Chapter 7

Fate had decided to take a hand in the destinies of Astrid and Matthew Fullhan as well as that of red-haired Betty Jurgens. On the Friday week following his first date with Kathleen Johnson, Betty's father, loosening his shirt collar and awkwardly fidgeting at the dinner table, looked uneasily at his sophisticated, beautiful daughter and cautiously asked, "Betty, what would you think if I were to marry again? Would it upset you too much?"

Betty gasped and stared incredulously back at her father, then began to giggle. "Why, Dad, I think it's a perfectly wonderful idea. I know you've been awfully lonesome since Mom died, and maybe that's one reason you and I haven't always seen eye to eye."

"Now don't you try to change the subject, young lady," he had testily interposed. "Just because I'm thinking of marrying again doesn't mean I'm letting down the bars where that Henry Warren is concerned. Don't you forget it for a minute."

"I'm not likely to, Daddy, not after what you did to me in the garage," she saucily reminded him, and when his face crimsoned, she giggled again, much to his discomfiture. "But seriously, I think it's just wonderful. When are you going to do it?"

"I was thinking of next Saturday, and going out of town on the honeymoon-maybe to New York, for just a week. That's about all I can spare with the paper, because I couldn't trust my old assistant to go more than a week without goofing things up. You want to come along, honey? You've never been to New York, you know. I'll even buy you a new outfit, how's that?"

Betty had thought quickly. If she protested too much, he was likely to get the wind up and suspect that she really hadn't broken off with Henry after all. And she very definitely wanted to see Henry again, not only because of how close they had been the week before, but because she was going to work the details out of her revenge on snoopy Astrid Fullhan. "I don't know, Daddy," she had somewhat dubiously replied with a cute little frown, "we're getting awfully close to finals, and then there's my sorority initiation. That's for a week from Sunday night, you know, and I'm vice president. I just have to be there, Daddy. Anyhow," this with a coaxing little smile, "you wouldn't want me along on your honeymoon anyway, and you know it. But I'll take a raincheck on that new outfit, and maybe we can go to New York for Christmas."

"Sure, that's not a bad idea at that. All right, Betty, it's Kathleen Johnson. You know, she used to work at the library until all the bluenoses in town decided that she wasn't a fit person just because she got a raw deal with that hippie musician hubby of hers. She's a fine woman, and she knows you and likes you, and I think we will get along just swell. I'm glad you're taking it this way, honey, it's a big weight off my mind."

"I want to stay home and get good grades so you can be proud of me when I go to college in the fall, Daddy," Betty had got up from her chair, come around to her father, and kissed him on the forehead. And that was how, much to her unexpected delight, she knew that the way was clear to planning retribution for the bespectacled blonde matron across the way who had engineered that humiliating bare-bottomed spanking. To be sure, the auburn-haired teen-ager had to admit to herself that the spanking itself had had some wonderful aftereffects, especially so far as darling Henry was concerned. Just the same, it was high time somebody taught that nosy neighbor of theirs not to butt in on young people just because she was sour and envious of them. ...

And so the next week had been spent in hectic preparations for the wedding, which was to take place at the Summerton Town Hall with old Judge Timothy Abernathy presiding, and between showing his assistant what to look for in putting out the issue of the paper for the week he would be honeymooning with Kathleen Johnson, arranging for the blood tests and the license, and visiting the happily flustered Kathleen to make sure that all the details were perfectly clear to her, Dan Jurgens was far too distractingly occupied to think about his spirited red-haired daughter. The marriage took place on the following Saturday noon and then Dan Jurgens and his light-brown-haired new wife got into Dan's car and started their drive towards the honeymooning delights of Manhattan, with the bridal suite reserved for them at the Barbizon Plaza overlooking Central Park.

