Dear Mr. Simon,
I don't know why the hell I'm even doing this. When you came to me a few weeks ago with the idea of putting my story into your next book, I jumped on it. I mean, I don't need the money right now, but as soon as this nightmare is over with I'm going to need as much cash as I can possibly lay my hands on.
Which is why I told you to go to hell yesterday when you informed me that I wouldn't receive any money from the sale of the book when it's published. I know you said that a percentage of the proceeds would be donated to a charity of my choice, but as you know, that doesn't put any fucking money in my pocket.
But I've had some time to think about it, and I realize that I want people to know MY side of the story, whether I get any money for it or not. Because I know that bitch will tell her side, and you can bet she's gonna cash in on it – that would be a far greater injustice to me than not getting paid for telling about the events as they really happened. All that matters to me at this point is that the truth be known, and I realize that the only way for this to happen is for me to open up the wounds and relive the agony and the ecstasy of the past 4 years.
Where should I start? If I start in the beginning… Well, in the beginning there was this kid, selling and hustling to just enough people to pay his rent and put food in his mouth. And in the beginning there was Lara. Even now, when I close my eyes and lose myself in fantasy, she is there: every vision of her is a wondrous fantasy and a hellish nightmare. I'm telling you, man… I can't get that bitch out of my mind.
So, yeah, it's pretty easy to think back and remember the first time I saw her. I'd dropped out of school the year I turned 16, 'cause my mom threw me out when she found out I was selling dope. So I needed to quit school and get a job, make a little extra money to pay the rent for an apartment of my own, you know? But I still kicked it with a lot of the guys I went to high school with. They were either good friends or good customers – or both.
I'd gotten a call from Gabe Hauptmann saying he needed a half-ounce of bud. So I went over to his crib. Now, I knew he had parents and all, but the few times I'd been over there before, I'd never met anyone except his little brother, who I also sold to. I think Gabe was 17 at the time, so his little bro, Daniel, was probably 13 or 14. Hey, I gotta make a living.
Anyhow, I'm walking down the hall to Gabe's room, and as I'm walking past one of the other bedrooms, Gabe's cat pushes open the door and runs into the room, leaving the door open a foot or so. And inside that room, sitting in the middle of a king size bed, is the sexiest damn blond I've ever seen. Long, silky-straight, golden blond hair… the kind that just makes a man want to run his fingers through it, makes you want to wrap it round and round your fist and grip it at her scalp as she's going down on you. And the fucking best part is, she's got a face and a body to match. She has these smoky, blue-gray eyes – I want like hell to be able to look deep into her eyes, but I know that if I do she'll have me under her thumb. Her mouth… God, just to see this woman smile makes a man's cock get rock hard, makes you long for that mouth to be swallowing your cock. And she was tiny and petite, just the way I like I like my women to be. Small breasts, but round, firm and high – it works for her, believe me. And the most gorgeous legs, the shape and proportion of this woman's legs should be genetically cloned, because they are perfection.
She's sitting there Indian-style in the middle of the bed, wearing headphones, swaying to the beat of some music only she can hear. She's wearing these black drawstring Adidas pants with white stripes down the sides. And she had on one of those athletic workout bras, but this one was so cool - it was white with a black Chinese dragon emblazoned on the front. At any rate, to my horny teenage brain, she looked totally fuckable.
The smell of incense drifted from the open doorway, and I could see a cigarette burning in an ashtray beside her. She had some cards spread out before her (she told me later they were tarot cards), but she wasn't doing anything with the cards, she was too into the music. She began singing, "Now if a 6, turn out to be 9, I don't mind. I don't mind. If all the hippies cut off all their hair, I don't care. I don't care." As she sang the last part, she pulled all that beautiful blond hair up on top of her head, opened her eyes, and looked straight at me.
At first I could tell she was kind of shocked to look up and see a stranger watching her from her doorway, but then she smiled and pulled off her headphones. "Hey," she said, "Wassup? You looking for Gabe?"
"Yeah," I replied, then I pointed down the hall and asked, "I guess he's in his room, huh?"
She nodded and said, "Just go knock on his door," and then she put the headphones back on, effectively dismissing me. I knocked on Gabe's door and when he opened it I said, "Damn shit, dude, you been holding out on me. You didn't tell me you had an older sister, or that she was so fucking hot."
Gabe gave me this look out of the corner of his eye and said, "That's not my sister, Dude – that's my mom."
