A Taste

Chapter 1

Almost as far back as I could remember my parents have fought. Not physically fought but had loud arguments. This usually occurred at night. I do not know exactly what they argued about because I would attempt to shut it out. However, one night when I was 12 years old I was awakened by a particularly loud argument. I could hear dad’s deep voice state something to the effect that “You cannot do that!”
I heard mom shout, “You just wait and see what I can do!” At that moment I heard a light tap, tap, tap on my bedroom door.
I said softly, “Come in.”
I could see by the light from the hall that it was my petite 16 year old sister, Liz. She poked her head in and asked, “Can I come in?”
“Sure sis,” I whispered.
She stepped in and closed the door. It was pitch black in my room and I felt her bump into the foot of my bed. “Can you turn on the light?” she asked.
I reached for the lamp on the side table and turned it on. As my eyes adjusted I could see my petite blond haired sister, Liz, in her usual night time attire, an oversized white tee shirt that came down to mid-thigh. “Can I stay with you until they’re done?” she asked.
In response I scooted over and flipped the blanket up. She quickly slid in beside me and covered up. Even though she was three years older than me, we were almost exactly the same size. I asked what I had asked before, “What are they arguing about?”
Instead of saying she did not know like she had many times before she said, “You do not want to know. Now turn out the light.”
I reached over and turned out the light before asking, “What do you mean?”
“It is something about sex,” she whispered. Then she asked, “Would you hold me?” I took her in my arms as she laid her head on my bare chest.
I wanted to know what she meant by it being about sex so I asked, “What do you mean, it’s about sex?”
“Mom says she could find any number of guys who would screw her and dad says she can’t,” Liz said.
“Mom didn’t say that…did she?” I inquired.
“I heard her as clear as a bell,” Liz affirmed.
“What’s the matter, won’t dad screw her?” I asked.
“Sure but not like she wants.”
Now at 12 years of age I had little or no knowledge about screwing.