On Friday evening, Angie still didn't know what she wanted to do. Her parents wanted her to visit a relative with them. They'd be leaving in a few minutes. Should she go? What would the boys do when they found her gone? Would they tell on her or get even some other way? Might be good to test them so they wouldn't take her for granted. On the other hand – well – oh, hell, might as well admit it. She needed someone. She'd been burning all day, off and on. The slightest thing turned her on. Even the Goddamned fat g's Mr. Thornton wrote on the blackboard. She'd stared at them and felt herself get a hot ass. After Sonny – yuck – she'd thought that would be it. No one could tempt her back to bed. Here she was turned on so high she'd be ready to jump in bed with almost anyone. Except Sonny. She was annoyed with her body making problems for her.
She heard footsteps coming down the hall. A light knock; then the door opened. Her mother walked in. "Angie, are you ready?"
Angie frowned. "Mom, I don't want to go."
"Why not?"
"I don't know. I just don't feel like it."
"We don't go to visit Aunt Helen that often," her mother said irritably.
"I don't care," Angie whined. "I don't feel like sitting around being polite." Should I tell her I need to be fucked before I go? she thought wickedly.
Mrs. Marlowe stood undecided for a moment, clearly angry. "We'll see what you father says about this." She turned around and went back down the hall.
Angie pulled off her dress, kicked off her shoes, and slipped under the bedcovers. She pinched her cheeks to make them appear redder. She heard her father's footsteps in the hall. She opened one eye weakly when he stepped into the room.
"Angel, don't you feel well?"
"I really don't Daddy. Can't I stay home? Please?"
Her father had his finger on her wrist taking her pulse.
"Oh, Daddy," Angie explained. "I'm not really sick. But I don't feel well enough to sit around visiting all night. I've got a headache and the sniffles and I feel rather feverish…" she stopped to catch her breath.
Her father murmured comforting sounds and pushed one of her eyelids back to look at her eyeball. Having satisfied himself that she was not seriously ill, he said jokingly, "You're sure now that you're not sick of relatives?"
"I like Aunt Helen and Cousin Erica," Angie protested vehemently. "Its just that I don't feel up to sitting around being polite all night. If we'd gone yesterday or if we went tomorrow, I'd go in a flash. It's just today."
"If you feel that strongly about it," her father said. "You can just stay home. Get plenty of rest. Have you taken some aspirin?"
"I did an hour ago."
"All right," her father said cheerily. "We'll try to hurry home."
"Don't do it," Angie stopped herself abruptly, then rushed on, "You mustn't on my account. Stay as long as you like."
"Well, we'll see," her father said amiably. "I was hoping to come home early anyway. I have an operation early tomorrow."
"Truly, Daddy, don't worry about me. I'll be all right."
Her father looked at her fondly. "Good girl." He kissed her lightly on the forehead. "I'll stop by to see you when I come in."
"Daddy, you don't need to. I'm a big girl now." She smiled and waved to him.
That night six boys came. Some were drunk and some were high on pot. They turned the stereo up as high as it would go and crashed around her room, singing, swearing, fighting, drinking, dancing, and smoking. A new young-looking boy called Mel, sucking on a bottle of vodka kept yelling to the room at large, "I want to be first, I'll have beginners' luck." No one paid any attention to him.
Angie circulated among the smiling boys, puffing on their cigarettes and drinking from their bottles.
"You're the hotpants we've come to lay?" a tall boy asked half-humorously, half-contemptuously, looking down at her from his great height.
"Think you can fill 'em up?" Angie asked sarcastically.
His eyebrows popped up in surprise. "Hell, yes! What're we waitin' for?" He reached for her.
Angie ducked out of his reach and ran screaming happily away. She bumped into Keith; he grabbed her around the waist and they spun around and around in circles. The pitch of Angie's screams grew higher and higher.
Brad was lounging in the easy chair. "Oh, it's good to be back!" He looked around the room, bright eyed.