This was a shock. "Is she your stepmom or something?"
He shook his head and replied, "Nah. She's my real mom."
I started laughing. "No way! What did she do, get knocked up with you when she was 12 or 13?"
I could tell by the look in his eyes when he said, "She's 38," that he wanted me to lay off the subject – and lay off his mom. Well, I couldn't do that – when I want something, I won't be satisfied until I get it. And I wanted Lara Hauptmann more than I'd ever wanted a woman before – or since. Never mind the fact that I was 18 and she was 38 – I had to have her.
Well, I made the sale to Gabe, and I let myself out, noticing when I went past her door that she was no longer in her bedroom. I walked out the front door and there she was, sitting on the doorstep. "Listen," she said, standing up and facing me, "I don't know you, and I doubt very much if I want to, but I just want to let you know something: If you ever sell anything other than weed to Gabe, I will have your nuts on a platter. And the same thing goes if you sell ANYTHING to Daniel." She took a drag off her cigarette, flicked it off to the right, and placed her hands on her hips as if challenging me to say something. I've found, in dealing with parents – or anyone, really – that it's better to play dumb. I held my hands up defensively and said, "Whoa, wait a minute… I don't know what the fuck you're talking about…"
She cut me off, saying, "Oh, I think you know exactly what I'm talking about. You just sold Gabe some bud, don't stand there and lie to me and say you didn't!"
Shit! I thought, how the hell did she know? "Look, Ma'am, I'm real sorry about this," I began, when she cut me off once again, saying, "PLEASE don't be so condescending to me, calling me 'ma'am' and shit like that – it's not gonna score you any bonus points, believe me."
She's standing there with her hands on her hips, making those tiny breasts jut out quite perceptively. The night air was cool, and her nipples looked ready to burst through the white fabric of her top. "Well," I said, looking her up and down, giving her my best 'I like what I see' kind of smile, "what would you like me to call you? Maybe if I had a first name…"
I thought I saw a hint of a smile when she said, "Lara. My name's Lara. And who the hell are you?"
Pouring on the charm, I replied, "Joshua Horowitz, but my friends call me Josh. And I hope that's what you'll be calling me soon, too."
I gave her one of my megawatt smiles, and she dropped her hands and turned to go in. "Well, Joshua Horowitz," she said, reaching for the doorknob, "just remember what I said, and we'll get along fine."
That "threat" reminded me of something I wanted to ask her. "Ummnn… Lara, wait. You said if I ever sold anything other than bud to Gabe you'd… well, you remember what you said. You mean you don't care if I sell Gabe marijuana, or what?"
She looked thoughtful for a moment, then replied, "Well, alcohol's a hell of a lot worse than weed, in my opinion. I haven't smoked it in, like, 15 years probably, but it didn't hurt anyone back then, and it's not gonna hurt anyone now. He just better be REALLY fucking careful and not get his ass in trouble with the law."
She shrugged then. "Just my opinion." Opening the door, she said, "See ya later," and went back inside.
As I walked back to my car, I wondered how long it would be before I would fuck her.
A few days later I went back to Gabe's house, hoping his mom would be there. Gabe had said over the phone he'd be downstairs in the rec room, and to just come in through the back door. I saw Lara when I walked around the house. She was laying on a lounge chair, getting a suntan. Damn, I thought she looked fine the first time I saw her, but now she was wearing a tiny string bikini, showing off a body that just begged to be seen. The fabric looked like worn denim, like the bikinis the hippie chicks wore back in the 60's, and she had on a pair of blue tinted sunglasses.
A brown floppy-brim leather hat was tilted down over her forehead. With the hat and glasses on, I didn't think she saw me until I heard, "Hey, Horowitz… Wassup?"
"Not much," I replied. "But I got something for you."
She tilted her hat back then, and looked up at me over her glasses. "Oh, yeah?" she asked. "And what might that be?"
I reached in my pocket and took out a baggie, then walked over to the lounge chair. Standing over her, looking down at her body, made me want to just crawl on top of her and get busy right there in the back yard. "You said you hadn't smoked any bud in a long time," I said, handing her a dime bag of my finest weed. "And I think that's a damn shame."
"Mmmmm," she said, opening the baggie and taking a deep whiff, "smells nice. I might just do that." She looked up at me and smiled. "Thank you, Josh."
I shook my head. "No, thank you," I said.
Puzzled, she asked, "Why are you thanking me?"
