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I remember the day I had my first period. I was sitting on Mrs. Bookmen's sofa when I noticed stains of blood on my white shorts. I cried out and Mrs. Bookmen rushed over to have a look. She stripped off my shorts and panties and wiped my pussy with a clean wet cloth then kissed me there and told me it was all better. She explained what had happened and that all was all right. I realized I liked the comfort of her mouth kissing my pussy and I hoped that she would do it again soon.It was right about then that I began to notice how attractive looking Mrs. Bookmen was. Sometimes, when we were lying out by the pool, Mrs. Bookmen would lay on her back with her legs spread open while tanning. I noticed a high mound at her crotch and saw that her pussy hair was sticking out the outside of her bikini panties. The sight of her made me feel butterflies and all tingly between my legs. I had some hair down there but not much. I was embarrassed when she caught me staring and even worst, I think. They fought and argued for another few minutes before the guy said, “You know what, fuck you!” turned his back on her, walked to his truck and drove off without her.Summer stood in the parking lot still fuming, but she looked uncertain about what she was going to do next. I could tell that she was drunk and visibly furious. I wasn’t sure if I should approach her, but it was after midnight and she seemed to be all on her own now.I walked towards her cautiously, doing my best to look unthreatening. She hadn’t noticed me at all, so as I got closer I called out her name.“Summer?”She looked surprised to see me standing there but clearly didn’t recognize me.“Leave me the fuck alone!”“It’s me, Grey – remember me?”“No, I don’t. Now fuck off!”“I’ll leave but it’s late and it looks like you’re on your own. I just want to make sure that you’re okay.”“Do I fucking look okay to you, asshole?”She didn’t. It looked like she was drunk to the point of being sloppy and her tears had caused her mascara.
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It was a scary thought. As a widowed eighteen year old, she was hardly a candidate for motherhood, but she was lonely on the farm, no company, not even a dog to comfort her broken heart. A tear formed on her lashes as she thought of her late husband. Ben, what a wonderful husband he had been to her. Never had they shared an argument, only love and happiness. Then, just as they were planning on children, he was gone. The river outside of the property had flooded. He wanted to check the traps any way. The muddy banks couldn’t hold his weight, and before he could cry out, the river sucked him away. The search parties never found his body, but they did retrieve his worn work shirt, shredded, and bloody lying on some river rocks, twenty miles out of town. She still missed him, two years later, and some days she wondered if the pain would ever go away. The train whistle blared, and shook her from her remembering. The huge engine chugged toward the station, belching thick clouds of black.

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