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There is only one other thing that I can recollect that Scott and I ever did during the rest of that entire summer before school started back in session; only one other place that I remember we ever went besides up on the loft in his garage.

     Scott had suggested that we go to the "rec-center" one day after we had been up on the loft. I was reluctant to do this because I was under strict instructions from my mother that I had permission to go to Scott's house, and only Scott's house, and that I was not to go anywhere else.

     After a few minutes, Scott was successful into talking me into going. He indicated to me that it was a really cool place to go, and since I'd never been there before he indicated that I had to check the place out; besides they had a swimming pool and we could go swimming.

     I don't know if I went home first or if Scott lent me a pair of bathing shorts for me to wear, but I had them on underneath of my long pants, and the plan was that we would go swimming at the public pool Scott said they had there.

     Scott and I rode our bicycles along Centinela Blvd towards Centinela Park, which was where the "rec-center" was located.

     As far as I knew I had never been to Centinela Park before, nor had I ever been to this "rec-center"

     I did see a familiar landmark along the way, a life-sized "green horse" on the roof of one of the buildings we passed along the way. I say it was familiar because I had seen it many times in the car when my parent's were driving somewhere. It was as familiar to me as the giant Randy's Donut which was also near by.

     I can't for the life of me remember what kind of bicycle Scott rode, but mine was different from the blue Sting-Ray I had been riding when I first met Scott for on my birthday a few days earlier, my parent's gave me a brand new bicycle; a SILVERADO, a three-speed Huffy with "Sissy-Bars" and a "Banana-Seat"; it was three-tone silver, gray, and black, and at the time I thought it was the coolest thing on wheels.

     It is very possible that I did return to my house to get swim trunks and put them on under my street clothes, because I also had my bike lock with me. I ordinarily wouldn't have brought the bike-lock, unless I was expecting to go somewhere other than Scott's house, because I certainly didn't want the brand new bicycle getting stolen.

     When Scott and I arrived at the recreation center, I used my bike lock to lock up both of our bicycles at the bike rack near by.

     Scott and I then walked to the playground area. We had to walk over a grassy knoll to get there.

     The play area equipment was inside a large sandbox, and for fear that my mother, upon coming home, and seeing sand in my shoes, I decided that I best take my shoes and socks off before entering the sandbox.

     My mother always made me take my shoes off at the back door when I arrived home, and I knew from past experience that it is practically impossible to remove all of the sand from one's socks and shoes no matter how hard one kid tries, and I knew that if my mother saw sand in my shoes she would immediately question me suspecting that I had gone somewhere I didn't have permission to go.

     I sat on the grassy knoll taking my socks and shoes off, and Scott sat there with me, even though he kept his shoes on.

     "Why are you taking your socks and shoes off?" Scott questioned me.

     "Want to make sure there's no sand in them when I get home or my mother'll know we went somewhere we shouldn't have," I replied.

     "Why not just empty the sound out later when we get back to my house?"

     "Trust me, that doesn't work so good," I said. "I'll keep them off until after we go swimming- and ta da, all the evidence will be gone."

     Scott nodded and said, "Come on, let's play in the sandbox."

     Scott and I then walked into the sandbox and began to play on the equipment; me with bare feet.

     We had only just started to play there on the equipment when a white male Caucasian in his late twenties to early thirties approached us. I would say he was thirty years old, was kind of slim but not skinny. He looked like he had some developed upper body strength but not so noticeable under his shirt, but his arm muscles looked strong.

     He was as I remember clean shaven with brown slightly curly hair.

     Keep in mind this happened over 35 years ago.

     He approached Scott and I and asked Scott a question or something. I was immediately suspicious. This guy was a stranger and I was told not to talk to strangers. "Who is this guy and what does he want?" I asked myself.

     The man was very friendly, and I was aghast when Scott engaged him in conversation, and even more aghast when the stranger asked if he could play with us that he thought "we were cute"

     I nudged Scott to try to get him alone to talk to him in private about this. I thought this was weird. A strange man asking us if he could play with us didn't seem right.

     I nudged Scott again and said to him as quietly as I could, "Scott, what are you doing? This is weird."

     Scott ignored my plea, and said to me, "The guy's cool, why not let him play with us?"

     With the man standing right there listening to our conversation it was hard for me to put up much more of a defense.

     "Is it OK? I'm cool you guys," The strange man said to us.

     "Yea were cool, he's just a little shy is all," Scott said referring to me.

     I didn't like this situation at all. This seemed familiar. An adult getting involved in the play of two little kids, this is exactly what Raquel had done, and next thing you know, she was observing and directing sexual acts between me and Nina.

     "Uh, excuse me, I have to go to the bathroom," I said looking at Scott when I said it hoping he'd say 'yea me too I'll go with you."

     No response from Scott so I said, "Can you come with me?" which was directed at Scott. I wanted to get Scott alone so I could talk some sense into him.

      Scott still didn't respond so I just started walking toward the bathrooms.

     Much to my astonishment I heard the stranger say from behind me, "I'll come with you". Apparently the strange man thought I had directed the comment towards him 'Can you come with me?' that I had directed to Scott and now he was jogging up to catch up with me.

     "Great" I thought to myself. Instead of getting Scott alone to talk some sense into him, It's the stranger that's now heading over to accompany me to the bathroom.

     To make matters worse, I really had to pee bad.

     I went inside the boy's room, and the man followed me in, already acting so friendly that you would think we were related or long time friends.


-- Edited by The Phantom on Tuesday 6th of July 2010 02:14:22 PM


"Sometimes when you open your mind to the impossible,
  you discover the truth." Walter from Fringe.

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