The whirling Angie bumped into his legs. For a split-second he saw her cute little ass in full sight, automatically his arm jerked toward it and he goosed her.
Angie felt the finger suddenly poked in her crack. She yelled, half-frightened. The other boys turned to look and laughed at her holding her hands protectively over her bottom.
"Damn you!" she shouted, stamping her foot.
A handsome boy with long curly brown hair stood at one side of her. He smiled. "You're cute."
Angie gaped at him, taking him in. Like a Greek God, she thought. Galvanized into action, she rushed up to him, throwing her arms around his neck. "Help me."
"Sure I will, baby," he said. One arm was around her neck; his other hand ran up and down her long shiny black hair. Her cheek felt so soft against his. He smelled her mother's perfume that she'd lavished behind her ears.
"Who are you?" Angie murmured in his ear.
"Chuck Dillion."
"Where are you from?"
"New York."
"What are you doing here?"
"Just visiting. I'm Scott's cousin."
Tentatively his lips brushed down her cheek to her mouth. Would she object? Her mouth turned to meet his.
"Contact!" someone shouted.
Loud whistles pierced the air.
The two paid no attention. Their tongues played hide and seek, drilling inside of one mouth, then the other. One of Chuck's hands slithered down under her silky blouse. It cupped the soft mound of her breast. Gently his fingers caressed its tauntingly tender rounded contour. Delicately a finger teased the nipple to erect.
"Mmmm!" Angie's whole body felt alive. Lusty trails of desire flashed down to her vagina. Ohhh, it felt so good! She remembered that time. With Doug. When they'd first made it. This would be like that. Only better. A pleasurable groan shook her body. She lifted up her right leg and twined it around Chuck's leg. She felt his body tremble with passion, pressed into her inner thigh. She rubbed her body against it. Softly. He began breathing sentoriously. His arm reached under her left leg, lifted it up and holding her in his arms, he ran with her to the bed. He threw them both down. Still kissing they awkwardly pulled their pants off.
Lying close to each other on their sides, they both explored the other's body. Angie reached for his penis, cupping it in her hand and caressing it. It felt hot and hard to her touch. She felt his fingers trail up her inner thigh. She began breathing louder. The light fingers moved up, circling her vulva, playing with her soft curly pubic hairs. Then they moved into her vaginal lips. His gentle strokes awoke a fiery passion in her vagina. Her pelvis swung upward, reaching for him… She was moaning passionately, brushing her top leg over his body.
He felt the openness between her legs beckon him, desire him. Her hips were wiggling sensually against him… The leg rubbing his body, pulling it nearer… A groan escaped from deep within him. Angie's hand directed his waiting cock to her shadowy regions. She circled its end around in circles, outlining her vaginal opening.
Both began panting; their hips undulated toward each other. Neither knew exactly when his penis entered her vagina. All of a sudden their tension heightened. Chuck rolled on top of her.
She loved the crushing weight of his body on hers. She loved his penis, lighting fire in her. She pulled her legs further back and hungrily thrust her pelvis up against him. Their bodies rocking wildly together, she clamped her legs across his back and worked them up toward his neck, shoving his eager shaft deeper and deeper inside her. Her vaginal walls throbbed and convulsed around it…
She dug her fingernails into his shoulders. She couldn't stand it. Couldn't stand it. Her passion rose to a feverish pitch. A heavy orgasmic wave shuddered through her body. A primeval force energized it and blanked out her mind. The surging shook her from head to toe. All words, all pictures disappeared from her mind. Only feeling, a white-hot passion, remained, glowing. Her body hung suspended on a balance between the mundane and the cosmic worlds. Then the passion soared to a fantastic height, filling every cell. She felt a keen awareness of feeling in every cell. Of conquering the height of meaning. Of being. Her body shuddered with the immensity of the passion, quaking incessantly. Her breath fluttered. Her heart fibrilated. Her body trembled rapidly at an intense pitch. She was doing what she was made for. Orgasm rapidly followed orgasm. She felt Chuck reach his too. His ejaculate squirted in her. Her body shook like a hummingbird's wing, holding the fantastic pitch, quivering steadily, one minute, two, three. Passion completely consumed her, then it subsided and passed away. Sweat bathed her whole body. A languorous feeling possessed her. Her heartbeat and breathing returned to normal. Simple thoughts came slowly to her mind.
