Hello?? If anyone sees this, please, I need your help!
I'm currently being held prisoner... Well, not exactly prisoner, but against my will. That is, they won't let me leave because they don't believe I'm... Um, let me start at the beginning. God I wish I'd kept my mouth shut back then.
My name is Keilani and I live in Hawaii. O'ahu to be exact. The big tourist island. Sounds like paradise, right? Yeah, unless your job is in the tourist industry, which is basically like a third of the population. Me, I work -- er, worked -- in one of those outdoor cafe/bar places you see all the time on TV, the phony luau places with so-called native dancing and other entertainment, catering to stupid tourists.
Well the other night I was serving tables and this one fat tourist had had a few too many and he started being obnoxious. You know, pretending he was trying to touch me, tugging on my grass skirt, calling me his little coconut. Okay, I admit, maybe I'd been something of a mean tease all night, running a hand across my smooth dark olive skin, giving him a good look at my slender legs, but he was still being a pain in the ass.
Now, I'm a tiny little thing, not quite 5 feet tall even, but we had a couple of bouncers and the policy was for the servers to tell one of them if someone was bothering us like this, and they'd take care of it. But for some reason I just felt like being a total bitch to this guy that night. So when he pretended to reach for me again I intentionally threw my drink on him. He got all pissed off and demanded another and a free dessert, and I told him his fat ass didn't need it. Then I just started calling him all sorts of vile names, just shouting at him for no real reason other than I felt like it.
Unfortunately the music and dance number on the stage finished and the audience applause died down right as I was doing it, and all of a sudden it got really quiet except for me belting out insults, so pretty much everybody heard it.
My boss called me into his office not long after that. "Keilani, we need to talk."
"About what?" Even though I knew perfectly well about what.
"About the scene you caused tonight."
"I couldn't help it, the guy was a fucking prick."
"And we have a policy to deal with that," he said. "You should have told one of the bouncers. This guy asked to speak to me personally, and he's an executive at one of the big cruise lines. This could be very bad publicity for my business, and you know how much the tourism industry is already hurting. I'm afraid I'm going to have to let you go for this."
"You mean... I'm fired?"
"That's another way of putting it."
At this point I totally lost it again. "Yeah, well fuck YOU, and fuck HIM! I don't need this shit-ass suck job! I'll go find another that pays better by tomorrow you cheap-shit fucknut bastard!"
Okay, so maybe I just like being a bitch sometimes. He got angry at this point, whereas before he was just disappointed in me. I realized I'd definitely gone too far. But shit, what could he do worse than fire me?
I soon found out. "Oh, by the way," he said as I turned to walk out of this crap job forever. "I'll need your work uniform before you leave tonight."
"Um, okay but... I didn't bring a change of clothes." I'd been running late so I just threw on my uniform and came like that. "Can I drop it off later?"
"No, the last two girls who quit never brought theirs back, and they're expensive."
I got a cold feeling in the pit of my stomach. "But... I don't have anything else to wear!"
"Well you should have thought of that before you got so mouthy to me."
I stalked off at that point, giving him the finger as I went, and sat in the changing room sulking and thinking about what I was going to do. I looked around but the other girls' lockers were, well, locked.
At this point I guess I should describe the uniform: It was a fake grass skirt deal, with a top and bottom piece that shows off a lot of midriff. The bottom part rides low on the hips but has a green elastic-waist garment sewn into it, like the hotpants of a cheerleader's uniform, so we're always adequately covered under there. But there was no way to separate it from the rest of the costume. I hadn't worn a bathing suit or any underwear under that!
So what else could I do? Fuming, I stripped off the stupid uniform and threw it to the floor. Then, wrapping one arm across my chest and flattening the other over my most private area, I made my way to the door. I figured I'd slip out the back, which was right by the changing room, and no one would see me. I had to uncover my chest to open the door and pull it closed on the other side. But when I was out, I gasped in surprise: The boss was right there as I came out! He must have been afraid I'd try to sneak out still wearing the uniform.
I glared at him, but he didn't say a word, didn't even look at me that much, just silently opened the door for me. I was too angry and embarrassed to say thanks, and just tried to keep my back side against the wall as best as possible so he wouldn't see my bare behind. I think it was worse than him leering, the silence deepened my sense of shame at being fired in this manner. The door clanked shut behind me, and I was outside without a stitch of clothing! The night air was warm on my skin but it still felt very uncomfortable to be naked.
