Lost in Purgatory, Lisa's Side!

Author note: When my husband (Hubby77) asked me for help editing (Lost in Purgatory), the psychologist in me tried to get him to change the ending, feeling that Lisa must have some underlying reason for her behavior. He insisted that was how the story came to him, and he did not want to change it. I asked him if he would mind if I wrote a follow-up story from Lisa's point of view (Lost in Purgatory. Lisa's side). He said go for it. I gave him a rough draft, and he liked the idea I was going for. But I had many timeline issues, so we started to hash things out together. My husband insisted that I take the credit because it was my idea. But the story you are about to read is really a collaboration.

Please note: In this story, mother and father are not capitalized because there is always an implied possessive pronoun.

At the bitter end, Lisa tried to tell David the truth. The truth she has never told anyone. Because Lisa has never really known the truth, and now she has to live with the pain of how I (her terrible secret) destroyed the most wonderful man she has ever known, the love of her life, her soulmate.

My name is Lori. I am the alter-ego of a woman named Lisa. No, I'm not going to make excuses for her or us. Because there is no excuse for what she, we, I did. But if you are curious to know how a hard-working, dedicated, loving mother and wife like Lisa ended up in a motel room with four young men that night. I'll do my best to take you for a walk in her, our, shoes.

Lisa was the perfect little "yes" girl.

She had a very dominating father who watched over her like a hawk and controlled every minute of her day.

She attended an all-girls Christian academy where the uniforms were mid-calf gray skirts with white blouses and black sweater vests. Her mother would only buy Lisa clothing her father approved of. Long pants (never shorts) and conservative long sleeve shirts. She was not allowed to style or color her hair, and it was to be kept long and preferably in a ponytail.

Lisa hit puberty about the time she started seventh grade, and the more her figure developed, the more her father tightened the reins. Her father declared that Lisa was not to date until she turned sixteen, and she was not to hang out (unsupervised) where there might be boys. That's when, like a bad penny, I showed up and started plotting against "our" father's authority. I was always figuring out fun things for us to do to make life tolerable. But if her father caught us breaking the rules, he would beat Lisa with a belt!

She was rather quiet and shy, and Lisa hadn't made many friends at the academy. But not long after I came into her life, we met our new best friend, Pam. Her parents had just moved into the neighborhood, and we were happy to find out that Pam only lived a block from our house.

Lisa and Pam did pretty much everything together, and one day while exploring the rocky outcroppings along a ridge in the woods at the end of our cul-de-sac, they found a small dry cave. It was big enough to stand up in and well hidden behind some bushes just a few yards off the (shortcut) trail we took to school and back every day. It became our hideout and stash house.

By age thirteen, Lisa had become quite a beauty. She was already five-two with auburn hair that hung down to her waist. We filled out our thirty-two C-cup bra nicely, and I knew our big brown eyes, brilliant smile, and full pouty lips were going to drive the boys wild. Pam was a beauty herself and our only true friend at the academy. Some of the other girls were envious and could be rather catty and mean to Lisa and Pam.

She had always been father's good little girl, so Lisa didn't know how to flirt and have fun. But by the time we finished eighth grade and started our summer break, I had become the new outgoing, fun side of Lisa. Our mother didn't always agree with father's strict rules, and I got the impression (though she would never say it) that she was happy to see Lisa coming out of her shell.

That summer, mother defied one of father's rules and took us and our little sister, Shellie, to the beach while he was at work. When we got there, mother said that she would watch Shellie and told Lisa to go have fun; but stay in sight.

Despite our ugly one-piece bathing suit, I was going to make the most of this chance to be around cute boys. Before long, Lisa caught the attention of a handsome older boy, and while I was flirting and making small talk with him, he mistakenly called Lisa (Lori). I liked it, and from that day forward, I had a name, "Lori."

By our next summer break, mother was breaking father's rules again. She would let Lisa walk to the Community pool to cool off (unsupervised). The community pool was about three blocks away, near the girls' Academy and the public high school. Of course, Lisa still had to wear an ugly one-piece swimsuit. So I convinced her to buy us a fabulous red bikini, and we kept it hidden in the stash cave so we could change suits on our way to and from the pool.