"Christ a'mighty! What were you doing?" Chuck asked astounded.
Angie looked at him blankly, not comprehending his words.
"What happened to you?" he demanded.
She smiled. "Status orgasmus. It's never happened to me before." She felt blissful. Her body curled up into a ball; her limbs felt fairy-like.
"Status or-what-mus?" Scott asked.
"Status orgasmus," Angie repeated. "It's when a woman has one orgasm after another very fast. It can last five minutes or more."
"Wow!" Jim exclaimed, shaking his head wonderingly. "You must be the hottest girl alive."
Angie smirked. I probably am, she thought to herself, pleased.
"Hey, let's keep this show on the road," Scott said.
"Yeah, whose turn is it?" Jim agreed.
"Let me choose," Angie cried.
"What do you think?" Jim asked Brad.
Brad tried to think. He was still tripping. He couldn't concentrate. He gave up. "Why don't we let her?" he mumbled.
Angie looked at their faces. Who to choose. All looked eager. Who? "Take off your pants," she said.
"What?" Scott asked surprised.
Angie looked at him calmly. "Take off your pants. You're going to have to later anyway."
"Wow-ee!" Keith shouted.
Laughing, they pulled their pants off.
"Shorts, too?" Brad asked daringly.
"Shorts, too," Angie replied.
With more shouting and horseplay they pulled their shorts off. Angie stared at all the passion-hardened penises.
"Choose, choose," the boys began to chant.
Angie grabbed Jim's cock in her hand.
He leaned toward her, grinning. "I'm ready. I'm ready."
"Not yet," Angie said.
She went down the row of penises, holding each one in turn. When she touched Glen's, he held back. I don't think she's going to choose me, he thought. He closed his eyes and tried to control his eager penis. The touch of her hand burned into him.
Angie watched him control himself. "This one."
Surprised, Glen opened his eyes and stood there.
"Well, don't you want to?" she jeered softly.
"Crazy," he said. "I was thinking. Let's try something different."
"What?" she asked.
"I'll show you," Glen laid down on the bed beside her, turned her over on her stomach. He pushed his shaft against her anal opening. Her tight opening held. He pushed harder.
Frantically, Angie pleaded, "Glen, get off of me. It hurts."
"Give it a chance." Damn the hole, he thought. It wa so tight. He pushed harder, forcing his penis slowly inside her. Sweat poured from his brow and his penis felt racked.
The watching boys saw the tight brown ring strain open. The penis squeezed through, forcing its way in. They watched the length of it disappear into her anus.
Angie yelped like a bitch in heat. Her body flopped around under his, trying to escape. She felt his penis scrape all the way in her. Omigod! What would happen next? She could feel the huge length of it stretched in her intestine. The glans throbbed inside her. Palpitating with ejaculate. She felt all of it. All of it. She waited. He was still. The pain. It was gone. There was none. The penis filled her. It began to feel good.
"How is it?" Glen asked.
"Tight," Angie answered.
"Let's start slow," Glen said. The tight fit stimulated his cock beyond anything he had ever felt before. At his first thrust forward, he felt his desire rise. Slowly he pushed forward and pulled back. God, it began to feel good! So good. He began to get excited. He pulled back and up. Angie's tight anal ring cut painfully like an elastic band around his penis. She cried out painfully. He began to become inured to the pain. The pleasure was mounting. He started to fuck into her faster, deeper.
Angie's face twisted in pain. "Stop, Glen. For God's sake!" She bellowed like a stuck pig.
