all to myself, and it sort of bugged me that there were these other people around cluttering up her life. But I knew that was selfish and stupid, so I did more than go along with the idea. I promoted it. Finally, I convinced Eileen that I wasn't being a martyr, which, of course, I really was, and she wrote to her brother and said we'd love to have Sheila stay with us.
“I had to pick Sheila up at the airport. She was a quiet little kid with long brown curls and a pretty, pert little face. She looked just a little like Eileen, her nose and mouth, that is, and it gave me sort of an idea what Eileen might have looked like at that age. She wears glasses, but in her case they make her look even prettier.
“It was sort of hard getting anything out of her. She's a very shy kid, you know, withdrawn. I asked her about her trip on the plane and all that stuff and she just answered in monosyllables, so after a while I just gave up and we rode to the high rise from the air terminal in silence.
“I thought she'd probably brighten up a bit when Eileen came home, but she was just about as quiet with her as with me. Both of us, in fact, began to wonder if it was such a good idea to have her, and I was really wondering what the heck I was going to do with her all day. I was going to be the one stuck with her most of the time.
“But that didn't turn out to be as bad a deal as I thought. Sheila was a pretty easygoing little thing, pretty amenable to almost anything going on, and no trouble. I took her to the Bronx Zoo and the Lincoln Center. Like Eileen, she's pretty artistic and could spend hours just sketching. We sat quite a bit over at Riverside Park. I watched the ships cruise up the Hudson, while Sheila sketched in charcoal. She was pretty good. Actually, I found I kind of liked having her around because she was company, and I was alone most of the day, and it was sort of fun showing her New York and all that.
“In the evening, back in the apartment, Eileen and I would be relaxing in the armchair and davenport while Sheila sprawled out on the rug on her stomach, chin cupped in her hands, watching TV. She wore shorts quite a bit, and I found myself studying her very round little rump, and wondering what her buttocks were like bare, and gazing at her nicely contoured calves and thighs.
“That kept happening evening after evening, and I found myself getting more and more aroused sexually by Sheila. Part of it was her shapely little figure, but a lot of it was because her flesh was so young and fresh, so soft and sleek. Girls are prettiest, I think, when they're very young-Sheila's age or a little older. I also kept having these fantasies, too, about Sheila. I kept wondering if she'd ever had an enema and what it would be like to give her one, and what it would be like to watch her being pumped up her bottom with the dildoe. I didn't want to do any of that stuff myself. I just wanted to watch while Eileen did it. That was what my fantasies were all about.
“I used to get mad at myself for having these fantasies. She's just a kid, after all, I told myself. What you and Eileen do together is one thing, but it's wrong, very very wrong to even think about doing anything to a little kid.
“But the more I thought about how wrong it was, and scolded myself, and tried to keep from thinking about Sheila, the more I thought about her. It was different from what I thought about Eileen. That was love. What I thought about Sheila was pure unadulterated flesh-pot style sex, crude, perverted, and wicked.
“I wondered what Eileen thought about Sheila, but, although I sometimes thought I caught her looking at her, too, she never in the least way hinted. We went on with our usual fanny-banging in the privacy of our bedroom, but now, when Eileen was shoving the dildoe up me, I kept imagining that it was Sheila who was getting it, and that I was watching and feeling it both at the same time.
“Then, during the really hot part of August, and when Sheila had only a couple of weeks before she flew home to L.A., the kid got sick. We drove out to Long Island this one Saturday and stopped in one of those seafood places. We all had lobster and Sheila had clams as an appetizer, Eileen and I had shrimp cocktails. Anyway, Sheila swallowed one of the clams and suddenly gagged and made an awful face.
“'What's the matter, cherub?' said Eileen brightly. 'Go down the wrong way?'
“'No, it tasted awful-rotten.'
“Sheila was fussy about food and Eileen and I just laughed at her and told her to stop being so silly.
“But Sheila wasn't being silly. The clams had gone off and the next morning she woke up with very severe cramps. She was in agony.
“Eileen and I got scared, of course, and called a doctor. They don't make house calls anymore, of course, and it was Sunday besides. We had to bundle Sheila up in a taxi and take her over to the clinic.
“'Oh, it's a bit of food poisoning,' the doctor said when we told him about the clams. He wrote out a prescription. 'And,' he added, 'it might not be a bad idea to give her an enema.'
“I just about jumped out of my seat when he said that, and, glancing out of the corner of my eye at Eileen, I could see that the whole idea was affecting her, too, though not in any way that anybody could tell except somebody who knew her as well as I do. Poor Sheila, meantime, just turned several shades of pink and white, alternately.
“Eileen stopped off at a pharmacy to make the necessary purchases and I went on up to the apartment with the miserable little Sheila. She was utterly appalled, but I was just foaming with excitement inside, and I could tell, from the way she was acting, that Eileen was, too.
“'You're not going to give me an enema,' Sheila announced defiantly as soon as we were safely within the privacy of the apartment.
“'Well, hon, you heard the doctor.'
“'I don't care,' she snapped peevishly. 'I won't take it. I just won't. If I have to take a laxative, I'll do that, although I hate it, but I won't take an enema. I hate enemas.'
“'Have you ever had an enema?' I asked, and, to my enormous delight, she stared demurely down at the carpet and murmured, 'Yes.'
“'Well, what bothers you about it?' I asked, drawing her to the davenport with me.
“'Everything,' she retorted in this sulky voice. 'I hate everything about the darned things. It's humiliating; it hurts, and it makes you sick. Mom pulled it on me a couple of times, and I hated it. She promised me she'd never do that to me again.'
“'Did she hurt you?'
“'Yes.'
“'Sheila, Eileen and I won't hurt you. We promise.'
“'I don't believe it.'
“'Please, Sheila…
“'Can't we forget about the whole thing? I'm embarrassed just thinking about it.'
“'Oh, honey, it's really no different than letting somebody see your face and putting a thermometer in your mouth.'
“'It's different,' she snapped.
“Eileen arrived with the brown package. Sheila stared at it balefully.
“'Poor Sheila,' I said, 'she's sort of up tight.'
“'What's the matter, honey?' said Eileen in a very soothing voice. 'It won't be so bad, and you'll feel much better afterwards.'
“Eileen went into the bathroom to fix the injection, and I tried to cope with a pouting, sulky Sheila. She was a frightfully modest little thing, very straight and old-fashioned, and if she had had any idea how much delight Eileen and I were taking in this whole drama, she would have just died.
“With a great deal of coaxing, promises to be gentle, and not to look any more than we had to, just absolutely had to, Sheila finally dropped her defenses and let me lead her into the bathroom. She walked slowly, and with great dignity, as if she was going into the death chamber to be executed. She stared at the swollen fountain syringe with horror, both hands protectively behind her back.
“'Pull your dress up, darling,' Eileen murmured, handing me the bag to hold. She took the tube. Attached to the regular black nozzle was a soft rubber colon tube, maybe about a foot and a half long. It was gleaming with vaseline. Eileen held the tube between her fingers. We glanced at each other and grinned slightly. We both knew that the other was enjoying Sheila's ordeal enormously.
“Very reluctantly, and blushing furiously, Sheila crumpled her navy-blue skirt high above her hips, and, with great reluctance, took down her pink panties. Eileen and I stared at her little bare bottom with fascination, taking in every detail. Her buttocks were very soft and round, and they pressed tightly together. The skin looked as smooth as silk. She was beautiful, and I was just beside myself with excitement and anticipation. The very fact that Sheila was so obviously embarrassed and disconcerted added to the enjoyment of the whole thing.
