led by morality crusaders would order a library-to-library search and a bonfire in Trafalgar Square. Eliza, of course, had looked at many of these over the years and, because they were not forbidden, she didn’t find them particularly titillating, although quite interesting. He drew out an old leather-bound volume and opened it.
“See this bit,” he said, pointing to the clitoris which was part of a beautifully drawn display of female genitalia, flanked on each side by a ceremonial velvet curtain. “I want you to go to your room, use a hand mirror if you need to, find it, and play with it until you know what an orgasm is. I’ll be out for the next couple of hours.” Richard was not given to self-justification, and he probably had no idea that his instructions would not have been considered by the school social worker to be purely educational. Luckily for Richard, Eliza had not crossed paths with this worthy Bolshevik of the caring professions.
Fast forward to Eliza, somewhat later, lying on her bed, the hand mirror abandoned, and her face flushed with the efforts of her research. “Sweet Jesus,” she said, her latest attempt at the sophisticated expletive, although I doubt if any traditional Christian deity had much to do with the deliciousness of her sensations. Richard could have added, and don’t overdo it, but he didn’t, so Eliza took it as carte blanche to have as many orgasms as she wanted; her temper improved enormously and spotty adolescents continued to hold no lure for her.
* * *
Eliza attended a violin master class twice a week, which made her late enough to qualify for a lift home with her father. Richard, apparently not sharing her belief that she was bullet-proof, refused to allow her to walk home through the park, especially as the days got shorter. So she took a bus in the opposite direction and waited until he had finished for the day. If it was raining, she was forced to mix in the hallways with the drama students, trying to pretend she was nothing to do with their teacher, as one does at that age. Parents, no matter how celebrated and beloved, are just parents and an inevitable source of embarrassment outside of the home.
On one such day, when it was fine and she was sitting on her favourite bench, minding her own business, one of the academy’s male students wandered over to speak to her, as happened frequently, to her irritation. She had not seen this one before, and although she gave him her haughtiest expression, he seemed impervious to the hint. She had to admit he was rather beautiful, and strangely familiar. He said hello, and he smiled. At that point she lost control of her heart rate, blood pressure, and hormones.
* * *
Meeting one’s childhood friend years later can sometimes be disappointing, or the friendship can pick up comfortably where it left off. For Eliza and Billy it was neither disappointing nor comfortable. Thereafter they met occasionally and, apparently, accidentally. Their exchanges were either overly polite or blatantly rude, but it didn’t matter because the words they spoke to each other were just amorphous sounds, background noise to the humming wires of sexual tension between them. In an effort to regain a sense of normalcy, they each tried to imagine the other as they had been previously. They each tried to feel about the other as they had before, but neither of them managed it. The children they had been were other people, who now felt as unfamiliar as an old black and white photograph.
Neither of them was easy about the other being the object of libidinous desires. Billy, particularly, was appalled at the gonadal turmoil wrought in him by a fourteen year old. As well he might be. He had heard some of the young men in the class referring to Eliza as “jailbait”, yet he found himself looking for her, and feeling bereft if she failed to show up. At other times he avoided her, and the locality in which the MacLeans lived, as though a quarantine had been declared due to an infectious disease. She was apparently immune to his charms, since he could see none of the coyness or obvious flirting of the other girls closer to his own age. She wore her age like a suit of mail where other young men were concerned. Some tried to chat her up as she waited, and she would just look at them pleasantly and say “fourteen”. The word spread and she was left alone.
Some may think she was far too sophisticated for a fourteen year old. That is, unless one considers her upbringing. Raised by a male with a script and a persona for every occasion, she was probably in possession of many more snappy comebacks than the average thirty year old. On this occasion, though, she had assistance. Richard had noted the sudden rush of male students towards Eliza, and thought they needed herding in the opposite direction. The number of lads from his class alone who suddenly had to visit the convenience shortly after she took up her position on the bench, was getting quite ridiculous.
“Eliza,” he said, with studied casualness. “Have you noticed that when you wait for me outside, boys keep coming over and talking to you?” She had noticed this but did not consider any of them worth talking to anyway, so they were just interrupting her reading time. She didn’t mention that she always kept an eye out for Billy, in case he should grace her with a word or two, which she would treat with disdain, of course. When her eyes met his, she could see the intensity in them at times, but she wasn’t sure what it meant, or what to do with it.
“Yes, why do they keep doing that?” she asked, not really needing to be told.
Richard ignored the rhetorical nature of her reply. “Well, my love,” he said, shaking his head, apparently sadly. “They are boys. They have a lot of testosterone and they would probably like to have sex with you. You’re quite beautiful, you know, and they seem to have noticed.”
“Eugh!” she said, thinking of the specimens on offer, but pleased that her father thought she was beautiful, and, moreover, did not hesitate to tell her.
“Do you want to discourage them?” he asked. He was quite sneaky, like that. He knew if he gave her a directive, she would do the opposite, so he gave her a choice. In fact if she had chosen the wrong option here, he would have taken each enthusiastic young man aside and informed him of the disadvantages of a custodial sentence in the middle of his tertiary education. Eliza was indeed becoming tired of the unwanted attention, and indicated that a little strategic input from her sire at this point would be helpful and well-received.
“The laws governing statutory rape are quite clear,” he said, in a matter-of-fact way, like an Info-Bot at a science fair. “In England, if a man has sex with a woman under the age of sixteen he is considered to have committed an offence which may carry with it a jail sentence. Even if she is willing, because of her age it is treated as rape, presumably because she is not considered old enough to make an informed choice.”
“What if a woman has sex with a boy under sixteen? What if both of them are under sixteen? What if two girls under sixteen have sex? What if—”
Richard interrupted her recitation of the possible ways the law could be considered to be an ass or at least have a loophole. “Research it yourself, love. My point is this. The quickest way to discourage these lads is to tell them your age, nicely of course. You decide whom you want to discourage.”
Most of the lads got the hint, and the testosterone vapours surrounding her thinned quite a bit.
Thus Richard regained the attention of the distracted members of his class and his daughter stopped appearing like a bitch on heat surrounded by eager, panting hounds. Richard was certainly a negligent father in many ways, but he had a sixth sense when it came to keeping inappropriate suitors from Eliza’s maidenhead.
Curiously, he hadn’t considered Billy as a threat to his underage siren, because even though he was as common as muck and therefore naturally to be discouraged, he was, well, just Billy, the kid.
* * *
“Dad, I need information about sex. I mean actually how to do it and so forth.”
Richard did a momentary double-take
