The Outernet
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Although the details are fictionalized, the basic premise of this story - how Squeaky Fromme got her nickname - is true. According to Manson Family member Paul Watkins, Mansonite Lynette "Squeaky" Fromme got her nickname because of the sound she made when Spahn ran his hand up her thigh. (My Life with Charles Manson, Bantam Books, 1979. Page 40.)
This bit of macabre trivia had always fascinated me.....had to write it out (very quickly, without rewrites or belaboring it too much) just to get it out of my head once and for all. The release of "Once Upon A Time In Hollywood" made me think now was the time to visit it. Not that it matters, because she was a total wack job, and she would have been there, participating if so ordered.....but Squeaky was not at the scene of any of....the terrible things that happened. She's since been released from prison, and I believe resides upstate, New York, a recluse.
When Lynette first walked into the room and saw him, she gasped.
"He's....he's blind, Charlie."
"Well, go over and sit next to him, make him happy."
Lynette didn't have to be told twice. She obediently put her hands behind her back and sing-songed around the room as if she were a little girl. Finally she walked in a figure eight and wound up standing in front of the old rancher.
"Well....hi!" Lynette smiled, a little shy and nervous. She had never seen a blind man before.
The elderly George Spahn looked up and smiled. "Well, howdy! What's your name?"
"Lynette."
"Well come on over here, Lynette and sit next to me, so I can feel you. The name's George Spahn, and this is my ranch."
Lynette shrugged and sat down next to him. "Nice to meet you, Mr. Spahn. This sure is a nice place. They make movies here?"
"Please darlin', call me George."
"Ok...George." she smiled sweetly at him, then realized he couldn't see.
"Now, now, nevermind the movies.....let's see who I've got sitting next to me!"
Lynette, in her jean cut offs and Indian print top, sat straight so that he could feel her. Still looking forward, he began to let his hands roam ....but instead of feeling her face, he went right for her leg.
"George!" she eeked, giggling.
Spahn smiled; he hadn't touched a woman in a long time. Her thigh was bare, soft and silky, and his finger pads gently caressed, ever so slightly, her ticklish skin, his mind registering every nuance of her reactive body. Lynette couldn't handle it at all.
"Georgie, that tickles!" she said, her words breaking with laughter.
"Ok, ok. " he stilled his hand, but kept it there, resting on her leg. Lynette trembled. Just the feel of his hand on thigh tickled her; his fingertips, each one on a different spot, even moreso. She wasn't sure he wasn't doing it on purpose.
"Now, now, what's the matter, girl?"
"I...I don't trust you."
"You don't trust me?" Spahn said, feigning being taken back. ""Well what do you think I'm gonna do?"
"I think you are going to tickle me again."
"I am? Awww." He started massaging her thigh, and Lynette's body convulsed as she immediately started yipping and giggling in such a high pitch, dogs were practically the only ones who could hear it.
"Oh, listen to Squeaky over here!"
"Squeaky's" giggle tumbled down an octave, then back to birdsong giggles and Spahn drank in the sound of her melodic laughter.
"Oh, that's lovely" he remarked. He started to lightly tickle her thigh with his fingers, and her laugh shot back into squeaking territory, her body twitching and writhing. Lynette's hand instinctively grasped Spahn's wrist but, blind or not, he was a man, a working man, with a lifetime of hard labor under his belt, and there was no prying his hand off her leg.
"Squeak for me, Squeaky! Squeak for me!" he laughed.
It wasn't hard for her to obey; it was her natural reaction to a certain kind of tickling, and this old man had her number. But there was a threshold past that. Make it tickle even worse and the laughter would go back down, deeper and more guttural, complete surrender.
"Oh please Mr. George, that really tickles!" He had found the pit behind her knee which he was just able to graze with the tip of his middle finger. Spahn was enjoying the ride and the music that went along with it. He began starting and stopping, giving her little fits of varying lengths. Finally he hugged her close to him and kissed her on the top of her head.
Lynette cooed, as she caught her breath.
************************
Next time they came to the ranch, the first thing the old rancher wanted to know was: "Where's my Squeaky?"
Charlie smiled. "Well, she's right here, George! Just waiting for you!". He spun around and directed Lynette under his breath: "Go let him tickle you so we can have a look around....."
"Ok, Charlie, I will."
