Chapter 7
The next meeting of the church social group was held at Barbara's house. She greeted each arrival, wondering what she would say when Tony appeared, if he did.
Nell Walters, who had been vivacious at the last meeting, scarcely said a word as she arrived. She seemed like a totally different woman, troubled and tense. Barbara was tempted to ask if there was anything she could do for her, because she suspected Nell might be ill, but the latter moved quickly to a chair, her eyes downcast.
Remembering that Edith Townsend had appeared much the same way at the last meeting, Barbara kept an eye out for her, but she didn't show up. Neither did Tony. His red-haired wife came instead, giving Barbara a curt greeting.
Joan was the last to arrive. Barbara had been avoiding her since the episode at Howie's station, and the look on her face made Barbara wonder if she had found out.
If she accuses me of fucking her husband, what can I say? Barbara wondered tensely. Oh, why did I ever do that? And why did I suck off that kid who works for Howie-right there in the station?
Barbara was flooded with shame every time she thought of the disgraceful occurrence. She didn't know how she would be able to look Howie in the face again. It was difficult enough to greet her sister.
"Hi, Barb," Joan said, and it immediately became obvious from her tone that she didn't know what had happened. She was upset about something else.
"What's the matter?" Barbara asked. "You look worried."
"I don't know what I'm going to do," the platinum blonde confided softly to her younger sister. "I'm in the most awful trouble!"
"Well, what is it?"
"I'm trapped, Barb! I never thought a thing like this could happen to me, but it has."
"What thing? Maybe if you told me about it ... "
Joan looked furtively about. "I can't discuss it now," she said, and hurried into the living room.
Barbara saw her glance anxiously at Tony's wife.
It has to do with him, Barbara thought. It must! Him and that wicked big prick of his!
Tony's cock had been in Barbara's consciousness almost constantly. She kept seeing the huge, turgid organ in her mind's eye and imagining that she could feel it driving up her tight pussy.
Perhaps Tony had jilted Joan just as he had done to her, Barbara speculated. But did that constitute a "trap"? Barbara decided to have a talk with her sister at the first opportunity.
Tony's wife, Frieda, gave a report on the arrangements for the charity drive. It seemed that Barbara had been cut out of that, without a word of explanation, just as she had been cut out of Tony's life.
The door chimes rang as the meeting was about to end, and Barbara went to see who was there. He was a squat man with a particularly homely face. To Barbara, he resembled a frog. He wore a flashy sport jacket and cream-colored slacks.
"I'm here to pick up Frieda," he said, eyeing Barbara's breasts which bulged ripely in a jersey blouse.
His frank appraisal of her charms made her nervous. "You mean Mrs. Delbridge?"
"Yeah."
"Well, come in. Our meeting is just about over."
The man entered and deliberately brushed against Barbara, causing her tits to tingle. She wondered what Frieda was doing with a man like that. Did Tony know about him?
Frieda and the froggy man left together a few minutes later. Barbara was caught up in a conversation with a couple of friends, making it impossible for her to have another word with Joan, who picked up her wrap from the bedroom and hurried out.
Deciding to drop by her sister's house, Barbara went first to the bedroom to check her makeup. She realized she had better pee before leaving and walked to the bathroom where she raised her skirt and stripped down her silk panties. As she pissed, she thought about Tony. He was constantly popping into her mind at odd moments like that.
Barbara wiped her pussy carefully and flushed the John. She drew her panties up, carefully tucking the elastic legbands beneath her well rounded buttocks, then let her skirt drop. She washed her hands like a good girl.
Perhaps it was her persistent interest in Tony, more than sisterly concern, that prompted her desire to have a private talk with Joan. She felt certain that Joan was involved with Tony and that somehow her involvement with him was responsible for her present trouble.
Returning to the bedroom, Barbara selected a light wrap from her closet, since it was a nippy October day. She checked her purse and decided she should take some extra money with her, in case she decided to do some shopping after she saw Joan.
She opened the bureau drawer where her extra funds were kept and felt underneath her brassieres and panties. Her fingers didn't touch the bills. She frantically tossed her undies right and left, searching for the money.
The four twenty dollar bills, which she knew she had left in the drawer, were gone.
Barbara sat on the edge of the bed in consternation and wondered what had happened to the money.
Would Grant have taken it that morning, without mentioning the fact? That was inconceivable, Barbara decided, because her husband was a stickler for careful accounting.
He was a narrow-minded prude who didn't know how to fuck, she thought ruefully, but he was utterly honest and would never take anything from her without asking first.
Who else, then?
Most of the girls who'd attended the meeting had been in the bedroom to drop off and pick up their wraps. But none knew Barbara kept money in her lingerie drawer ... except Joan. She had watched Barbara take funds from there more than once.
Joan had said she was "trapped". That probably meant money trouble, Barbara surmised, and her sister must have helped herself to what Barbara had.