Matthew Fullhan, the same week of his neighbor's remarriage, had gone back to Boston to confer with Amos Denby, lunching again at Pier One and then, after spending an hour at the table showing Amos some of his sketches for the new campaign and getting an approval on them for finished artwork, eagerly went off with the art director back to the apartment of Suzy Phillips, where honey-haired Eleanor enthusiastically awaited a reunion with her formerly shy "client". And thus it was that Astrid Fullhan found herself alone this fateful weekend as did vengeance-minded Betty Jurgens.

"Henry? It's Betty, lover. I sure do want to see you. Yes, Daddy went and did it. He just left for New York and he won't be back until a week from Sunday, and that'll be Hell Night for the S.S.S., you know. Umm hmm, I know. Look, I've got the camera, so why don't you come over right now? Her hubby? He's not home, and I'll bet that means he's out of town again. How do I know? Because Daddy printed in the paper last week that Mr. Matthew Fullhan, noted Summerton commercial artist, had been assigned some important artwork for a big Boston agency. That's where he is, because he's usually home by now and anyhow, he does most of his work at home and he doesn't go out even with that snooty wife of his very much. Sure I'm sure. So tonight's the night we're going to work it on dear old nosy Astrid. Here's what you do-" For the next few minutes, Betty spoke earnestly and quickly into the phone, then giggled and hung up.

Next, she hurried to her bedroom to change into her most seductive and revealing outfit. It would be sure to draw Astrid Fullhan's spying attentions. Even her own father hadn't seen her wear this, and he would have put his foot down if he had. She had bought it out of her allowance and hidden it away in a bottom drawer of her dresser, hoping that sometime, somehow, she would get a chance to wear it for her boyfriend Henry Warren. And now was very definitely the time!

It was a sleeveless red silk blouse with a deep V-cut, together with a hip-hugging black satin miniskirt that went down exactly to mid-thigh. The combination of the two left several inches of bare midriff tantalizingly displayed, and the rest of Betty's "seduction outfit" consisted of frilly black net pantybriefs and a matching bra with cutouts for her perky coral nipples. About five months ago, her father had taken her to a printers' convention in Fall River, and during an important meeting on union rules, Betty had slipped away to find a secluded little lingerie shop at the other end of town. It was about the time that she was deciding that if she were going to take Henry Warren away from Dodie Ames and Helen Baskins, it was high time she let him be aware of what she really had to offer an appreciative fellow. Finally, she put on her high-heeled pumps and turned this way and that to survey herself in the full-length bathroom mirror. Naughtily she whisked up the miniskirt, and giggled at the sight of her plump love-mound and the thick bush of dark-red hair which shielded it and caressingly curled over her fleshy cuntal lips through her gauzy panties. She was hoping that maybe this time he would bring along a safe and forget his silly nonsense about wanting to save her cherry until they got married. Of course, the way he had given it to her before, though most unexpected and unusual, had turned out to be terrifically thrilling, and she wouldn't mind if he tried it that way again, especially when he rubbed her tender little button and sent her crawling up the wall!

Letting her skirt fall back into place, Betty moved to the dining room window and peered out. Sure enough, Astrid Fullhan was in the kitchen, wearing her glasses, and those silly pigtails with the ribbons tied to them. She had on an apron and dowdy brown cotton dress, and she didn't have any makeup on at all. Wait until the girls of the S.S.S. got a gander at Astrid, Betty gleefully thought to herself.

Finally, she took out a tanager lipstick and deepened the ripe, sensual curve of her soft moist lips, and then, with a last glance at the mirror, left the house and walked out into the back yard. She didn't smoke, but this time she was going to. Her father had left a half-empty pack of Chesterfields on the kitchen table, and she was very nonchalant as she lit one with a kitchen match scraped against the fencepost and then slowly sauntered back and forth, as if looking for someone-as of course she was.