I glanced up and down her body one last time and smiled before answering, "I think you know."
For the next few weeks I pursued her. I played it cool, as usual, but I couldn't get her out of my mind. I asked Gabe why his mom was around all the time now, and he said she simply quit her job and wanted to stay home for awhile.
The next time I saw Lara I asked her how she liked the bud, and she replied, "I liked it very much."
She was in the kitchen preparing dinner. I picked up a magic marker lying by the telephone and said, "Here, give me your hand." She gave me a curious look, but held her hand out to me. "Here's my pager number," I said, writing it on her palm. "If you'd like some more bud, just let me know."
She looked at her palm, smiled, and said, "Cool." And she was cool, cool as a cucumber, 'cause she turned around and began stirring something in a crock-pot, like I wasn't even there.
I saw her again about a week later. A few of the guys were going camping, and we were all meeting at Gabe's house. Strange how Gabe and I were becoming such good friends, isn't it? Anyway, Lara was helping us get all our supplies packed into our cars. I still hadn't met her husband – Gabe said his Dad was away on business a lot.
While everyone was chilling out in the front yard waiting for a couple more guys to arrive, Lara went back into the house. I followed her. "So," I asked her, "how you doing? You need anymore bud?"
Pouring herself a soda, she replied, "Actually, I think I do."
She was leaning back against the countertop. I took a couple steps closer to her. "Well, either you do or you don't, you know? 'Cause I can get you some more."
All the while I'm looking at her – I can't seem to take my eyes off her body. She's looking at me, too, almost like she's sizing me up or something. "All right," she finally says, "I guess if you've got some, I'll buy a bag from you."
"I don't have it with me," I said, "but, if you come by my apartment tomorrow evening after I get back from camping, I'll have it for you then. I've got my own apartment, you know."
She started laughing then. "Is that supposed to impress me or something?" She picked up the soda and started walking out of the room, saying, "Geez… Just give me a call when you get it."
Damn, she was such a bitch… but that just made me want her all the more.
I called her the next day after we got back from the camping trip. Luckily, she answered instead of Gabe or Daniel. I told her I had the stuff, and would she like to come over and pick it up? She said no, that she was busy. "Well," I asked, "how about tomorrow?"
"No," she replied, "I've already made plans."
"Okay then," I sighed, thinking, trying to find a way to appeal to her. "I'll expect to see you Tuesday at 4:00. We'll just hang out, smoke some bud together, maybe watch a video or something. Here's my address," and I gave it to her, along with directions on how to get there.
She still hadn't said anything. I was on pins and needles waiting for her reply. "Lara?" I asked. "You got that? Think you know how to get here?"
Finally, she replied, "Yeah. I think I can find it."
"Okay," I said, not wanting her to have second thoughts and change her mind, "I'll see you then," and hurriedly hung up the phone.
I spent the whole day Tuesday cleaning my apartment. Which, since I was a typical teenage boy, was something I'd never really done before. I even borrowed a vacuum cleaner from the upstairs neighbor and vacuumed the carpets.
I think it was safe to say I was nervous, which was also not like me. I may have been young, but I'd already had my fair share of women. My first sexual experience was four years earlier, when a 36-year-old friend of my mom's was visiting our house one day and took it upon herself to give me my first blowjob. Ever since then I'd had numerous fantasies about knocking boots with a hot older woman. And Lara was just the woman to fulfill my fantasy, I was sure of it… but I was still nervous, afraid she would blow me off as just a kid. I'd already been with maybe a dozen different girls, but most were my age or younger. Most of the time I just made them give me a blowjob, and the ones I actually fucked… hell, I didn't know if they came or not, just so long as I did. There was never any problem getting the bitches. You've seen me, Mr. Simon, I'm a pretty good-looking guy, if I do say so myself. Medium build, muscular, dark hair and eyes. I have, as Lara calls them, "the brownest, deepest slit-eyes" she had ever seen, "not oriental, but very sexy, Benicio del Toro- kind of eyes." Blah, blah, blah.
Anyhow, I was sure somehow that with Lara it would be different, that she'd show me things no other woman had shown me before, and it would be the most mind-blowing sex I'd ever had. If I would have known just HOW different, if I could have foreseen all the burning hell she has put me through… well, I'm sorry to say, I would have been just as anxious for her to arrive that day, just as helpless against her feminine powers as I am to this very day.