The red bikini was a big hit with all the boys. Some of the older boys would dunk us underwater and then get pretty handsy as they tried to untie our bathing suit top. I remember the thrill of that "accidental" touching!

Our nipples were very sensitive, and when we were hanging out around the pool, it didn't take much for them to become erect. All the boys noticed, and Lisa would be embarrassed, but I was delighted by their attention!

The girls' Academy only taught k through ninth grade. When we started high school, I was thrilled to be surrounded by handsome boys. Unfortunately, father became even more controlling, and we were not allowed to wear make-up, tight clothing, or skirts above the knee.

Our wardrobe was tacky and out of date, and Pam felt sorry for Lisa. She helped us "procure" a large plastic storage bin for our stash cave. Then Pam would bring us make-up, hair accessories, and stylish clothes to change into on our way to school.

I convinced Lisa to use some of her babysitting money to buy high-heels, stockings, and jewelry to wear when I snuck out to see boys. Lisa was such a worrywart and was always afraid of being caught by father whenever we snuck out. But, more and more, I became the dominant personality, and I was determined not to let her ruin our perfect summer.

The summer we turned sixteen was another perfect summer: until it wasn't!

It was a sweltering hot day, and Lisa wanted to go swimming at the community pool to cool off, and I wanted to tease the boys in our newest skimpier red bikini. Mom told Lisa to have fun as we left the house (in our ugly conservative navy-blue one-piece swimsuit) and headed for the stash cave to change. But as we neared the end of our cul-de-sac, a handsome blue-eyed blond man in a bright-red convertible pulled up alongside Lisa. He was older, in his mid to late twenties, and she was afraid. But I thought he was hot and mentally shoved Lisa out of the way as I said, "Hello."

"Hi," he replied with a disarming smile.

Then he asked Lisa where she was going? I spoke up and told him she was going to the community pool to cool off. His smile brightened, and he told Lisa he knew of a lake that would be a lot nicer to cool off in than that overcrowded community pool. Then he said it wasn't far away, and he would be more than happy to take her there. Lisa was desperately ringing her warning bell, but I just kept pushing her away because he was so damn handsome. I figured, what the hell, how dangerous could it be at a public beach?

I explained the swimsuit situation and told him it would only take Lisa a minute to change into her bikini. He insisted on coming along, and Lisa was in a panic as we walked to the cave. I just ignored her because there was no way I was going to the beach with this good-looking hunk in that ugly one-piece swimsuit.

He was a perfect gentleman and waited outside the cave while I changed, and I told myself that meant he must be an honorable man. Right?

When we got back to his car. Again, he was the perfect gentleman and opened the door of his big red convertible for Lisa.

I was enjoying the wind in my hair on our way to the beach, and I could tell by the way he was glancing at me he liked what he saw. But Lisa had been quietly pouting since we got into the car, and as he drove farther out of town, she started to panic again and reminded me; he said, "It wasn't far away." I assumed he knew where he was going. So to appease Lisa, I asked how much further? He just grinned and said we were almost there as he turned onto a dirt road that was unfamiliar to us. Then he turned onto an off-the-beaten-path two-track that led to an old flooded gravel pit.

There was no one else around, and Lisa was scared witless. I was starting to get worried as he parked, reached into the back seat, and grabbed a blanket. Then he came around, opened the door, and smiled as he held out his hand like a gentleman. Now, I was scared witless and froze as we looked up at him with fear in our big brown eyes. His smile faded, and his demeanor changed as he firmly grabbed Lisa by the arm and pulled us out of the car. That's when I realized Lisa was gone, and I was on my own as he dragged me over to an isolated shady spot, placed the blanket on the ground, and pushed me down.

Then the unthinkable happened!

Needless to say, I should have listened to Lisa, and that was not how I imagined we would lose our virginity.

Later that day, he dropped me off in the cul-de-sac and smiled as he drove away. I was in a daze, and Lisa was still gone, somewhere, as I went to the cave and changed. On the walk home, Lisa came back, frightened and disoriented, from wherever she was. I think on some level, Lisa knew we had been raped. But I never felt her presence after he pulled us from the car, and I don't think she ever really knew what happened that day.

