April of that year left in a hurry and most of May hurried, too. I didn't get the
chance to stay out at Darlene's again right away, but I knew Roger hadn't
forgotten me. One Saturday morning there was a gorgeous little bookcase, just the
right size, in the driveway beside our house. It was solid mahogany and
beautifully finished, and the card taped to it just said, "An early birthday
present for a very special young lady." It was signed, only, "A secret admirer."
I pretended utter ignorance but sent Roger a thank-you note on the sly.

I didn't get many chances for adventure, and I was pretty much finished with kids
near my age, and there weren't any real prospects among the older guys or men in
the neighborhood. I was walking around in a state of constant horniness, relieved
only slightly by occasional games of stink-fink with Jeanne. That last week of
May dragged on and Memorial weekend seemed to last forever. Dad went on a rampage
on Memorial day because of my sister, St. Alexis the Pure.

Alexis always went around passing judgment and telling us things were wrong or
sins. Anything. Everything. And here she'd gotten herself caught jerking off some
jock in a Dodge. In the driveway. We're not talking about a Nobel Laureate here,
as you can plainly see.

On the next Saturday, good ol' Marty came snuffling around. He had his permit and
his Dad's old car and offered to take me for a drive. Well, sure, I knew what he
had in mind, but I was so horny at that point, I would've sat on his stickshift.
So we went for a drive by the Anderson's grain elevator -- romantic, huh? -- and
we did it, and then he drove me home.

And I was still horny.

Finally, on the third week of June, Dad announced that my phantom stepbrother was
coming to visit. I was determined to seduce him -- and I was going to have the
chance, because his visit was going to coincide with the church fair.

When Dan arrived, Jeanne and I -- we had been exchanging fantasies and making
plans for two weeks -- were all prepared. We were both going to do him.
Teeheehee.

He was even better-looking than before; other than that, he hadn't changed much.
He still sat up till three in the morning, reading paperbacks and anything else
he could get his hands on. We'd been counting on that. Jeanne and I would come
creeping downstairs at eleven or so, after everyone else was asleep, and sit on
the floor or the couch -- anywhere we could be sure the light would show through
our nightgowns. He slept on a pullout in the living room, and we'd come through
there in the middle of the night, wearing a pair of panties and maybe a
tee-shirt, maybe not.

He was getting all these nice hard-ons from us but never did anything. So we went
to Plan B, which we considered foolproof.

Three nights before he was supposed to fly back to New York, Mom and Dad were
going to a pre-carnival dinner for all the volunteers, and my brothers were
staying at Grandma's, and Alexis had this Really Big Date. Dan was left to watch
over us. At nine o'clock, he sent us to take our baths. At 9:30 -- after we had
spent most of the time plying Yellow Pages with each other -- I called downstairs
to him.

Here was the foolproof part.

"What's the matter?"

"You have to make sure we're clean."

"What?"

"That's what Mom or Dad always does."

He muttered something and came trudging up the stairs. Jeanne and I popped out
into the hallway butt-naked and stood there wearing shit- eating grins,
displaying all of our sleek little charms and secret places. Our nipples were
hard enough to pierce paper when he topped the stairs and turned toward us.

Dan took one look at us, blushed, stared me right in the eye and said, "Get dry,
get dressed, get to bed -- and don't ever pull this shit on me again. Get
moving!"

We moved. So much for foolproof plans.

[What? No, I think he liked what he saw. Remember, I had a terrific little figure
-- 26-19-25 -- and Jeanne was just sprouting and she wasn't too hard to look at,
either. But he thought of us as "kids" first and "females" second. Seems pretty
obvious to me.]

Anyhow.

Marty had been calling a couple of times a day and asking me to come to this
"party." The day after Jeanne and I pulled our foolproof plan on Dan, Marty
finally admitted what was happening. Y'see, Marty had gone from considerate nerd
to asshole jock in a few months. He was on junior varsity football at Rossford
High, and he was trying to buddy up to the in-crowd with the varsity. The party
was going to consist of Marty, three guys from the varsity -- and me. Get the
picture? Right: a gangbang. I told him to call Dana, since that was more her
speed, but he said No, he wanted me to do it. He started to get real pushy about
it. It upset me, but I didn't tell anyone.

So the next evening, about 5:30, I was out on the front porch with Lisa, and Dan
was sitting there reading the Toledo Blade. Marty pulled up with his three
would-be buddies. Marty and one of them -- Eric, the halfback -- got out and came
up on the the porch with him. Marty had filled out and Eric was just big. I
remember there were clouds coming in, and the wind had stopped. I could feel the
thunder in the sky, just waiting to start.

