Chapter 2

Lisa Roberts had always been a lonely girl. Early in life she had tried making friends with other girls her age, but somehow or other found she was unable to relate to them. Her mother and grandmother prevented her from becoming friendly with older girls, nor did they allow her to become friendly with boys, though Lisa was certain she'd be able to be friendly with them. As a result, Lisa grew up feeling very lonely, and the only person with whom she was able to speak at all was her mother.

Lisa had known her mother had gone out with a man the previous Saturday night, and from the look on her mother's face when Lisa had seen her, Sunday morning, it was obvious the man had done something to make her mother very happy. Having just come from a night at her grandmother's house, early Sunday morning, Lisa let herself into the apartment where she lived with her mother while Gail was still fast asleep.

Not wanting to disturb her mother, Lisa decided to take care of the wash. She found sheets in the bathroom hamper, along with all the dirty clothes, and she used the sheets to bundle everything and make it easier for her to carry the clothing.

Lisa still had the face of a girl of ten, though her mind was sharp. If she was innocent and unknowing, it was because her mother kept her ignorant. She looked taller than her five-feet-four inches because she was so slender. Her breasts were small bumps that would never even grow to the size of her mother's, and though her hips were round, they weren't bulging. She had the kind of body fashion models starve themselves for, though Lisa had a prodigious appetite.

As she carried the bundle of dirty clothes down to the basement where there were washing machines, Lisa noticed the sheets were stiff and crusty. Strange! What might her mother have spilled to make the sheets that way? There was no odor to the crustiness.

Shrugging, she carried everything to an empty washing machine and dumped most of it in, after weighing out the proper amount. The sheets and some other clothes had to be saved for another wash-load. While she waited, a young married woman from another floor came down with her own washing. Seeing

Lisa there, she sat on a bench and waited, too.

"I see someone had a good time last night," the woman smiled, pointing to the crusty stains on the sheets.

"Huh?" Lisa asked. "What do you mean."

"Gee, by now a girl your age ought to know," the woman said. "I'm sorry, Mrs. . . . "

"Lang," the woman said. "But you can call me Carol."

"I'm sorry, Carol, but I don't know what you mean. That stuff on the sheets means my mom had a good time?"

"Look, if your mom hasn't told you, it's not up to me to tell you," Carol replied.

Carol had red hair, white skin, a broad nose, and a wide smile. Un-like Lisa, Carol had big breasts pressing against a blue bathrobe, and wide, round hips. In twenty years she would have one big ass, but that wasn't going to happen in the near future.

Lisa looked at the sheets in Carol's wicker basket, and sure enough, there were crust-like stains on them, as well. A lot of people were having a good time, and she, Lisa, didn't know how, when, where, or why.

When the second wash-load of clothes was finished, Lisa put everything in the over-sized gas dryer. By the time she was finished, Carol had finished using the washing machine.

"Hey," Carol whispered, as Lisa took the clothing from the dryer and put it all into a cloth sack she had with her, "I see something I recognize."

"Huh?" was all Lisa was able to say.

Carol reached into the bag and pulled out a monog-rammed handkerchief. Immediately, Lisa realized it was a man's handkerchief. It had a large U-shape in one corner, with the initials S. M. inside.

"Gee, I never saw that before," Lisa said. "Maybe I picked it up off the floor here when I put my own clothes in the washing machine."

"Could be," Carol nodded, "though what Sam Mallo would be doing down here is beyond me."

"Who?"

"Sam Mallo, the shoe-repair man down the street," Carol replied. "That's the heel of a shoe with his initials inside. I recognize it, because he has the same monogram on his shop window. Hey, I can just imagine what he might have been doing down here. Sure, it had to be down here. I mean, your mom wouldn't have . . . well not with Sam."

"Wouldn't have what?" Lisa asked.

"It's not important," Carol shrugged.

But Lisa thought it was.