Taboo
2010-05-05
My first memory of Charlie is from when I was four years old. The door-bell rang, and my father said if I answered it, there would be a suprise for me on the other side. So, slowly, I turned the knob, and he was standing on my front porch. The sun had just began to set behind him, the early evening rays danced across his handsome face, and made his blonde hair gleam.
"Charlie!" I exclaimed, as I jumped into his arms. He smiled widely at me, and squeezed me tightly
.
"Hello, Clarissa Doll" he said, as he placed me down gently on the floor. I took his eighteen-year-old hand in my tiny palm, and brought him to my eldest brother, whom he was there to see. Before Marcus closed the door in my face, Charlie put a kiss on my forehead and handed me a stick of Juicy Fruit from his pocket. He held his finger to his lips, and told me not to tell my Mother. I smiled at him, then ran off to chew my gum in peace.
Charlie had been Marcus' best friend since before I was born, so to me, he'd always been there. Unlike my brother, he never got annoyed when my parents made them look after me, he always had a suprise for me when he came over, and when he was around at my bed time, he'd tuck me in and tell me stories. Apparently, even before I can remember, I took a liking to him, and it's not hard to see why; he was always nicer to me than either of my brothers, and even my Father. Charlie was the only real, male figure in my life. And, really, he was the only one I wanted in my life.
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Marcus moved out when I was six, and he was twenty. When I heard, and I locked my self in my bedroom. No one really cared that I wasn't coming out. As I laid on my canopy bed, and stared at the pink walls that were blurring because of the tears in my eyes, I remember feeling devestated. Not because my brother was leaving, but because Charlie would stop coming over. Everybody knew that. I stayed in my room and cried for what was probably days before I heard a knock on my door.
"I don't wanna see anybody!" I yelled as loudly as my little lungs would allow.
"But Clarissa Doll," a familliar, deep voice said. "I've brought you a present. " I leapt from my bed and swung my door open. I didn't say anything to Charlie, I just stared at him, then threw my tiny arms around his waist. One of his gentle hands stroked my apricot coloured hair, and we stayed like that for a while.
Finally I pulled away from him, and looked up at him, pouting. He dropped to his knees in front of me, and asked me:
"Where's the pretty, little dimple thats supposed to be on your pretty, little cheek?" I lifted my hand to my face, then hung my head.
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"I thought I was never gonna see you again" I said quietly, still pouting.
"Now why would you think something like that?" he asked me, trying to hold back a smile.
"'Cause Marcus doesn't live here no more"
"But that won't stop me from wanting to see my favorite little girl, silly" he said, nudging my cheek with his knuckles. I smiled then, and hugged him. He put his arms around me gently, then pulled back. He kissed both of my cheeks, and handed me a teddy bear.
"Tell you what" he said. "I'll come to play with you whenever your Mum and Dad go out. But if you ever miss me, you just hug that bear. He'll make you feel better. "
As soon as Charlie left, and whenever I was home without him, I hugged that bear, because I realized that I always missed him.
Charlie's long, pale blonde hair fell all around me, as he tickled my sides. His grass-green eyes watched my smile as I laughed hard enough to lose my breath. Occasionally, he took his fingers from my skin just long enough for me to breathe, but I didn't care about the air. I liked the way I felt when his hands were on me.
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He climbed on top of me, being careful not to put any of his weight on my fragile, little body. His tickling slowed, until he was no longer tickling, just stroking my smooth skin. His touch made me feel warm inside, and made my breathing slow and heavy. As he ran his fingers over my body, he looked completely removed, like he didn't really realize he was touching me. His mouth was slightly open, his eyes looked dazed, but he seemed to be enjoying himself. Abruptly though, he pulled away, no longer touching me, or even looking at me. I sat up, and stared at him. He had his head down, so that his pretty hair was in his face. Though I couldn't see, I could tell he was frowning, and I pictured his lips turned down, and his brows furrowed. He had a throw pillow on his lap, and he was gripping it so tightly, his knuckles had turned white.
"What's wrong, Charlie?" I asked him. He said nothing, just looked down at his hands.
"We were having fun, Charlie" I said, trying to sit on his lap. He held the pillow in place, but I pulled it away, and sat down. I felt something hard pressing into my thigh, but I thought nothing of it.
