My Rose Does Bloom Ch. 00-02

I couldn't believe what came out of my mouth, this was very unlike me for the second time today, and both times for her. "Go ahead, I cut the last boy's dick off after I gave him HIV, syphilis, chlamydia, gonorrhea and a slight upset tummy. Do you always smack your girlfriends around? Yousss' a reeeaaallll man vato, machismo, isn't yous? Gonna kick a little girly's ass who can cut your dick off? Shit fer brains."

He looked stunned that I talked back to him. Honestly, I was surprised as well at the words that came out of my mouth. A part of me understood that my courage came from my affection for Rose, the girl I didn't even know. Johnny raised his fist like he was going to punch me. I stood straight and foolishly put my chin out, daring him. This bewildered him even more, and he hesitated then shook his head and put his fist down.

"Not here cunt, you're good, but you'll get yours. You'll get yours real good with my dick in that fine ass. Better watch yourself dick cutter, better watch out. You're in my radar."

"Better watch out," I said not knowing when to stop, "got my knife ready to cut your dick off. That is if I can find the teensy thing. Let me check my radar, oh shit, I mean magnifying glass."

That angered him further, and he pushed me. Losing my balance, I fell to the floor landing hard on my bottom. Johnny turned and bowed to all the staring patrons, pointed at me and said, "This girl right here, she's good as dead."

The patrons at the restaurant stared at the proceedings as if it was all part of some surreal play, only this play wasn't make believe, it's the reality of life on the wrong side of the tracks, a place where the accepted rules of genteel society did not apply. Smut rules, and this play was some of the finest smut to be seen in awhile. Pain does have a certain entertainment value for the ignorant, and Southside boasted of ignorance in never ending abundance.

Johnny turned around and left, that's when I almost peed my panties because I was scared shitless.

The girl was crying breathlessly and making the biggest ruckus. I didn't understand what moved me to become her Florence Nightingale, or perhaps I truly knew somewhere deep inside what fascinated me. She pulled at me with the attraction of a powerful magnet. Conceivably, it was the need to soothe another lost soul in search of comfort. She was so sad, hurting and needful of a kind word from another. Jeez, I longed for a friend also, a friend that was a girl—maybe a lover? Not many girls would hang with a lowlife like me.

Infuriated, I stared down a couple of the gawkers and walked up to the victim while rubbing my tender butt. I purposely calmed myself and stood quietly. She ignored me.

"Asshole huh?" I asked.

She looked up and told me to fuck off with her tear-filled eyes. Ignoring the brush off, I persisted, "I'm Millie, we have algebra together. May I sit down?"

Glaring at me with anger she yelled, "Why did you say that to him? He was my boyfriend."

Surprised, but generally not one to back away when I wanted something, I continued, "Think about what you just said dear heart and what that shit fer brains just did."

"Cunt!"

"I may be a cunt among other things, but you're not the first person to anoint me with that moniker today. Girl, I'm not the one who just had an ass eat her for dinner. Do you want me to help you out or not? I'm not the shit here girl, I'm the knight in fucking shining armor--seen the movie right? Now if you want a friend to talk to, let me be your Lancelot. Otherwise, I can go back and finish my shake, which is melting goddamn you. So, may I sit down or do you want me to go?"

Her eyes told me again what I could do with my lovely little self, but she surprised me as she curtly remarked between gasping breaths, "I don't own the chair. Go ahead."

I ignored her attitude and asked. "Is your face okay? I saw what he did. Need some ice?"

"The entire world saw and heard everything, why you care?"

"Because I'm the stupid village idiot who entertains beautiful girls who love stupid boys."

She looked at me and smiled through her tears, seemingly relaxing. "Sorry. I'm a stupid girl."

"Honestly, that I don't know. But Ms. Jensen seems to think you're something, and I . . . I think your beautiful," I paused to let my words sink in. "Let me tell you that what this world thinks about you doesn't matter. Look around you and see the filth and intelligence in this greasy place. I come here because they make a damn good chocolate shake. Certainly not for the company, save maybe a girl I met today? How about it Cheesecakes?"

She paused, "You think I'm pretty?"

"No, I think you're beautiful." She looked surprised by my words and bloomed in a delightful shade of pink.

"Okay. I get it, peace," she finally responded, avoiding eye contact.

"Then peace it is," I agreed.

