Goddess Ch 02

My real name is Carlos Carozzi. The previous 'Goddess' chapter, as well as those following now, were intended to be published as a book. I no longer have enough life on me to finish this work, so I decided to post it here. An outline of the ending will be added to the last chapter. If you want to contact me direct you can do so e-mailing the address in my profile

II

It was hard to believe that just one week had passed and my life had moved, without transition, from the reassuring knowledge of a pre-determined routine to the deepest unmitigated chaos. All I wanted to do was to find Camille and experience again all those overwhelming feelings of touching and being touched, of unlimited passion running through my entire body. For the fleeting ninety minutes or so that I spent in her arms I felt more alive than ever before. So, day after day I continued trying to find her, using every minute of my spare time and every second that I could steal from my work. My new chaotic existence meant that my life shifted from being ruled by my intellect and beliefs to being dominated by emotions. For the first time in my memory I didn't go to church that Sunday. Instead I spent the entire day following even the slightest trail that could lead me to her but they only lead me to nowhere and despair.

It was just past seven o'clock when I arrived home, carrying with me a pizza for dinner and my frustration for dessert when the phone rang. I jumped, moving faster than I ever thought I could move. 'Hello'. 'You could have let your kids know that you were not going to come today to take them out as you promised. They were waiting for you until almost midday.' Pat was furious. She didn't care about me, but she was more protective of her children than a crocodile would be of her eggs. 'I'm sorry, I had to work and I didn't have a chance to call but...' I was talking to a dead phone. She had hung up on me. I decided to switch my answering machine on, eat my pizza and go to bed to face the never ending night

Each night I was at the same time afraid of going to sleep and looking forward to the dreams to come. Camille's presence was growing night by night rather than diminishing. She had awakened in me a passion that I did not know existed or I would have never allowed myself to experience. Life for me had turned to a constant reminder of desire far beyond what I could have ever imagined. As I was drifting into my sleep I heard the phone ring and the voice of Father Patrick leaving a message 'I didn't see you at church today and I'm worried. Your eternal soul is in danger, please, please call me at any time of the day or night'. I didn't lift the receiver to answer.

When the morning finally arrived I got up as tired as I was when I went to bed. I made myself a strong coffee and headed for work. The bus moved through the morning traffic carrying a full load of people like me. Some looked as if they were trying to push through the consequences of the excesses of the weekend, others seemed to be trying to reconcile themselves with going to the same routine of a dead end job, none of them were caring for anything beyond themselves.

Maureen was waiting for me in the foyer. 'Franco, how far do you have to go on that feature article that you are working on?' I didn't expect the question, perhaps because I thought that it would be possible for me to procrastinate for ever, giving me more time to keep going on with my search. 'Why did you ask that?' 'I heard John saying that it would be good to have it ready for print by Wednesday's editorial meeting as the announcement of the new taxation initiatives has been postponed for a day.' Maureen obviously knew that I was still a long way from finishing it. 'I'll have it ready by tomorrow morning.' She looked at me and silently nodded.

Shit! I think that John is only interested in getting me. It was always difficult to give him all the adulation and subservience that he demanded. Now, after Camille entered into my life that is just outright impossible. All right, I will probably have to work through the night and the best part of tomorrow to finish it!

I sat at my computer and I started working at a furious pace. I was lucky that Pompous John had decided to take the day off. Lunchtime came and went and I continued typing as fast as when I started. I focused on my work and noting else mattered, as I used to do in my early days, when being a journalist was fun and excitement. The words kept flying with a life of their own.

Eat my dust Pompous Shithead! You would not be able to go past the first paragraph in the time that I will take me to finish the entire article. At this rate I will not have to work on it tomorrow, I'll have it finished well before midnight. I'm good! Franco, where is your humility? I don't have to be humble, I'm good, I know it and so do the people who work with me so, to hell with humility!

