Chapter 6
Ada Owens' tired eyes felt heavy as the television newscaster signed off. The gray-haired woman rose with difficulty, clicked the set off, and yawned. Guess I'll go to bed, she decided, her bent, arthritic body shuffling to her bedroom.
Her stiff fingers, with their painfully swollen knuckles, fumbled as she undressed and donned a flannel nightgown. Sighing heavily, the weary woman lowered herself onto the bed and lay staring up at the chipped ceiling. Guess Bonnie Mae's going to be late tonight, she mused. But she's young and don't need her sleep the way I do. And the money she earns over at the Conways comes in mighty handy.
Lord only knows I can't keep a fifteen-year-old girl in clothes on what I make. Not at today's inflated prices.
The exhausted woman closed her tired eyes, her thoughts whirling helter-skelter as they often did just before she drifted off to sleep. She thought of her widowed sister, Clara, down in Florida. Only Clara had been luckier than she. Clara's husband was a successful businessman, not an alcoholic as hers had been, and he left his widow financially secure. Her sister owned and operated a nice little retirement trailer court in the sunshine state and her two grown sons doted on her. One gave her a color TV last Christmas and the other paid for a trip to Bermuda.
But Clara had had her children while she was young, not in her late-forties. Forty-seven is just too old to have a baby, Ada told herself again, something she'd been repeating over and over ever since Bonnie Mae was born. The girl was an unexpected burden, a terrible mistake. But then, so was Ada's marriage. But to Ada Owens, divorce was a mortal sin and abortion was a one-way ticket to eternal damnation. Instead, she chose to live her hell right here on earth by remaining with her drunk of a husband until he died and "doing her duty" by Bonnie Mae.
And she had done the right thing. The woman worked hard to give the girl everything she needed and then some. By pinching pennies, she'd even managed to give her daughter some fairly decent presents over the years.
For the girl's tenth birthday, Ada had surprised her with a secondhand bicycle. Last Christmas, she'd given the girl an electric hair dryer and styling brush with all the attachments. For her sixteenth birthday, Ada hoped to be able to buy her daughter a cassette recorder.
Yes, Ada Owens had done her motherly duty and would continue to do so until the girl reached eighteen. Then, once Bonnie Mae was graduated from high school and was on her own, Ada planned to move to Florida and live with Clara.
Clara longed for the day that her sister could come to live with her and help her run the trailer court. But Ada couldn't make the move for three more years. Pets and children under eighteen were not allowed in the retirement community and much as she wanted to, Clara couldn't make an exception for her sister and niece.
Ada could scarcely wait until the next three years passed and she'd be free to join her beloved sister. Free to enjoy the companionship of people her own age, to bask in the healing warmth of the Florida sun. How she hated the Chicago climate and what it did to her painful arthritis! Work worn and bone tired, Ada hated to go out to work day after miserable day . . . as she had for so many years. And though she wouldn't admit it, even to herself, she hated Bonnie Mae, too. The girl was the image of her father, a constant reminder of the torment and humiliation that Ada had endured as the wife of an alcoholic.
Still, she tried to be a good mother to the girl, to see that she had everything she needed. Everything except the one thing that Bonnie Mae needed most of all. That's where Ada Owens failed. For she was totally incapable of giving her daughter love.
Liz Conway and the gray-haired salesman smiled at each other as she joined him at his table. "I made it my business to find out a few things about you, Liz," he said, as another waitress left with their order. "Just so you're not at a disadvantage, I'm Bill Evans, traveling salesman, and mighty lonesome. I keep coming back to this joint strictly because of you, baby."
"I'm flattered," she answered coyly, batting her eyelashes. "That's real nice to hear, you know, coming from a handsome guy like you."
The waitress brought their drinks and Bill lifted his glass in a toast. "To us, Liz," he murmured, gazing deep into her eyes. "May this be the beginning of a warm and mutually rewarding relationship." As she sipped her martini, Bill Evans placed his manicured hand over hers and the slim blonde was shocked at her electrifying response. "I want you to know something right at the start, Liz," he said in a sensual voice. "When I like someone, I like to do things for them, make them happy, you know what I mean ? And I really like you, baby. You did something to me the first time I laid eyes on you."
Bill Evans was doing something to Liz, too.