I took a couple of deep breaths and tried to stop the quivery feeling in my stomach as I thought about what the hell I was going to do next. My parents had the car, I'd gotten to work on foot, now I had to walk back. I decided the beach would be the safest route. It curves around near the street I live on, so it's a bit longer than a straight path but it should be deserted that time of night, I figured.
The hardest part was taking that first step away from the building and being completely out in the open, with only two hands and three body regions to keep hidden. I took another deep breath and just ran for it, hands over my front, down the darkened street, then crashed through the brush and onto the sand. Not wanting to remain in the middle of a deserted beach, I crept into the water, knelt down so it was up to my neck, keeping the rest of me hidden, and crawled/swam along close to the shore.
I was probably only about 10 minutes from the spot where I'd leave the safety of the water... when the searchlight came on.
"HEY YOU!" an amplified female voice boomed out. "There's no swimming after dark!" Instinctively I dove under the water to avoid being seen, but you can only hold your breath for so long. When I came up again there was a police officer at the edge of the beach, scanning the shore. "Come out of there!" she ordered.
"Um... I can't!"
"Don't make me come out there and get you." She sounded stern. But I didn't move. She sighed. "Fine." And she waded into the shallow water, which only came up to her knees in the spot where I was. I tried to scramble away but she grabbed my arm and proceeded to haul me onto the shore.
"No! Stop! Don't!" I cried. "I'm naked!!"
At this she turned and shined her flashlight over my unclothed form, sopping wet and covering up. "Well, so you are!" she exclaimed. "What are you doing skinny-dipping this time of night?"
"It's a long story," I muttered miserably.
"What's your name?" she asked.
I sighed. "Keilani Akana."
"Where are your parents?"
"Parents?" I repeated, a bit surprised by the question. "Um, they're on vacation." Which is true, my parents had left a couple of nights ago on a month-long trip across the continental States. I'd given them so much crap about how they didn't need to have someone check on me and the house, I'd take care of things, I'd be responsible. And look at me now: Stark naked on a public beach and about to be arrested, I was sure.
But, it was even worse than that.
"And your parents just go off gallivanting around, and leave you alone to run around naked?" I still didn't see where she was going with this, but before I had a chance to answer, she asked, "How old are you, little girl?"
"Little girl?!" I asked in disbelief. "Officer, I just turned 21 a few months ago."
"Yeah, and I'm Queen Lili'uokalani," she shot back. "Come on, let's get you out of here." She took my arm again. "I have a blanket in my car you can use to dry off."
I started to protest, but it was useless. So I ended up in the back of a police car, sand sticking to my legs, driven to the station. When we got there she took me inside, still wrapped in the blanket. I got curious stares from a number of other officers on duty as she led me into an office, had me sit down, and lifted a phone receiver from the desk. The room was air-conditioned, and I shivered and pulled the blanket more tightly around me. The sand was everywhere.
"Yeah, hi Gail," she said into the phone. "Yeah, I'm sorry to drag you out here this late, but we have a little girl here whose parents went out of town and left her alone." I tried to cut in but she didn't pay any attention. "Yeah, she needs a set of clothes, too." Pause. "About 12, I think." Pause. She glanced over at me. "I dunno, four-nine, four-ten?" Pause. "Probably around a hundred." Pause. "Uh-huh." Pause. "Well, just bring what you have." Pause. "Great, thanks Gail, I owe you one."
When she hung up the phone she turned to me and said, "Okay, hon, just sit tight. Someone from Social Services will be here to pick you up shortly. She'll bring you something to wear."
"Whoa, wait, WHAT?! Social Services?!? Look, officer, I tried to tell you before. They made me turn in my--"
"Now, young lady," she interrupted. "Please, just sit quietly. Gail-- The social worker will take care of everything. It'll be okay, you'll see."
I sighed and crossed my arms, sulking. I figured I'd just let her talk until this social worker got here. Maybe I could talk some sense into them.
It was about 45 minutes, sitting there the whole time. When the social worker arrived, she and the officer talked in private outside the door. It made me feel like the child she clearly thought I was. I caught phrases like "pretending she's a grown-up" and "acting like a big girl" that left me fuming. Finally the social worker entered, a tall, matronly woman with glasses, a long skirt, and her hair up in a bun.
"Hello, Keilani dear," she introduced herself. "I'm Ms Whitmur, and I'm here to help."