She pretended not to look back at the lighted kitchen window where Astrid Fullhan was standing. But covertly, she was able to see that she at once aroused the woman's attention. The blonde matron was leaning forward, frowning, her eyes very big behind those silly horn-rimmed glasses of hers. Betty airily took a puff at the cigarette, then another, but was careful not to inhale, which she didn't know how to do anyway. She flicked imaginary ashes into the air, then stooped and hoisted up her miniskirt to reveal her gauzy pantybriefs, and slyly glanced back at the Fullhan kitchen window. Sure enough, old Astrid was taking it all in, her mouth open like a chicken with its head cut off! It was all Betty could do to keep from giggling. The Kodak Instamatic, loaded and ready, was already in the garage. She had put it in there just as soon as her father and Kathleen had driven off to New York.

A few minutes later, she heard the sound of Henry Warren's car and giggled to herself. He was to park it in the alley and then leap over the fence and come to her through the garden so that Astrid would be sure to see them both together making their way into the garage. If that didn't work, they'd have to think of something else.

"Sweet stuff!" Henry Warren called guardedly, "Is the coast clear?"

"It's just fine, Hank lover!" Betty Jurgens giggled. He came to her out of the darkness, took her in his arms, and his hands squeezed the elastic cheeks of her behind as he pulled her to him. She could feel his fierce erection thrust against the twitching cuntal lips which the filmy net panties so scantily revealed more than concealed. And she felt a throbbing surge of feminine emotion, wanting this time for him to take her the right way, to put that big hard tool of his right where it belonged and not worry about saving her cherry for the wedding night-heaven knew how long it would be before Daddy would come around to the idea of even letting her go steady with Henry Warren.

"She's in the kitchen watching like a hawk, lover," Betty whispered in a husky voice after he broke off the kiss. "Stand here for a second and give me another couple of free feels, I'm getting so sexy you wouldn't believe! That ought to bug her eyes out for her, the old witch! Now you know what you've got to do?"

"You just do your part, baby, and I'll do mine. As for feeling you up, I could do this all night long-how's that?" He had slid his hands under her short skirt and under the legs of her net panties, and one hand was now roaming the velvety-smooth cheeks of her bare behind while the other fondled the thick dark-red bush over her cuntal lips. Betty moaned without faking, eyes closed and shivering as she pressed herself tightly to him. She thought she heard a stifled gasp, because Astrid Fullhan's kitchen window was partly raised, it being such a warm day and evening.

"Mmm, lover, be careful or we might do it right here and now and then we'd never catch the old snoop," she at last besought him. "I'll go into the garage and you come in after me. I left the bricks just slightly loose, so she can pull them out easily and we'll hear or see her. Then you know what to do."

With this, she turned and ran towards the side door of the garage, opened it, and disappeared. Henry Warren, without glancing back at the lighted kitchen window, moved slowly and purposefully towards that same door, paused long enough to light a cigarette, and hen disappeared inside the garage. ...

Astrid Fullhan's breath was coming quickly now, and her face was flushed. The very idea of those two dreadful children, practically fornicating out there under the sky and everything! She was going to have to tell Mr. Jurgens when he got back from his honeymoon. The wicked girl, no sooner had her father left town than she had to have that horrible boy over. The Lord alone knew what they would do all this week. Well, maybe if she gave them a scare, they might hold off their wickedness until Betty's father got back.

Under the rather dowdy brown dress, she wore a pale white lace-trimmed slip and matching strap-on bra with white suspants. She disliked girdles, because they were so cumbersome and then you had to remove the panties if you wanted to go to the bathroom and it made you very self-conscious. But the suspants were thick enough to cover the intimate parts that shouldn't be shown or exposed, and they had little tabs which reached down to her stockings and held them just as tightly as a garter belt would. That way, she wasn't conscious of the sinful undergarment that so many young girls or loose women wore to attract men. Thank goodness Matthew was as intellectual as she was on the subject of sex. She didn't know what she would have done if he had been one of those sex-crazy husbands who wanted to do things to her every night!

