everybody's night. And I cried because I had once again proved myself a total fool and ended up once more undressed in front of my father. Missy, with an intense worried look, dried my tears like a little mama, and spoke with her tiny mousy voice, soothing words.

When the professor came back into the room, he realized that I couldn't bear to put the blanket over me. He didn't once give me the "look" a man usually would give a naked girl. Instead he kept a caring eye on me and sought only for my comfort.

Periodically he would check in on me, but usually left me and Missy to ourselves. As the pain began to subside, he came in to examine the burns, pronouncing them not as bad as they could have been, suggesting it would be best if I didn't move, and stay there for the night. Finally I could bear a light silk sheet over me to cover up, which helped alleviate yet another humiliating and embarrassing position I had got myself into.

After another hour he came in with a bottle of aloe.

"The best thing for burns," he said. He put some on his hands without warming it up, so that the coolness would feel good against the burns and began to lift the sheet to apply it. I wasn't so sure about this. My fist tightened around the edge of the sheet.

"It's ok," he said, "I'm a doctor."

The three of us looked at each other and began to laugh at the joke, which eased the embarrassment of having him rub the aloe into the burns that ran from the inside of my right breast, down my stomach and abdomen, to my left thigh. It was quickly accomplished without fanfare and I thanked him. Then he gave me a couple of pain relievers and a glass of water, which helped alleviate the burning somewhat, but made me very sleepy. The last thing I heard before I drifted off was Missy and my father discussing their sleeping arrangements, but I never knew what they were as I was out like a light.

*10*

It was a long and restless night. I couldn't roll over without experiencing sharp pains. The sheet would get wrapped around me, waking me up so regularly, that I just kicked it to the foot of the couch.

Suddenly there was a noise and a voice I did not recognize issuing from the entry hallway. Before I had totally awakened from a half sleep, a woman wandered into the living room, where I was laying, exposed, on the couch.

"Shit!" she yelped, "John, where are you, and who is she?" Then turning to me, asked, "How old are you, girl?"

"Her name's Cairin," the professor interjected as he entered the room, "And she is my guest."

"Obviously," the woman shouted, her voice dripping with innuendo, then to me, "Answer my question."

By this time I had wrapped the sheets around me and looked to my father for instruction. He simply nodded to me to answer her question.

"Eighteen, ma'am," I replied.

"Oh my God, John, have you gone mad?"

The professor rolled his eyes and proceeded, "Cairin, meet my sister, Mary. She has obviously come all the way from Boise, unannounced, to visit me for the holidays."

I would have told her it was nice to meet her, but it just didn't seem appropriate. At that point, Missy came sauntering in from the master bedroom, dressed in one of the professor's t-shirts, yawning and wishing all a good morning. Needless to say, Mary almost had an apoplectic fit when she saw her.

"John, I can't believe this," she yelled, "You must be out of your mind! It's bad enough you have a high school girl lying naked on your couch, but this? Are you out of middle school yet, little girl?"

"Missy, meet my sister, Mary," the professor continued in as nonchalant a manner as he could project under the circumstances, "Mary...Missy."

Mary looked from me to Missy and shouted, "Get out!"

But the professor was having none of it.

"Don't move, Cairin. Missy, stay right where you are. And Mary, I think you should apologize for your rudeness and kindly find a hotel if you insist on staying in town. Cairin burned herself with some grease last night and she is not moving off this couch until I am certain she is in stable condition. As for Missy, she is also my guest and I will not let her be insulted by my sister or any other member of my family. Understood?"

"Ha!" Mary retorted, her face flushing in anger, "Wasn't the first eighteen year old enough for you? You remember what happened with her? Can you be so fucking stupid to do it all again? Think, John. Don't make yourself a fool again. Screwing little girls, hardly past puberty! And how old are you exactly...Missy?"

All this while, Missy had been standing in the corner, trying to take in what was happening. As the professor's sister became more condescending and insulting, her cheeks began to take on a scarlet color, as her lips tightened so thin that they almost disappeared. Finally, she could take it no longer.

"That's Miss Melissa J. Mills to you, you God-damned, fucking bitch!" she exploded, "What kind of sister are you, to call your own brother fucking stupid. He is the most brilliant professor, and kindest gentleman, I have ever met. I suggest you go back to Boise where you belong, you sorry excuse for a sibling. If you don't, I can't be responsible for the fat lip I'm gonna give you."

