The world turned upside down

by

A.E Applebaum

                               Inspired by an April 2006 newspaper article.

"Hi," he said, unhitching his backpack and swinging it on to the table.  The boy sat, unfastened a pocket of the olive green pack, took out a sheet of paper and spread it flat on the table.

"Here, have a look at this."  He pushed the newspaper clipping toward her.  She didn't move, but sat looking at him, her eyes narrowed. 

"You need to see this story in the paper before you give me your answer."  He was surprised by his calm.  Calm, confidence, a feeling of being in control, were all new feelings for him.  The boy he used to be never would have dared.  Even a month ago he wouldn't have seriously considered it.  Oh, he might have fantasized a little but the reality would have been too frightening, too daunting.  Now he could do it.  He knew that.  To be fair, he owed most of the credit, perhaps all of the credit, to her.  He acknowledged his debt. Still and all, at this point it was either move forward, as he was doing, or lose everything he already gained.  That, he decided, was unacceptable.  He would gamble it all and he was pretty sure that he would succeed.  In this new state of mind he repeated to himself the phrase he found in some book,  fortune favors the bold .  He would be bold and fortune would favor him.

"Look at it," he said again.  "Because if I have to, I'll use all the stuff I have."

At last she leaned forward, put her hand on top of the clipping, looked across at him and then down at the article cut from a local newspaper.  A 35 year old woman had just been sentenced to 5 and 1/2 to 7 years in prison for the statutory rape but not sodomy of an underage boy.  A picture of the woman, tearful and distraught, showed her being led from the courthouse in handcuffs.  In an interview, one of the women jurors said that they wouldn't have convicted the woman without the tape recorded phone conversations.  Had there been no corroborating evidence of the boy's story they would surely have let her go.  Given the evidence, however, they had to convict her.  They found her not guilty on the sodomy charge precisely because there was no corroborating evidence, only the boy's word.

Timothy sat back in his chair, folded his hands in his lap and studied her.  Making tapes had been a masterstroke.  The first tape he made was for him to listen in the privacy of his bedroom.  There he would put on his earphones and masturbate.  He made one more audio tape and then, using a miniaturized video camera, three video tapes.  He had it all.  And if he had to, he would use it.  But as he watched her, he hoped that he wouldn't ever have to make those tapes public.  He willed her to surrender.  That would be so much better for both of them.  And it wasn't as though she didn't deserve whatever happened to her.  She had seduced him, taken a boy twenty years younger than herself to bed, showed him the art of sex and how to use her, to make her shout with pleasure and groan in satisfaction.  Now she wanted to end it.  They couldn't continue, she said.  It was too dangerous for her, she said, and too dangerous for him also.  Though he couldn't work out what danger there was for him.

"Oh, no," she gasped.  "You wouldn't.  You can't.  Please Tim.  This has been all fine but now it's time for us to move on.  Don't try to keep something going that should be ending."  She smiled encouragingly.  "Please Tim," her tone was soft, cajoling.

"You're right," he said after a long pause.  "Everything has to change.  People have to move on, establish new bonds, new ways of relating to one another."

She leaned back in her chair, the relief obvious on her face.

The boy took a deep breath, worked to strengthen his resolve and then went on.  "That's why you and I have to renegotiate the terms of our relationship."  Her chin fell, her cheeks reddened making her face blotchy.  "From now on, I expect absolute obedience from you.  You will be my perfect mistress.  I will be your demanding master.  If you don't obey my every command, all the tapes and my tearful confession will go to the police and the next thing you know, you'll be spending 7 years in jail.  Maybe more in your case."  He tapped the picture with his finger.

"Timothy, please don't do this."  She looked at him earnestly.   After a long silence she shook her head.  "I really can't go along.  No, I can't."

Tim said nothing.  He sat still, barely breathing.  At least, he told himself, he took the chance, and he was no worse than he would have been if he hadn't even tried.  There was always the possibility that she wouldn't agree.  He knew that from the first moment he made his plan.  Disappointed, yes he was disappointed.  But not devastated.  The disappointment cut deep into him.  His anticipation at having Mrs. Klein as an obedient mistress, as his personal sex toy, thrilled and delighted him every time he thought of it.  Now he would have to give up those fantasies.  He shook his head.

At that moment that Tina Klein made a serious mistake.  It wasn't a deliberate error, not a choice that she considered before she made it.  It was a mistake nevertheless.  Since she was a little girl, certainly since she was a teenager, Tina was able to manipulate boys with a display of tearful sadness.  A long, unhappy face, a few minutes of crying and she almost always got her way.  Her father was an easy mark and her husband had been even easier.  In high school and in college Tina's crying brought immediate results.  It wasn't an act, not something she put on for show, she really felt the sadness, cried genuine tears.  And it always worked.  Until now.

This time it backfired.  He already decided to give her up, to let it all end.  When Tina started crying, her tears thrilled him.  Tim's half hard erection, one that he seemed never to lose when he was around her, swelled as large and stiff as he ever remembered.  The expanded mass inside his underpants, pulsing at being confined, demanded urgent attention.  Tim squirmed in his seat.  He had to do something.

She shook her head.  No.  It was all over.  She was determined that this would be the finish.  She should have expected it, she thought, should have expected this display of childish obstinacy and determination.  He was, after all, still a child.  Had Tina been a reflective woman, she might have realized that it wasn't merely the fifteen year old boy, a boy 23 years younger than she was, a smooth and good looking boy, that so attracted her.  It was her own youth that she was trying, unsuccessfully as it turned out, to recapture.  Approaching forty, Tina began to panic, to look for ways to avoid that milestone.  Had she realized that she was having what is called a midlife crisis, the whole affair might have been avoided.  As it was, Tim was young, much too young, two years younger than her youngest child, still shallow and unformed.  She was prepared for the feeling of dissatisfaction, had gone into the affair with her eyes open.  No, it was this refusal to let go that she hadn't foreseen.