Glen paid no attention. He kept rocking and rolling in her. On and on. Angie's fright passed. She began to get used to the unnatural invasion. Even the pain began to feel normal. The fullness in her started sensual cravings. She began rocking her body back and forth, in his rhythm. Her groans became colored with delight.
Brad watched her tortured face; her rocking body. The hypnotic humping bodies. His penis began to burn feverishly. Oh, he couldn't stand it. He needed to cum. Quickly, he jumped up and shoved his penis into her open mouth. He didn't have far to go. He pushed it in and out rapidly, pushing hard down her throat.
Angie gasped at his unexpected attack. She lost track of her feelings. What was going on deep up in her ass. All she knew was she couldn't breathe. Her body humped along without her, instinctively. Still desiring. Still wanting to devour the penis. She tried to see who it was. Just his rotating hips were in view. Black pubic hair. Heavy, sperm-engorged balls hitting her chin. Colored lights danced in her brain. Muffled moans accompanied her undulations. Automatically, she began twirling her tongue around his glans, licking and sucking the penis. She knew it'd cum soon. It was so big. So hard.
The audience attention was divided between Brad at Angie's head, and Glen riding on her back. Their heads moved back and forth trying to keep track of both penises. Brad's face was in agony. His penis was contracting madly. Ready to cum. Glen's penis was still pulling in and out. They saw her ivory cheeks flatten every time he beat down on them. His heavy balls swung and slapped down against her pubic hair. They saw her buttocks push up to reach him. Their own balls were burning…
No one noticed the door open or saw Dr. Marlowe step in. There was too much noise with the stereo going full blast and Angie's, Brad's, and Glen's erotic moans and groans. No one heard him shout, "What the hell's going on here?"
Dr. Marlowe stepped closer to the group. He couldn't see well in the shadowy room. He stared at the writhing threesome. As soon as he recognized Angie, he turned white. He sputtered, at a loss for words. Remembering his wife was outside the door, he rushed back to stop her from coming in.
She was already in, just a foot or two, like difficult wives always are. Mrs. Marlowe stared bewildered around the dimly-lighted smoky room. At the twisting bodies.
The watching boys hurriedly jumped up and pulled their pants on. They grabbed their other bits of clothing in their hands and headed for a window. They could hear Mrs. Marlowe say, "What are they doing, Stuart? Dancing?"
Hastily, Dr. Marlowe spun her around and forcefully pulled her out of the room. He closed the door behind them. He pushed her down the hall.
He said urgently, "Run upstairs, Louise. I'll take care of this."
Mrs. Marlowe caught her husband's feeling of alarm. She worried about the incomprehensible scene she had just witnessed. She couldn't understand it.
"Was Angelica dancing?" she asked fretfully. "She should be resting."
"Go upstairs," he thundered. "Take a sleeping pill and go to bed."
Mrs. Marlowe became frightened of the serious look on his face. "Yes, Stuart, yes." She turned and ran toward the stairs.
Grimly Dr. Marlowe opened the door again. The stereo was still blasting and the room was a shambles but not a boy was in sight. He saw Angie's body still lying on the bed. A cool breeze flapped the curtains in and out of the open window.
He turned on a bright light and Angie's lust glazed eyes finally recognized him. "Daddy?" Her bloated features registered fear and shame.
He sat on the bed and carefully examined her. There were no physical injuries and her pulse was a little high, normal for her activity.
Tenderly he picked up her limp body and carried it to the bathroom. After bathing and drying her, he laid her in her bed and tucked her under the covers.
He pulled a chair over to her bed and sat down. All night he kept a constant vigilance. His eyes studied her charming, innocent childish face that looked so angelic in repose. How could a face like that take part in degrading acts? Why? So sex was the second major drive of man, second only to self-preservation. Why should Angie, so young – only fourteen – need to experience so much of sex at such an early age?