I introduced Marty to Dan -- he just waved and went back to his sports pages; he
was a real baseball nut -- and Marty introduced Eric to Lisa and Dan and me. Eric
was wearing a muscle tee-shirt, and he had the right to wear it. I was wearing a
pair of shorts that were too small and a loose blue pullover. I was wishing I'd
worn a bra, since my nipples were hard and pushing against the fabric.

"Well, are you going to come with us to the party?" Marty asked.

I told him the same thing I'd said on the phone: "I don't want to, Marty. Get
someone else to play with you."

"We want YOU," Marty said.

"Cute girl like you could have a good time with us," Eric said.

Dan turned the page on the sports section.

"I just don't want to," said.

"Sure you do," Eric said. He was staring right at my tits.

Dan folded the paper and set it down on the floorboards of the porch.

"No, I don't!" I said. "Why don't you guys go on to your old party and just leave
me alone?"

Marty put his hand on my arm, just above the elbow, and started to lean toward
me, whispering something. I shook free and backed away. "I think you better go,
Marty."

Dan was sitting there with his feet up on the porch rail and his hands folded
across his stomach, just watching us with this real funny little kind of smile on
his lips. I was backing up and backed right into Eric. He grabbed my forearms
from behind and pulled me back against him. I felt his dick rubbing against me. I
tried to get loose. He didn't get shaken off as easily as Marty.

"She said to let her go."

Dan was suddenly standing and suddenly close. The top of his head was barely even
with Eric's chin.

Eric turned toward him, still holding my forearm in one hand.

"You're not being polite," Dan said.

"And what're you -- "

He never finished what he was saying. I was maybe a foot away when Dan hit Eric
in the face with this weird, short punch so fast I hardly saw his hand move.
Later I learned it was some kind of karate punch. Eric staggered back about two
steps and fell flat on his ass, just sitting there looking dumb.

Dan turned on one foot and kicked Marty's ankles out from under him. Marty went
down. One of the other guys -- I think it was Mark -- was out of the car and
running up the porch steps. Dan grabbed one of the aluminum lawn chairs we used
on the porch and scooped it underhand at him. Mark put his hands up to deflect
the chair, and Dan kicked him in the knee. Something cracked and Mark fell down.

Eric was up again and Dan hit him backhanded with his fist, right across the
face, and that was it for Eric. The last guy, Timmy, was coming up the stairs at
the same time Marty was getting up. Dan's back was to him, so I don't know how he
knew -- but when Marty tried to tackle him, Dan just kind of half-turned, caught
Marty's arm and helped him keep going -- right off the end of the porch. I think
he was trying to throw Marty into Timmy, but Tim side-stepped. Marty bounced down
the steps to the driveway.

"Let's get it on, motherfucker," Dan said and stepped toward him. Tim started to
raise his hands. Dan hit him five times real fast -- in the face with his open
hand, then a punch in the stomach, then another punch low, right in his balls,
then another punch high in the belly and then he hit him square in the face with
another punch that went so fast I hardly saw it. Tim was out before he hit the
floorboards.

Now, I knew Dan lived in a bad neighborhood in Brooklyn, and I knew he'd studied
judo or karate or something, but he was always so nice and patient, and always
trying to mollify people that -- well, I never expected anything like this. Fact
is, I'd sort of started wondering if he wasn't maybe -- Well, you know: chicken
or even queer. The whole thing hadn't lasted 30 seconds. There were high school
football players all over the place, and they were all hurt.

Lisa just sat there on the porch railing, staring.

Marty was out cold where he'd landed and Tim was the same. Mark just lay there,
holding the knee and crying. Eric finally managed to stand on the third or fourth
try and said he was going to call the police.

"Yeah," Dan said. "Call the cops. Tell them how four football heroes got jumped
by one bookworm from Brooklyn and got the shit kicked out of them. And don't
forget to mention the four jocks were trying to force an 11-year-old girl to go
to a 'party' with them." He threw a dime on the porch floor in front of Eric. "Go
on. Call them, asshole." Then he made a sound. I think it was a laugh. To this
day I can hear that laugh. It was like hearing Hell chortle over some cruel
practical joke. I never want to hear that particular laugh again. It was the most
horrifying, scarifying noise I've ever heard.