She drew closer to Mary with fists clenched, and every intention to make good on her threat. Mary stood her ground until they were just inches from each other. The silence reigned discomfortingly for a few seconds, then Mary blinked.

"I'll go," she spoke to her brother, without taking her eyes off Missy, who to the surprise of everybody watching, was like a tiger ready to spring, "but don't expect me to get you out of this mess. You have gone completely mad, and I will not be visiting again, unless you can guarantee that your little cunts will be out of sight and mind. You have exceeded all bounds, John...all bounds."

Missy certainly didn't like being called a cunt, and with a swift and unexpected movement, laid an open-handed slap across her opponent's face, leaving a red, glowing handprint.

Mary raised her hand to return the insult, but Missy stood on her toes, nose to nose with her nemesis, and whispered menacingly,

"Bring it on, bitch!"

Another moment of silence, thick enough to slice with a knife, passed.

Mary slowly lowered her hand to her side, clenching it into a fist so tight, her fingers blanched. Then she turned on her heels and stormed from the room and to the van outside, covered with soccer mom magnets and bumper stickers, and sped away with screeching tires.

*11*

The air in the room was charged with a tense energy. Missy stood frozen in her place, trembling, while tears began to run down her cheeks. I was speechless. I had never seen Missy like this. My burns were stinging and I thought it best not to move, or else I would have run across the room completely naked to give her a supporting hug. The professor silently took Missy by the shoulder and sat her gently down in an easy chair by the fireplace. Not a word was spoken. What was there to say? I thought it rather surreal...the feeling we shared. Finally, the professor, gazing out the window at the tire marks in his driveway, broke the silence,

"I've always wanted to do that," he uttered, matter-of-factly.

"You're welcome," replied Missy, her mousy voice returned.

Like a sunrise after a stormy night, smiles slowly broke out on our faces.

"Sort of gives a new meaning to Black Friday, doesn't it?" I added.

Then none of us could hold back our laughter. Of all the Black Fridays I have lived through, this one will be forever inscribed in my memory. I spent the weekend as an invalid, Missy and my father bringing me whatever I needed for my comfort. Missy became very adept at massaging the aloe into my burns, relieving the professor of the compromising duty, though I never felt he was compromising himself in the least, as he exhibited absolutely no ulterior motives doing it. The days had turned cold, and a fire was started in the fireplace. We popped popcorn and watched movies late into the night, talking endlessly about anything that came to mind. I believe I have seldom been as content as I was that Thanksgiving weekend.

On Sunday night, as the fire burnt to cinders and the night turned into early morning, we turned in once again; the professor into his winged-back library chair, myself still on the couch, and Missy in the master bedroom. As she was about to close the door of the bedroom, she stepped back out into the hallway and gave the professor a kiss on the cheek for being so kind and helpful. It was a lingering kiss and their eyes met for a fraction of a second, upon which a book could have been written.

The house became dark and quiet, save for the few glowing red cinders left on the hearth that crackled as they cooled. I think I fell asleep with a contented smile on my face.

*12*

After lying around for three whole days without any clothes on, and only a silk sheet to cover me, going back to school was quite a shock, but I grit my teeth and did my best. I was bound and determined to make my father proud of me, even though he had no idea he was my father. But I did think, since our holiday weekend together, that we had become closer, and he did have an interest in my scholarly advancement and success.

I was worried about Missy though. She was starting to fall behind and couldn't seem to keep up, and when she spent the evening studying with me, she seemed distant and distracted. I, on the other hand, grew daily more curious about her family, her personal life, and where she might live, for she was always putting me off when I brought it up. She was almost secretive in her efforts to conceal things from me.

But I'm persistent, and I determined upon a plan. Late one night, shortly before the Christmas break, I bid her farewell as I quickly changed into my night clothes. From my window I watched her walk down the street, as I quickly changed back into my street clothes and stealthily followed her. She walked over a mile and a half through the cold night air, her breath forming little haloes of fog around her head. Finally she arrived at a high rise hotel and slipped down an alley behind.

I quietly slipped into the alley behind her, curious as to her intentions in such a place. It was then she took a key out of her pocket and slipped into the service entrance. Before entering she put the key into a crevice between two marble building stones in the wall, then looking around behind her, she descended a stairway just inside.

