should have known that I just couldn't get involved with somebody without disaster striking; it was as if I had done something terrible to him instead of him to me.
I turned on the bath water, and when the tub was full, got in and soaked, nursing my wounds. What was I going to do? It was obvious that I couldn't conduct a mature adult relationship; but, on the other hand, if I didn't have my sexual urges satisfied they would eventually lead me into disastrous situations. The only solution was to find some way to satiate my sexual drives without any risk of emotional involvement.
Then I recalled the time after Grandma had died before I had run off with Jeff. I had been just a child, not really knowing what I was doing, but those sexual experiences with Margot's boyfriends had always left me satisfied without getting me involved with anyone. I was so young there was no risk of romantic involvement, the element which always led to personal tragedy.
But I was twenty-two; I could never be a child again. There was no way I could re-create the past. Or was there?
By the time of my next volunteer night at the children's hospital, my cuts and bruises from Perry's attempted rape had almost healed and I looked fairly presentable. I went to work that day, avoiding, of course, the restaurant where I had met Perry, and looked forward to being through for the day so I could go to the hospital.
My floor was quiet when I got there. I signed in and walked alone down the corridor toward a room where the patient was a eighteen-year-old boy named John who had been in an accident on his motorcycle and had struck his head, and was being held for observation. I had made friends with him the last time I had been at the hospital and we were on a first-name basis. I knew from reading his record that his parents were divorced and his mother was working nights, so he would be alone this evening.
From the time I had spent with him the last time I had been on duty I knew that he was the kind of guy who could keep his mouth shut. I could also tell that he was becoming a man by the way he had absent-mindedly fiddled with his cock beneath his bed clothes the last time I had sat on his bed and visited with him.
'All right, Johnny,' I whispered in his ear, 'fuck my cunt! Make me hot! I like your cock! I'd rather fuck you than do anything else in the world!'
As he wordlessly began pumping his old prick inside my hungry cunt and I thrust back wildly at him, I knew I had found the solution to the problems of my tangled life.
