Unknown - Pony girl

The day her period was a week overdue and she knew she wasn't going to get it was the day she boarded a bus for Iowa City and ran away from home.

She had been a woman now for a few months and had tried to do some reading on the subject of prevention of pregnancy and on the biological procedure of impregnating a woman. Biology class was vague on the subject, and the information she could glean from the pussyfooting texts in the school library was not very informative.

But when her period showed absolutely no sign of showing up, it did not take a doctor to fill her up with the certain knowledge that she was pregnant.

She was frightened. What would her father do if he found out? Would he abort her? Loose interest in her? And then of course was the question of the child's father. She did not let her mind touch that grim subject at all, until she had stolen her mother's cookie jar money, all of thirty-two dollars, and walked down the dusty road into town. Her father was out in the fields working that morning, and her mother simply didn't notice.

She knew the stationmaster would remember that Lena Hanson had bought a ticket for Iowa City, and that sooner or later he would get around to reporting it to her father, once her absence was discovered. So she bought a ticket first for a small town near Iowa City, and then bought another ticket on the bus for the city. She had never been to a city before. In fact, she had never been on a bus before, never been out of her own hometown.

Ret, her older brother, lived in Iowa City, and she thought vaguely about trying to find him. But she wasn't sure if he would help her, listen to her story and believe her, or simply return her to her father. She would work out that problem when she got there, she decided as she allowed herself to sink into free slumber, when had she ever felt so free in her life? she wondered in her dreams, as the bus rolled out onto the highway parting the fields of young growing wheat.

It was with great pleasure that she opened her eyes once just as the bus was passing her father's own fields. She could see him, as she slumped behind the tinted window of the bus, bending over, struggling with a root that lay in the tractor's path. She could see the bulge of his sexual apparatus and she laughed snidely and her hands instinctively went down protectively over her crotch until the bus had rolled on.

The man sitting in the seat beside her raised his eyebrows at the very luscious young girl, fully developed, with lovely breasts and arms and thighs, holding her crotch with her hands. He turned a page of his newspaper and decided he would talk to her later on, for now, he saw, she had fallen asleep in the same position.

She had horrible dreams: of being in a cramped, filthy apartment that smelled of her mother's boiled cabbage. She was lying down with the lower half of her body naked and her knees raised as a hideous old woman tried to extract a baby from her cunt. She was asking the old woman if it were possible for a human girl, a woman to become impregnated by another species, say, by a horse. The old woman didn't answer. She just kept pulling at something that was stuck in Lena's cunt.

Lena kept asking and asking, but all she heard was the old woman's wheezing and cackling. Lena felt something hard, like a hoof, kick against her stretching, straining thighs and she asked again, "Could a woman couple with a horse and have a…"

"Could a couple live in a house?" the man beside her was repeating.

She wakened to find it nighttime. The bus was pulling into a city. She knew it was a city because there was so much noise and motion all around them, and for as far as she could see there were bright shifting lights.

"You were talking in your sleep," the man said. "You were asking something about if a couple could live in a house. My name's Bill. Where are you going?"

"Um, Iowa City," she said. "To visit my relatives. Are we here," she turned to the window.

"Almost," he said. He was a handsome, friendly looking man. He carried a leather attache case and he spoke to her as if she were his age, which made her feel very grown-up. She was grown-up, she thought ironically. She was going to have a baby, or rather, an abortion.

"We're still in the suburbs. But we'll be in Iowa City soon. I'm getting off there too. Will your relatives be meeting you at the bus stop there?" he asked.

"N-no," she said.

"Then perhaps I could accompany you for a while, until they come to pick you up. I could help you get a cab, or find a phone."

"Thanks. Maybe," she said. She had to think fast now. She didn't know what her plans were going to be. She looked slyly at this man named Bill now, wondering if he would help her if she confided in him. Maybe he could tell her where she could go to get an abortion, and how much it cost.

When they got into Iowa City proper, she allowed him to take her into the bar across from the bus station. She had made a stop in the ladies room and put on some make-up that a girlfriend had given her as a joke for a birthday present last year. She had never before had occasion to wear it.

When she came out of the bathroom, she walked over to where Bill waited for her at the bar.

"Well," he said when he saw her. "I bet they won't even ask you for an I.D. now."

He was right. They served her a martini, which was what he was drinking, without carding her.

"Just how old ARE you? For the record's sake," he asked her, whispering in her ear. In her jean skirt and red blouse and nice sandals, all filled out with her lovely buxom, womanly form, she looked quite adult.

"Eighteen," she said.

"That's old enough," he replied judiciously ordering two more martinis. He knew of course that she was lying.

After a few martinis they were quite good friends, and she didn't even flinch when he slid his hand right up her skirt to her thighs.

"You're not new at this, are you?" he smiled. He had a cute wispy blond mustache and he didn't seem so old to her anymore.

"What do you do?" she asked him. "Why are you in Iowa City tonight?"

Bill said, "I'm a traveling salesman, honey. I sell soaps and perfumes, and anything else a lady might like, door to door. Iowa City's my home base. I've come home for a little rest spell before hitting the road again. Do you have anywhere to sleep tonight little honey? Looks like your folks didn't know you were going to be on this bus."

"Look, I do need a place to stay," she admitted.

It wasn't until they had helped each other down the streets, to a crummy side street near the train station, and up a flight of foul-smelling stairs and into his furnished one room, that she confessed to him her real need.

"I'm in trouble. You know, my boyfriend got me in trouble. And I've come here to Iowa City to… get rid of it. Can you tell me where to go? What to do?" she asked. She didn't even sound or feel pathetic as she asked for this stranger's help and advice. She was sitting quite comfortably, one leg over the arm of a moth-eaten chair, as he mixed them some more martinis in an empty apple juice jar.

"Ah," he said debonairly. "In trouble. Boy trouble. Well, I'm just glad to know that I'm not the first, in your case, to be corrupting the…" he eyed the space between her spread legs, "morals of a minor."

"Can you help me?" she asked. She massaged her boobs under her blouse and stretched coyly, looking at him from under lidded eyes.

He got up and wrote down a name and address on a piece of paper. "Take the number one bus to Grove Street, about twenty minutes from here. Say you know a friend of Gina's."

"Thanks," she said, tucking the slip of paper in her bra.

"Let's go to bed," he said.

They both climbed joyously into the big old springy double bed. It was high off the ground and the springs were so old they sagged all over. It was like trying to lie down in soft cheese, and they laughed and giggled and pulled each other's clothes off.