Other People's Drama

-------------------

*Author's Note*

Considering the positive response, I received from my first posting, I've decided to try this again -- just because. The following is a 'sanitized' version of something else I've written. I recently came to understand that because of 'rules' I will probably never be able to post it - anywhere - in its current form. So... why not make some changes, and let Literotica readers voice their opinions?

Because the original is a rather long (novel?) story, it's going to take some time to clean it all up. For that reason, I will be posting it in sections, as I finish them. Rather than the usual Pt 1 /Pt 2, each section will have the same title, but with a different description. Hopefully, this isn't too confusing.

Enjoy!

******

Stockholm

Someone once told me, 'your life would make an amazing, if not slightly bizarre story'.

Not sure I believe them, but under the circumstances, I figure, what the hell?

My name is Lucas Cameron, and although you are reading this, I've actually been dead, for just over two years. Seems I picked up some unidentified 'bug' during my time in the Persian Gulf. The docs tried... they really did. Unfortunately, the bug won...

The direct answer to the next inevitable question... yes, I was in the military.

The next question people always seem to ask is... well... never mind. I just going to say 'yes, I did' and leave it at that. I carried a lot of stuff around with me, right up until I died. Some of it war related, some of it just life related.

Yes, I received a Silver Star - not that I believe I deserved it. It was just another case of Lucas getting caught up in someone else's drama, and taking action. You see, I have this bad habit of not 'walking away' from things when, by all logical accounts, that would be the most advantageous route to take. Nor do I subscribe to avoiding a situation, based on a lack of 'orders'. That's what happened in the Gulf. Neither me, nor my unit, were actually involved in the incident - well, until I involved us. We happened to be in close proximity when shit went south, and me being me, I jumped in to someone else's drama, without even thinking about it. And yeah - we kicked everyone's ass, and the good guys won...

Unfortunately, the 'other people's drama' thing carried over into life after the Gulf. Seems no matter where I went, I constantly found myself amidst other people's drama - even though, more often than not, I tried to exist in an environment that shielded me. I just wanted to get by, quietly and unnoticed. Sometimes, the drama was a simple fix, sometimes it took a bit more effort. But I could never seem to just walk away - no matter how strange, or questionable, the situation.

I wonder, of those who read this story, how many will choose to condemned me - based on societal standards, and what can be interpreted as a total lack of moral character. Sorry... but all I can ever see it as, was my life. I spent a lot of time contemplating all the things I have done, and know inside, that only God gets to truly judge me.

Hopefully, He doesn't weight just the acts, but the results as well...

******

So, after three tours in the Gulf, I end up with some seriously cake duty - Security Staff at the US Embassy in Stockholm. Sweden turns out to be good for me... in a number of ways.

It's also where something I do, starts me down a recurring path, that I will travel until I die.

******

Because I'm on 'independent duty', I live on the local economy in Stockholm. I have what most Swedes consider a 'very nice' apartment, about six miles from the embassy. And... because I've always been your basic 'lazy male' I have a housekeeper. One of the guys at the embassy told me about her - she's a single mother, doing her best to get by.

So, every Saturday, at exactly 10:00 am, the doorbell rings, and in comes Elsa. Sometimes I'm there... sometimes I'm not. Doesn't matter, because she has a key. I have come to trust the woman implicitly.

Two months into our arrangement, the doorbell rings, I go to answer it, and the moment I open the door, my mouth hits the floor. Standing next to Elsa, holding a tub full of cleaning supplies, is the most beautiful young woman I have ever seen.

Period.

She is slightly taller than Elsa - I'm guessing at least 5'7", and maybe weights 135 lbs. She has the deepest, cobalt blue eyes I have ever seen, and her curly blonde hair is long enough that it probably goes just past her shoulders, and is currently, hanging in a ponytail. Then... there is her addicting smile... one that reaches in, and grabs a person's heart. But the single thing that captures my imagination instantly, is the fact she isn't wearing any make-up - none.

I stand, dumfounded and staring, for so long, they both start laughing...

"Mr. Came..." Elsa starts to say, in her amazingly cool Swedish accent.

"Dang it, Elsa, I thought we agreed.... it's Lucas..." I blurt out, shifting my gaze to her.

