Chapter 10

Win and I thought the furnished apartment Miz Blossom rented for us in town very nice, large fixed-up rooms in an old mansion. Winnie Jo was a talented cook and busied herself trying our new recipes on the electric stove which was a new thing to us. We had no telephone but the landlady let us use hers in an emergency. Mostly it served to bring us a message from Miz Blossom that we must stay home that evening because she would be paying us a visit.

"I won't bother with crackers but I'll bring the bean dip," was her code for: "I'll leave off my girdle and panties and I'll bring the rubber penis."

To earn Miz Blossom's financial assistance Win and I had to submit as her captive hotsies. She expected us to get naked with her on the bed whenever she called, and that was several times a week. I had to love her up and eat her at least once at each visit, she made it clear that she wanted attentions from me rather than Win. She seldom went down on me, except for preliminary kisses before she screwed me with the dildo.

"I like to watch your sweet apple-ass in the throes."

It worried me that I was getting to like to lie naked kissing with her while she worked that dong in and out of my cunny, especially when she'd rub the little tit stimulator against my beanie. She was an artist at nudging it along the side where I liked it.

Winnie Jo delighted in having her honeypot licked, that was her dish, but she'd kiss Miz Blossom, suck her nipples, make over her and tongue her right down the line, over the hill and to what Miz Blossom bragged was "the best eating." But if ever Miz Blossom tried to get into the kid with the dildo Winnie Jo would push the woman off her. Win said she couldn't bear to have anything bigger than my finger in her tender slot.

I had to face the fact that my sister was abnormal; that I was at least partly responsible.

Win hardly cared a button for what the old folks called a young girl's wholesome principles.

She was enthusiastic over the new arrangement, her electric stove, her television, some new clothes I'd bought her, and the excitement of the streets of the town after the dull sameness day after day on the farm. That she wouldn't mind living like this permanently infuriated me, I was restless, I wanted to make something of myself. I wanted dates with boys. I loved my sister but she couldn't marry me, give me children, I felt enslaved and bedeviled.

Miz Blossom had so far made good her promise to keep Mel away from us. "But it's causing awful frictions at home," she complained. "I make these terrific sacrifices for you, Carol, and what do you give me in return? Nothing but the old McGunk and you know it.

All right then, tell me you love me."

I offered a few affectionate words to soothe the rent-payer.

"One thing sure, I'm not letting you go balling it up with any of these young bucks. I have ways of knowing what goes on and the minute you start cheating on me I'll bring my husband, he'll knock you out if you try to stop him, then I'll hold Winnie Jo down while he screws her till she bleeds."

Would she dare pull a trick like that at the apartment house, even if he knocked out Win too? I hoped political shyster J. Melville Blossom would be afraid to try anything like that, knowing for sure that Win and I would scream to his enemies. It scared us though especially when Win and I rode out to the cottage on our bicycles to do a little gardening and housekeeping for Daddy, we wondered if Mel and Miz Blossom would jump us out there.

Miz Blossom had it so bad for me I felt sorry for her, but partnering in her perversions began to disgust me - I mean I'd feel disgusted with myself as well as with her. She had developed a drinking problem and sometimes she'd arrive pretty well squished and scream vile names at me so loudly I'd be afraid the landlady would put us out of that nice apartment. More often than that though she'd whimper and cry with dog-like humility, grateful for any kind word and pit-pat of affection.

She'd crawl naked on her hands and knees and want me to spank her. "And hear you yelling?" I said. "The landlady has complained already about the noise you make."

But she promised she'd hold it in, utter only groans. Finally I got down and hugged her around her upper body, ready to gag her if she cut loose, and let Winnie Jo spank her. Miz Blossom liked the intimate contact with me while she shed tears from her cheek to mine. "I wanted you to hurt me," she said, "but it's all right, I'll pretend it's you doing the whacking."

I have a temper and I've done my share of scrapping but I never could see hitting someone for no reason at all, I'm too ready to feel the pain myself.

But Winnie Jo had no such hangup; she'd lay it on Miz Blossom's bare quivering fat ass with a piece of shingle we'd brought from the farm, make her yelp and cry. Then the victim would push back up those broad redding cheeks for more whacks. . The quick blows stung without breaking the skin. Win spanked her with one hand the other hand reaching under the bawdy woman's belly to finger her clit. The loudest outcries we heard from Miz Blossom sounded in ruttish moans when we'd bring her out, then she'd collapse on the floor, hugging me with hungry arms.

If we'd flatter her real big, pretend she was Miss America, she'd tip us extra money. "Yes, you little whores, I'm the most beautiful sweet virgin in the world so don't you forget it."

Win could hardly keep from laughing but we'd applaud her singing and so on, then rub her skin all over with a special lotion. She'd lie on her back on the bed with me on top of her, kissing her mouth to-mouth while Winnie Jo screwed her with the dildo.

For a hundred dollars we were coaxed into doing something downright raunchy. Never again! Miz Blossom stretched out in the bathtub with flexed knees and head up just enough so she could see what went on, then Winnie Jo and I took turns squatting over her, facing her, and peeing on her stomach.

"It affords the most exciting view of your spread," she gushed, after we had gushed. "I think Mel would give his right nut if you'd let him just stand by the tub watching!"

Win, who breaks out at unexpected moments, got down on the floor, beating it with her small fists and crying. I told Miz Blossom, "I don't think you'd better come around here any more. You talk about Daddy's crazy spells, you're crazier yet."

She swore and threatened, but promised to stop drinking so much. The next time she came she brought Win and me new dresses that were so pretty we couldn't refuse them.