Delicious, warm tingles spread through her body as his warm fingers caressed hers. "I'm glad to know that, Bill," she drawled, her eyes transmitting a silent, stronger, message, "because I have a feeling you and I are going to be very close friends."
"When can we get together, baby?" he asked, his voice husky with eagerness. "How about tonight, when you get off work?" His eyes admired her modest breasts and slender arms. As the man pictured Liz lying naked on a bed, her knees bent and open with her arms outstretched and inviting, he felt his hungry penis swell and pulsate. Trim, narrow-hipped broads with small tits really turned him on. Big-busted cunts with fat, wide asses didn't appeal to him at all. It was the gals with more angles than curves that made Bill Evans' balls churn.
"Well, I. . . uh . . . I'm not sure," she hedged, suddenly confused. Things were happening much too fast. Liz had planned to let him pursue her. The attractive blonde hadn't foreseen the explosion of their body chemistry. If the mere touch of his hand across a table can set off all these vibrations, what would happen if I went to bed with the guy? she wondered.
As she lifted her glass to her lips, stalling for time before answering, she conjured up a mental image of the man's nude body lowering itself onto hers. I wonder how big his cock is? And how it would feel sliding in and out of me? she asked herself. It would be exciting to have a new mouth at my tits, she decided. And to have that handsome face take a dive at my pussy.
Their eyes met and in that moment of contact, Liz made her decision. She wanted to be screwed by the good-looking man sitting across from her. She ached for the feel of his big, red penis pumping in and out of her. And she longed for the taste of his swollen masculinity inside her mouth, as well.
The hell with Ralph! she quickly rationalized. Let the horny bastard screw fifteen-year-olds. I'll get even! Liz was certain that her husband was balling that kid right now, even if she didn't find any proof when she got home tonight. Liz wanted Bill Evans, all right, but not tonight. She was just too tired and emotionally drained to enjoy herself. She wanted to know about their date in advance, so she could take a nice, long nap before she left for the Mood Indigo that night. After all, she didn't go off duty till one in the morning.
"I'd rather wait a couple of days, honey," Liz told him. "I'm . . . well, I'm just getting over my monthly visitor, you know ?"
"How about Friday night?" he asked, his voice eager. "I'm heading back home Saturday morning and may not be up this way for several weeks. I'd sure like to get better acquainted before I leave, doll face."
Liz felt a sharp sting of disappointment at the thought of not getting laid until he got back, so she quickly accepted. "Friday night is just fine, Bill," she said, smiling seductively as he stroked the palm of her hand.
Ralph was never awake when Liz got home from work, so he'd never be the wiser. Not that she gave a damn now that she was on to him and Bonnie Mae. Still, once her cheating husband dozed off for the night, nothing short of an explosion could stir him. And the only explosion likely to take place Friday night, she thought, will be between me and Bill Evans.
Won't old Stella be proud of me? she mused. I should have taken her advice a long time ago. Her cheeks bright, the platinum-haired cocktail waitress wriggled out of her high-heeled shoe and slid her stockinged foot up inside the attractive salesman's pants leg.
"wHat the hell's going on here?" Ralph Conway shouted, his face crimson as he stared incredulously at the naked, fucking trio. "A fucking orgy?"
The startled teenagers jerked apart. For a few horrified seconds, they froze, gaping dumbly at the furious man looming in the threshold of the kitchen. Then, in a jumble of bouncing, naked flesh, they scrambled past him for their clothes.
"Holy Jesus!" Elmira hissed, reaching for her slacks. "I'm sorry, kiddo!"
"Me, too!" the babysitter whispered, grabbing her clothes up off the floor. Shit! she said to herself, her heart pounding. There goes my soft job. He's really mad!
Wheezing, Potsy jammed his fat legs into his jeans, his face pink as his shaking fingers tugged at the zipper. "Let's get the fuck outta here!" he panted.
"You do that!" Ralph Conway ordered, his voice thick with rage as he shot contemptible looks at the boy and Elmira. "And don't let me catch your fat asses around here again!"
Elmira didn't appreciate his insult. "Fuck you, mister!" she retorted, pulling on her blouse. "Come on, Bonnie Mae," she urged, heading for the door with Potsy right behind her.
"Wait!" the girl pleaded. Still bare-breasted, the lovely redhead struggled into her slacks. She sneaked a look at her enraged employer as she wriggled and squirmed, her voluminous, pink-tipped mounds of flesh bobbing. She pulled the slacks over the graceful curve of her hips, her racing pulses slowing. Suddenly, the babysitter was no longer afraid. For she saw something other than anger in Ralph Conway's glittering eyes as they ogled her huge tits.