"Listen," I began. "I--"
"Yes, Officer Janene already told me you've had quite a night. But we'll get you taken care of. So. First things first. Let's get you dressed."
I had to admit that sounded like a good start. She put a sack of clothes on the desk and proceeded to unwrap the blanket from around me. Naturally, I fought to keep covered. "Hey! Stop! I'm NOT a little girl, I'm 21!"
"Yes, Keilani dear. Officer Janene told me about your little story. I know you're trying to act big with your parents going off and leaving you, but it's okay." And she proceeded to kneel and brush the sand off my legs and feet.
I was stunned. This could NOT be happening! Christ, did this woman honestly believe I looked and sounded that much like a 12-year-old? Well, when she finally tugged the blanket off me and stood me up, I started to see why. Remember how short I said I was? Well, I'm also quite... underdeveloped. My behind is flat and my breasts are little more than nubs. And, son of a BITCH, I thought, I'd just shaved my pubic hair the previous night. (Most girls here do it, since it's bikini season year-round.) All together, this painted a pretty convincing picture of prepubescence.
"Now now, Keilani dear, don't be embarrassed," she said as I renewed my efforts to keep covered. "I've seen lots of little girls undressed before." She put the bag of clothes on the chair where I'd been sitting and instructed me to put them on. I dug into the bag... and was horrified by what I pulled out: She'd brought me a white blouse and pleated skirt with black saddle shoes, a schoolgirl's uniform! No bra, not even a training bra, just an undershirt! And the underwear! They were pink with lace trim and a floral print on them. Big flowers, in pastel colors, with smiley faces surrounded by petals! They were the stupidest, most embarrassing undies I had ever seen! I mean, I'm 21, I wear thongs! These were too childish even for a 12-year-old!
I groaned audibly, but what the hell choice did I have? It's not like there was anything else available to wear, and the skirt looked a bit short so I didn't want to go without panties. I turned away from Gail so I wouldn't have to look at her, and slipped everything on, hating every second of it and how uncomfortable the juvenile uniform felt on me. The skirt was definitely an inch too short, the panties were confining, and the saddle shoes pinched my toes.
But, all right, I told myself, at least I wasn't naked anymore. Next step, get this woman to realize she WAS in fact dealing with an adult.
"Um, Gail?" I began.
She clucked her tongue. "Please call me Ms Whitmur, Keilani dear."
I sighed. "Ms Whitmur, then. Can I at least try to call my parents? So you can talk to them? And then you'll realize you don't need to put me through all this?"
"Oh, you have a number for them? Very well, Keilani dear, but only because I want to have a word with them for being so irresponsible. I'm still taking you under my care until they get back."
Yeah, like fuck you are, I thought as I went over and dialed the phone. I figured as soon as they talked to her she'd find out I was actually telling the truth, and I'd be out of this humiliating predicament.
So first I tried their cell, but I got the standard "cellular customer is not responding" messaage. God, they probably had it turned off. Why the hell did they even bother taking it? Then I tried directory assistance for the hotel I knew they'd be staying at one night, but the desk guy told me they'd checked out the previous morning, and I had no idea where else they might be. All this time, Gail stood behind me, brushing the tangles out of my now-dry hair, humming annoyingly to herself as she did so. I was about to try calling work so at least my boss -- er, ex-boss -- could vouch for me, but Gail stopped playing with my hair and took the receiver away from me.
"Hey!" I said.
"Keilani dear, it's obvious you can't reach your parents. We'll try again tomorrow. It's late. Now, do you need to use the potty before we go?"
Use the--! God, it's like she was treating me like an even littler kid by the minute! But I held back a reply because, yeah, I did have to go. I let her lead me down the hall to a one-person bathroom. Inside, I took one look in the mirror and almost pissed myself right there: My long, perfectly straight back-length hair had been braided in... pigtails! I looked ridiculous, like I was even younger, like 10! I realized this was just going to keep getting worse and looked for a way out, but there were no windows in the bathroom. I could only hope Gail wouldn't be waiting outside for me and I could slip away.
Unfortunately, she was there, and took me out to her car, holding onto my hand so I couldn't run. Christ, she buckled the damn seatbelt for me!
I was getting desperate, and this was probably my last chance. As we pulled out of the lot, I asked her, "Can we stop by my house first?"
"No, Keilani dear, it's too late. Maybe tomorrow."
"Where are you taking me?"