I quickly retrieved the key from its hiding place and entered after her, down into the boiler rooms beneath the hotel, puzzled as to what she could possibly be doing here.

Along several long rows of pipes there was an area where they met, forming a private enclave in their confluence. There was a faint glow casting eerie shadows from inside. As my eyes got used to the semi-darkness, it was then I realized what I observing. Missy had set up house here! She was homeless, struggling against untold odds trying to get an education. I was about to reveal myself when I heard a sudden sound from up above. I hunkered down in my hiding place so as not to be seen by the intruder.

It was what looked like a maintenance man in his fifties, a bit overweight, bearded, and a look of mischief in his eye. He went up to the confluence of pipes and greeted Missy by name. They sat down and talked for a few minutes.

"You're late again," the man said, "I can't have you not being here when you have an appointment. It was bad enough having to convince the Thanksgiving holiday customers that you were ill and indisposed. Don't let it happen again. Ok?"

"Yes sir," was her only reply.

"Come now," he continued, "It's not like you have a heavy load. Not like some of the others. And the advantage is I can't get in as much trouble with you as with the others, as you are of age, though I make no secret that you are all of fifteen."

He let out a laugh that echoed through the pipes and down the conduits surrounding us.

"But your four customers per week are firm and you must be ready for them. You don't want to be out on the street again, do you? Especially in this cold. You'll find this circumstance heavenly compared to being out there having to be one of Santa's hos."

Again the sinister laughter bounced off the metal pipes.

I couldn't believe my eyes, but Missy began to unstrap the man's belt and without any hesitation whatsoever, pulled his pants down and took his cock into her mouth. Worse than the laughter echoing among the pipes, was his groaning as she continued, seemingly unconnected to the task at hand. After a few minutes he stood her up and began to strip her clothes off, until she stood naked before him.

"I want out," she muttered, "I want the DVD and I want to get the hell out of here."

The laughter erupting from the man as he stripped himself was horrible, so horrible I had to clasp my hands over my ears. I was crying, trying not to sniff or sob so as not to give myself away. Finally the man spoke.

"Look, little Miss I'm-gonna-get-me-an-education-and-become-someone," he quipped, "Not a chance!"

"That's the rub," she sighed, "If it wasn't for that fucking video, I'd be out of here tomorrow."

She seemed to be encouraging him to talk about a subject that pained her, but she pressed on.

"And how many young girl videos have you collected for blackmailing purposes, huh? Fifteen? Twenty? You must have quite a clientele by now."

"Well, for your information, my little slut, I have only a dozen, and that suits me just fine."

He laid her down on the mattress on the concrete floor and lowered himself down on top of her. This was his night with her, a weekly occurrence, and he wasn't going to be deprived of his fun. She seemed oddly detached from the whole process, committing herself only to the mechanics.

"Hmmm," she continued, as he began to rhythmically hump her supine figure, "A dozen young girls enshrined in DVD's in your china cabinet. If only their parents knew."

"If only," he responded to the taunt, "Ha! Their fathers would probably have reservations for the hotel rooms where they ply their little trade. That's an idea. Step right up. Step right up," he cried like a carnival barker, "Fuck your own daughters to show them how it really should be done!"

Once again...the horrible laughter.

By this time he was humping her so hard, with every thrust it was expressing the air from her lungs.

"Settle down now," she said, "you got an extra half hour tonight...don't wanna throw it away too soon."

I couldn't look anymore. I put my head in my hands and wept for my friend. So this is why she was so mysterious about her life. I couldn't bear it. The sound of the humping was pounding in my brain. I looked up from hands, my face wet with tears.

My eyes met hers. She was staring straight at me. She had known I was there all along. With her eyes she motioned upstairs.

"Of course!" I thought to myself. The DVD's in the china cabinet. If I could find her's, she couldn't be blackmailed into staying here and fucking four clients a week to pay for her rent.

"Ok, buster," she encouraged him, "Let's have the fuck of your life. I wanna hear fireworks. Loud ones!"

Her mousy voice and her preteen looks were obviously reaping a profit for the maintenance man/pimp. As she encouraged him to groan ever louder and faster, I was able to creep away and upstairs. I was happy to leave the sounds behind, but devastated to think it was my friend who was being used in such a manner. But she was distracting him so I could find the DVD and steal it.