"You don't understand -- I need to know what to do to get him back," she sobbed.
Mona was in a desperate state. On her mom's advice she'd come to me for a tarot reading. Poor thing, her first serious boyfriend had just broken up with her, and she wanted to know what to do. At eighteen, for some reason, she could not see the value in herself, and measured her merit by whether a nineteen-year-old navy recruit could wait for her. He couldn't (boys!) and dumped her. Her self-esteem was in the toilet.
Mona was a dance champion, an honors student in high school, fit and smart and so far above the fellow who let her down so badly. Her beauty and her wit were invisible to her. If some young buck rejected her as arm candy, then she was worth nothing, less than nothing, in her own mind. The reading was done. I told her, well the cards told her, not to tie her happiness to other people. The cards told her that emotions were a fact of nature, and could no more be controlled than could a hurricane. The cards told her that her self-esteem only seemed damaged, that she had not fallen in the eyes of others.
"What others?" Mona asked with red eyes and a runny nose. "Who values me?" "What good am I?"
"Crap," I thought, "these are the questions that go from tarot to counseling."
Yes, she knew her Mom valued her. Maybe her friends on the dance team did, she wasn't sure. If she wasn't good enough for her boy friend, how could she be good enough for these other teens.
"Dear lord, teens are cruel," I reminded myself. How do I comfort her without lying or doing harm?
"I really can't even see my body! When I look in the mirror I see a fat ugly pig!"
Mona's breath came faster, she was on the verge of hyperventilating. There are times when a little contact can help, and Mona's 18, so a little contact would not automatically get me in trouble.
"Would a hug help?" I asked.
Sometimes, being a greybeard is useful. She nodded, whimpering. I began to stand up when she leapt up, covered the distance between us, and sat in my lap. Sobs broke from her, heart-wrenching sobs. "Let it go, you can be safe with me. I won't tell," I said. I my left arm went across her back, around her shoulders, my right arm cradled her head. I stroked her hair, gently, saying nothing. She turned to face me, and I don't know why, I really don't, but I kissed a tear running down her cheek. A chaste peck, followed by a whisper "If I could drink your sorrow."
Where did that come from? It was not a conscious act, or utterance.
She kissed me then, fiercely. There was a mix of desperation and defiant determination in that kiss. Full young lips on mine, a tongue piercing my mouth. She pulled back, and before I could ask anything, pulled off her shirt, fastening her mouth to mine again.
A few thoughts passed through my mind. "I've not had an 18 year old in over 30 years, boy it's good not to be licensed, man she is stunning."
She had no bra, needed none. Her breasts were high, firm, with upward tipped dark nipples. Her muscles were sculpted in fine relief -- she'd been a competitive dancer for 12 years, and it showed.
Mona placed my hand on her breast. I found her nipple, and gently squeezed. She cried out a little, and pulled my head to her breasts.
"Please, please, please love me," she murmured into my ear. I'd like to say she ran her hand through my hair, but I lost it all well before she was born. I bit her, gently, and she shuddered. I licked, gently, and she giggled, just a little. Ah, she was feeling better. Suddenly, she pulled away from me.
"Right," I thought, "her we go -- she's going to freak now."
But no, she kicked off her boots and pulled down her pj pants, the ones teenage girls so often wear these days. I can't say for sure if she took her panties off with the same movement or if she wasn't wearing any. It was not important at the time.
She dropped down in front of me, with a perfect plié, her breasts bouncing a bit, and her labia parting slightly. She grabbed my belt, put a finger on my mouth and simply said "shhhh."
Belt undone, jeans unbuttoned, she yanked, nearly pulling me off the chair.
"Easy" I said, "you might break me if I fall!"
