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Her curiosity piqued, Amanda looked around, trying to figure out its origin, half expecting to find Camila on the phone to one of her friends. Upstairs. It’s coming from upstairs.
Stealthily as a jackrabbit, Amanda ascended the wooden stairs and made her way along the landing, the sound growing louder with every step. She stopped outside her daughter's room. Grabbing the handle to open the door, she suddenly had an idea and instead sunk to her knees before placing one hand against the side of the door. She brushed a stray lock of her dishevelled hair away from her ear.
Not so very long ago, Amanda would probably have just barged right in all guns blazing, but recently Camila had been growing increasingly secretive and prickly where her room and personal space were concerned. She wouldn’t take kindly to someone, specifically her mother, bursting in unannounced. Amanda had a very good idea what was going on.
Barely a month ago, Camila had found herself her first real boyfriend.
She listened intently, her ear pressed against the wood, for any sound coming from within the room that might explain her daughter's absence. From her own experiences as a hormone-driven teenager, she fully expected to hear the hurried whispers and scattered moans that always indicated a passionate nookie session. However, she couldn't hear much of anything except for a very faint sobbing.
Finally, curiosity and parental concern got the better of her. Lightly pressing her palm against the wood, she silently forced the door open a crack.
Camila's room was one of the smallest in the house and was lightly lit by the low glow of her bedside lamp, casting it in a comfortable light that revealed its surprisingly neat and tidy furnishings. Taking a second to let her eyes adapt to the low light, Amanda immediately looked to the large queen-size that was situated at the back of the rectangular room. She was surprised to find not her daughter, but Camila’s friend, Tracey, curled in a weeping ball.
Amanda threw open the door and hurried across the room to the sobbing girl and pulled her close. Without hesitation or a word of protest, the girl accepted the hug and cried into her blouse.
“Tracey… What’s wrong, honey?” she asked gently, running her hand through her waves of golden hair, trying to soothe the distressed eighteen-year-old.
Tracey Fox never cried. In all the years Amanda had known her, she’d watched her grow and flourish. For as long as she had been Camila’s BFF, she had never cried. Even as a girl, despite her wide eyes and deceptive, doll-like innocence, she had looked at life with the tenacity of a bulldog. What could have happened to turn her into such a wreck? And where was-
“C-Camila…” Amidst the sobs, the girl’s voice sounded choked and almost inaudible, but Amanda heard the name all the same. It was like a cold wash down her spine. She didn’t push her, however, but continued trying to soothe her with soft words.
When her sobs finally began to subside, Tracey looked up at her with a stranger’s face and a look in her eye that made the older woman want to cry out in horror. Gone was the rosy-cheeked, bright-eyed girl. Now, she was only a shadow, a ghost of her former self, pale with puffy eyes that still freely leaked tears. Amanda felt her throat tighten and a pain stab her chest. Without thinking, she put both arms around the girl and held her close.
“W-we were watching T.V. Jeremy …” Tracey seemed to be on the verge of fresh tears at the mention of Camila’s boyfriend and Amanda felt a sudden surge of wrath towards the boy who now dominated so much of her daughter’s life. “He came round. He’d been drinking and…”
“Go on, honey, don’t worry, you can tell me. What happened?”
“He pulled Camila into his lap and started making remarks about us here all alone. She didn’t say anything. Then he said something, suggested we play together. I thought he was out of his mind, but she only laughed and said, said it could be fun.”
“She did what!”
“I said no, but Jeremy, he wouldn’t listen. He started grabbing his… himself through his jeans, stroking it so we could see… Camila. She was tugging on my arm, trying to get me to come closer. I-I told them I wasn’t interested, so they both got angry. They ca-called me a prude and started joking about how I was still a virgin. Finally, Jeremy… called me a frigid…cock teasing bitch!”
“No!”
Tracey nodded, tears flowing freely once again. “He said I wasn’t worth the effort of getting hard for, then said they were leaving and Camila...she… she….”
“Shh- shh, it’s okay sweetheart, it’s okay.” The dam was well and truly broken now, so Amanda did what she could to soothe the girl once more through the babble of unintelligible sobs. Amanda couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Of course, she’d known that both Camila and Tracey, despite both being beautiful, curvy young women, had had trouble with boys growing up.
Neither she nor Mark liked Jeremy very much. There was an arrogance behind his movie-star good looks and smouldering eyes and a swagger that just didn’t sit right with Amanda.
Her husband, however, had a much more eloquent way of putting it. The boy’s a cock.
A threesome, really! How could he even suggest such a thing in her bloody house? To think her own daughter could turn on her friend for that little shit, of all people. Amanda made a note to personally cut his cock off and feed it to him if he ever came near Camila again.
“What’s wrong with me?” The question came out of the blue and at first Amanda wasn’t sure Tracey had said anything.
“It’s okay honey, it’s okay. There’s nothing wrong-”
“Then why?” she snapped, her body rigid. “It’s just sex. Everyone does it! So why, why did the thought of him touching me-”
“You’re not ready, that’s all it is.”
“But I am ready. I want to. But I just…can’t.” The word came out as a sigh and all the aggression and tension in her body seemed to leave her with her confession.
“Trust me, when you meet the right one, and you’re both ready, you will. And it’ll be worth the wait.”
Slowly, Tracey looked up to meet Amanda’s gaze. “Was that the way it was for you?”