She sat and stared at the wall, trying to decide what to do. Should she go to see Joan as planned and confront her with an accusation? What if she was wrong? Anyway, would Joan admit she had taken the money?
Barbara mulled over the question for some time while she stalled, pacing back and forth. Her buttocks rolled sensuously in her snug skirt. Her breasts quivered in the jersey blouse that cuddled them.
She became angrier and angrier as she thought about how her own sister had ripped her off. It had to be Joan who had taken the money, she decided. None of the other women would have been pawing through her bras and pants.
Barbara flung on her wrap, snatched her purse, and hurried from the house.
After stopping her car in front of Joan's modest home, she swung her legs out, unmindful that her trim skirt had rucked high on her thighs while driving. Her garter clasps winked in the sunlight, and inches of pale, luscious skin were exposed. The delightful display caused the driver of a passing delivery truck to rub his pecker through his pants.
He jammed on his brakes, slowing to watch Barbara's ass twist voluptuously as she strode up the walk to her sister's front door. The fellow made a mental note to fuck his wife as soon as he got home that night.
When Joan answered the door, her silver-blonde hair was awry and her eyes were red. Barbara thought at first that her sister had been crying. But when Joan spoke, that assumption was put to rest.
"Cm'in, Barbie," she slurred, her tongue thick. "Have a drink. I'm celebrating my desh-truction!"
Barbara stared at her as she entered the house. She had never seen her sister in such a state before. Joan had gotten tipsy at parties, but always in a happy way, and she had never drunk alone, to Barbara's knowledge. Joan was bombed this time, and she must have downed a lot of liquor in a hurry after arriving home from the meeting or she couldn't have gotten that way so quickly.
"Did you see her-that stinkin' bitch?" Joan asked. "Struttin' right in as if nothing had happened?"
"Who are you talking about?" Barbara asked.
"Tony's lousy wife, tha's who!" Joan exclaimed, and wavered on unsteady legs. , Barbara supported her to save her from falling. "Here, you'd better find a chair," Barbara said, and walked her to the nearest one.
Joan landed heavily, her skirt whipping up to her lap. She had taken off her pantyhose and was covered by just skimpy briefs of a multicolored print design. She didn't bother to pull her skirt down. On the small table next to her chair, her purse lay open, and some of its contents had spilled out.
The sight of the purse reminded Barbara of her missing money, and she decided this was a good time to bring it up. Drunk as Joan was, perhaps she would admit the truth without a lot of hassle.
"Uh, you borrowed something from me, didn't you?" Barbara asked, phrasing it as delicately as possible.
"Huh?"
"The money in among my bras and panties," Barbara said.
"No!" Joan exclaimed, jerking her chin up. "What would I want your money for?"
"This trouble you're in...." Barbara began, "it involves money, doesn't it?"
Joan blinked at her. "Why d'you say that?"
"Joan, you'd better tell me the truth."
"I can't! I can't tell anyone. That's what makes it pure hell!"
Joan pawed at her purse, evidently searching for cigarettes. More of the purse's contents spilled out. Barbara's interest was attracted to two snapshots, and she leaned closer to look at them.
Her mouth dropped open.
The photos showed Joan and Tony. In one he was atop her, both of them stark naked, his hips lodged between her splayed thighs. The picture didn't show his cock sticking into her hole, but that had to be where it was.
In the other picture, Joan was on her knees in front of Tony, and she had his long, stiff prick in her mouth. A sensuous throb went through Barbara as she gazed at the thrilling sight. She was instantly jealous of her older sister.
"Joan!" she exclaimed, snatching the photos and holding them up.
"Ooh, shit!" her sister cried, and tried to take the pictures away. But Barbara backed off, still clutching them.
"G'me those!" Joan demanded drunkenly. "You shouldn't have looked at 'em."
"How dare you tell me what I shouldn't have done!" Barbara said in a sudden burst of self-righteousness. "Look at you with that married man!"
Barbara had wanted to refer to him as "my man", but she hadn't dared.
"All right!" Joan said. "So I told you I made it with a guy-I jus' di'nt say it was Tony."
"But having pictures taken while you were doing it-sucking his cock and everything!" Barbara raged.
"Sure, I sucked his cock!" Joan said defensively. "I liked it, too! He's got the juiciest prick in the world!"
"But the pictures...!"
"Yeah, the pitchers," Joan said dismally. "I need 'nother drink."
"No! What about the pictures, Joan?" Barbara thought she was getting an inkling of her sister's problem.
"Ooh, shit ... I s'pose you might as well hear it. Y'know everything else. Tony's goddamned wife'n her boyfriend took the pitchers."
"Her boyfriend?"
"Yeah-that son'vabitch that picked her up at the meeting. They snuck in on Tony'n me, and they took those stinkin' pitchers before we knew what was goin' on."
"She wanted evidence for a divorce?" Barbara asked.