When we got home Lisa, the smart one, took over and went directly to our room. Later, when mother called us for supper, Lisa pleaded too much sun, and we stayed in our room.

That was to be our last "perfect summer." Lisa was pregnant, and by the fourth month, she couldn't hide it anymore, and the proverbial shit hit the fan!

Mother pleaded and relentlessly cried when father disowned Lisa and kicked us out. He just assumed Lisa was a whore, and never allowed any explanation.

Lisa was worried about how father would treat our 8-year-old little sister Shellie as she grew up. But then he never seemed to treat her as harshly as he did us. I guess He didn't want to lose another daughter.

A nice widowed lady from the church Lisa's family attended took Lisa in and told her she could stay as long as she needed to. Mother was beside herself with grief, and Lisa's new mom told mother she was welcome to call and come over anytime she wanted. That made mother feel better about things, and whenever she could get away from father, she would bring Shellie to visit and keep us up on the home-happenings.

Lisa was too embarrassed to go to school pregnant and dropped out. Then, to make matters worse, Pam's parents moved across town, and we lost track of our best friend.

On Thanksgiving, a few weeks after father disowned us, Lisa was helping our new mother serve the poor and homeless at the Mission, and she ran into Terry. He had volunteered to pick up hot food donations from some of the restaurants in town for the big Thanksgiving dinner.

Terry was a senior that we were dating (before the shit hit the fan). He never got the chance to say goodbye to Lisa and had been worried sick about her. Terry told her that he heard rumors, but he knew she was not a whore, and didn't believe them. Lisa confessed to being raped, then broke down crying and swore she would never give up her baby. Terry held her tight and said he was so sorry that had happened to her. Then he professed his love for Lisa and asked her to marry him.

I found that rather ironic because when Lisa first found out she was pregnant, I told her we should have unprotected sex with Terry and let him think he was the father. Then she would never have to admit to being raped. Lisa flatly refused to deceive Terry that way, and that's when I decided it would be best if I stayed hidden in the recesses of her mind. She didn't need me to fuck things up for her any worse than I already had.

Terry told his parents everything. They were very sympathetic and assured Lisa they would accept and love the baby as their own blood. Lisa and Terry were married in a quiet civil ceremony at the courthouse. Mother and Shellie came to the ceremony, but father refused to acknowledge Lisa in any way.

She had a beautiful blue-eyed, blond-haired boy. Lisa named him Danny, and much to Terry's dismay gave Danny her maiden name. I could tell (regardless of who the father was) Lisa loved Danny with all her heart.

At that point in our lives, I was staying out of her hair and was more than happy to let her take care of the little puke and shit factory. Unfortunately, on her own, Lisa was sexually repressed and quite frigid.

Terry was patient with her for the first two years of their marriage. He thought she must still be suffering from the trauma of being raped and assumed things would get better with time. But they didn't, and Terry began to drink. By the third year, he was drinking heavily and became abusive with Lisa. Then he started to get mean with Danny, and that was the last straw. Lisa left him, and we were homeless again.

Our second Mother, from the church, gladly took Lisa and Danny in. But Lisa felt she was imposing and knew she had to get a job. Despite not having a High school diploma or any work experience, she was persistent and got a job waitressing at a little dive bar in town called Tommy's.

Lisa was still quite shy and withdrawn, and the crowd at Tommy's was pretty rough, so I stepped up and took over when we were at work. I was good with people and soon learned that with a little flirting in a low-cut-blouse, we could make enough money to get a small apartment within walking distance of Tommy's.

Luckily, when we moved into the apartment, our mother and church mother would practically fight over who was going to pick up and watch Danny when Lisa was working; and they would not think of taking payment.

When Lisa started working at Tommy's, we were on days, ten a.m. to six p.m. Monday through Friday. But a couple of months later, one of the other girls quit, and Tommy put us on six to close, Tuesday through Saturday. We, I, started making enough money so we could afford to buy a "used" car and move into a bigger apartment. Danny would be starting first grade soon, and he was excited to have his own room. Our life was on the upswing. Lisa was beginning to feel safe again, and our personalities were becoming a little more integrated.