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I felt his hands wrap around me, holding me to keep me from falling. I cuddled into him, with my head on his chest, and my legs curled up.
"If you just wanna sit, thats fine too" I told him, loving the warmth he gave off. As he began to stroke my back, I got chills all through me. I cuddled in closer to him, and the thing that was pressing into my thigh was now touching my bum. Charlie seemed to realize this. As his breath caught in his throat, he lifted me slightly, and moved me so I was no longer being poked.
"Clarissa" he breathed. I looked to him.
"Yes?"
"If I do something now, will you promise to keep it our secret?"
"Okay" I responed, wondering what he was talking about. He slipped his fingers beneath my chin, and lifted my head. He looked right into my eyes, then blinked for a long time. When his eyes opened again, he started to move his face closer to mine, and I knew what was happening; Charlie was going to kiss me. Not like he usually did, on my forehead, or my cheeks. But he was going to kiss me like my Father kissed my Mother sometimes, on my lips.
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He got very close to me, so that I could feel his warm breath on my face, and I got excited. I closed my eyes, and waited for the gentle contact of our mouths. But he didn't go any farther.
"I shouldn't do this" he said. He sounded mad. I looked at him sadly, I didn't know what I'd done to make him not want to kiss me.
"I'm sorry, Charlie" I told him. "I didn't mean to-"
"You didn't do anything to be sorry for," he cut me off. "But I can't. . I can't kiss you. You're just a little girl"
"I am not a little girl," I protested. "I'm seven years old"
"But, Clarissa" he said calmly, though I could tell he was still on edge. "I'm so much older than you are, I'm three times your age. " I looked at him and pouted.
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"But I want you to kiss me!" I demanded, as I jumped off his lap. He closed his eyes, and ran a hand through his hair.
"Oh, Clarissa, I want to. Fuck me, but I want to. "
"Then do it!" I told him. He got down on his knees in front of me, and kissed my forehead.
"That's not what I meant!" I said sternly, and went to my room for the rest of the night.
The next time Charlie came over, he brought a girl his age with him. I cried, and refused to come out of my room that night.
It was late when Charlie and the girl were leaving that night, but I had yet to fall asleep. I hated that girl for trying to steal my Charlie, and I hated him for letting her. There was a knock on my door, and though I knew who it was, I called out:
"Who is it?" in a biting tone.
"It's me, Clarissa Doll" Charlie said to me. I barely heard him, he sounded upset. When I didn't respond to him, he came in, shut the door, and leaned on it.
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He didn't look at me, and he didn't speak to me.
"Why do you call me that, Charlie?" I asked him coldly. He lifted his eyes to me, and cocked his head to the side.
"Why do I call you what?"
"Clarissa doll," I said, emphasizing the second word. He looked thoughtful for a moment then said:
"Because your skin is like porcelain, your blue eyes look too perfect to be real, your hair falls around your face like strings of strawberry blonde silk, and your face is so beautiful that it could only have been carved by an angel. You're as lovely and angelic as a doll. "
I felt my stomach drop, and I felt terrible for being mean to him.
"She means nothing to me" he whispered. He wouldn't meet my eyes as he spoke. "And, Clarissa Do-" he stopped himself from calling me Doll. "Clarissa, no one could ever mean as much to me as you do. Don't ever think otherwise. "
I closed my eyes, and hung my head. When I flipped open my lids again, we were enveloped in darkness. I heard the floor boards creek as he walked towards my bed, and then felt the matress sink as his weight settled on it.
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Before long, he was lying down on his side, facing me. Charlie reached out, touched my cheek, and stroked in gently. As my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I saw that there were tears in his resplendant green eyes.
"Why are you crying?" I asked him.
"Because" he began, "What I'm about to do is very wrong, and I'm not proud of myself for doing it. But I can't help myself. " He turned on to his back, and pulled me up ontop of him. My legs were spread over his hips, and I felt the same hardness as before pressing into my private area. It made beads of sweat break out accross my forehead, I felt weak, and hot all over. He pulled me down so I was lying on him. I felt his chest move up and down slowly, and I knew he was breathing heavily. I wondered if he was feeling the same way that I was.