"Are you kidding? She wants money! She's got Tony by the balls, because she could ruin him in TV if she passed those pitchers around. They could ruin me, too. D'you know what the ladies at the church would say? Well, Tony don't have any dough right now, till he gets a job. So I gotta come up with it somehow-a hunnerd dollars a week! Howie won't let loose of that much extra. Barb, I don't know what the shit I'm gonna do!"
She bowed her head into her hands and sobbed.
Barbara stared at her. "You did take my money, didn't you?"
"Yeah ... sure ... I took it. Wha's the use of lying? But it isn't enough ... even for the first week! I can't hack this, Barb! Tony's gonna be ruined. I'll be ruined, too, and Howie'll throw me out on my ass!"
She went in to another paroxysm of sobs.
Barbara had difficulty resolving her feelings about the blackmail. She couldn't help sympathizing with her sister, even though she had stolen Tony away. Barbara felt sorry for Tony, too, and she thought she understood at last why he hadn't called her. He was afraid to call any woman now, with his wife watching him like an eagle and holding the morally incriminating pictures over his head.
"Ooh, Tony ... Tony...!" Joan blubbered, and began to rub the narrow center strip of her panties, pressing the nylon against her hot cunt.
"That's disgusting, Joan!" her sister said. "Pull your skirt down."
Joan did so, and looked up shamefully.
"You'd better get yourself together before Howie comes home," Barbara advised.
"I don't give a shit about Howie!" Joan said. "Tony's the guy I love!"
"Well, you'll have to forget him completely. Because, as you said," Barbara added, "his wife's got him by the balls."
"What am I gonna do?" Joan asked helplessly, her eyes wet and red.
"When are you supposed to make your first payment?"
"Right now! Today!"
"Can you scrape it together, starting with my eighty?"
"No, I told you! I've got twelve dollars'n sixty-three cents t'my name! Howie don't give me shit, the stingy prick!"
Barbara had never heard her sister talk so filthily before.
"Howie's only good'fr one thing-fuckin' every goddamned woman in town!" Joan went on hatefully. "An' he don't even do that as good as Tony. Ooooh, Barb, how that guy can screw!"
"Stop the nasty talk, Joan! Since you're in no condition to negotiate with Tony's wife, I'll try to help you. But I'll have to talk with him first."
"Oooh, don't let him know you found out!"
"Why not? I'm your sister! I wouldn't let the word get out, and Tony will realize that."
"But what if his wife catches you with him? Tony'n I don't dare see each other any more. We can't even talk on the fuckin' phone!"
"I'll handle things. Don't worry. In the meantime, get yourself sobered up. And you might as well give me back my eighty dollars, since it isn't enough to solve your problem."
Barbara could have given her sister enough more to make up the hundred, but she didn't want to. What was the use of paying one week's blackmail when the payments couldn't possibly be continued?
Anyway, Barbara wanted to meet with Tony again. Her heart pounded at the prospect.
She took a last look at the picture of Joan sucking Tony's cock, and her panties got wet. She could almost feel his bulging prickhead in her own mouth, his iron-hard shaft stretching her lips.
Joan fumbled in her purse and brought out a small wad of bills. She handed them to Barbara, who counted them and put them in her purse.
"I'll make some coffee for you," she said. "And for God's sake, leave the liquor alone."
Barbara strode to the kitchen, her breasts quivering in her clingy blouse. She spied the telephone on the wall and dialed Tony's number, her hand shaking.
"Hello." It was Frieda.
"Uuh hello, Frieda. This is Barbara McKenna. I wonder if I could talk with your husband, please, about the charity drive?"
"I thought you were out of that," the other woman snapped.
"Well ... no one ever told me ... and there were some arrangements that your husband and I made. If he's there, I would like to...."
"Oh, all right! Just a minute." Tony came on the line.
"I have to see you!" Barbara blurted. "It's about Joan."
"Oh. Well, I suppose we should get together, Mrs. McKenna, and clear things up."
"I'll meet you," Barbara panted, rubbing her sizzling pussy through her clothes. "You know where the Chapman Road curves up into the hills?"
"Yes."
"There's a dirt road that branches off there," Barbara said, having difficulty talking because she was so hot. "It runs along a row of eucalyptus trees. I'll meet you there in half an hour."
"Well ... uuh ... all right."
"For goodness sake, be sure that your wife doesn't follow you!"
"Yeah. Okay."
"You must meet me, Tony!"
"All right. Half an hour."
The telephone went dead in Barbara's hand.
She trembled wildly as she hung up the receiver. After casting a quick, guilty glance over her shoulder to make certain that her sister wasn't entering the kitchen, she jerked up her skirt and rubbed the silken shield of her panties.
Her brain swam.
I'm going to see Tony ... I'm going to see Tony! she thought giddily as she rubbed her hot twat. Moisture seeped through her panties to dampen her hand.
Her heart went out to the man who was in trouble along with Joan. Barbara was prepared to forgive him for everything.