He recalled their conversation about sex. How oddly insistent she'd been, wanting answers. Especially about the meaning of sex. Poor child! If she'd only told him. Then he reflected that she had. Or tried to. Would he have told her if Louise had not interfered? He worried whether he would have done the right thing.
He groaned. How could he have imagined she'd go this far? He should have remembered how curious about sex he had been as a child. All children were. From the days they first opened their eyes. Children had a right to know how their own bodies worked. Especially about sex. It was so easy to foul oneself up. To ruin one's life by making the wrong sexual moves. He was an authority on that.
Physically, the sex probably had not really harmed her, but psychologically, had she been harmed? All night long he examined his uneasy conscience. But he knew the answer was a foregone conclusion. When Louise found out – and she would – that would be the end. It was just a matter of time. So he sat and admired the beauty and the innocence of his daughter until morning. With the first streaks of dawn, he said goodbye to her in his heart and left the room, closing the door softly so as not to disturb her.
Mrs. Fleming rapped lightly on her son's bedroom door. "Douglas. It's such a lovely day. Won't you play badminton with me?"
"No, thanks, Mom," Doug called back.
Mrs. Fleming turned to leave, then hesitated. He'd hardly left his room the past two weeks. Went in there and laid on his back looking up at the ceiling. Ever since that scandal about the Marlowe girl. Did he have anything to do with it? Not for a minute could she take her question seriously. Her son wouldn't do awful things like that. And yet. Why was he acting so unlike himself? And what had been that special research project that he'd mentioned once or twice before. Something was wrong. Terribly wrong. She knew it in her bones.
Decisively she turned and rapped on the door again. "Douglas. I'm coming in."
She opened the door and saw he was lying on his bed, as usual looking up at the ceiling. She sat on the foot of his bed and looked at him. "You've been acting strange lately. Not like yourself at all." She pleaded, "Can't you tell me what's wrong?"
Douglas jerked his body away from her and turned his face to the wall. "There's nothing wrong, Mother."
She looked at him. "But I know there is."
"Leave me alone," Douglas muttered.
"What did you say?" his mother asked.
He turned his head toward her and said coldly and very distinctly, "Leave me alone."
Quick tears sprang into her eyes. That her own son should ever treat her so meanly. That he should keep her out of his life. She, who had always tried to do her best for him. To teach him independence and self-reliance and to be considerate of all living things.
Maybe B.C. and I did too good a job, she thought sadly. He already wants to shut us out of his life at the age of only fourteen. But she couldn't shake off the feeling that he was fighting a desperate problem. That he needed help or comfort.
She looked at him compassionately, patting his ankle with a hand. "You know your father and I are always ready to help you, Douglas."
Doug didn't respond in any way.
She leaned over to look at his face. "You do trust us, don't you?" she asked insistently.
"Yes," he said wearily.
They both sat quietly for several minutes, absorbed in their own thoughts.
Finally his mother spoke. "If it has anything to do with the Marlowe girl, you should tell us."
Doug's body tensed but he said nothing.
"You know, Douglas," she said in a conversational tone, "We didn't let you go to the sex classes at school because we thought we could tell you about sex better than the teachers could. We wanted you to develop a healthy attitude about it. To see it as a natural part of life, not as something dirty or nasty. We answered your questions honestly when you were a little boy, though some of the answers were incomplete. I don't think we've been too prudish. Some things small children don't understand. We've tried to satisfy your curiosity as you grew up. But, in the past year, you've grown up a lot and you've stopped asking us questions."
She looked at him, waiting for a response but he gave none.
She made up her mind to be nosy. "I want to know one thing, Douglas," she said in a no-nonsense tone. "Were you one of the boys in Angie's room when her parents came home?"
After a pause, Doug said quietly, "No."
A welcome feeling of relief passed over her, but her curiosity wouldn't let her stop. "Were you ever in her room?"
She held her breath, waiting for him to reply. The answer was along time coming.
His voice hoarsely croaked, "Yes."
