The girl stared out at Carley with soft hazel eyes. Carley looked back with her blue ones and felt a stab of jealousy for the other girl again even though she knew she shouldn't. Brushing a hand over her frizzy red hair, Carley wished hers was longer and straight like Jeni's was.
In her daydreams, she and Jeni were friends. That was not unreasonable as they were just a year apart in age. Jeni wouldn't mind a friend who was older, either. The problem, though, was that Jeni had been missing from her home in a neighboring state for three months.
Carley had become interested in Jeni after her disappearance. At first, there was plenty of publicity because her stepfather had been arrested and claimed that some creature from outer space had taken her. But Carly heard other mentions of things like sexual assault and rape. Carley had some idea about what that meant and hoped that Jeni was alright. In fact, she fantasied that Jeni had been whisked away to some place safe where she was living in luxury and treated with adoration.
Carley's fantasies progressed to where she had discovered where Jeni was now living but vowed to keep it a secret so Jeni would not have to return to what the reports had said was an undesirable home life. From innuendos in the media, Carley understood as she also lived with an indifferent mother. In search of solace in her long periods alone, Carley turned to the junk food her mother kept in large quantities.
Years of this diet had left her fat. Not chubby or plump - fat. Jeni wouldn't mind at all; unlike the other kids who taunted her mercilessly about her appearance which was accentuated by the second-hand thrift clothing her mother bought for her. In the secret place where they would live, she and Jeni would have matching, beautiful outfits even if Jeni's was made to fit her slender frame.
Carley glanced at the clock and inhaled sharply. She was going to be late for the bus if she didn't get moving. Mom would be furious if she had to get up to drive Carley to school. Folding the color printout of Jeni's "Missing Child" poster and tucking it into a dresser drawer, Carley bolted out of the house as quickly as her bulk would allow.
The school bus stop was just two houses away - and in this neighborhood the houses were as small as they were largely neglected - but Carley was panting by the time she arrived just ahead of the bus. Red-faced and sweating from her exertions, she boarded the bus to the cruel laughter of her schoolmates.
Maybe what happened to Jeni hadn't been too bad. Not for the first time, Carley considered this as she made her way behind a tree at the far corner of the school playground. Hearing things about sex had aroused her interest in it. There had been all kinds of lurid theories about what had been done to Jeni and Carley had filtered those into being only good things. Her mother had a collection of trashy novels that featured plenty of sex with just enough narrative sandwiched between the scenes to create a minimal story. She had seen her mother reading those before and touching herself between her legs.
In the past month, Carley had gotten into the habit of borrowing one of the books and reading it with her hand becoming practiced in giving herself some interesting feelings in her groin. Many of the females in the story were quite busty and Carley, for the first time, appreciated the early breasts her diet had given her and found them to be sensitive as she imagined that her fingers belonged to those of a lover.
Standing behind the tree, Carley closed her eyes and imagined good things were happening to Jeni. Now in her mind, she was with Jeni. Having discovered some passages in her mother's library about women doing it together, she and Jeni were girlfriends. Other times, they had thoughtful and kind men - more like teenage boys who all bore some resemblance to Carley's favorite pop singer, Stevie Darrow.
"Oh, Jeni," she whispered, improvising the dialogue from much her mother's literary collection.
This story is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Mr Double's Palisade
A MrDouble Production:
Changes last made on: Thursday, September 07, 2017