Chapter 5
Sore and achy from a week of sleeping on hard train seats, Ruth slept dreamlessly until the sun was high the next day, waking only when a sliver of California sunshine peeked its way through the torn window shade, making one brown eye open to wander bewilderedly over the messy, closet-like room that she hadn't the heart to call home. Awakening with a sense of urgency, she rubbed her marbly eyes, wondering what quirk of fate had sent her to these dumpy surrounds. Then it flooded back on her... her father... her sister... Ricky. Oh, for the solitudinous privacy of her scrubbed rose-walled bedroom and the pink chenille bedspread to match!
The night previous she'd been awakened once or twice by loud clanging noises from the floor below, but sleep had quickly overcome her, wiping out any curiosity to take a fearful peek at her sister's rowdy clientele.
Before she had time to slip into her jeans, her sister, looking terribly pale and shaky, ascended the squeaking stairs, toting a coffee mug in each hand. "Here ya go, honey. Chug this. We got lots to do if we're gonna straighten this place out. We gotta find you something decent to serve drinks in tonight," she put in, sitting down cross-legged at the foot of Ruth's saggy, narrow bed. When Donna was down to the grounds in the bottom of the cup, she led the way to her cluttered bedroom closet and yanked an armful of clothes from their rattling hangers. "Try these on ..." she said curtly, making Ruth sadly realize that her cruel, hypocritical father had beaten every ounce of softness out of her sister's once innocent demeanor, causing her to wonder if that same ugly fate would happen to her now that she was out on her own.
Donna's voice was drowned out by the unearthly roar of a motorcycle pulling up outside, spitting gravel and churning up clouds of dust. "That must be Lash!" cried Donna jubilantly, darting down the stairs and calling over her shoulder: 'Try those on!"
Blurry eyed from sleep, the Reverend's younger daughter held up for inspection the garments ... one by one, gawking slack-jawed at the tiny denim Levi's skirts with rhinestones and sequins and tiny halter tops to match ... the see-through chiffon gowns ... the plunging neckline sweaters that looked big enough for a Barbie Doll. All of them looked like costumes from X-rated movies! She dawdled, sorting them out, putting off the inevitable until, much to her chagrin she heard footsteps-two sets-thudding up the steps, accompanied by voices. "Yeah, she's up there trying them on now. Come see what you think .. ."
No way was that burly killer going to stare at her braless, pantyless body... even if she was wearing a flannel nightgown! A wave of red hot terror scorched through her veins and, scurrying toward her room, they caught her at the landing.
"Hey, come on, honey," snapped Donna annoyed. "Let's get with it!"
Ruth stood perplexed and nervous with Donna on one side and Lash on the other, leading her back to the heap of clothes on Donna's bed.
"Here, try this one on," ordered Donna briskly, holding up a mid-thigh red taffeta dress with ruffles around the bottom which was as transparent as colored cellophane.
"I-I have a slip in my suitcase," stammered Ruth nervously. "I'll go get it. You can see right through that thing!"
"So what?" retorted her sister with a careless shrug of the shoulders. "Nobody's here but Lash and me and besides, you got a nice ass. You ain't in church you know."
Ruth could think of no particular response to that barrage of arguments, so docilely she accepted the dress and headed back to her room with it. Lash caught her arm. "Hey, we're all friends here."
Blushing to a ripe persimmon, Ruth could do nothing short of creating a scene, but she did insist on putting on a brassiere and panties. The burly biker wandered around the upstairs flat, used the bathroom and whistled tonelessly in an effort to appear casual, but the young girl knew that his restless lustful eyes never left her for an instant.
Californians certainly are strange people ... so loose and carefree, she complained to herself, ambling back into her sister's bedroom, feeling more secure now that her heavy breasts were bound and the fleecy mound of her pubic area snug beneath her white nylon panties. Lash stood with arms crossed, eyes appraisingly raking over her body as she turned her back, slipped out of her nightgown and into the red dress.