When she got to my apartment, 10 minutes early, I might add, she said she had something for me, "A thank you gift for turning me back on to my dear friend, Mary Jane." She pulled out a 12-pack of Budweiser. "Some Bud," she giggled, "to thank you for the bud!"
I thought, what the fuck? One minute she's acting all pissy, like an angry, 38-year-old mom, and the next she's acting like a giggly schoolgirl who wants to show me her oral abilities. I realized right away that I liked the bitchy mom a lot better than the giggly schoolgirl she sometimes emulated. I could get a schoolgirl any day – sexy, 38-year-old moms were harder to come by. Her maturity was what gave her that smart mouth, along with that hands-on-hips "Who the fuck do you think you are?" attitude she sometimes had with me. So I would purposely antagonize her, just to bring out the bitch in her, cause she was just too easy a lay when she was in that school girl mode. And for the first time I began to realize that I like my women to be a challenge, as Lara definitely was when she acted her age. Which, I was soon to find out, was whenever she wasn't stoned. Because when we smoked bud together, she loosened up and became more childish and giggly... like she was when she appeared on my doorstep that day. She later told me she had smoked some before coming over because she was so nervous.
Before we settled in to watch a movie I offered to roll us a joint. She sat down on my couch, and I got my stash and sat down beside her. I began rolling and she said, "I just love to watch a man do that. For some reason, it's such a turn-on… Most women get off on watching a man pump iron; I get off on watching a man roll a joint. Go figure." If I'd been thinking that day with my brain instead of my cock, I would have wondered why she said that when she'd told me the first day I met her that she hadn't smoked bud in years. But the horny kid that I was just thought it was a come-on. "Are you trying to seduce me, Mrs. Robinson?" "Would you like that, Benjamin?" Hmmmmm… I could just imagine that scene from "The Graduate" acted out with Mrs. Hauptmann and me, and I couldn't wait to make it a reality.
I handed the rolled joint to her, and she took it and reached for her lighter. "Here," I said, flicking my Bic, "let me light that for you."
She stared at me so intensely while she inhaled, smiling seductively. A few seconds later she exhaled, saying, "Correct me if I'm wrong, Josh, but I get the feeling you want to be a bit more than just my pot smoking buddy."
I'd already taken the joint from her and inhaled. "Well," I asked, handing the joint back to her, "what do you think?"
Laughing, she said, "I think this is fucking amusing."
I did my best Joe Pesci imitation, saying, "Do I amuse you? Am I here for your fucking amusement?"
She handed the joint back to me and put her hand over her mouth, laughing, "Oh my God, I fucking love 'Goodfellas'. It's my favorite movie!"
Ah, a common link. Playing this up, I continued, "So I amuse you, huh? You think I'm a funny guy, huh?" I turned to face her, reaching over to lay the joint in the ashtray.
Still facing her, I leaned in closer, and reached up with my hand and brushed that beautiful blond hair behind her ear. I whispered to her, "I want you. I want to fuck you so bad."
I pulled away from her then and, looking into her eyes, I swung my leg over and straddled her. Sitting on her lap in this way, I began to unbutton her shirt. She licked her lips and smiled at me. "Baby," she said, "I don't think you'd know what to do with me if you had me. You think you can handle a real woman?"
I pulled her shirt back and revealed her tiny, delectable breasts. She wore no bra – she didn't need to. I cupped her left breast in my hand and said to her, "I think I can handle you just fine," before leaning down and taking her nipple in my mouth.
I could feel her nipple getting harder as I flicked my tongue across it, feel the soft aereola pucker and stiffen as I alternately sucked and nibbled it. Using my left hand, I began to unbutton her jeans.
Still leaning back against the couch, she breathlessly said, "I know I'm gonna fucking regret this," and began pulling my T-shirt up over my head.
I sat up and helped her, throwing my shirt across the room. Looking down at her, I said, "We're probably both gonna regret it, but I don't think we're ever gonna forget it."
And then we became animals, ripping at each other's clothes like we couldn't wait another moment longer.
Once we were both completely nude, I picked her up and carried her into my bedroom, throwing her onto the bed. I placed my hands on the inside of her knees and slowly spread her legs. I then ran my hands up the inside of her thighs, until my fingers brushed against her short, wiry pussy hair. Using my thumbs, I spread her lips open and began rubbing my thumbs over her clit, alternating with each thumb. My cock had been hard damn near since the moment she'd walked through my front door, so when she started breathing heavy, I decided it was time to give my throbbing cock some relief.
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