Without realising it I was riding on an exhilarating high where time did not exist. I did hear the cleaners vacuuming around me, emptying my paper basket but I didn't tie it up with me being the last one in the office. I didn't notice the silence that followed the humming of the people working around, only my work. The words I was writing were going to convey a meaning to the readers, but to me they were linking to each other with the music of a living language. I felt as if I was Mozart and Shakespeare rolled up into one.

As I put the final stop on an article so lengthy that would have to appear as a serialised piece I looked at my watch. I had worked for more than fourteen hours without stopping. I had not even gone to the toilet, as my bladder was forcefully reminding me. I lifted myself from my chair with a long awaited stretch of my back and I went to the Gents.

When I came out I felt hungry and thirsty. Only a few lights were left on all night and the deserted office had the eerie feeling of the enchanted forests in the tales of my childhood. I turned the corner to go back to pick up my jacket and I noticed that all the lights were off except those directly over my desk and standing under the lights, facing me was Camille.

Am I dreaming, or perhaps hallucinating? She is wearing the same dress she had during our first encounter. Her eyes are fixed on mine, delving into the deepest parts of my mind and my soul, she sees everything. She sees what I am, what I have always pretended to be and even what I have failed to become because of my lack of courage. She knows all my secrets, all my fears, all my hopes, all my despairs.

I walked towards her as if in a trance. As I got closer the insinuation of a smile started growing in her face. I kept walking until my body brushed hers. Without a word she put her arms around my neck and kissed me like she did the first time.

Is this really happening? I have waited for so long to hold you in my arms again, to feel your skin again, so I could awaken the sex starved being within me. I want you and I want you to take me by your hand and help me explore the universe that you let me have just a glimpse of last time.

'Yes Franco, I do exist, this is not another of your dreams. I am flesh, bones, skin and a mind and desires, all coming together to meet you and your secret wants'.

Perhaps Father Patrick was right, she must be the devil. How can she know so much about me, even my thoughts! I want her, yet she terrifies me.

'Who are you Camille?' She did not answer. She was too busy removing the belt from my trousers. She made me turn around and tied my hands tight behind me with my own belt. She then took my trousers and my briefs off, making me lift one foot at the time and pushing them over my shoes. My penis was unveiled in its full erection. 'Who are you Camille?' 'I will tell you a bit more about myself tonight, after we finished, now bend over your desk'. I felt very insecure, wearing only my shirt, my shoes and socks and with my hands tied behind my back but she had such a strong presence that I don't think that anyone would have been able to disobey her.

I felt my legs being pushed apart and her hands caressing my balls and sliding up and down my penis until I was about to come. Then she stopped. I tensed and try to get up when her fingers started to penetrate my back passage but she pushed me back against the desk without stopping. Within seconds I had ejaculated. She said 'Don't move from where you are, just wait here'. I saw her unhurriedly walking towards the toilets. I remained motionless, I'm not sure if because of her ordering me not to move or because I was in a complete shock. I could not deny to myself that I had enjoyed the experience, but that only contributed to an increase in my turmoil.

Am I a homosexual that enjoys having things stuck up his arse. God, what is happening to me? Where are my morals? Do I have any left? Why did I like it?

I was so absorbed in my own misery that I did not hear her approaching. I almost jumped when her hands, cold from just being washed touched my buttocks. 'Relax Franco!' I couldn't see her face but there was a ring of laughter in her voice. I felt my hands being untied and I sighed with relief. I could see myself being left in that position to be found by the first early bird coming to work! 'Did you learn something?' It was my turn to remain silent, but I had nowhere to escape from her apparent mind reading. 'No Franco, you are not a homosexual, or a 'poofter' as I am sure you called them. You are just normal'. I stood up and got dressed.