"St Sebastian's Home," she answered. "It's a special place, with other children just like you, who've been--"
"All right, LOOK," I said, determined to put a stop to this NOW. "I know you don't believe me, but if we go to the house I can SHOW you I'm an adult. I can prove it. My driver's license, my student ID... Just PLEASE, this is all a huge mistake--"
"No, Keilani dear." She got very serious, all of a sudden. "YOU are the one who is making a mistake. I am very tired, and I don't want to hear any more of this foolishness."
I'd had it. When she pulled up to a stop sign I took the opportunity to unhook my seatbelt as inconspicuously as possible. When she tapped the accelerator again, I decided it was now or never, and I opened the door and dove out. I landed hard, on one of my knees, but I ignored the pain and got up and ran for it.
Or tried to. The way the damn saddle shoes were pinching my feet made it hard to run. Between that and my short legs, I got maybe a block and a half before Gail had stopped the car, gotten out and caught up to me. The kindly matron was gone, and she grasped both my arms tightly and ordered me to come back with her.
At that point, I hit my limit, HARD, and I totally lost it. I hollered and kicked and thrashed about, and even tried to bite her as she dragged me every step of the way back to the car. I screamed bloody murder. I shouted, "You BITCH! You STUPID, FUCKING BITCH!! Leave me the fuck ALONE! I am NOT A CHILD!! I AM TWENTY-ONE FUCKING YEARS OLD, GOD DAMMIT!!!"
Gail stopped, and, holding me firmly by both arms, calmly turned me around so I faced her, then knelt down to look directly into my eyes. With perfect calm, she stated, "No, Keilani dear, you are not. You are twelve years old, and you are acting like you are five. And that is going to stop, right now."
And with that she leaned my struggling form over the hood of the car, stomach down. One of my knees was scraped and bleeding from the rough landing when I'd jumped out. Gail held my hands firmly behind my back, pressing down on them to hold my body in place as well. With her other hand, she flipped the hem of my pleated skirt up and began to tug down those horrible childish underpants.
I gasped in horror, knowing my bottom was being exposed to any oncoming traffic, and my stomach tightened with fear of knowing what was to follow. Desperately I tried to reason with her: "No, stop, don't do this! I'm sorry! We can talk about this! Like adults! Please don't--"
But my pleading fell on deaf ears as a sharp SMACK sent pain flaring across my exposed bottom. "This, is, how, I, deal, with, BAD, little, girls, Keilani, dear!" she exclaimed, punctuating every word with a fleshy, open-palmed SMACK to my backside. "You, are, a, very, NAUGHTY, little, girl, with, a, very, FILTHY, MOUTH!"
The pain and degradation and hopelessness of the situation completely overwhelmed me, and I just started bawling uncontrollably, like an infant. Tears poured down my cheeks, beet red from the sheer humiliation of it all. I had never felt so desperately miserable in all my life. I howled and kicked and let my mind fill with images of all the horrible, vicious things I would do to this bitch. Not caring that I would probably never get the chance. Not caring how ridiculous I looked. Not caring that there were cars driving past, cars filled with people MY AGE laughing and pointing at the "bad little girl" having her butt paddled in public. I relinquished every shred of dignity I had left. At that moment, I WAS a "bad little girl", and I behaved exactly like one.
It couldn't have gone on for longer than a minute, but those agonizing 60 seconds felt like hours. I wailed nonstop for another five after she let up, and was finally reduced to pathetic sniffling, gasping for air in short, queasy breaths. This morning I'd had a job, freedom from my parents for a whole month. Now I had a little girl's underpants and a little girl's sore paddled bottom.
Gail let me drain the rest of the hate and fury out of my system, then pulled my panties back up and lowered my skirt once more. "Come on, Keilani dear," she said quietly. "Let's get back in the car." Completely broken, utterly submissive, I obeyed, sniffing, my red swollen eyes turned toward the ground, their lashes still brimming with tears.
It hurt to sit again but I did it without complaint, refusing to look at Gail or give her the satisfaction of knowing how much it stung. We rode silently through the rest of the trip to St Sebastian's Home for Orphans, Neglected Children, and Problem Girls.
So, that's my story. Or, as much of it as I can tell you right now. Sister Bernadette will be back soon and I can't let her find me using her computer.
Who's Sister Bernadette, you ask? I'll tell you another time. Just please, PLEASE, if you read this, help me get out of this nightmare life!
(Copyright © April 2004 by ToddCheese.)