His mother's mind went racing, trying to figure out all that his admission implied. Could he have been one of the gang of boys? No! Not her boy. What was he doing there then? Did he go there alone? She looked at him out of the corner of her eye. She said quietly. "If there is anything you want to tell your father or me, or both of us, please feel free to confide in us anytime."
Doug lay still and didn't reply.
Mrs. Fleming got up and started to leave. "You want to be alone so I'll go now," she said, half in anger and half in sorrow.
That evening, after her husband had eaten and rested, she brought up the subject with him privately. "B.C., I'm afraid Doug is mixed up with that Marlowe girl scandal."
"Did he say so?"
"No. Not in so many words," she admitted. Then she explained her fears to him and recounted her conversation with Doug that afternoon.
Mr. Fleming puffed on his pipe. "So he admitted he had been in her room at some time," he said speculatively.
After thinking over the problem for awhile, he told her his decision. "If Doug is mixed up in the sorry business, his conscience will punish him more than any punishment we could inflict on him. There is only one thing. I think he should attend the trial. Whatever happens there, he will have to live with." He sighed deeply and after a moment asked, "Do you want to tell him or should I?"
"I started it," his wife said reasonably, "let me finish it."
The jailer herded the boys into a medium-sized room. They saw Angie sitting, listening to an excitable dark-haired young man. They went down to join them.
"Ah, here we all are," the young man said, rubbing his hands together. "My name is Klein. I'm the lawyer your parents retained to defend you. Got that?"
Everyone nodded.
"As soon as we get the preliminaries over," he went on, "identify each other, we can get down to particulars." When he had satisfied himself as to who each one was, he moved on to other questions. "I want you to tell me, in your own words exactly, what happened on that particular Friday night that you were interrupted by Dr. Marlowe. One at a time."
The boys took turns giving their stories. Chuck ended. "It was the first time I'd been there. I don't even live in this town."
"First time, eh?" Mr. Klein asked. "Who else was there for the first time?"
The other boys identified themselves.
"Who's been there from the first?" he asked.
Brad, Jim, and Scott raised their hands.
"You were the ones who began these games?" Klein asked.
They all shook their heads. "No, sir."
Amazed, he asked, "Then who did?"
Both Jim and Scott pointed at Brad. "He told us about it. Took us there."
Brad turned red. "I didn't start it. Doug Fleming did."
"Did he take you there?" Mr. Klein asked.
"No, sir," Brad replied. "Angie invited me. I came by myself. Then Doug came. He showed me what they'd been doing."
"Then what did you do?" Mr. Klein asked.
Reluctantly, Brad added, "Then I tried it."
"Why isn't Doug Fleming here?" Klein asked. All the kids looked at each other questioningly. Finally Scott said.
"I've never seen him at the Marlowe's house."
"Anyone else seen him there?" Klein asked. The boys mumbled that they hadn't.
Brad insisted. "But he was the one who showed me how!"
"How about it, Miss Marlowe," Mr. Klein asked her. "Did this Doug Fleming do as Brad accuses?"
Angie looked at the lawyer; she swung her eyes over to Brad. He was brooding unhappily. Just like that day we had to go to the principal's office, flashed through her mind. She recalled how vindictive he'd been then. Fighting Doug unfairly. Then making up those lies to tell Mr. Bailey. Angie looked back at Mr. Klein. "No," Angie said softly.
"Are you denying Doug ever came to your house?" Mr. Klein asked.
"Yes," she said stoically.
Brad broke in indignantly. "She's lying." He looked hard at Angie. "Why are you doing this?"
Angie's eyes met his. Her eyes were inscrutable.
"It's not fair," Brad kept insisting, "Doug started it. He should have to pay too."
"You're sure now?" Mr. Klein questioned Angie. "Tell the truth. It has to stand up in the witness box."
Angie looked at him without changing her expression.
"All right, then," Mr. Klein went on. "No one else saw Doug there except you," he told Brad. "It's your word against his."
"But he did!" Brad was beside himself.