It was September, and we had just dropped Danny off for his first full day of school. Lisa was a little sad because it was our day off, and she would usually spend the day with Danny. But the freedom felt good, and I was going home to grab our gym bag.

I really needed a workout!

Not long after Lisa's divorce from Terry, I convinced her that joining a gym would help build up her self-esteem, and we got a membership at Dumbbells Gym a few blocks from our apartment. Lisa liked working out, and she liked the attention we got from all the buff men. I even managed to talk her into hooking up with a couple of the hot studs. But she wasn't that into the sex, and I was more than happy to take over and let them have their way with me. Then life got busy, and we hadn't gone to the gym in over three months. But with Danny in school, we had plenty of time to hit the gym, and I wasn't taking "NO" for an answer.

I tossed our baby-blue and white sports bra with the matching shorts in our gym bag. The sports bra was a bit small, and we popped out the top just enough to be sexy but not quite sluttish, and the tight shorts would show just a hint of camel-toe. I was really horny and excited about being in a room full of handsome buff men. I wanted to hook-up with a sexy virile young man. I say young because I knew what I needed, and I would need it more than just once.

Lisa has always been content to go along for the ride and let me run the show and that morning was no different. When we came out of the locker room, I looked around at the beefcake and saw what I hoped would be just the ticket, working out in the free weight area. He was about six feet tall, with lots of muscle, and he exuded self-confidence.

I made sure he noticed when I walked past him to the weight racks and tentatively picked up a curling bar. I hefted it once and put it back. Then I casually walked up to him and asked if he would spot me. He readily agreed with a smile that said, "I see you, and I'd like to see more of you!"

Normally when someone is doing curls, a spotter stands in front of that person and lightly places their fingers under the bar; in case it gets too heavy.

I picked up the curling bar and was surprised when he took a stance behind me, reached around, and lightly placed his fingers under the bar. He smelled of sweat, with a musky hint of aftershave, and was exuding pheromones. I could feel his body heat and hot breath on my neck as I did a set of ten curls with only a little assist.

"Let me hold that for you, little one. I wouldn't want you to get too tired... Yet!" he said and easily held the bar for me.

I was already getting turned on, and I liked the way he said, "Yet."

I took the bar from him and he moved in a little closer as I started my second set. I could feel his breathing become more rapid and his body heat increase with every curl, and I had to really concentrate because he was just so; there! After ten more difficult reps, he took the bar from me and asked if I would consider skipping the third set.

"No way," I said and took the bar back.

This time when he lightly placed his fingers under the bar, he moved in even closer, and I got a hot rush deep in my loins at the feel of his big cock, pressing against the small of my back. He counted out my reps and assisted me a lot as I struggled and ground against him for support. When I finished, he took the curling bar, placed it back on the rack. He needed to do another set of bench-presses and asked if I would spot him. Oh, baby! I was willing to help him with just about anything he needed.

Normally when someone is doing bench-presses, a spotter stands behind the weight bench ready to assist. But I decided a little tit-for-tat was in order as I straddled his chest, and gave him a good look at my camel-toe and ever-spreading wet spot. My crotch was mere inches from his face, and I knew he could smell my hot pussy, and by the time he finished his set, he was sporting a tent in his shorts.

"I know of about a hundred-twenty pounds I'd like to lift onto my face. How about we get out of here before I embarrass myself," he said.

"Sounds like a plan," I replied slyly as I dismounted.

"Grab your things and meet me in the parking lot," he said as he tipped his head toward the back door.

"Okay, just let me get a quick shower," I replied.

"No way, baby! I wanna smell, taste, and feel you just the way you are," he said.

"See you in the parking lot -- stud," I replied as I wiggled my eyebrows with a big smile.

Then I turned and wiggled something else as I headed for the locker room to grab our gym bag. I had done my due diligence. He wasn't wearing a wedding ring, and he didn't have the tell-tale tan-line on his finger. I figured if he wasn't dating anyone, we could go to his place, or if he was (since Danny was at school), we could go to our apartment.