As they went out back and started rummaging through his toolshed, Lynette's screams, giggles and long stretches of high-pitched yips were unceasing, loud and clear through the open window, reverberating against the shed and the hills behind the house. Tex was getting hot under the collar.
"Fuck, Charlie, what is he doing to her in there?"
"He's tickling her." Charlie laughed. "Sounds fun, don't it?"
"Sure does."
"We'll tickle her later. It's good for the soul. For now, keep your mind on what we're doin'."
The two dudes looked around the ranch as the sounds of Squeaky filled the air.
"Well Georgie, the Beatles are like prophets.......EEEK! Georgie, dont!! (laughter).......(laughter dying down).....so as I was saying.....Georgie! (another long peal laughter)......Georgie that really tickles! (more peals of laughter).........(laughter dying down) Ok, so let me finish! Charlie is going to....Georgie! (more laughter)"
At one point, she just laughed and laughed, one long peal of laughter after another, with no words. Eventually they could hear the old man snickering over her giggles. "Squeak for me, Squeaky! Squeak! Squeak!" he started commanding, and Lynette obliged with high-pitched staccato yips.
After they had checked out the ranch, Charlie and Tex went back to the main house, where they found "Squeaky" writhing around on Spahn's lap, giggling and begging for mercy. Finally she just shrieked: "You're torturing me!"
"That's for past and future sins, baby." Spahn laughed. Charlie laughed too as he walked up to the "couple". Sensing his approach, George relented and greeted his visitors.
"Hey there, Charlie! Just having fun with Squeaky over here. Wasn't I, Squeaky?"
Lynette, catching her breath, removed herself from his clutches. "That's right, Georgie. Nothing but fun."
Charlie wanted to talk business. "What do you say we move on to the ranch? Me and the girls? I can make it worth your while."
Spahn, horny as hell from tickling the fuck out of Lynette, didn't need much arm twisting.
When they were back in the car, Charlie made his command. "Lynette.....Squeaky, heheh.....this man, he likes to tickle you. You let him do whatever he wants, you hear me?"
"Yes, Charlie."
"If he wants to tickle your legs, your feet, your stomach.....whatever he wants, you let him tickle you there. As long as he's tickling you, we don't have to pay rent on this place. You got me?"
"Yes, Charlie, whatever you say. I'll let him tickle me."
the end
This bit of macabre trivia had always fascinated me.....had to write it out (very quickly, without rewrites or belaboring it too much) just to get it out of my head once and for all. The release of "Once Upon A Time In Hollywood" made me think now was the time to visit it. Not that it matters, because she was a total wack job, and she would have been there, participating if so ordered.....but Squeaky was not at the scene of any of....the terrible things that happened. She's since been released from prison, and I believe resides upstate, New York, a recluse.
When Lynette first walked into the room and saw him, she gasped.
"He's....he's blind, Charlie."
"Well, go over and sit next to him, make him happy."
Lynette didn't have to be told twice. She obediently put her hands behind her back and sing-songed around the room as if she were a little girl. Finally she walked in a figure eight and wound up standing in front of the old rancher.
"Well....hi!" Lynette smiled, a little shy and nervous. She had never seen a blind man before.
The elderly George Spahn looked up and smiled. "Well, howdy! What's your name?"
"Lynette."
"Well come on over here, Lynette and sit next to me, so I can feel you. The name's George Spahn, and this is my ranch."
Lynette shrugged and sat down next to him. "Nice to meet you, Mr. Spahn. This sure is a nice place. They make movies here?"
"Please darlin', call me George."
"Ok...George." she smiled sweetly at him, then realized he couldn't see.
"Now, now, nevermind the movies.....let's see who I've got sitting next to me!"
Lynette, in her jean cut offs and Indian print top, sat straight so that he could feel her. Still looking forward, he began to let his hands roam ....but instead of feeling her face, he went right for her leg.
"George!" she eeked, giggling.
Spahn smiled; he hadn't touched a woman in a long time. Her thigh was bare, soft and silky, and his finger pads gently caressed, ever so slightly, her ticklish skin, his mind registering every nuance of her reactive body. Lynette couldn't handle it at all.
"Georgie, that tickles!" she said, her words breaking with laughter.