It's the blonde who responds.

"Mr. Cameron," she says, her accent there, but nowhere near as pronounced as Elsa's. "My mother is big on being respectful. Although here in Sweden, we tend to be very informal, you and I haven't met yet, so the use of your surname is justified."

Even as she is talking, my brain is stuck back on 'my mother'.... I look from her, to Elsa, and then back at her.

"I hope you don't mind," I hear Elsa say, although I'm still staring at the amazing smile standing just outside my door, "but as Lilli is out of school for the term, she will be helping me with my calls."

My brain is on the verge of becoming mush... 'mother'... 'school'... Lilli....

It's the kid who figures out what's going on... and again she laughs.

"Excuse me," she says, politely pushing past me, and coming into the apartment. She puts the tub on the kitchen counter, pulls a few things out of it, and turns back to face us. "I'm going to start in the toilet..." she says, and then disappears down the hall.

"I hope I have not overstepped, Lucas..." Elsa offers, as she too comes in.

When all I do is continue to stare, she again laughs, reaches over, and closes the door I am still holding open.

"How?"

"I did something quite childish when I was very young, and Lilli is the result."

"But..." I start to say, and again she laughs.

"We all have our stories, do we not?" she asks, as she heads for the closet and gets the vacuum out of it.

After a few seconds of doing math in my head, my proverbial lightbulb goes on... and Elsa sees it.

"I was barely fourteen," she says, then rolls the vacuum into the living room and plugs it in.

More mental math... (I know how old Elsa is)

"That means..." I mumble, so softly you can barely hear it.

"...that I'm seventeen," I hear from behind me.

I turn and watch as the kid grabs something else from the plastic tub, turns and smiles at me, then goes back to what she was doing.

This is the exact moment I realize, that my life is about to get totally out of control.

******

After that encounter, I do my best to be somewhere else between 10:00 & 11:30 on Saturdays. I can't lie... the kid's amazing smile, and big blue eyes, set up residence in my mind, and I can't get them out.

Four weeks later, on a sunny Saturday morning, I get back from the gym, climb the stairs, and slip the key into my door. The moment I opened it, I hear the music - and it definitely isn't any of my music...

I push the door open, and call out...

"Hello?"

No response.

I close the door behind me, and then realize why the music is so loud - the vacuum is running in the bedroom. I walk over, turn the music down about four notches, and the moment I do, I get a response. Within seconds a familiar pair of blue eyes, and a blonde ponytail, come around the corner. I immediately notice the smile is missing.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Cameron... for using the stereo without permission..."

"Ehh... no worries," I quickly reply, smiling at her. "It's nice to see someone get some use out of it, as I seldom do."

Although she doesn't, it's apparent she wants to smile.

"Where's your mom?" I ask, tossing my keys on the counter next to me.

"She wasn't feeling well this morning, so I'm making all the calls today."

"Really?" I blurt out, actually surprised.

She laughs - loudly.

"There are only five calls, and they are all like yours..." she waves her hands to indicate the apartment, "Super-easy..."

"But..." I start to say, and am again cut off.

"...I'm only a kid..."

I stand, totally embarrassed, staring at her. She spins around, and goes back down the hall, disappearing into the bedroom. After a few seconds, I pick up my gym bag, and follow her. I stand in the doorway until she notices me.

"Hey... I'm sorry. Honestly..."

She smiles at me, nods, and then grabs the vacuum handle.

"Are you done in the bathroom?" I ask.

"Yes. Are you going to mess it up again?" she asks, with a seriously playful tone.

"Yep," I reply, grinning at her, and tossing the gym bag into the middle of the floor she is vacuuming, just to annoy her. Then I turn, and head for the shower.

Only God knows why I didn't think to wait until she was gone, before showering...

******

Although it's happened to me many times over the course of my life, based on what I do for a living, it's still a very strange sensation to feel as though you are being watched.

As I am drying off, a new thought makes the sensation even more uncomfortable...

The only other person in the apartment... is female... and is seventeen years old...

******

Once I'm dressed, I wander out into the kitchen, and find Lilli closing up her plastic bin. When she looks at me, I see the seriousness in her eyes.

"You done?"

"Yes," she replies, matter-of-factly.