Winnie Jo had always claimed she possessed strange powers like ESP. I told her, "Sure you nut, the ESP you've got is Eating Sister's Pussy."

She had nightmares, mostly about bloodthirsty wild animals. Then if something bad happened the next day she'd insist it was what she'd visioned only in a different form.

One afternoon she called me at the telephone office where I was working. "I just saw a great black bird swooping down. You'd better come right home, Carol, I know something absolutely terrible is in the air."

"Lay off that stuff will you?" I told her. "I can't be interrupting my work for your black crows.

You stick with your bird-watching and I'll be home as soon as I can." I hung up and went on with my work. The thing worried me though my sister never called for help unless she was pretty scared.

I hurried home right after work, found her sitting stiffly in a chair, her hands clasped together, pretty blue eyes staring sorrowfully at nothing. The apartment was silent, no television program on, no smell of supper cooking. I pulled her up by her arm, she swatted me in the stomach, then clung to me while I kissed her.

"So where's your great black bird speedo? I don't smell him roasting for dinner."

"You'd better cut out the smarty jokes, Carol. Suppose our cottage has burned down with Daddy in it, too drunk to move? I happen to know that black bird means the clouds of smoke as our tar roof burned. Can't you see the smoke and flame shooting up to the sky, Carol?"

"No, and that's a horrible thing to say You haven't heard anything from home have you?"

"I phoned but Mel answered and I hung up he's always trying to make out with me."

"So you don't know anything at all, and that wraps your black bird up for mailing." But I caught signals of my sister's inner distress and I had to share it with her. Anyhow I knew we'd never have peace until I'd checked the thing out. "All right, get ready whatever you were going to cook for supper while I change into my old denims and we'll ride out on our bikes."

Win sprang right up and ran into the kitchen. "I have it all packed ready to go so if you'll stop dragging your feet we'll be out there in a few minutes and I only hope we'll be in time to do something."

We rode out to the farm but when we reached the cottage we found it unchanged and empty, everything tidy. Magnussen's dog sniffed us, wagged his tail. "We might as well cook supper and eat it here," I said It was the middle of July and would stay light until eight at night, enough for us to ride back.

We had just about finished our meal of pounded steaks, potatoes, salad and apple pie when we heard a couple of motorcycles and a car chugging down the private road A deep voice said, "I see a light, the poor kids must be home."

Winnie Jo breathed an anguished, "Ohhhh! I knew it!" We both rushed out the door. Two policemen got off motorcycles. Mel and Miz Blossom came up behind them in the Oldsmobile.

The forward officer stopped in front of me, stared a moment, then looked away. His booted foot scuffed around in the adobe earth. "Bad news, Miss Weaver. I'll give it to you straight. Your daddy got killed on the highway. Drunk driver. Body's at Olson's mortuary."

Winnie Jo held her stomach, gasping in a sick way but she didn't throw up, scream or anything. We slipped an arm around each other. Miz Blossom was hovering close by wanting to love us up but was afraid to do much with the policemen watching.

"You mean Daddy was in the Rambler and he smashed up?" The sense of loss and aloneness came over me in heightening waves. I had to grit my teeth to keep them from chattering.

My father had driven the car more times drunk than sober I guessed. But the irony of his death was that he'd been hit by another drunk driver.

"Your dad was not in his car at the time of the accident," the officer said. "He'd left it on the shoulder of the highway, for what reason we don't know One witness made vague mention of a girl with him but if so we can find no trace of her. On the other hand it was a woman driver who hit him, Bonnie Ringgold, the screen and TV actress they tell me. She's incoherent about the circumstances but admits she'd been drinking."

"Could hardly deny it," the other policeman said. "There was enough alcohol on her breath you could use it for a blowtorch."

"Bonnie Ringgold is going to pay for this," Mel Blossom declared, being the boodling politician. "These bigshots needn't think they can go killing people in their fast cars, not in Bindale County, we don't stand for that."

The police never did learn for sure why Daddy had left the car on the road. Miz Blossom's theory, told smugly to Win and me, was that Daddy probably had picked up some girl, a hitchhiker as he'd done before a lot of times."

"How he'd get around them I don't know, but he evidently took this one into the bushes for a quick roll, see? Left her there feeling dazed but pretty good, hot-fucked you know, and he walked back toward his car. She went her own way and you can bet she'll never squeal on him. Meanwhile that California alcoholic came barreling along and swerved into your father, probably so blind drunk she never even saw him." Miz Blossom clamped her mouth in a guilty grimace since as it happened she was ginned up herself right then.

She and Mel drove us back to Bindale with our bikes stacked in the rear. We went to the mortuary but Mr. Olson wouldn't let us look at Daddy until the body had been properly laid out. He and Mel whispered together, about who was going to pay the funeral expenses.

"I let him know you girls will collect plenty of loot in the settlement," Mel told me when he let us out at the apartment house. "You'd better see a lawyer in the morning, Morison is as good as any. Have him sue that Bonnie Ringgold bitch for half a million. Sure, chances are you'll compromise for a lot less but ask for half a million. Want me to handle it for you on a percentage deal?"

"I don't think so. Win and I will talk it over, but I don't want to make a court case of it and I'm sure Win doesn't either."

"The thunderbird swooped down," Winnie Jo said. "That was the terrible accident."

"Thunderbird? She was driving a Corvette."

"I mean the thunderbird from heaven," Win returned primly.

Mel Blossom fumed at our lack of interest in the loot, he smelled big money from the Ringgold rich star of show business, but he had to let us stack our bikes and lock them in the courtyard go on up to our apartment.