Mr. Klein looked at Angie. He could see she was lost in thought. The tense expression had relaxed to an enigmatic smile. Brad's probably right, he thought. That Fleming kid probably did start the orgies. But evidently, after that first time with Brad, he didn't go back. And she intends to protect him.
The courtroom was crowded. Every kid in town was there except for the ones who were forcibly detained at home by their parents. Doug was there, growing more uneasy by the minute. Did he belong on the stand with the others? Or did he belong here in the audience? He didn't know. Yet he felt guilty.
The prosecutor was questioning Brad.
"Were you the instigator of these – ah – games?"
"No, sir."
"Who was?"
Brad kept his eyes glued to the prosecutor. "Douglas Fleming."
A wave of emotion swept through the audience. Several people turned around to stare at Doug. Others exclaimed or giggled.
Doug sat perfectly upright in his chair and looked straight forward. He managed to conceal his emotions but he was a cauldron of indecision inside.
"How do you know this?" the prosecutor asked Brad.
"The first night I was at Angie's house, he was there. He showed me how. He did it first."
"You would say the person responsible for starting the games was Douglas Fleming?" the prosecutor asked.
"Yes, sir," Brad said. He stared straight at the prosecutor, unable to meet Doug's eyes, even across the courtroom.
"Thank you, Mr. Harker. You may step down."
Brad bounced out of the chair as if it were a hot seat.
"I am told that this boy, Douglas Fleming, is now present in the court," the prosecutor announced. "I ask that a special deposition be made out to call him to the stand."
Before the judge could reply, the defense attorney jumped to his feet. "Your honor, before another witness is called, my client, Angelica Marlowe, would like to speak."
"Permission granted," the judge said.
Angie rose from her chair and walked to the witness box for the second time.
"Angelica Marlowe, you have already sworn to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. You understand that?" Mr. Klein asked.
"Yes, sir," Angie said quietly.
"Now, regarding the statements made by Bradford Harker, will you tell us if Douglas Fleming was the ringleader of the games?"
"Yes, sir," Angie said quietly.
"Now, regarding the statements made by Brad Harker. Will you tell us if Douglas Fleming was the ringleader of the games?"
Angie's glance swung to Doug, sitting in the audience.
At the mention of his name, Doug had risen from his seat and stood conspicuously in the seated audience, staring fixedly at Angie.
Poor Doug, Angie thought. He looks so wretched. Of all the boys, he was the only one who didn't use me heartlessly.
Angie's voice rang out clearly. "No, he was not."
"He did not come to your house and participate in your games?"
Angie looked straight at Doug. "He did not," she replied clearly.
The judge looked at Angie seated on the stand, then he looked at Doug standing guiltily in the audience. There was a connection, he thought. Brad is probably partly right. She is lying. I wonder why she's protecting him. He looks like a fine boy. It would be a shame to implicate him in this sorry business.
In the end, Doug was never called to the stand. He sat in the audience sweating. Never had he felt so miserable in his life. From now on he intended to restrict his experiments to things that he knew about.
The judge was ending his summation of the case. "We have here a girl who experimented with sex. Why did she? She says because she wanted to find out about sex. Her mother didn't allow her to go to the sexual education classes at her school. Her father, in spite of the fact that he was a doctor, neglected his responsibility of telling her. Her mother told her lies and fiction. There comes a time in a person's life, when they feel they are ready for knowledge. If this knowledge isn't available formally to the person when he asks for it, then he will seek it in informal ways. Angelica Marlowe wanted to satisfy her curiosity about sex. The only avenue left open to her to do so was experiment. Her action was a sad indictment of her parents' prejudiced attitude about a natural act. Nevertheless this girl and these boys have broken the law. They have engaged in lewd and immoral conduct."
Angie sat as if in a dream. In the background she heard the judge sentence her to several years in reform school as a morally depraved youth. The boys got similar sentences. All because I was curious about sex, she thought wistfully, and who was really acting immorally.