He ran his palms over my arms, my waist, my bum, and then back up the way they came. He put his hands on either side of my face, then slowly, he touched his lips to mine. He let them linger only for a moment, then pulled away.
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He slid me off of him, and got up and left without a word. I touched my mouth with the tips of fingers, and smiled. That kiss was the most pleasent thing I'd ever felt. And I knew then that I wanted more of them from him.
Though we never talked about it, even I knew that there was something between Charlie and I. From that night on, when he came to see me, he came alone. Every night before he left, he would tuck me into bed, lay beside me for a while, and kiss me. Sometimes it was just a quick peck on my lips. Other times it was long, lingering kisses that had me losing my breath, but not caring. But every time that our mouths came together, he would get frustrated with himself, and walk out, leaving me in the darkness of my bedroom.
On the night of my eighth birthday, my parents were going out. And I knew that meant I'd have the night with Charlie. I put on my favorite skirt, a blue turtle neck sweater, and put blue ribbons in my curly hair. When I looked at myself in the mirror, I thought I still looked like a little girl. So I removed the ribbons, and tried to brush out my curls.
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When my hair was as straight as I could make it, I looked in the mirror again, and decided that I now looked very mature. I hoped that Charlie would notice. As I sat on my couch, waiting for Charlie, I knew that tonight would be special.
The door bell rang, and when I ran to answer it, I could hear the heels of my vinyl shoes tapping on the linoluem, and I felt my hair flying behind me. I felt like a princess going to meet my prince. When I saw Charlie, his beautiful hair was tied back from his face, and he was dressed in a button down dress shirt and dress pants. I would become very accustomed to him looking like this. As I smiled up at him, he pulled out a white rose from behind his back, and held it out to me.
"For my Clarissa Doll" he smiled. I accepted the flower, and sniffed it; it smelled sweet and fresh. He held out his arms, and I jumped into them, burying my face in his neck. He carried me out to his car, and put me in the passengers side.
"Buckle up" he told me. I did, and I wondered where he was taking me. As we drove in the darkness, he turned on music that was full of violins and electric guitars, and I found it to be very pleasent.
We came to a stop in front of a building with a name that I couldn't pronounce, and he held my hand as we walked inside. When we were through the door, I realized that we were in a restaurant that seemed to have very little lighting. But it had a nice atmosphere. After we were seated, he held my hand while we looked at our menus. After I told him what I wanted, he ordered for me.
His thumb started to move back and forth over the back of my hand, and I liked the soft feeling. But, suddenly, he pulled his hand away and reached into his pocket. He pulled out a small, white box, and placed in my palm.
"Happy birthday, Clarissa" he said. When I opened up the tiny box, I loved what I saw. It was a silver heart on a delicate silver chain. I looked up at him and smiled.
"For the girl who has my heart" he smiled back.
"Thank you, Charlie! I love it!" I said.
After we finished eating, I had Charlie help me put my new necklace on, and we drove home.
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When we came through the door to my house, we both instinctively walked up the stairs to my bedroom. He laid down on my bed, and I lay facing him. We were so close to eachother, that I could feel his breath on my face.
I became aware of his hand sitting gently on my hip. I looked at his handsome face, then focused my attention on his lips. I wanted him to kiss me, one of the long, breathless kisses. I brought my face closer to his, but instead of bringing out mouths together, he sat up.
"Come here" he said. But when I tried to perch myself on his lap, he positioned me so that my legs were around his waist. We were face to face, our mouths mere inches apart. He placed his hand on the back of my head,and brought me closer. He ran his tongue along my bottom lip, I closed my eyes, and let my mouth come open. I felt the familliar poke I experienced whenever we were close.
"Charlie. .
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" I bagan. "What is it that is poking into me?" He looked embarassed, and seemed to be at a loss for words.
"Well. . . Whenever I get this close to you, I get excited. . . And when I get excited, this happens" he said. He took my hand, and placed it on the excitement between his legs. He pulled my hand away quickly.
"You should keep your hands away from there, though" he sighed. "Until you're older".
But I let my hand travel back there as he continued to kiss me.
Charlie pulled me even closer to him, and his hands slipped beneath my shirt.
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The contact of our skin made me breathe in deeply, forgetting to exhale.