But she had to be sure that Betty Jurgens was committing sin with that awful Henry Warren, and the only way was to watch them and catch them at it. Very carefully she unlocked her kitchen door, tiptoed out, and moved over to the hedge. Parting the bushes, she squatted down before the rectangle of loose bricks, reached for one gingerly and then drew it out, laid it down very carefully, and then another and another . . . and then she crouched down and stared into the opening. Her worst fears were confirmed at once. They had turned on the electric light bulb there in the middle of the garage, and were standing right there shamelessly. Betty had her skirt up and her panties were pulled down-and what skimpy and sinful black panties they were, too-and that horrible boy had his hands on her b-bot-tom and was pressing himself right against her f-front-oh it was intolerable, disgraceful!

She watched, and suddenly the tickling between her thighs made her shiver, and she could feel the stiffening of her nipples. Almost unconsciously, she put a hand to her heaving breasts, her palm flattening down the nipple as if to punish it for having such emotions.

Then the light went out suddenly, and she gasped, straining her ears to listen to what was going on. They would be doing it next, she was sure. And then she would be able to tell Betty's father and have that boy sent to prison where he belonged for corrupting a minor. And the girl ought to be locked up on bread and water and given a good sound thrashing for a week at least. . . .

"Ohhh-what-let go-oh you-mmfffff- mmmfffff!"

Suddenly, she felt herself seized from behind, a hand over her mouth and an arm around her middle, lifting her off the ground as she kicked and struggled. Then she felt herself being carried or rather propelled into the garage, and suddenly dropped unceremoniously to fall with a painful thud upon her bottom on the hard stone garage floor.

"Who is that-Betty-is that awful boy with you ? You wait till I tell your father-I should think you would have learned your lesson-oh, what are you doing-no-stop it-my clothes -you're pulling up my clothes-oh no, let go- I'm going to yell for help-mmffff!"

Her dress and slip had been tugged up to her hips, and then wiry fingers had gripped the suspants and given a tug and yanked them down to her knees. Then she was hauled to her feet, and the next thing she knew, she felt something hard and hot press against the thick dark-brown fleece that shrouded her fleshy, twitching cuntal lips.

And then suddenly the light went on, and her eyes bulged and her mouth gaped open and she stood there paralyzed.

Betty Jurgens had the camera trained on her and she could hear the whirring sound. And Henry Warren, his fly open and his savagely turgid penis boldly projecting from it, stood against her, his hands gripping her elbows and pinning them behind her back, while he pressed the tip of his organ into her cuntal bush, until she could feel it actually rub against the soft pink lips of the most intimate and sacred part of her entire body.

"Well, well, Mrs. Fullhan," Betty Jurgens chortled, "wait till your husband sees this movie. He wouldn't believe that his adoring, very moral wife would be carrying on an affair with my very own boyfriend. Henry, how could you?"

"She's got a juicy fat little cunny on her, Astrid has, and you should get a feel of that big plump ass of hers too, baby," Henry Warren said out of the corner of his mouth while he grinned at the horrified blonde matron. "Personally, I think she's cute with those pigtails with the ribbons on them, just like a kid. Peel her down, and she's really got a shape for a cold winter's night!"

"Ohhhh-oh my God-you let me go-oh this is disgraceful-I'm going to tell-"

"Who are you going to tell, snoop?" Betty cut in. "Who's going to believe you once they see this movie? You rubbing your cunt right up against Henry's cock as if you couldn't get enough from your hubby-and I'll bet you don't. Sneaking off here into the garage to have a go at my own boyfriend, I like that!"

"Oh no-this is a terrible mistake-you misunderstand-I was outside-I mean-"

"I know what you were doing, snoopy!" Betty lashed at her sarcastically. "You were peeking, just the way you were when Hank and I were in here before and you had me get spanked. You were the one that called Dad and told him we were here, weren't you? Go ahead, Astrid, tell the truth or I'll have Henry do a few more things to you and take a lovely movie. I'll bet I could sell it for a stag party and make a fortune!"

