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Cold As Stone: Still The Son Of A Preacher

It wasn’t until I escaped
Realised how I was shaped
By a Preacher who could not relate
Twisted thoughts, my mind you raped

Son Of A Preacher. M.S 1993

The problem I had standing in front of the small room while Brad knelt on the floor with his head between the scantly clad woman’s legs using his tongue to satisfy her while she sat on the chair moaning quietly with pleasure had very little to do with shock. I’d seen books, I’d seen magazines and I’d even seen a video in the school music room when the teacher stepped out and Seth Marshal took over the video machine, that didn’t end at all well for Seth.

No the problem for me was that the scene was all wrong. The books I’d seen, the magazines I’d secretly read under the stage in the school hall while I felt my myself getting hard all showed the woman as the submissive participant. The woman was suppose to pleasure the man, she was the one to get her knees dirty. Damn even the texts my father made me read time and time again had a constant thread of male superiority in them, they might not have been as sexual as the what I’d seen at school, but the message was there.

The strange thing about watching Brad pleasure the woman was that in no way was I turned on by what I saw. As I mentioned I’d felt myself get aroused under the stage at school, I even had to hide the excitement growing in my pants as Seth’s video played. But watching Brad I felt nothing because he was doing it all wrong.

I know that such an attitude, even for the 1980’s, will shock some whether they lived through the time or not, but all I can say is that I was a product of my upbringing. Escaping that upbringing would be the catalyst that brought about change but standing in that warehouse the morning after I left home I could no more help my thoughts than I could stop the sun rising.

Slinking away from the office quietly I left Brad and the woman to their own activities and made my way to the small single door in the wall beside the big roller door. When I got to the door I realised it was dead bolted, which made sense, and I was immediately unsure if I’d be able to get outside. That one little thought suddenly made outside more of a temptation. I reached forward and tried to turn the deadbolt, it released easily and I pushed the door open, just as quick as the temptation to be outside arrived it disappeared as the light from outside pushed through the open door way.

I moved outside anyway, hoping not to interrupt Brad and his woman friend. I figured it might have been a pointless task given the light I had let in but I shut the door behind me quickly and tried not to think about it.

Noises that I had heard inside the tin walls were louder in the outside air, I could place some of them but most were still just the indistinguishable noises of an industrial area. Looking around I still didn’t know exactly where we were but that didn’t seem to matter. In the parking bays out the front of the warehouse, I could see four cars, two Commodores, a Falcon and a Hiace van. I assumed three of the cars belonged to those still inside the warehouse, but had no idea about the fourth.

There was a stack of old pallets, the kind that come with deliveries on them and get forked off a truck, stacked between the Falcon and the wall of the warehouse. I didn’t know what I was doing, where I was going, or even if I was going anywhere but I did feel quite free and like I’d had a weight shifted off my shoulders. I decided that rather than think about things and possibly put the weight back where it had been for the best part of fifteen years I would just sit on the pallets and enjoy the sun shine. With my suitcase beside me I sat there for a few moments, then using my suitcase to lean my head on I laid back. I must have fallen asleep again because I woke up to sound of Steve voice.

“There you are! Thought you must’ve pissed off on us. Whatcha doin’ out here?”

“Huh? Oh.” I propped myself up, my back was a bit sore but I felt quite good. “What time is it?”

“1:30. Fuck knows how long you’ve been asleep out here. I just woke up myself.”

“Guess I fell asleep.” I replied.

“I think you need a coffee, I know I do. Come back inside no one can make a clear decision this early in the afternoon without caffeine and I get the feeling you have some decisions to make.”

Just like alcohol, sex, dirty movies and swearing, I knew what coffee was but it wasn’t something I had ever tried. I’d smelt it around the house and often found myself liking the smell but due to the rules of my father it was apparently something no child should drink. So of course when it was offered to me there was very little hesitation in accepting. The only hesitation was whether or not I took sugar and milk, because I knew no better I said I took it straight. It was strong and strangely refreshing for a warm drink and almost immediately I felt like I was awake.

I had almost exactly the same reaction when I managed to draw back my first good lung full of cigarette smoke. Unlike alcohol, dirty movies and coffee, cigarettes and cigars were something I’d only seen in movies, no one in my family smoked, no one who visited the house smoked and even the teachers at my school didn’t smoke. There was rumours of some of the older boys smoking at school but I never actually saw them.

I didn’t just jump into smoking like I did coffee, it took me several drags before I stopped coughing and got my first lung full. There wasn’t any pressure from Brad or Steve to smoke, simply the offer which I accepted and then like many things in my life, before I left home, but mostly after I left home it seemed there was some things I was just destined to do and smoking was one of those things.

Previous chapter here.
Story starts here.

6 Comments

  1. I would say the poor kid is growing up quickly, but life slaps some babies on the butt so they can breath.
    Very well written, mate.

  2. Ummm …. ouch, yes.
    So the slap on the butt is okay?

  3. You haven’t ever been “fun” slapped on the butt? It’s kinda fun when done appropriately. : )

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