Good night, Diary.
Dear Diary,
I haven't written to you for two or three days because I've been so busy at the office. Tonight when I got home there was a special delivery letter waiting for me from my mother. I was going to go back for a vacation in three weeks, but Mom asked in the letter if it would be possible for me to get my vacation moved up to now. A terrible thing has happened. Curt, my old boyfriend, has been killed in a car wreck and she wants to know if I can be there at the funeral. She thought I'd want to know about it and I appreciate her mentioning it.
Tomorrow I'm asking my boss if I can start my vacation immediately and I think I have a good chance of getting it. When I come home from work tomorrow I'll know. Bye for now.
Dear Diary,
The boss is letting me go. I'm going to pack tonight and leave on the 10:30 Denver flight, then transfer to another flight for Des Moines. From there I'll have to take a bus.
I hate to take a plane because it's so expensive. I can't really afford it but it's the least I can do, I figure, in memory of Curt. I thought an awfully lot of him, in spite of the way I felt toward him the time I let him go all the way. I'll write all about my trip and when I get back. I guess there won't be much to tell, since I'm going there now just because of Curt's funeral, but I'll report whatever happens. Bye for now. See you in a couple of weeks.
Dear Diary,
Where do I start? So much happened to me while I was gone that it seems like it'll take me days to tell everything. I'll tell you right away that I had the wildest sex scene I've ever had in my life. Yes, even wilder than when I was in the park with the guy in the gray coat. I felt like I must be going crazy to have done what I did. And my mom
and dad were mortified, not to say anything about what other people who found out about it thought.
But before all that even happened I had a rather unnerving experience on the plane. It was okay from here to Denver. Very uneventful. But from Denver to Des Moines it was a different story.
A guy sat down by me and tried to strike up a conversation. He was all right but I really I didn't feel like being very sociable because of t the funeral coming up and everything. He was thirty or so, and good-looking enough, but I just wasn't in the mood.
He introduced himself and then proceeded to give me all kinds of compliments. He kept trying to get me to open up and talk to him saying things about the way I looked.
"Have you ever been on TV?" he asked me. "You sure do look familiar."
And "If you haven't been on TV, you should be. I guess you know you're an awfully attractive girl, don't you?" Stuff like that was what he kept saying.
Finally he quit bothering me and I went to sleep. About thirty minutes later I felt something touching me and I started waking up a little but I was still kind of groggy. This guy was taking advantage of me while I slept, but I was too far asleep to understand exactly what he was doing. Then I felt a hand on my blouse and I realized that this creep was working his hand around on my tit, copping a feel through my clothes. That really made me mad. I woke up and, lo and behold, this buy had his cock out in his hand and was playing with himself while his other hand was caressing my boob. I sat up straight and started to bawl him out good. When he saw that I had noticed what he had been doing, he increased the speed of his hand on his cock, got this real glassy-eyed look, and shot white come all over the back of the seat in front of him. Even though it was dark, one of the stewardesses happened to see him-she had probably heard him breathing hard like he was doing while he was playing with my boob-and she ran over and spoke sharply to him, then went up front and told the captain. When we landed a policeman was waiting for him and they asked me if I wanted to file a complaint. I would have done it but I realized I'd probably have to appear in court sometime and I knew I couldn't come back to Iowa just for that, so I told them that I didn't want to file a complaint, that I'd just let it go. But before I left them I gave the guy a dirty look that I hope showed him what a low down creep I thought he was for doing that to me while I was asleep.
When I arrived home I talked to Mom and Dad for a few minutes, then went to sleep. The next morning they took me to the funeral home where Curt's body was being held and I went in alone to view him.
Mom and Dad said they'd come back and pick me up on their way back from the store. The funeral wasn't going to be until the next day. When I first entered the
building I was shown into the mortuary by an assistant of the funeral director. He pointed down to the room where Curt's body was lying and told me that I could "observe the deceased." for as long as I wanted. He was real nice. On the way down the hall by myself I passed by another hall that branched off. I looked down it and happened to see an attendant pushing a metal table with a corpse on it. But it wasn't; like I would have expected it to be. This corpse didn't have any sheet over it or anything. And it was the corpse of a girl about my age, a girl who was very good-looking. I remember thinking if I died some stranger would get to look at me like that attendant was looking at that girl's body. And he sure was looking at her, too! He wasn't missing a thing. He was looking at the girl's body like he wanted to be on top of her doing it to her. I couldn't help wondering what he might do to her body once he wheeled it into a room where nobody could see him. The thought of him looking at her like he had made chills run down, my spine.
Then I came to the room where they said Curt's body was. When I walked through that door, Diary, it was very eerie. Curt looked just like he was alive. They had him all fixed up so that he looked like he was just sleeping. He was wearing a blue suit and tie, and white shirt, and his hair was combed just like he always did it in real life. It seemed like he might just open his eyes at any moment and start talking to me.
I walked right up to him and looked down into the casket at him. It was on a raised pedestal, so he was only slightly higher than if he, had been lying on a bed. Bed. The word stopped me cold. I started remembering how Curt liked my body when I'd known him in high school, and how much he would have liked to get me in bed. True, I'd let him do it to me that day on the ground, but I knew he would have liked it better if we could have been in bed. Back then, I reflected, I was more or less in love with him. He was so popular in school and everything. Any girl would have been proud to marry him, and I had been no exception. That made me kind of start to consider how it might have been if I'd responded differently to Curt's lovemaking that time when, I let him get into my pants.
I looked down at him and couldn't resist reaching to touch his hair. To my surprise it felt not much different than it had when he was alive. Or maybe it was just my imagination working over time. I was quite sure which it was. But it was when I touched his hair that I began to get this wild idea. I kept thinking about how much he liked seeing my naked body. The thought of him never getting to see another girl naked was very sad.
I decided I was going to honor his death in a very personal-if strange-way. I decided I was going to remove every stitch of clothing I had on. It would be like pretending that he could see me that way and enjoyed the way I looked.
I glanced behind me to make sure I was still alone. The door was still securely closed and I heard no noises outside. I stepped back and kicked my shoes off. I unzipped my skirt and stepped out of it, tossing it on the floor in a heap. Next came my blouse. That left me standing next to his body wearing nothing but my panties, a
garter belt, hose and my brassiere. I sat down on the floor and raised my leg into the air so I could remove my hose after unsnapping them one by one from my frilly garter belt. Then I drew each stocking off slowly and deliberately, just as though I was putting on a strip show for curt.