With my dignity severely dented I could only ask again 'who are you Camille?' She looked at me with her beautiful smile and I was already forgiving her for everything that she had done or would want to do to me in the future. She sat on my chair and pointing to my desk said 'Sit down. I told you that I was going to tell you more about myself and I think that now is the time'. I sat down and she started her story:

*************

'My parents separated two months after I turned 12. I still remember that cold and gray mid June morning. I didn't even suspect that they had any problem, or more like it, I did not want to see what was going on. It came to me as a big shock. At the time I had many issues to work through. Not only I had to adjust to the separation, a move from the country to the city, a new school, not having any of my good friends close by but that was when my periods began.

I lived with my mother but we didn't talk to each other much. She worked long hours and never showed any interest in what I did. Sometimes she asked me how I was doing at school, but I could see that she was not paying attention to what I had to say. As I grew older I came to accept the fact that she had very little interest in me as a whole, always absorbed in her own life and her small self contained universe that had very little to do with the reality that the rest of the world was living. In other words, she was a master at self-deception. I have an older brother who at the time lived on his own on his own and came to visit a couple of times a month. In these occasions my mother would have long, friendly chats with him, but she just dismissed anything I said, regardless of how important it could be for me. Even when one day I told her that my belly was aching almost every day she just said 'you'll get used to it'

That's why I always waited for Fridays. That was the day when my father would come to pick me up from school and we would spend the weekend together. From the moment that I was with him to Monday morning I knew I would be happy. He was and still is very different from my mother. He was forever listening, forever caring, and I never heard him say anything bad about her. Whenever I complained about my mother's lack of interest in me he would just say 'I understand, I know that it hurts you and I'm saddened for it. Unfortunately I cannot change the way your mother is, that's one of the reasons why we are no longer together. All I can do is to keep showing you that you can always talk to me, and I will always make sure that I'm ready to listen'.

So the awaited Friday finally arrived! Like clockwork my father's car was waiting, with him standing along side it, soaking the early spring sun, waiting to open the door for me. Some girls in my school thought that that was very old fashion, even embarrassing, but it made me feel good and important, and I loved it.

He lived alone by choice, not because he wasn't attractive to women. Even at that tender age I had noticed one of my teachers always trying to find excuses to talk to him. We drove to his flat, chatting, he asking me questions about school and how was life treating me in general. We always laughed a lot and life felt good. He carried my school bag up stairs commenting that based on its weight I would be doing some very heavy study. I went to sort my things in my room and to change while he was making some tea. When I came back into the lounge, the teapot was ready, two cups were set and a dish with my favourite biscuits was waiting for me.

I sat down and an intense pain gripped my belly. It took me by surprise and my father noticed. 'What's wrong?' came his immediate question. I explained to him that my belly had been hurting badly almost daily, so he asked me if I had told my mother. I told him what she had said. Without a word he got up and went to the phone to ring a doctor who would be prepared to see me even if it was already past five o'clock. 'We'll be there in about fifteen minutes' I heard him say. He turned around and said 'better leave your tea for now, we have to hurry'.

Back we went into the car and, fifteen minutes later we were parked at a smallish suburban medical center. We walked straight in and no one was at the reception. Before my father had a chance to ring the bell on the counter, a doctor appeared and invited us into his consulting room. It was a quite barren place, impersonal and cold. There was a gray metallic desk with a swivel chair on one side and two client chairs on the other, a hand basin, a plain examination table, a small table on wheels and posters of what appeared to be half dissected human bodies on the walls. We sat down and my father explained that I was not yet thirteen and had some severe sharp pains in my belly. Then the questions begun: 'Do you feel nausea', 'no'. 'Are you running a fever', 'no'. 'Are you having your period', 'no'. 'When did you have your first period', 'three months ago'. 'When did your last period start', 'six days ago'. 'How long did you bleed for', 'three days'. 'Do you use tampons or pads', 'pads'… I wished the questions would stop but they kept coming. 'Are you sexually active', 'no'. 'Do you masturbate', 'no'…

When the interminable questioning was over the doctor said 'undress completely and sit on the examination table'. I looked around for a screen to hide behind but there was none. My mother was always a prude and her house was definitely a 'nude free zone'. From the time that I was about six I never had to undress in front of anyone, whether a man or a woman and I felt very embarrassed and self-conscious, so I first took off my shoes, then my T-shirt, then my shorts. I stood there, on my small plain bra and unmatched cotton pants, shifting from one foot to the other until I heard the doctor say 'those too'. Hesitantly I took them off and completely naked went to sit on the examination table. My father stood up from his chair and came to stand on the side opposite the doctor. I felt the cold stethoscope on my back and followed the instructions to take a deep breath, to hold it and to start breathing again.