"See your mom next Saturday, right?"

"One of us will be here," she replies, with same tone.

"Okay... what's up? Are you still irritated with me for being a dweeb about your age?"

I see the smallest of smirks form on her face, and then the seriousness returns.

"Why do you carry a gun?" she blurts out, the deep blue of her eyes, cutting right through me.

I know instantly, that she must have looked in the gym bag...

"I'm in the military, Lilli... my job at the embassy requires me to..."

She looks at me for a moment, then picks up her tub. The moment she heads for the door, I step over and open it for her. Once she's in the hall, she turns back to face me.

"Thank you. I'll see you next Saturday. And I promise to be on time..."

I watch as she disappears down the stairs, and then I close the door.

I'm finding it more and more difficult to see a kid when I look at her... and I know that's a bad thing... a very bad thing...

******

So... here's where the story starts to get interesting - and questionable.

The following Saturday I drew Officer of The Day at the embassy, and was there until midnight. Last Saturday, I got caught up in a basketball game with a bunch of Swedes at the gym, and didn't get home until almost 5:00 pm.

This morning, I'm heading out early to go do some research at the local library. Sure, I could use the internet, but I'm a bit 'old-school' - I like books. And... I'm trying to vacate the apartment so that Elsa or Lilli can clean it. The moment I open the door to leave, there stands the smile, and blue eyes, I've been so diligently trying to avoid.

"Good morning, Mr. Cameron!" she says, as she steps past me, into the apartment.

"You're not supposed to be here until 10:00," I blurt out, watching as she goes to the kitchen and puts her tub on the counter.

"Yes... I know. Why have you been avoiding me?" she all but demands.

"Avoiding you?"

"Yes... avoiding me." She crosses her arms and stands staring at me.

"Where's your mother?" I ask, ignoring her question.

"She's taking Saturdays off until I start school again."

"You're my housekeeper?" I say, without thinking.

"Is that a problem?"

When all I do is stand staring at her, with a mystified look on my face, she shakes her head.

"You have a lot to learn about how things are in Sweden..."

"Excuse me?"

She steps around the end of counter, stopping a foot away from me, and looks me right in the eyes.

"You are judging me based on teenagers in America. That's really not fair, as many things here, are different. You can't hold me to the behavior and expectations of a seventeen-year-old in America, because issues in my life dictate that I am far past that - although I am in fact, only seventeen."

I'm so stunned, all I can do is stand silently and watch as she pulls some stuff from her tub, turns, and heads for the back of the apartment. I immediately go out the door into the hall, pull the door closed behind me, and head for the stairs.

As I stand on the street, waiting for a bus, a thought occurs to me. A seventeen-year-old just made me more uncomfortable than I can ever remember being. Yet... I still find it completely impossible to see a seventeen-year-old when she is standing right in front of me. Thing is... I don't want to...

******

Three weeks later, on a Thursday night, a couple of local guys from the gym, who have befriended me, take me to a bar for a beer, and some excellent Swedish food. It's a nice night, so when the evening ends, I decide to walk the two miles back to my apartment.

Once I get home, I kick off my shoes, drop onto the small couch, and put my feet on the table. I lay my head back, close my eyes, and immediately the same frowning face from our last encounter, fills my mind. My preoccupation with her is getting worse by the day - even though I haven't seen her since that morning. I know that I will either have to find a new housekeeper, or conceded to avoiding my own apartment on Saturdays, for the rest of my time in Stockholm.

In the middle of my contemplation, I hear a soft knock on my door. Not sure I actually heard it, I open my eyes and listen.

'knock-knock' comes again, almost inaudibly.

I glance at the clock - 9:52. Who the hell would be knocking on my door this late? If it was an issue at the Embassy, they would have called my cell phone. I stand, cross the room to the door, and without looking through the peep-hole, simply pull it open. What I find, freaks me out on a level I can't explain. Standing on the third step down, she stops instantly, and turns to look at me.

"I thought you were already asleep," she mumbles, smiling at me.

"What are you doing here?" I blurt out, not at all sure how to respond.

"I'm not sure yet," she replies, standing where she is, holding the railing with one hand.

"Lilli... you're... well..."

"No, Lucas, I'm not. Well... not anymore..."