"Ok, ok. " he stilled his hand, but kept it there, resting on her leg. Lynette trembled. Just the feel of his hand on thigh tickled her; his fingertips, each one on a different spot, even moreso. She wasn't sure he wasn't doing it on purpose.
"Now, now, what's the matter, girl?"
"I...I don't trust you."
"You don't trust me?" Spahn said, feigning being taken back. ""Well what do you think I'm gonna do?"
"I think you are going to tickle me again."
"I am? Awww." He started massaging her thigh, and Lynette's body convulsed as she immediately started yipping and giggling in such a high pitch, dogs were practically the only ones who could hear it.
"Oh, listen to Squeaky over here!"
"Squeaky's" giggle tumbled down an octave, then back to birdsong giggles and Spahn drank in the sound of her melodic laughter.
"Oh, that's lovely" he remarked. He started to lightly tickle her thigh with his fingers, and her laugh shot back into squeaking territory, her body twitching and writhing. Lynette's hand instinctively grasped Spahn's wrist but, blind or not, he was a man, a working man, with a lifetime of hard labor under his belt, and there was no prying his hand off her leg.
"Squeak for me, Squeaky! Squeak for me!" he laughed.
It wasn't hard for her to obey; it was her natural reaction to a certain kind of tickling, and this old man had her number. But there was a threshold past that. Make it tickle even worse and the laughter would go back down, deeper and more guttural, complete surrender.
"Oh please Mr. George, that really tickles!" He had found the pit behind her knee which he was just able to graze with the tip of his middle finger. Spahn was enjoying the ride and the music that went along with it. He began starting and stopping, giving her little fits of varying lengths. Finally he hugged her close to him and kissed her on the top of her head.
Lynette cooed, as she caught her breath.
************************
Next time they came to the ranch, the first thing the old rancher wanted to know was: "Where's my Squeaky?"
Charlie smiled. "Well, she's right here, George! Just waiting for you!". He spun around and directed Lynette under his breath: "Go let him tickle you so we can have a look around....."
"Ok, Charlie, I will."
As they went out back and started rummaging through his toolshed, Lynette's screams, giggles and long stretches of high-pitched yips were unceasing, loud and clear through the open window, reverberating against the shed and the hills behind the house. Tex was getting hot under the collar.
"Fuck, Charlie, what is he doing to her in there?"
"He's tickling her." Charlie laughed. "Sounds fun, don't it?"
"Sure does."
"We'll tickle her later. It's good for the soul. For now, keep your mind on what we're doin'."
The two dudes looked around the ranch as the sounds of Squeaky filled the air.
"Well Georgie, the Beatles are like prophets.......EEEK! Georgie, dont!! (laughter).......(laughter dying down).....so as I was saying.....Georgie! (another long peal laughter)......Georgie that really tickles! (more peals of laughter).........(laughter dying down) Ok, so let me finish! Charlie is going to....Georgie! (more laughter)"
At one point, she just laughed and laughed, one long peal of laughter after another, with no words. Eventually they could hear the old man snickering over her giggles. "Squeak for me, Squeaky! Squeak! Squeak!" he started commanding, and Lynette obliged with high-pitched staccato yips.
After they had checked out the ranch, Charlie and Tex went back to the main house, where they found "Squeaky" writhing around on Spahn's lap, giggling and begging for mercy. Finally she just shrieked: "You're torturing me!"
"That's for past and future sins, baby." Spahn laughed. Charlie laughed too as he walked up to the "couple". Sensing his approach, George relented and greeted his visitors.
"Hey there, Charlie! Just having fun with Squeaky over here. Wasn't I, Squeaky?"
Lynette, catching her breath, removed herself from his clutches. "That's right, Georgie. Nothing but fun."
Charlie wanted to talk business. "What do you say we move on to the ranch? Me and the girls? I can make it worth your while."
Spahn, horny as hell from tickling the fuck out of Lynette, didn't need much arm twisting.
When they were back in the car, Charlie made his command. "Lynette.....Squeaky, heheh.....this man, he likes to tickle you. You let him do whatever he wants, you hear me?"
"Yes, Charlie."
"If he wants to tickle your legs, your feet, your stomach.....whatever he wants, you let him tickle you there. As long as he's tickling you, we don't have to pay rent on this place. You got me?"
"Yes, Charlie, whatever you say. I'll let him tickle me."
the end
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