Though this wasn't the first time I'd felt his touch, this was different. He wasn't tickling me, he was. . . Loving me.
I reached out to touch his cheek, his five-o'clock shadow felt strange against my palm. But as I stroked his face, his lips parted and his eyes closed. He looked relaxed, and he seemed to like what I was doing. I could feel his excitement touching me, and I could feel his hands resting lightly on my back. I felt bold, right then. I felt like I could do whatever I wanted, and he would let me. I tested my theory by kissing him. But as our mouths came together, I knew I was wrong. He still wanted to be in charge, I could tell by the way he began to lightly suck on my lower lip.
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I thought to myself that this felt nice. One of Charlie's arms went behind my neck, and he eased me off of him, so that I was laying on my back, then he lay on his back beside me.
I wanted to feel the hardness between his legs, so I reached over to touch it. As my fingers touched the fabric of his pants, I saw that he had started to shake. When my hand was on the hard part of him, I could feel it twitch, ever so slightly.
"I wanna see" I told him.
"No, Clarissa. You can't" he responded in a weak, but serious tone. But I didn't listen, and he didn't stop me when I started to undo his pants. When the zipper was undone, the hard piece of flesh came free from his trousers. I stared at it, wondering why he had it, and what it was for. But I didn't ask him any of my questions. It looked heavy, I thought, as I watched it settle into place on his belly.
"Oh, Clarissa" he sighed in a throaty way. "This is so wrong.
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You shouldn't see me this way. . . I shouldn't even be this way. You shouldn't make this happen to me. " I felt hurt when he said that.
"I'm sorry. " I told him.
"It's not your fault" he said quietly. "I should cover myself up. . . "
"No!" I protested, and so he didn't. "I want to touch it. " He looked at me wide eyed, then let his head rest on my pillow, he squeezed his eyes shut.
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"Just. . . Be gentle" he surrendered. I ran my small palm up the shaft of it, and then touched the wider top part. When I did, he gasped. I pulled my hand away quickly, thinking that I hurt him. When I looked at him, though, he didn't seem to be in pain. He just looked like he felt guilty. I didn't risk touching it again. I just stared. Then I watched him wrap his hand around the middle of it, and he stroked it in his closed hand. He looked lovely as he did it, and I was glad he was letting me watch. His hand began to move faster, and soon he was arching his back, and grinding his teeth.
"Clarissa" he said breathlessly.
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"Please. . . look away" I saw that his eyes were pleading with me, but I didn't want to look anywhere else. I watched the movement of his hand, then heard him gasp loudly. Some kind of liquid shot from the end of the thing in his hand, as he moaned:
"Oh god, Clarissa. " I was worried and wondered if he was hurt, and what was coming out of him.
He closed his eyes, and let his head drop down on my pillow again. He breathed heavily, and his eyes were closed tightly, but he didn't look hurt. I was glad that he was ok. He asked me to bring him an old towel, and when I brought it back, he wiped the liquid off of his stomach and his hand. He zipped his pants up, and then just layed there. I went to him, and when I cuddled up close to him, I noticed tears dripping down his cheeks.
"I shouldn't have let you see that" he whispered, his voice shaking. "I'm so sorry.
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" I lay curled up next to him, and wondered what he was sorry for.
"You're so beautiful" My eldest brother, Steven, told me. There was a look in his eyes that scared me. Steven was two years older than Marcus, which made him sixteen years older than me. He moved out when I was two years old, so him and I were never really close. That's why the attention he was paying me now bothered me.
"Thanks, Steven. " I said, as he reached out, and touched my hair with his fingers. I tried to pull away from him, but he just moved his hand with me.
"You look so. . . different from all of us. " he whispered. It was true; my whole family had thick, dark hair, and darker complexions.
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I had thin, reddish-blonde hair, and very pale skin.
"I know," I nodded. He moved himself closer to me, and put an arm around my waist. I tried to move away, but he had a firm hold on me.
"So why are you back?" I asked him, my voice shaking. He smiled, and shrugged.
"Just to visit" he started to slip his hand under my shirt, and stroke my side. This all felt wrong, I thought. I didn't want to be alone with him anymore. But my parents weren't here, and Charlie wasn't coming for another hour. I started to get up, hoping I could get away and maybe call Charlie to see if he could come over early. But as I slid off the couch, Steven grabbed my wrist and kept me from going any farther.
