Lack of Restraint  - excerpt
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Sexed-up 1960's Teens Struggle with Pregnancies, Early Marriages, and Parents. ...

Sexed-up 1960's Teens Struggle with Pregnancies, Early Marriages, and Parents.
Removed from school and the shelter of her parent's comfortable home, teen-mother Reta Ellis believes she can do better than be forever tormented by a flawed marriage and unplanned parenthood. Reta engages her youthful capacity for high sensuality in a determined bid to return to her former, unjustly interrupted lifestyle.

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Lack of Restraint  - excerpt Lack of Restraint - excerpt Document Transcript

  • Lack of RestraintA novel by,Richard M. Baker, Jr.Available at: www.web-e-books.comExcerpt: Her mother had said it was wrong to let a boy touch her under her clothes, but thefirst time it happened it was as wonderful as her friends claimed it would be. Reta had beentaught to believe that sex before a certain age or outside of true love was terrible, yet shehad thought it thrilling. But on this first day of December, the terribly wrong part of sexwas evident in the baby’s plaintive cries to be fed and the vile odor of soiled, cloth diaperssoaking in a plastic diaper pail beside the washer and dryer. Dirty dishes were piled high inthe kitchen sink, unwashed clothing littered the bedroom floor and unmade bed. Shabbyfurnishings made the four tiny rooms drearier, claustrophobic, like her new life. Twoidentical, Cape Cod-style houses stood to either side, the three homes alone on the road andthough a few months old, already worn…poor places for young marrieds to try to make anexciting start. Reta had what her high school friends had wanted, especially the girls who hadgotten pregnant. So what was wrong? A house was a house. She was ready for her new life.Everyone said that kids were growing up faster and that it followed that they should bemarried younger. Reta believed it, only wished her legs and ankles were slimmer and herpretty face a better reflection of her maturity. Maybe she was sick today. Otherwise, why sodown in the dumps? She had what parents tried so hard to keep to themselves, as if tooprecious, too adult for children. She was secure and expected to be for a lifetime. Gerrywould certainly inherit his father’s business though a promise to go to college was attachedto it…“Keep those college offers in mind when you shoot, Gerry,” Millard Ellis had saidmore than once. She could persuade him to refuse though. With a large income there for thetaking, Gerry didn’t need to waste time at college. As it was, between attending high school,studying, playing basketball and working at his father’s supermarket, Gerry didn’t haveenough time to do his share of the work at home. It’s just a stupid degree, Reta thought, turned on her side, reached for the knob andturned up the volume of the radio. Besides, Gerry’s too dumb. What if he flunked out? Whytake the chance that Millard will decide that his son isn’t worth employing much lessleaving him the business? Damn Millard anyway. There’s one creep I’d like to see crawl.
  • “It’s the weather,” she said aloud, looking out at the bleak frontage -- sparse woodson rocky, acid ground; a narrow, pitted, tarred access road to the isolated development; thefront yard of coarse sand -- blaming it for her mood. But then she remembered the dayGeorge and Shirley Bryce moved in when George had taken the road too fast and broken aspring in his rod. “A sub-suburb, that’s what this is,” she said scornfully. “The cheapbastards said they were going to give married kids like us a good start by putting uphundreds of decent homes. There’s still land near the ocean and near the good houses. Whydidn’t they start us there? They’re liars and we’re suckers, stuck out here in the sticks wherethe big-mouthed, so-called do-gooders don’t have to think about us.” Reta lit a cigarette, her next to last, and wondered what her neighbors were doing. Inthe house to the right, George would be at work. His wife, Shirley Ann, would have hermother there helping her to be a good little wife. Reta pulled on the cigarette, exhaled thesmoke, shook her head and thought about poor Shirl, a nice kid who was really out of herleague…a decent girl and one hell of a cheerleader before she got knocked up. Jud and Beverly Bradley lived on the other side. Jud spent most of his time at home.His father had struck a deal: Tell me what you need, otherwise don’t bother me. Yeah, Judwas set. So was Bev. She got what she needed, too. Day and night. Reta wrinkled her nose in disgust. Gerry was pathetic in bed. All he knew was onething and he barely knew that much. There was no experimenting, no change in techniqueor position, nothing more than what any dog could do. She wanted variety, excitement,stimulation. Gerry was acting like a scared kid; as if afraid his father would walk in andcatch them in the act. And the baby was no help. Roy was moved to the living room at nightbut the smell hung around the bed like a stinking rain cloud at a picnic. Reta blew smoke toward the ceiling. Hell, she thought, at least Gerry’s thin anddoesn’t get me all sweaty except when he doesn’t shower after practice. It’s a hell of a lotbetter than what Shirl puts up with, George’s fat, sweaty body on top of her, the sweatmixed with car grease and garage dirt. Poor skinny Shirl. She’d die if she knew what I thinkabout the boy she loves. No way would I want him. But