"P-please-please have him let me go, please put that c-camera away-this is awful!"

"I'll say it is, Astrid baby," Henry snickered. Ruthlessly he twisted her elbows and forced her down on her knees, till her horrified, congested, tear-stained face was only inches from the savagely flaunting spear of his violently erect penis. "Get a shot of this, too, Betty Astrid giving a blow job!" And as Betty nodded and giggled in enthusiastic agreement, he deftly forced his penis against Astrid Fullhan's trembling lips. The camera whirred on, preserving that moment, even though Astrid wrenched her face away and uttered a shriek of loathing, "Ohh aughhh-oh take that filthy thing away-oh you horrible beast, you've got no right to treat me this way-"

"Yell all you want to, Astrid honey," Betty again interposed. "But I'm going to have a print of this made and see that your husband gets it when he gets back home. And maybe I'll give it to Bruce Fenton, he's got a night club on Highway Twenty-Seven and he shows dirty movies there to his special customers. I'll bet he'll pay me a lot for this one."

"Oh no-oh Betty, you wouldn't do a dreadful thing like that-you wouldn't-oh my God -no-oh I swear to you-I didn't do anything -he's the one-he pulled my clothes down and then-and then-" Astrid was near hysteria now.

Henry Warren released her and stepped back, not bothering to stuff his swollen penis back into his pants. "We're both going to see that you get yours, Astrid," he said coldly. "I don't much go for bitches that snoop on other people and snitch to their fathers. I happen to want to marry Betty someday, and if she wants to have some fun with me first, that's our business, not yours. Get me?"

"Yes, yes, I-I'm sorry-I didn't mean-I won't ever-" Astrid began to babble, wringing her hands and sobbing pitifully, kneeling there with bowed head on the garage floor, her suspants twisted and festooning her shaking knees. She wore flesh-toned nylons, and they lined her ripely rounded calves and succulently ample thighs. Henry Warren noticed this appreciatively, just as he did the thick dark-brown curls of her pubic bush which hardly let him see a glimpse of the fleshy coral-tinted cuntal lips they so secretively shrouded. He felt a throbbing in his organ that meant an urgent need for some kind of relief before this night was done! "I'll say you'll never butt in again, bitch. Now listen, and listen good. You've got just one chance to stop us from giving your hubby a copy of this movie and one to old Bruce, get me?"

"I-I'll do anything you want-I swear I will-only please destroy that horrible thing- oh please-"

"All right. Betty here heads up a sorority over at school, see? Well, a week from this Sunday afternoon, they're going to have an initiation. And you, baby, are going to be one of the pledges."

"I-I don't understand-" Astrid Fullhan timidly stammered, looking over at Betty with agonized and supplicating eyes, still wringing her hands.

"We'll see that you're blindfolded or wear a mask, Astrid," Betty explained with a sarcastic smile on her lovely face. "Nobody is going to know who you are. We'll just say you're a transfer senior from Chicago or something. But you'll go through the mill, and you'll take a good sound paddling on that big ass of yours to teach you a lesson about snooping."

"Oh no-oh that's worse-oh it's horrible- how can you be so cruel-you're a girl-oh how can you treat a woman this way-?"

"Would you rather have your husband watch this movie and maybe Bruce Fenton's customers and see who you are? You weren't wearing a mask when you had your mouth up against my boyfriend's cock, Astrid honey," Betty jeered.

Crushed and broken, her face flaming, Astrid bowed her head and covered her face with her hands as her shoulders jerked with fitful sobs.

"Well ?" Henry Warren moved closer, put his hand on the blonde woman's shoulder. "Do you play it our way or do we make copies of this movie and start circulating it all around Summerton?"

From Astrid, there came a faint, agonized "N-no-oh dear God-I-I'll do what you want-only please don't tell my h-husband- please!"