"Where do you think you're going, little girl?" He asked me. His voice was full of agression.
"Please, Steven, let me go.
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I wanna be by myself" I pleaded with him, trying to pull my hand back. But I was weak, and he pulled me forcefully into his lap. I struggled, and I kicked my legs, but he had me too tightly. He started to take off my shirt, but when I tried to hold it down, he slapped my face. It stung, and brought tears to my eyes.
"Please, stop" I said weakly. But I gave up when he had a handfull of my hair in his palm, to hold me in place while he took my top off. He took his hand from my hair, and ran his fingertips all over my chest, and my stomach. When he started to unbutton my pants, I started to cry, and that made him mad. After he pushed me onto the floor, he pulled off my pants, and forced his fingers into me. Tears streamed down my cheeks, because of the pain, and the idea of what was happening. Only Charlie was supposed to touch me like this, not my brother. I squeezed my eyes shut, so I didn't have to see what was happening. The fist of his free hand came in contact with my right eye, and I cried out in pain.
"Don't close your eyes, Clarissa!" He yelled at me.
"Look at me!" I did what he said, but I don't remember anything after that. I escaped from my body, and I imagined being with Charlie. . . And it was his voice that brough me back to reality. I heard him near me, talking to my brother.
"What happened to her?" He asked, his voice full of concern.
"She fell down the stairs" Steven told him.
"Why are her clothes off?" He asked, sounding sucpicious.
"I was checking for bruises" He lied. He must have been a good actor, because Charlie believed him. I heard footsteps, and the door shutting, and I was thankful that Steven was gone.
I felt Charlies strong arms come around me, and I felt safe.
"Charlie" I whispered.
"Yes, Clarissa Doll?" he inquired, stroking my hair.
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"Steven lied" I choked out, tearing up. I was so ashamed that I didn't even want to look at him, but I turned my head, and looked into his green eyes. I couln't read the look on his face.
"What do you mean, baby girl?" He whispered. He sounded scared, and I didn't want to tell him what happened. I didn't want him to judge me.
"N. . no I c. . can't tell you" I stammered. He scooped me up, sat down, and placed me on his lap. I cuddled into him, and burried my face in his hair.
"Clarissa, you can tell me anything" he told me gently.
"But.
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. . But it's ba-" I tried to tell him, but he interrupted me.
"Whatever it is, honey, it can be our secret. " I didn't want to tell Charlie, but I knew he wasn't going to let up unless I did.
"He. . he hit me. . . and he had his fingers in me. " I sobbed.
Charlie stopped breathing.
"I. .
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I'm sorry" I whimpered.
"Clarissa. . . His voice was flat. "This isn't your fault. " He put me down beside him, and walked to the door.
"I'll be right back after I talk to your brother. " He told me. I nodded, and watched him walk outside. I heard a car door slam, and someone yelling, though I couldn't make out the words. Then everything went quiet.
The front door opened. Charlie walked in, and came over to pick me up. He carried me upstairs, and layed me out on my bed.
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I watched him go to my dresser, and pick out my favorite pyjamas, which he helped me put on. I rolled onto my side, and he layed behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist.
"I'm sorry I wasn't here for you" whispered in my ear. I looked don at his hands. . . Those hands that would never touch me if I didn't want them to. I noticed something red on his kuckles. Blood? Maybe.
We layed together in silence, with me holding his hands, and his breath on the back of my neck until my parents came home. When we heard the door open, Charlie kissed my shoulder, and got up.
"I have to go tell them what happened" He said, walking towards the door.
"Wait!" I called, knowing he wouldn't come back after he left. I held out my hands, motioning for him to come to me. He did, and he took me in his arms, squeezing me.
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"Kiss me" I whispered. He pulled away, and looked at me for a moment. Then he rested his palm on my cheek, and brought our lips together gently. Then he got up once more, and walked to the door. He looked at me before he left, and said:
"Goodbye, Clarissa. I love you" but before I could respond, the door was shut, and he was gone for the night.
more to come as i write it people, comment and let me know what you think.