I’d take what Beverly’s getting.Yeah, that would shake up the routine. She stretched her legs and put her feet on the other arm of the worn sofa, an Elliscast-off. She hated the sight of her post-pregnancy, thickened ankles and waistline, visualreminders of what she had gained and what she was missing. What happened, she thought,to the great sex and the kicks we were supposed to get from marriage? Gerry’s alwaysscared and I’m usually tired or fed up. Shirl knocks herself out like a good little housewifeand George never says two words one way or the other. Bev’s too sexy for her own good.She puts out too much. Restless guys like Jud get bored. She moved her feet and wiggled her hips in time to a smooth record on the radio.The baby’s squawking reached and fell on deaf ears. If it wasn’t for the babies, things mightbe real good, she told herself. But adults know how to make things miserable for us kids,too. What are we...freaks? Six teenagers and three infants living alone out here -- if you cancall this living -- in three cheap houses. They pushed us to get married and hid us away like
  • lepers or something. “It isn’t even like home!” she shouted. “I hate it here! And I hate youso shut up, you stupid brat!” Reta felt better after that, laughed at the hopeless wailing from the bedroom andcalled: “Sure, go ahead, cry your lungs out! No one can hear you! No one can hear any of usout here! We’ve got it all, the whole bit! Out here we can howl and have fun all we want!” She quieted and asked herself: so what’s wrong with that, Reta? Why give Myra thesatisfaction of trying to back out of it the way she said you would…living to regret yourmistake, scarred for life, she’d said. Scarred for life? To hell with that noise, that grownupcrap! So what if Gerry isn’t the big man in your life? So what if you’re not in love with him?You’re only seventeen. If you don’t like it, you can do better next time. And if Myra tries togive you a hard time, tell her to mind her own business and kick her the hell out! And if she doesn’t show because she’s forgotten about you, like everyone else… Reta sighed and whispered: “Can I say, Jud, I’m bored...want to make out? I doubt it,so what’s so hot about being married? All I want is sex. That’s all I should want at my age.But this is a hell of a way to get it.” She sat up, stood then walked to the kitchen, leaned against the sink and let the edgecrease her belly. “Who says everything has to be within reach?” she complained. “I hate thisdinky kitchen.” She rinsed a bottle, left a ring of dried formula on the bottom, poured it fullof the chalky liquid, screwed on a nipple and slammed the bottle in a pan of water, turningon the heat as an afterthought. “Gerry would be horrified but I don’t care,” she said. “Howthe hell would a two-month-old kid know his bottle was dirty? And if Gerry doesn’t like it,he should be around in the afternoon to feed it and give me a goddamned break. It’s his kid,too. No, it’s his kid, period! How the hell would he feel if he was stuck here all day with amiserable brat?” Horrible though it would be to admit it, for all Reta cared, the baby could sicken anddie. Having it had been terrifying and disgusting, especially when they shaved her and allthat. The bristles felt funny against her underwear. Taking care of the kid was worse.Shirley was lucky to have a mother to help out. She leaned and lifted her skirt to tighten the stockings. High heels made her legslook fine. Flats made them look fat. But what the hell. Who was around to look but her?Myra didn’t teach me anything, the bitch, always telling me what not to do, not what to do,Reta fumed silently. ‘Give away the baby or it’ll ruin your life’, she said. What advice, whatsweet advice, telling me to be responsible one minute and to give the kid away the next.‘I’m only thinking of you, dear, and your future’, Myra said. So I kept it and she won’t helpat all. ‘You’ve made your bed’, she said, ‘and you know the rest’.” Reta giggled, lifted out the bottle and tested the temperature of the formula on herwrist then put the bottle back to heat some more. Her last cigarette was in her blouse pocket,over the tip of her left breast. They were beginning to feel normal again. Large enough inthe first place, they might have become fat and saggy if she’d given in to Gerry’s suggestionthat she nurse his precious little Roy. She lit the cigarette, drew and exhaled a good dragand thought: I’m not Bev who loves the feel of it and would probably love to do it in front
  • of the boys. She’s got nice ones though and a good reason to show them off. I’d like towatch Gerry if she did. He’d be embarrassed as hell, the psalm-singing prude. Maybe that’swhy Bev would get a kick out of doing it…to make a kid like Gerry sweat over her. I’d loveto know what goes through Gerry’s head when he looks at her. And I wonder what Judthinks when he looks at me. You’ve made your bed, Reta said to herself and picked up the bottle, turning off theheat with the same hand. Wrong, Myra, I got made, or Gerry and I made each other, or Ishould have let Tom Stephens have what he wanted that night instead of saving it for astoop like Gerry. How was I supposed to know a dumb kid like him had a baby in him?Buy the full e-book, available exclusively at: www.web-e-books.comRead online or offline automatically with virtually any HTML5 browser on Windows, Apple, Android, orLinux laptop, tablet, e-reader or smart phone.© 2012 The Tri-Screen Connection, LLC – All Rights Reserved