Diane a Gentleman's Valentine

As Beth spoke softly, I listened intently, "For awhile we all thought Diane was attracted to girls and we could deal with it, but she started sneaking out at nights ... and one night the police found her in a barn on all fours with five boys ... they had spanked her and penetrated her any way they wanted then urinated on her naked body." Beth started to tear and quiver but she continued. "When the police brought her home ... she pranced to her bedroom with a smile on her face, stinking of sex and urine and acting as if she had just won a contest hosted by Satan himself." But when Beth began explaining Diane's escapades with masochism, I stopped her and suggested it wasn't necessary to continue our pain.

Beth sat still for a moment then said in a near whisper, "Diane was actually proud of herself for losing her virginity ... to the first guy I really liked ... the bastard tried it with me but I forgave him ... and you know what? ... He was one of the five ... I hated all men for what they did to my little sister ... they screwed her up royally."

Even though Diane helped me understand sex verses love more than I had ever dreamed, I felt sorry for both sisters. I reasoned both girls were extremely pretty and emanated immense sexuality even though they were ten years apart, but only one had achieved her goal. I rationalized Beth was born a bewildered little girl, failing in her search for one true love and Diane was born a benevolent little girl, successfully pursuing nymphomania. My reasoning was confirmed when Beth began again speaking about Diane.

Beth was still for a few moments then said lovingly after exhaling, "My God Paul ... People who used tobacco, alcohol and drugs disgusted her ... but Jesus, somehow, she always managed to find the sick perverts, and gender didn't matter ... I couldn't protect her ... because I can't possibly fathom that kind of evil life ... it's true, you know ... Lucifer never sleeps."

While sniffling, Beth continued and told me her family did everything they could think of to get Diane under control, but nothing worked. Not spankings, not restriction, not even attending church helped control Diane's continuous thirst for sex. Beth said they even tried a child psychologist once but the only advice her parents heeded was to move to a new setting and try to start again.

Beth told me Diane's autopsy revealed she was void of drugs and alcohol but she had been vaginally and anally penetrated, her skin was covered with dried semen and her buttocks were pocked with black and blue bruises. When Beth started crying, I put my arms around her but the feeling was nowhere near the spiritual feeling I received from Diane. The feeling I got was Diane's death affected those who knew her dilemma and time couldn't resolve our loss.

I felt so empty inside I didn't know what to do next to coax my spirit to reenter me except reach into my coat pocket and pull out Diane's ankle bracelet. I never parted with the iconic golden treasure. I even named it, you in me, the English translation of the French name Diane wanted to call her sex perfume. It was always with me and when I slept it had a crystal dish on the nightstand to rest in. It was the only thing I felt I could do to show someone how much I cared about Diane and who better than her only sibling. Reluctantly, I opened Beth's soft hand and gently placed the sparkling trinket in her palm. When she looked down in her open hand at the only part of Diane I had left to touch, I said softly as my eyes began to water, "It was Diane's." Beth was hauntingly still for a moment as she gazed at the golden charm then she bent over, and as Diane's ankle bracelet dangled from her fingers I watched hopelessly as a grown woman cried in her hands like a frightened little girl abandoned in a hideously cruel world.

Diane's family tried to hide her habit from society including having a closed casket, immediate family members only funeral. It was obvious all the fuss about Diane's sexuality helped push her so far into the abyss she ultimately destroyed herself. It was a tragic and sad ending to a beautiful girl's life.

Eighteen years later, Jerry dropped a photograph of a naked girl in front of me and asked me if I knew who she was. My senses instantly chilled because the girl in the photograph looked eerily like Diane, but the photo's watermark year was 1986. After I told Jerry the girl looked familiar but I didn't know who she was he told me the girl is a performer then he laughed. When I asked him her name, he said, "That's Traci Lords, genius ... when they discovered she was performing porn as a minor the entire fuck industry hit the preverbal skids ... She looks just like that older babe you took to the club that night, you know, the super hot blonde with the fuck me body? ... The one who died in the motorcycle crash? ... Jeeze man, how can anyone forget that tight little hottie ... I know you did her ... Diane?"

Jerry left for work unconvinced I never had intercourse with Diane, but I didn't care. I showered then sat naked studying Traci's picture. I studied her inviting eyes, her adorable face, her sensual smile, her flowing mane like hair and her dainty but elegant hands then I studied her outrageously curvy body. Suddenly I felt so overwhelmed the hairs on my body stood at attention. I felt as though Diane was near me, and coaxing me to be imaginary.

I started to recall the feeling of a girl's warm mouth covering my stiff penis for the first time and I became filled with love and holiness, and as I stared at Traci's face my heart began to beat harder and my penis began to rise, then strangely, the sweet taste of Diane filled my pallet and my penis ejaculated unaided as Diane's voice whispered softly and clearly in my ear as if she was standing beside me, "Girls like me don't make love."

I discovered odd coincidences about Gracie and Diane after Diane's death. Their birth month and day were the same as my mother's but unlike my mother and Gracie, Diane Kathryn Souza never got the chance to celebrate her next Valentine's Day. I later discovered something eerie. Traci Lords was born Nora Louise Kuzma on Tuesday, May 7, 1968, the same day of Diane's untimely death. I recalled the day I discovered that tidbit of information, I went to the ocean and sat alone nearly all day.

I feel extremely blessed to have played a minuscule part in Diane's short life story even if it was for the sake of sex. I can still recall how easily I fell into her world, and how hard it was to lose her. I resolved to believe Gracie's love for me placed Diane in my life to teach me the loss of a loved one hurts no matter how that loved one is lost and Diane physically reincarnated as Traci to remind me, girl's like Diane don't make love ... they make love happen.

God bless you Diane, with love for nearly fifty years; Paul.