It's the first time she has ever used my first name.

"What are you babbling about?"

"You were going to say, 'you're only seventeen' - but, I'm not. It's my birthday."

The very second, I see the tear trickle down her cheek, my heart wins out over my brain. I know I should send her home, but I can't...

Once again, someone else's drama is about to pull me in.

"Come in here, and tell me what the hell is going on..."

She finally smiles, and starts back toward me. Seconds later, she's sitting next to me, her feet pulled up under her, sipping the glass of Gatorade I hand her.

Before the night is over, I will have fallen into this remarkable young girl's drama, and will have allowed myself to venture into questionable territory - morally. The sad part is, my heart refuses to let me see it as 'wrong'...

******

"So... does your mother know where you are?"

"Yes... I told her where I was going."

"And she is okay with you being here, at this time of night, alone?"

"Okay with it - probably not. But, she trusts me."

"You do realize that the need to send you home, is almost overwhelming, don't you?"

"Why?"

"Because a seventeen-year-old girl has no business being alone in an apartment with a guy damn near twice her age."

"How old are you?"

"Thirty-two - soon to be thirty-three."

"Why?"

"Why?" I reply, now a bit confused.

"Why is there something wrong with my being here?"

"Damn it, Lilli!" I blurt out, now getting frustrated.

"You're afraid of getting into trouble if anyone finds out I'm here... aren't you?" she asks, ignoring my outburst.

"Yes. I have no desire to go to jail."

She lets out a laugh.

"You find me going to jail, an amusing subject?"

"Sorta..."

"Explain."

She takes a deep breath, and another drink of Gatorade, and then starts talking.

"First of all, just so you know, I'm not a virgin. I let a boy talk me into something really stupid when I was thirteen. I kind of regret it, but it wasn't horrible or anything like that. It was just two silly kids... exploring themselves. When his mom found out, she went crazy, called my mom, and told her to keep me away from him - as if it was all my fault."

Again, I see the tears forming in her eyes.

"That sucks..." I mumble.

She gives me a forced smile.

"Yeah... I was kind of messed up for a while. My mom talked to me about it, and then immediately took me to the doctor for birth control. That didn't help much - I felt as if she expected me to... oh, never mind."

"And so?"

"And... a month later, I foolishly ended up getting involved with my best friend's older brother. He was nineteen. He wasn't mean to me, nor did he force anything on me, but I was nothing more than an 'experience' for him. He thought I was a virgin - and I never said anything to the contrary. Once he thought he had taken my virginity, he lost interest, and after only a month, moved on to a different girl. His explanation was that he needed to be with someone 'experienced' - which was of course, a load of crap. The girl he started going out with, was one of my classmates - and she was a virgin..."

I sit watching the tears trickle down her cheeks, totally unsure off what to say to her. I've never been caught up in this kind of drama before - bad teenage sexual experiences.

"Eventually, based on my constant depressed mood, my mother figured it all out. When I finally admitted she was right, she sat me down, and we had a talk. That's when I found out what had happened to her, when she was thirteen, and how I came into the world. I was... well... stunned. With tears in her eyes, she asked me to promise her I would wait at least until I reached the age of consent - you know... when a teenager can have sex legally - before I did it again. I made her that promise..."

"And you haven't since?"

"Nope. Haven't even had a boyfriend."

"You are an amazing young woman, Miss Lilli... honest to God."

"My mother and I have talked about you..."

My damn heart stops.

"She said she understands what's going on in my head. She's not happy about it... but she understands."

"And what, exactly, does that mean?"

"I'm a sexually curious, teenage female - just like most of the girls in my classes at school. The thing here is, I've already messed up twice. I don't want to mess up again."

All I do is stare at her, but I think something in my eyes, gives me away, because she once again, smiles at me.

"I sit around at school, listening to all the girls talk - the ones with boyfriends - and wonder why I can't have a relationship like they do. Sex is supposed to be this wonderful experience, but in my world, so far..."

She lets the sentence fade, as she reaches up and wipes her tears - which are falling in earnest now - from her cheeks. I can tell that she is waiting for me to say something... and yeah, I'm scared to death, because I have no idea how to respond.

"Lilli... you're a minor. God knows I'm not the most moral person in the world... but..."