"Just a minute," the man said, his voice softening as he watched the voluptuous girl don her blouse. Conscious of his eyes, she sucked in her stomach and lifted her breasts high as she slid her arms through each sleeve, making the most of her final moments of semi-nudity. "I'd rather you stay. Don't you think we should talk about this, young lady?"
"I guess so," she replied, making her voice quaver and lowering her eyes in the hope of appearing contrite.
"Are you sure you don't want to come with us?" Elmira persisted with a worried frown, her hand on the door knob.
"No, that's okay," Bonnie Mae assured her, turning so that her back faced her employer.
"I guess I do owe Mr. Conway an apology," she added, giving Elmira a meaningful look while a little smile played at the corners of her sensuous mouth.
With narrowed eyes, the corpulent teenager glanced at Ralph Conway, then back to her friend. The little furrow between her brows relaxed for Elmira understood perfectly. For her sharp eyes hadn't overlooked the telltale bulge between the man's legs as he looked at Bonnie Mae. "Okay, sweetie," she said, opening the door. Potsy tripped over his feet in his eagerness to depart. "See you tomorrow."
No sooner had the door closed behind them than little Tracy appeared in the doorway, rubbing his sleepy eyes. "I heard yelling, Daddy," he said in a small, frightened voice.
In a few quick strides, Ralph was at his son's side. He lifted the pajama-clad boy into his arms and patted his shoulder. "Don't be scared, partner," he soothed with a reassuring smile. "I just happened to catch some boys running through our yard when I came home and I had to yell at them. But I chased them away and they're gone now, aren't they, Bonnie Mae?" He gave the girl a long look. "Everything's just fine, isn't it?"
The babysitter blinked, impressed with the ease and swiftness of his fabricated story. "That's right, honey," she was quick to agree. "There's nothing to worry your sleepy little head about so you better get back to bed. And on the double." She smiled fondly at the boy. "School tomorrow, you know."
"All right," he sighed, pouting. "But only if you come and tuck me in and tell me a story, Daddy."
Ralph hesitated, looking at the girl. "Why don't you, Daddy?" she prodded. "I have a little tidying up to do, anyway, before I leave."
"I won't be long, Bonnie Mae," he said softly as the son he idolized padded barefoot to his bedroom, eager for the rare treat of a bedtime story told by his father.
The babysitter worked quickly, scooping up the various jars, cards, and the aerosol can that Elmira had left behind. She returned them to the paper sack, then retrieved the coated utensils which she and her girlfriend had used to screw each other and carried them into the kitchen. She ran the plastic handle of the feather duster under running hot water, rinsing it thoroughly. After hanging it back on the nail in the pantry, the girl filled the sink with hot, sudsy water. She cleaned the rolling pin, dried it, and returned it to the drawer from which she'd taken it.
Tearing off several layers of paper toweling, she dipped them into the sudsy water and bent to rub the sticky jam, syrup, and whipped cream from the spotted linoleum. She tossed the soiled toweling into the garbage pail and emptied the sink. By the time she had completed her tasks, her employer reappeared.
"I'll see you home," he told the girl. "Tracy will be all right for a few minutes. He's just about ready to drop off again."
They walked side by side in awkward silence before Ralph spoke. "I'm really shocked at what I came home to tonight, Bonnie Mae," he began. I thought you were still a virgin, honey, he added silently. And am I ever glad I was wrong! "A lovely girl like you with a couple of pigs like those two." His voice softened, became sensual. "I realize a girl your age has to experiment in order to learn about the joys of sex. And believe me, my dear, it can be joyful. It all depends on who you're making love with. And someone as lovely as you can do a lot better than those two fat slobs you were fooling around with tonight."
Like you, for instance, right, Mr. Conway? the girl was tempted to reply. Instead, she played dumb. "I guess you're right, Mr. Conway," she sighed, gazing up at him through her thick lashes. "But you see, Potsy and Elmira know so much more about sex than I do and . . . well, I was hoping to learn a few things."