She looked up at me with soft half-closed eyes; it was a different look, like she was trying to read through the exterior shell that I lived within. Relaxing the tiniest bit, it was at that moment that she opened the door that I've never left spiritually from that day forward.

Wiping her eyes, taking a deep breath and releasing it slowly, she said, "Yeah, I'm sorry for being that way, not my best moment. Just that asshole, I really liked him and everybody heard; he took my cherry. I'm just not very smart about things sometimes."

She shook her head, sighed, and looked at me with her captivatingly dark eyes. My pussy was dripping as I became lost within those eyes. How she pulled at my heart with a passion I didn't fully comprehend. No matter, I loved it though I didn't understand how this could be, all I was feeling, sensing—it was wondrous!

My circumstances in life flashed before my eyes. Just this morning I was a loser with no hope. I wasn't worthy of such a wish for hope. Things like this do not happen to a girl like me, and I marveled at these strange feelings. Was I capable of emotions such as this? I was so undeserving of these fabulous feelings of loving and wanting her.

I had a little trouble getting words out, but eventually managed, "You can do better and this world can suck. I can't do nothing about the cherry, but you gotta lose it sooner or later." I didn't know until later how prophetic that would be in my own life.

I wanted to soothe this girl, and my hand reached over and took hers. She didn't pull away. She didn't even look surprised. Rose smiled, a shy smile that reminded me of how I felt the first time a girl held my hand as a friend in third grade.

Shrugging her shoulders and catching her breath, she paused and finally said, "Not exactly beauty queen, the boys don't come knocking." That statement blew me away. Did this girl not know how beautiful she was? I chuckled to myself, but decided to play along.

"Well, beauty is gonna be worse if I don't get the ice. Offer still stands, ice?"

She nodded, "Yeah, that would help. By the way, I'm Rose."

"Know, algebra, remember?"

"Yeah right, sorry."

"Back in a sec."

I could tell right off that Rose was terribly insecure and lacked self-confidence. It was no wonder that she dated an asswipe like that chickenshit pseudo-gangbanging fuckhead. Maybe I could help her realize the truth about the bastard, but then perhaps she was too far gone. I certainly was not a Ms. Know-It-All when it came to the boys. Heck, I just gave my first blow job only a month ago and thought it was gross.

Minutes later, I returned with ice, a napkin and a second chocolate shake. "Chocolate always helps."

She took the ice, wrapped it in the napkin and placed it on her face. Avoiding the milkshake, she looked at me, smiled a little then said, "Pimples. Why are you doing this?"

"Hmmm, girly, what is today?" I asked trying to think of something smart to say as I reached my hand for hers. She accepted my hand for a second time.

Her magnetic dark eyes bored into me again, and I had to deliberately keep from squeezing her hand. Oh God, her eyes! They were enchanting. Twisting uncomfortably in my seat, I became winded and shaken as chills ran through my aroused body.

I inhaled deeply and said, "C'mon, play along. I bought you a shake didn't I? That was my last buck, and it was supposed to be for my little sister. How 'bout it for your knight in shining armor?"

She blew her hair from her face with a delicious puff of air and gave a small pout. "Okay Lancelot, Tuesday. I'll buy your sister another shake."

Overjoyed the girl answered me and was quick enough to get my play on words I said, "Well, that's better Cheesecakes. According to my horoscope, Tuesday is the day I'm supposed to make a new friend. After hours of deliberation and a call to the psychic hot line, they recommended some girl I would meet at a Taco Loco. That just couldn't be a coincidence, now could it?"

She smiled, "Are you always this weird?"

"Only on . . ."

She gave a half laugh then said, "Tuesday," and the queasiest sensation shot through my tummy and ended in my pussy. I swear I almost had my first orgasm.

It was uncomfortably quiet for a few seconds then she said, "I don't think I'll be a very good friend. Loser is tattooed across my forehead."

"By all means let me look." I pretended to examine her forehead with a magnifying glass. "Very interesting indeed my dear Watson, no loser tattoo, a few reckless freckles, a profundity of pimples, but no loser; don't see it." A delicious coarse laugh rumbled from inside her throat to her lips.

"He's an asshole," she finally agreed and reached across the table and took my hand again as I sat down.

She excited me! It took me a second to recover, "Dearest Watson, I must concur with your supposition. He certainly is a member of the species rectus assholis."

She gave me her deep throated laugh again, and I took that laugh and burned it into my heart.

"You nice, chica," she said.

"Guess so, little too nice for my father."

"What's up with that?"