"Tim," she managed between sniffles, "let's just be satisfied with what we had.  You'll give me your tapes and pictures and we will remember our love making and it will sustain us in difficult times."

Tim jumped to his feet, unable to remain seated any longer.  The fierce look on his face completely unsettled Tina.  He was going to turn her in to the police.  She would be disgraced, charged, convicted and sent to prison.  The idea was unbearable.  "Don't," she cried out, grabbing his shirt.  He brushed her arm aside, aware only of his need to deal with his sexual tension.

Frightened, she reacted by lowering herself to her knees.  In a moment she unfastened his belt, unzipped his fly, and took him deep inside her mouth.  Seconds later, he let go, moaning his relief as he filled her with his warm gel.  Exhausted, drained, he sank back into his chair, overwhelmed by a feeling of immense satisfaction.

This was the first time she had let him come in her mouth.  Always before oral sex had consisted in a few licks, a quick pulling away and then smothering his discharge with her hand.  When he was finished she coaxed long sessions from him, not by insisting but by moaning with pleasure as he lapped and licked between her legs.  He was flattered by her response, by his ability to please this wonderful, older woman.  He had to say that right now he was feeling a spectacular pleasure at having her there on her knees at his feet.  She kept up her ministrations, holding  him between her lips, twirling him on her tongue until he was no longer sure whether the sensation was one of pleasure or pain or some never before experienced mixture of the two.  He wanted the incredible sensations to end and at the same time never to stop what she was doing.  He leaned back, simultaneously exhilarated and exhausted.

Tina Klein compounded her mistake by remaining on her knees at his feet, her shoulders hunched, head bowed.  Her face was still close enough so he could feel her warm breath.  His immediate, instinctive reaction had been one of largess, bathed as he was in her pure pleasure.  Why not let her go?  Perhaps she was right.  He should feel grateful for what she had given him, all the sexual satisfaction, all the pleasure and that, in return, he should simply hand her the tapes and agree to a friendly parting.  But on the other hand, there she was at his feet, kneeling between his legs, her posture indicating surrender.  Looking down at the top of her head, Timothy noticed several strands of gray in her otherwise light brown hair.  Mrs. Klein wasn't one of his classmates, one of the girls he saw every day at school.  She was a mature woman.  That difference was crucial.  It made her, first of all, disposable, someone who he would never consider spending his life with.  Moreover, he liked the thought of owning her, of having her at his disposal, of being able to do whatever he wanted with her.  At his disposal but also disposable.  As she wasn't his peer, he could get rid of her whenever he wished.  It would be stupid to give up now just when she showed him how pleasing she could be when she wanted to and when everything in her posture indicated that she was giving in.

She leaned away and raised her head to look up at him.  Her eyes were red, tears still visible below her eyes.  "Please, Timothy," she whispered up at him, "be nice to me."  Reaching over, he pulled the small, silver digital camera from an outside pocket of his backpack.  Click, click, click, click.  Just like that he had the pictures of her.  He leaned away to capture have his expanding member in some of the pictures just in front of her face.  Now he had further proof both of statutory rape and sodomy.  She sobbed.  And her sobs again had the same powerful erotic effect.  He was fully erect.  But this time, it wouldn't all be over in a moment.  This time, she would have to work longer and harder to bring him to fruition.  Resting one arm on the table, his open palm across the newspaper clipping, Tim sighed his pleasure. He placed his other hand on top of her head, guiding her toward to him.  She responded, moving closer and he knew when he felt the touch of her extended tongue, that he was making absolutely the right decision.

Tim and Tina, the names sounded right together.  They were Tim and Tina.  When he thought about it, Tim told himself that he loved Tina.  He loved her in the same way that he had, for so many years, loved his teddy bear.  The toy had been a birthday gift for Tim's sixth birthday.  It was a wonderful brown and beige ball of fluff and cotton and Tim had formed the closest attachment to it until somehow it disappeared when he was about ten.  Tim slept with his fluffy bear, dragged it everywhere around the house and had been desperately disappointed that he was not allowed to take it to school with him.  Like Tina, Buddy the Bear was his, completely and entirely his, no need to share with anyone else unless he was feeling generous.  And like Tina, Buddy the Bear stretched his imagination.  One day they were spies in dangerous cities or fearful deserts, the next day astronauts in the farthest reaches of space.  Sometimes they rescued world leaders and immediately afterward retrieved beautiful girls from dire peril.  These days, however, his imagination was entirely taken up with the ways in which he was going to use his Tina Klein.  He already decided on their first adventure.  Her family had, at one time, a Shetland pony.  She showed him the little saddle that she still kept stored away.  He was going to saddle his Tina, cinch it tight around her waist, and ride her for all she was worth.

The thought that occurred to him just as he was exploding into her warm mouth caused a moment of lightheaded dizziness.  He had just been freed of a concern that nagged at him ever since they began together.  He no longer had to worry about whether he was pleasing her, whether he had done enough to satisfy her.  Now it was all changed.  No longer would he think about ways to please her, about the things she liked done.  Rather it was her business to please him, to be constantly creative in finding ways to gratify her young master.  She would be the one who gave pleasure and he was the one who received it.  Looking down the back of the woman kneeling between his legs, Tim nodded his approval.

Tim could see himself mounted, one hand holding her hair as a rein, the other raised in triumph, his friends excited by the naked woman he kept so thoroughly under his control and jealous of his success.  Well, he might not show her to them saddled, that treat would be just for him, but he was certainly going to show her off.