It was disgusting! The wide straps from her brassiere showed clearly under the silky print fabric and it was cut so low in front that the cups of her bra kept poking up over the bust-line. She turned around with a sheepish grin on her dimpled face, expecting them to laugh. "Awful, isn't it?" She wrinkled up her nose.
"Perfect!" Donna clapped her hands together in approval. "But that's got to come off!" she tutted, tugging at Ruth's left brassiere strap.
"But you can see right through it!" whined Ruth miserably. What kind of sister wanted her sister running around half naked? Besides, her breasts were too heavy to go without support; she would be flopping around like a fish out of water. But she couldn't get in a fight with her only friend in the world, so obediently she turned her back again, more nervous than ever and fumbled with the buttons on the skimpy outfit that held to her skin with the tenacity of glue. Lash sorted out the clothes on the bed which he found likable and she knew his eyes would be boring into her the moment she unhooked her guardian brassiere.
Do it fast and do it slick, she decided, undoing the top of the dress, letting it fall naturally around her waist; then she slipped the offending brassiere off her milk white shoulders, allowing her full, magnificent breasts to escape. Her fingers stumbled over the zip when she noticed that her brown berry nipples were standing up hard and erect, something which perplexed her. One of her romantic novels said something about hard nipples meaning sexual excitement, but how was this sordid business exciting? Shaking her long blonde hair back over her shoulders, she quickly yanked the top of the dress into place, arranging her breasts like two loaves of bread dough in the tight pans of the bodice, then turned to face Lash and Donna.
"Christ, look at those tits!" exclaimed the biker enthusiastically, showing emotion at last.
"Just itching to get your hands on 'em, ain't ya, baby?" snapped Donna caustically.
"I-I think it's a little too revealing," put in Ruth meekly, unhappily, blushing at this indecent conversation. Turning, she studied herself in the full length mirror. The tops of her melonous breasts were almost completely naked and she could see the dark shadows beneath the material where her turgid tensed nipples peeked out. As she moved, her womanly breasts swayed with the ease of a well-oiled gate, and this embarrassed her. How could she wait on tables in this? One false move and everything would come tumbling out. And the old-fashioned short skirt was so short that her panties showed with every move.
The next dress Lash picked out... it was worse, ominous of the session that degenerated into a strip tease. Donna and Lash plunked down on the bed, ignoring her girlish feelings of modesty, watching as she turned her back to try on a new outfit. Even so, her only protection was the thin pair of flimsy nylon panties she wore, and she knew that Lash was getting a good hard stare at her breasts every time she undid a dress and climbed out of it... not to mention her full satin thighs and long tapered legs.
"You know," Lash announced suddenly, when they had selected six outrageous outfits and Ruth was happy to get back into her modest flannel nightgown again, "we oughta get her in a men's magazine lyin' down on a zebra skin rug." He gestured with his hands as he talked. "You know, with her legs kinda spread, so guys can get a look at her snatch. Girls who have big tits like her usually have fat asses, but Ruth here's got a nice tight ass and her tits stand right up by themselves."
Piqued, Donna objected strenuously. "Yeah, and I got a restaurant to run, and I need help."
Ruth wanted to cry out with anger and outrage like a child being sold for a slave, but she could sense the tension, hot as an uninsulated wire, spark between them, and she feared violence might erupt and decided to hold her tongue.
"Are you crazy? You could make some bucks! They'd pay a thou at least!" An expression of fear suddenly crept across Donna's face as she realized that she had pushed him too far and excited his quick anger. Ruth eyed the door, preparing to tiptoe out unnoticed, but suddenly Lash was calling her name.
"Ruth! Get your ass in here!" commanded the biker harshly, turning his anger toward her. 'Take off that goddamn nightgown and show your sister what I mean!"
With the fearsome tone of voice he was using and the furious wild expression on his reddened face, Ruth was too terrified to say no. Staring at him like a bird hypnotized by a snake, Ruth pulled off her nightgown and faced them, her hands hanging loosely at her sides. The shame and embarrassment had given way to a cold fear as the two of them studied her half-naked body.
"Hmmmm ... maybe you're right," conceded Donna.