"Long story, volumes, worse than seeing an episode of a damn soap opera."

"Can't be that bad."

"Worse, but let's talk about something else. Wanna joke?"

"Okay."

"Asshole joke?"

"Only if it's a nasty asshole joke."

"Oui. My new friend is a perv, I likes!"

"Takes one to know one," she said. I grinned and gave her the sweetest smile.

Ecstatic over the loss of pain that bogged her down only seconds ago, a visible sigh of relief ran through me, and I consciously closed my thighs together providing me with unsatisfactory stimulation. I swallowed and said, "Ya' sure Watson? Bad asshole joke."

She smiled again, and my lungs felt constricted, this girl was luscious. Jeez, her smile, those eyes, what she did to me. It was as if she entered me and lifted me to cloud nine on top of an angel's wings.

I once again gathered myself and spoke, "Did you hear the one about the priest and the ass?" She shrugged.

"It's really stupid, so don't get so excited," I said and went on without giving her a chance to stop me. "A Pastor entered his donkey in a race and it won. The Pastor was so pleased with the donkey that he entered it in the race again, and that amazing ass won again. The local paper read: PASTOR'S ASS OUT FRONT.

"The Bishop was so upset with this kind of publicity that he ordered the Pastor not to enter the donkey in another race. The next day, the local paper's headline read: BISHOP SCRATCHES PASTOR'S ASS.

"This was too much for the Bishop, so he ordered the Pastor to get rid of the donkey. The Pastor decided to give it to a Nun in a nearby Convent. The local paper, hearing of the news, posted the following headline the next day: NUN HAS BEST ASS IN TOWN."

Rose smiled, causing me to momentarily pause and stare at her.

"Well go on," she said impatiently while twirling her thumb on my palm, which certainly wasn't helping my already soaked panties or my recent speech impediment.

I took a deep breath and started, "The Bishop fainted! He informed the Nun that she would have to get rid of the donkey, so she sold it to a farmer for $10. The next day the paper read: NUN SELLS ASS FOR $10.

"This drove the Bishop insane, so he ordered the nun to buy back the donkey and lead it to the plains where it could run wild. The next day the headlines read: NUN ANNOUNCES HER ASS IS WILD AND FREE.

"The Bishop was buried the next day."

She laughed. Then I knew—I loved everything about her. Her firm perfect breasts topped with cherry ripe nipples, the sexy cleavage so prominent and temptingly tasty, her shimmering hair flowing like a river to her shoulders and those eyes . . . Rose made me salivate like a hungry beast. She felt something, and that something reeked of sex, warm loving sex. Sex . . . between two who loved, not two who simply desired the satisfaction of female comforting, but the sex between mates, of two souls imbued in union as one.

I was a mess, and my panties were an equal mess. I knew her panties must be soaked also.

On my way home with Becka's milkshake, I felt ecstatic. I couldn't stop thinking about Rose's laughter and the way her titties jiggled. She stirred feelings in my body that left me feeling horny. Confused titillation freed lubricant from my pussy and goodness, my palms were sweating. Rose was juicy-sweet, and I had more than just a serious crush on her. I loved her! That thought left me feeling guilty and questioning my sexual inclinations, something that had bothered me for a couple of years.

As I crossed the invisible boundary between Northside and Southside the change was palpably bizarre. Northside boasted manicured lawns, Volvo's, opulence and wealth. Clean-cut boys and Barbie doll figured girls frolicked around in sports cars wasting their daddy's money.

Southside differed considerably to say the least. The first assault was the smell, as overstuffed trash cans emitted a foul odor. The slightest tinge of marijuana added to the effusion, and a burned meat aftertaste lingered underneath. More than the smell, the yards and boarded up businesses added to the separation. Profane graffiti decorated most of the vandalized buildings with a rainbow of colors representing the various gangs. This month, the Southside Vato's were winning the graffiti war. Soon they would be dead, and the Skinheads would be spewing their racist filth.

Two drunks shared a bottle of vodka a block ahead while sitting in the niche of a building. I crossed the street to avoid them. The younger of the two grabbed his crotch and yelled, "blowjob."

I gave him the middle finger. He just laughed and called me names in a language I didn't understand, so I blew him a kiss and hollered, "Thank ya' doll."

A cop drove by. He waved at me but didn't dare stop. Most likely he was checking out my ass, which was a pretty nice ass I must admit. The cops never stopped in our neighborhood unless a major gang fight took place or someone died. They weren't welcomed, and trash wasn't worth their trouble.

