The Model
I was the princess, the little blond hair girl. She
was the witch at the time; a tall girl with thick black
hair and green eyes, looking too mature for her age...maybe
she was. She introduced me to many things: Mafalda, late
tv-shows, litchees, massages and lesbians.
I was ten. She was one year older and knew how
massages were done. My mother was working a lot and was
still studying in university, so I craved for feminine
touch and caresses...it's even more true nowadays. I miss
Elisa. Two days per week, I was allowed to sleep in her
bed. That was the limit I had succeeded to obtain from my
anxious (and maybe jealous) mother. My secret wish was to
be adopted by Elisa's mother, who was a lot more permissive
than mine. When you're a child, you always look for more
liberty; when you're an adult, you become frightened if
there's too much of it. Funny...or sad. Her father had
disappeared when she was a baby and that was adding mystery
to the shadowy halo I could see around her.
One night, still feeling the warmth of her hands on my
calmed back and neck, she said without any warnings,
staring at the ceiling:
- You know what lesbians are?
I thought about it for some seconds. I never liked to be
caught on ignorance. Hummm, lesbians...this word was so
strange, exotic...was it a rare animal, an unknown fruit?
Or maybe people from a strange country? Usually, I was
trying for an answer, but I felt this time I couldn't talk
my way out by inventing something. She seemed so
experimented and was looking at me, her eyes locked to
mine. Elisa frowned at my negative answer, but a strange
smile appeared on her lips.
- Well, I saw lesbians once! Where I was living before, a
lesbian couple was staying in the house next to ours and
they were never closing the bathroom stores.
More puzzled than ever, I asked about the nature of these
people:
-What were they doing?
Now, I was frightened, fearing some deformities or maybe
even worst; the word "maniacs" was appearing in my mind in
bloody letters. She approached her mouth to my ears. She
wanted it to be a secret - and maybe she was a little bit
excited at the idea of teaching lesbianism to me - she
whispered:
- They were kissing and making love, Marianne, lesbians is
when girls prefer girls, you know?
- Huh?! Really?
I blushed, head to toe. A whole new world was opening
to me. The old one had been crushed by the words of a 11
years old girl. I could still think of only one question to
ask but wouldn't. It was insidious and seemed too
incriminating. Yes, all I could think of was: "Are we
lesbians?" Sex was a very personal thing for me (I was
masturbating since the age of 3 - and that's because I
don't remember anything before this age) except some little
experiences with my cousin and the sensuality I was feeling
from Elisa. I had never explicitly talked about my own
sexual experiences and I wasn't ready to begin (some are
never). I wanted to know more though.
- How were they...you know...!?
I wasn't able to pronounce "making love" yet - those
blasphemous, abstract words - and that question could have
been formulated for ordinary couples too; books written for
children are never enough explicit about that. And so many
other questions were screaming in my head, accompanied by
strange images: Could they have children? Was there many?
Was it a disease? Was it illegal? How come I had never seen
them? Why?
She laughed at my question and I felt stupid for a
while, but hearing that her laughing was loosing of its
certitude, I thought maybe she didn't know so much and was
just getting rid of that secret by telling me.
The laughing woke up her mother and this interruption,
where we were faking to be asleep (and I'm quite sure
Elisa's mother wasn't fouled by us) gave me more time to
experiment the torture of my famous imagination. I was
seeing two monsters of fat skin devouring each others when
Elisa talked again, with her voice so low I had to get
closer, feeling her comforting body pressing on mine.
- As I told you, I saw them from the window of our ancient
apartment. They were both naked, standing in their
bathroom. I could look at them entirely because we were
living one floor higher than the lesbians. I had closed the
light of my own bathroom because I didn't want them to see
me...we never know, right?!
At this age, every abnormal person was probably a
maniac...maniacs, maniacs, maniacs...I kept the fatal word
for me and just approved.
- They were kissing, with the mouth open, like on tv and I
could see their whole body...their...sex...
(sex, sex, sex...) And I was blushing again. I was so
excited.
- They were touching each others everywhere, as if they
were washing themselves without any soap or water. And you
know, the one with black hair slipped a finger into the
other's vagina and I could see she was screaming.
- It was hurting her?
I was stunned; masturbating, for me, meant no noises
since I was sleeping in the same room than my brother and
sometimes, I did hurt myself on purpose with needles. Not
knowing yet what sado-masochism meant, it wasn't so
immoral, thanks to Freud! But Elisa, with a calm that was
hypnotizing me a bit, continued.
- No, I think she was enjoying it too much...you know, like
when your parents are doing funny noises in the bedroom!
There, she was making fun of me; I had failed to make a
connection between straight sex and lesbian sex.
I was then wondering which color the other girl's hair
were. Brown like me? I could only imagine Elisa and me
doing the same, having no other references.
To my surprise, after giving me those indecent
details, she just said "goodnight", turned her back to me
and felt (or faked it again) asleep. My eyes stayed wide
open long enough to see a lot of numbers passing on the
digital clock beside me. I was now alone with my thoughts.
So alone. The warmth of Elisa was teasing me...a ghost of a
lesbian touch on my young body.
When I finally found sleep, I dreamed of my mother,
standing naked in front of a mirror. Her eyes were closed
and she wasn't moving. It was like watching a strange
statue. I could only stare at her immobile body, her pubic
hairs intriguing me, shocking me.
I woke up in the morning to find my face deeply buried
in Elisa's breast. She had put her arms around me and I
couldn't move away. We were lesbians. I had no more doubts
about it then.