His quick response was exactly what the girl expected. "I can teach you everything there is to learn, honey." His voice was husky now, his breathing labored. "If you'll let me, I'll show you what it means to be a real woman. I can make you happier than you ever dreamed possible." His loins ached, hot with desire as the man imagined how great it would feel to sample the teenager's luscious, firm tits, to treat his swollen, throbbing penis to her young and tender pussy.
They had reached the girl's apartment building and she turned to give her employer a seductive smile. "That would be wonderful, Mr. Conway," she purred.
The gray-eyed man felt a dampness in his crotch. "Call me Ralph, honey," he invited, his voice thick with excitement.
Potsy's old Chevy burnt rubber as it tore away from the Conway house. "Christ, I thought we'd never get outta there," the boy said, taking the corner with a screech of tires. "I was scared that old guy would do something crazy. Jesus, did you see how red his face was ? Like he was gonna have a stroke or something."
"Yeah, the bastard was really worked up, all right." Elmira snuggled next to the boy, her hand sliding between his vast thighs. "But we must have been one hell of a sight, huh, Potsy?" The girl broke into giggles as she pictured how the three of them must have looked with her licking Potsy's asshole while lover boy did the doggie routine with Bonnie Mae.
"I don't know, maybe it wasn't too smart leaving Bonnie Mae alone with the guy." He spread his legs wider so that the girl could grab more of his balls. "Do you think she'll be all right?"
"I know she will," Elmira told him. "With all she's got going for her, that girl can handle any guy." What a dumb-ass! she thought. Couldn't he see how the guy was drooling in his pants over her? "Let's concentrate on us, honey," she drawled, her fingers kneading his sacs harder. "We never did get to do our grand finale."
"Yeah, I know," the boy said, breathing harder. He could use a good mouthful of tit about now. Then, he'd give Elmira the fucking of her life. He never did get to shoot his load into Bonnie Mae's luscious, passion-soaked pussy. Still, Potsy wasn't complaining. I was lucky I got to dip my stick in her at all, he realized philosophically. Cunts like her are really outta my class.
The boy pulled up to their familiar parking spot behind a deserted factory on a dead-end street. He killed the motor, doused the headlights, and unzipped his pants, resigned to the fact that he had to be content with slobs like Elmira Simms.
As Elmira unbuttoned her blouse and tore it open, she wondered, fleetingly, what was happening between Bonnie Mae and Mr. Conway. Then, she felt Potsy's warm, wet mouth on her enormous left boob, his serpentine tongue sucking the nipple mercilessly. And the girl sighed rapturously, closed her eyes, and forgot all about Bonnie Mae.
As Ralph Conway turned to retrace his steps, Bonnie Mae watched him for a few seconds, a smile on her face. Then, she entered her apartment building and ascended the staircase quickly, her face flushed and her eyes glowing with excitement. So much had happened tonight that her mind was reeling and she felt giddy, light-headed. First, all that far-out sex with Potsy and her imaginative girlfriend, Elmira. Second, getting caught by Mr. Conway.
And finally, having the man proposition her. And I bet he can really teach me plenty, she thought as she climbed the last step and turned into the hallway.
Nick LaRocco was just placing his key in the door to his apartment, a tall, blonde draped against him, and both turned at the sound of the girl's approach. The sophisticated-looking girl looked at Bonnie Mae, frowned, and quickly averted her eyes. Much to her annoyance, Nick continued to stare at the girl.
Christ, that kid is a knock-out, Nick thought, taking in her incredible body, glowing complexion, and radiant eyes. And every time I see her, she looks better and better.
Bonnie Mae paused by her door, returning Nick LaRocco's bold gaze. Thrilled by the fact that the handsome Italian was ignoring a glamorous blonde to stare at her, the girl's jade eyes shone even brighter, making her breath-takingly lovely.
"Come on, Nick," the blonde said, her voice sharp. "Are you going to open that door or not?"
With a triumphant smile, Bonnie Mae unlocked her own door and hurried inside. Now, her evening was complete . . . perfect in every way. For Nick LaRocco, the man of her dreams, had noticed her. She knew, now, with absolute certainty that the man she wanted found her appealing after all. I'll get that gorgeous hunk yet! she promised herself. I'll use everything Ralph Conway teaches me to make Nick mine!
Her thoughts whirling in a kaleidoscope of joy, Bonnie Mae was totally unaware of the dried splotches of Potsy's spilled semen that she had failed to notice when she cleaned up the Conways' kitchen linoleum.