Dread filled my senses as I turned the corner to my street and saw my house. I stepped in and moved from the hell of my neighborhood to the hell of my life. Hell spoke quickly.

"Get me another beer," yelled my father's voice from the air-conditioned living room as I closed the door. I hated being anywhere close to him. Generally, I sweated in the sanctity of my small twin bed or on the porch. Mousing to the kitchen to avoid his lecherous eyes, I pulled a cold one from the beer packed fridge.

Walking slowly back to a living room that smelled of mold and body odor, I handed him the beer. He fondled my hand tightly as my mother languished in a misty haze on the couch, "Sit in Daddy's lap?" He asked, looking at me with his pasty white face.

"No Daddy, study," I lied.

"Readin' again? That never did no one no good." I ignored him, pulled my hand from his tight clammy grip and headed to my precious little room.

"I'll need another one later," he yelled back. I felt his eyes burning on my ass as I walked away as fast as I could.

At first, his perversion wasn't too overt, only looking at me with a smirk and patting my bottom. As time passed and my body filled out, he started grabbing and pinching my ass. Then he'd look at me and ask if I remembered, "The good old days." I don't remember many, Good old days. In fact, I don't remember any, just him doing—something?

I checked on Becka and gave her the melty choco. She was lost in her own little world playing with her Barbie's. The child smiled at me, took her milkshake then went back to playing. At least Becka had some semblance of a childhood, not much, but some. Her smile lifted my spirits for a few seconds. That momentary elation quickly faded as I longed for the forgotten days of childhood innocence. Was I ever innocent? Had I ever been happy? It seemed I'd always been hurting over something. Rose—she made me happy.

Entering my room, I locked the door, opened the window and turned on the fan to provide some relief from the sticky heat. Lying down on my twin bed, I felt disgusted and rubbed my hand unconsciously trying to remove my father's touch. Closing my eyes, I cried and eventually succumbed to sleep. My mind drifted as dark colors mingled creating an indigo pattern speckled with what looked like dried blood. I dreamed of violence and hate, waking when my father entered my pussy with his fingers in my nightmare. The bed, soaked with warm sweat, shook with my trembling body. Tears caked my eyes, forcing them to stick together as if glued. My head pounded, and I needed to pee.

Peeking into the living room to ensure my father wasn't asleep on the couch, I walked quietly on the carpeted floor to check on Becka. My slobbering snoring mother, too stoned to make it from the couch to her bed, laid haphazardly and breathed irregularly. Daddy wasn't around.

I looked in on Becka who was sound asleep on the mattress in her room. Then I went to the bathroom and sat on the toilet to take care of my business. I wished my father could flush from my life like my pee; too bad it's not quite that easy. Finishing, I looked at my reflection in the bathroom mirror and wished for a pretty smile and straight teeth. At least I had some nice titties and a healthy complexion which accented my almost sexy body and nice little tushy.

Washing my hands and face with soapy water, I languished in a dispirited quiet that left me wishing that Rose was waiting in my bed to kiss my lips and perhaps my pussy. The thought left me feeling even worse as I began to accept that I wanted girls instead of boys. God would hate me. The reflection in the mirror cried outlier, my libido rested beyond the statistical norm for girls. I was a fag.

Returning to my room, I couldn't sleep as confusion about God and lesbianism beat the back of my brain in thundering rage. I thought deeply of my quandary. Believing in God, I wasn't about to tell anyone I liked girls or my father's cruel attempts at incest. My family and I went to church every Sunday. Daddy said church helped us, "Keep up appearances," but he didn't believe in it. He sold used cars, it seems used car salesmen needed to keep up appearances. I thought it was a fucking joke. Everybody knew that my dad was a bastard.

Mom, she did nothing but stay stoned all the time on her solution of drugs and alcohol. She never cooked or cleaned. I did all the laundry and housework, not that I did that much of it. We usually ate TV dinners or food from a can.

Picking up a novel and trying to arrest my guilt, I searched for escape from the reality of our house, our miserable useless existence. This particular novel was about a beautiful virgin princess rescued from the evil lair of a dragon by a mysterious black knight. Daddy never understood my interest in reading and learning. He was a stupid man, evil in a disturbed way. I didn't much care for my father and his touching, and mom with her ignoring. They were both fucked up if you asked me, not that anyone ever bothered to ask.