I was told to lay down on my back and he listened to my chest. After that he started examining my neck with his fingers. He had wonderfully warm hands and I started to forget my embarrassment and to feel good. I closed my eyes and let those new good feelings take over me. I felt his hands in my breasts that by then had not yet completely developed, kneading them gently, lifting my arms and feeling my armpits. Then his hands moved to my belly, probing and asking if I felt any pain. He asked me to show whereabouts I felt the pain and explored further, closer to my scarce pubic hairs, on both sides. I had never felt so many wonderful sensations.

When he stopped I look and saw him put rubber gloves from the small table near by. 'Now relax as much as you can'. I closed my eyes again and felt one of his hands under my right knee, lifting it while the other hand pushed my foot down. Then the other leg followed and he gently spread my legs as far apart as they would go. I opened my eyes and looked at my father with alarm, not knowing what to expect. He just held my hand tighter, looked into my eyes and smiled reassuringly. I felt the doctor's fingers opening me and touching and, without quite knowing what was happening to me, I started feeling very aroused for the first time in my life. The doctor told me to take a deep breath through my mouth and as I did, I felt one of his fingers penetrating me. I gasped. He probed deep inside me and said to my father that he would have to use two fingers to be able to reach even further. I was very aroused by then and the suffering that had brought me to the examination table was coming back to me with a vengeance. Suddenly I also felt the pain caused by the doctor's fingers stretching me and, as a reflex I tried to close my legs. My father put his hands on the inside of my thighs and softly but firmly pushed my legs open again. 'Just a little bit longer' he whispered. I moaned, half in pain, half with the wish for more.

Without transition the examination was over. Like in half a dream I heard the doctor say 'you can get dressed now' and I did it like a robot. 'I don't think that there is anything really wrong with your daughter, all is normal. She has a generalised pelvic inflammation very much in line with what Masters and Johnson about eight years ago described as often occurring when there is a certain level of arousal without reaching a climax. I'd suggest that she learns how to masturbate and I would like to see her again next Friday.'

When we got back in the car it was beginning to rain. My father started the engine and asked me 'How do you feel after this new experience?' 'I don't really know' I said. 'I am a bit confused. I felt very embarrassed but at the same time I liked it'. He nodded in understanding and said 'That's more common than many people would be prepared to accept. I would suggest to you to stop worrying and just travel to wherever your feelings may take you'. The rain was slowing the traffic down. I felt a tingling and swollen sensation between my legs as I remembered lying down naked and those hands touching me. We drove in silence the rest of the way.

We had to run from the car park to the foyer. Heavy rain was falling, from the sky and from my body. We had to climb the stairs to the third floor and the feelings between my legs continued unabated. I could feel myself dripping dangerously close to the edge of my shorts. We walked into the flat and I almost ran to have a shower.

I dried myself from the shower but the sensations between my legs were now increasing to include the inside of my thighs, like if my father's almost burning hands were still pressing my legs apart. The alien growing wetness from inside was more intense than ever and so was the pain.

Wrapped in a towel I came out of the bathroom to go to my room to get dressed when my father called me from the lounge. I had not had any relief from my pain since I was being examined at the doctor's surgery. My father asked me again how I felt 'It still hurts' was my answer. He stood up, took my hand and guided me into his bedroom. Without a word, he unhooked the towel, letting it fall on the ground. I was again naked, but this time I felt anticipation rather than embarrassment. 'Lay down on the bed'.