1. Chapter One: The Group Home
I looked up at the big gray mansion and bit my lip. I knew that I was 18 and lucky to be out of the group home at my age, since I was no longer cute or young enough to be considered adoptable to most people. I looked at the mansion. It was big, modern, and elegant but still had something creepy to it.
"You are very lucky to be placed with Mr. Smith," the prim and proper child worker told me.
She wore a suit. Not many workers in my group home were quite that formal. I hated the group home I was sent to when my parents died. It was ugly, poor, and run-down looking. The girls in it looked just the same way. They wore grey and black worn- out sweatshirts and faded worn- out black jeans for the most part expect for the things they were able to snatch out of local stores until the owners got wise to the fact that they came from the group home. We were really stigmatized.
My parents never thought about their possible death and never chose a guardian or godparents for me. My parents both died in a car accident when I was 15. Both sets of my grandparents were gone and believe it or not both my mom and dad were only children. They used to always joke about how they wanted a big family. Until my mom found out she was having trouble conceiving. I guess they spoiled me rotten because I was their only child. I lived a sheltered indulged life with lots of friends to make up for siblings, and lots of different hobbies and classes. There was ballet, painting, photography, creative writing, and horseback riding. My parents both had a lot of money, until their business partners stole it away after their death. I can still remember our family lawyer's pale face as he said the word: embezzlement. It was our trusted family accountant. He was sent to prison for 15 years but we never did get the money back.
That's how I ended up in Ms. Chasm's Home for Girls. Well, really it was a juvenile delinquent home full of lots of delinquent girls. I got through the hassles of the first year doing their homework for them. They caught on real quick that I actually knew how to read and write very well. After that, I never got beat up or harassed by anyone. The group home school was a breeze after the challenges of the private school I attended. I made friends with one particularly rough girl, Jenna.
She said to me, "I used to think you were snooty and all that. But now that you are helping me, I'm gonna help you. Stay away from Mr. Jeffers. He is one sick dude."
I whispered back, "How?"
Mr. Jeffers always looked pretty good to me. He was attractive, wore jeans on his muscular slim frame and always had a friendly smile. He was artsy. That I liked. But Jenna told me he beat the boys and girls mercilessly and the home looked the other way because it kept the girls and boys in line and gave the staff less hassles. Jenna told me she thought he got off on it—you know, sexually. She told me he used to do it to her, until she and a group of her girlfriends visited him in the middle of the night and she held a knife to his throat and said to not "mess with them anymore." After that the girls stayed out of trouble and he stayed far from the girls.
Jenna was my personal protectress. She was really beautiful, for a rough girl, raised on the streets. She had long black hair that wound itself into perfect ringlets and white ivory smooth blemishless skin, red full lips and a perfect nose. Her face looked like one of those porcelain dolls I used to collect. Her body was curvy. We got used to nudity among the girls very quickly in the group home. There were community showers and dressing rooms, community dorm beds where we undressed. There was never any privacy. Because of my ballet classes, I was used to getting naked in front of girls and comparing bodies. Jenna had the most beautiful body I had ever seen. She had long legs at 5 foot 9 inches tall and a sizeable bust. Her breasts were perfectly round—like fake ones I had caught a glimpse of on computer websites, with perfect red tiny nipples. They were high and beautiful and cupped up like round wine glasses despite their size. When she lied down they stayed perfectly straight unlike other girls. She had a beautiful curve to her back that led to a small swell of hips and a high perfect bottom. It was round but not big. Her skin tone was tight and smooth and it always had this beautiful glow. She could have been a model. No wonder Mr. Jeffers liked her so much, I thought.
Once I asked if I could feel her breasts. They were so perfect.
She laughed and said, "Go ahead, I bet you think they are fake right? Where would I get the money for that?" She was right of course. They were soft and her red nipple was perfect. It got hard when I cupped her breasts and she blushed.
"O.k., that's enough. You wanna turn me on now?" and giggled. She said, "I know you don't swing that way. I see you reading all those novels about sexing up guys." She was right. My nose was always stuck in a book about love although I knew very little on the subject. I never told her about my level of inexperience. The girls always assumed since I was from a good rich background that I had done plenty.
"Those rich girls do a lot," they would grin looking at me. Then they would ask all these questions that would make me blush like, "Hey Sabrina you ever done it with a vibrator?"
"Leave her alone. She's alright," Jenna would say.
One day Jenna was with me alone in the dorm. This was very unusual for our group home. It was a rare quiet moment. The girls had all gone out on a day pass and we had both decided to stay back and rest. I really had no one to visit in the world outside the home and neither did she. My money was limited as I kept spending it on books, so I really had no funds to play around with and neither did Jenna. She had just made a sizeable purchase on an iPod to listen to her music. Jose, her bum of a boyfriend was always broke and she was pissed at him.
Jenna looked at me as I rested on my bed reading another romance novel. She was standing in front of me her long legs slightly apart and her arms were brushing her beautiful hair. I could spot her navel ring on her flat pretty stomach as her top rose up a bit. I was wearing black Levis that I had saved up and purchased and a white plain t shirt. I felt pretty good since they were both brand new not shabby, old and worn like my other clothes.
"You look nice in that Sabrina," Jenna smiled. She was being unusually nice.
"Oh, my jeans? Yeah, I used to wear these all the time when my folks..." and then I started to tear up. I don't know why but memories of my parents came flooding back. Jenna couldn't help noticing the tear and my trembling lip even while I was trying to smile.
"I...I'm sorry," I stammered brushing back the tear.
Jenna leaned down and put a hand to my cheek. "It's o.k. I know how it feels to be alone."
Her hand felt nice and warm. She was wearing a low cut olive shirt with blue jeans. Her long lean slim legs and curvy body looked great as always. Her ringlets were framing her face. She usually wore her hair up but today she decided to wear it loose curling around her wide shoulders. She had just come out of the shower and smelled great.
"You and those books," she whispered taking my hand and looking at the book title.
"Just how much do you know about sex kid?" She would call me kid even though we were the same age. I would always correct her and point that out. She pursued the topic, "not much huh? It's o.k. I won't tell anyone. You ever fooled around?"
I shook my head no. She smiled gently, glad that I was being so open.
"You are so pretty Sabrina. You shouldn't waste it," she said cupping my face. I blushed deep red. "You ever jerked yourself off?" she asked her pretty blue eyes probing. I shook my head again...blushing deeper. "Oh man, girl. You don't know what you are missing," she said giggling. .
"How do you jerk off? I don't know how," I blushed at my questions. My mother and I had never really had a proper sex talk. I lied and told her I knew about it from school. But masturbation? Never.
Jenna was assessing herself in the mirror. Her body was stretched to the side. She was on her tiptoes. Her perfect breasts were pert and full in her top and her ass looked high and raised in her tight jeans as she continued to pull a brush through her shiny brown curls.
