Chapter 3
It was at dusk on the same day, and Fern and Mitch and Lucy were on the terrace, having a cocktail before dinner. All three of them were dressed for the theater. Fern had on a floor-length gown of softly clinging white crepe which was split up the front to her knees and whose neckline plunged down nearly to her navel. High-heeled white pumps and a string of pearls about her neck completed her ensemble, and the elegant simplicity of her attire served to enhance her great physical beauty. Mitch, in a dinner jacket, looked as if he could have stepped from the pages of a Playboy advertisement. Lucy was wearing red velvet hot pants over dark panty hose, knee-length leather boots, a cream-colored silk blouse with billowing sleeves, and an elaborately embroidered vest that had been made in India. Mitch sat between mother and daughter as they sipped daiquiris and conversed.
"I'm glad you decided to go with us to the theater, Lucy," Fern said, "even though it wasn't easy at all to get another ticket so late in the day. Nelson had to chase all over town for it. And I'm glad to see you wearing something other than those awful rags you usually run around in. Can it be you're becoming a lady? My God, it's been bad enough being the mother of a child, I don't know how I'll handle being the mother of a lady."
"You could say you're sisters," Mitch said, smiling at his wife.
"I've got to grow up sometime, Mother," Lucy said, and tried to twine her fingers with Mitch's.
He quickly pulled his hand away. Fern couldn't see the secretive pass Lucy had made at him, but the servants might, and that would be very bad. It would be a trying evening. Lovesick, horny Lucy would be after him in a hundred little ways, and although her attentions would be sweetly exciting, they would also be terribly dangerous. His only hope of getting through it safely would be to see that Fern had plenty to drink and that Lucy did not. Both their glasses were half empty. He refilled Fern's to the brim and put a few drops from the pitcher into Lucy's while they chatted, with Lucy making altogether too many cute little remarks about her evolution into a woman. He wondered if the danger was worth it, and then looking at the girl and recalling how easily she'd been led to blow him, he decided that it was. He was prepared to walk the tightrope between these two women, and he really didn't think he'd fall. If he did, there'd be another woman, perhaps not as beautiful as Fern, but more wealth and less demanding. Either way, all he had to lose was a little time, and at twenty-eight years of age, he had plenty of that left to him. Nelson appeared at the terrace doors, still in his chauffeur's uniform. He was a big man of about thirty-five, with a thick build and a rough-hewn face. He had once been a boxer, and this plus his powerful physique had been factors in Fern's hiring him, since she had a normal New Yorker's fear of muggers and burglars and she felt comforted by having the bulk of him around. Now he had a puzzled look on his face as he made his announcement.
"There is a Miss Mary Kilbourne calling. She says, Miss Fern, that she is... your niece?"
"Oh, Christ," Fern said, and downed half her drink. "What a time for her to come. I suppose she'll want to have dinner with us. Nelson, tell Sarah to lay another place. But I'll be damned if I'll send Nelson off in search of another ticket. She'll just have to stay here and count her rosary beads, or whatever it is they do in her religion. Show her in, Nelson."
None of them could quite believe their eyes when they saw her. She was of medium height and apparently of medium weight, though this was hard to tell, for on that very warm June evening, she was buttoned into a heavy black cloth coat. It came to her knees, and below it showed an inch of black skirt hem, while below this were heavy black stockings and much heavier black shoes. She was carrying a bulging shopping bag in her hand. On her head was a broad, flat, black hat. Her pale yellow hair was braided into thick plaits which disappeared up under the hat. Her face was very tanned, as were her hands. It was a very well-structured face, as the expert Fern could clearly see. The bones were classically formed, the lips nicely full, the skin taut, and the eyes a very clear blue behind the steel-rimmed spectacles. Take away the spectacles and add some make-up, and she could be a very lovely girl, almost as lovely as Fern's sister, Louise, who had borne her and who had been a beautiful girl herself before she'd thrown her life away in the great, and thoroughly boring Midwest.
Perspiration beaded the girl's short upper lip and streamed down her temples, but she made no move to either take off the coat or set down the shopping bag.
"Auntie Fern?" she said, looking back and forth from Fern to Lucy. "I'm Mary Kilbourne, your niece?"
'Hello, dear," Fern said, extending her hand and smiling up from her chair. "I am Fern, but let's drop the Auntie business, shall we? This is my husband Mitch and my daughter Lucy. You look stifling. Take off your coat and sit down and have a drink with us. Terribly sorry about your parents, dear."
"It was God's will," she said, leaning the bag against the chair facing them, and tugging at the buttons of her coat. "It was very good of you to take me in. I assure you I shall do my part here and more, and cause you no difficulty in the coming weeks until my eighteenth birthday. It's a great pleasure to meet all of you. Mother spoke of you often... Fern."
Bucolic as the girl was, Fern rather liked her. She was too stiff-backed and her language was too precise, but at least she wasn't a tobacco-chewing milkmaid in coveralls. It was a relief the way she had dispensed with the need to offer insincere condolences, and it Was a tribute to her that she was bearing up so well after the recent loss of both her parents. Fern saw that she greatly amused Lucy, and Mitch as well. Her husband, usually ultra-courteous, smiled and filled another glass, but he did not bother to rise and help her off with her coat.
Mary sat primly on the edge of the chair, knees together, skirt pulled down over them, stemmed glass in her hand. She had left her hat on, as if she would be asked to leave at any moment. Her high-necked, long-sleeved dress fit her loosely, except where it was sticking to her sweating body. It was probably the most unattractive dress Fern had ever seen, undoubtedly homemade and dyed black for mourning. The girl plucked at the sweaty bodice nervously, and Fern could see that she had a very nice bustline under it. What she could see of her legs wasn't bad either. Beauty ran in the family, at least to some degree.
She wasn't difficult to talk to, and thankfully, she did not bring her religion into the conversation. When asked what airline she had come on, she surprised and amused them all by saying she'd come on a bus. The news that she had walked from Grand Central Station instead of taking a cab had brought on complete disbelief at first, especially from Lucy.
"You walked? In this heat? I mean, you actually walked? That's over forty blocks."
"Oh, I walk much farther than that every day," she said, leaning back in the chair now, relaxing a little.
"Thaf s why she wears such sensible shoes," Mitch said with a wink. "Oh, she'll get along fine here in New York. Can I refill your glasses, ladies?"
Mary had drained hers in just about one gulp and was eager for more. "This is delicious. I was dying for a glass of water, but this is ever so much better. I hope you have plenty."
"Gallons of it," said Fern. "And plenty of dinner too. I hope you like Tournedoes with Bearnaise sauce."
"They've always scared me. Even praying doesn't help me in that. I didn't know you had them in New York, though," she said, and amiably smiled when they all laughed.
Sarah announced that dinner was served, and Fern got up and said, "Come along and we'll introduce you to New York tornados. And take off that hat, will you? It makes me uncomfortable just to look at it. Sorry you won't have time for a shower before dinner, but we're a little pressed for time."
"I just knew you'd have a shower here, and I can hardly wait to see how one feels," said the girl, taking off her hat as she stood up. The stiffness was gone from her now, and Fern was quite struck by the grace of her movements and the turn of her figure under the sacklike dress.
"Oh, don't tell us you've never taken a shower," Lucy said. "You can't be that much of a hick."
"I'm afraid I am," said Mary, turning toward her with an apologetic smile, and in turning, presenting her aunt with a profile view of her strikingly feminine shape and the thickest braid of golden hair she had ever seen.
"Come, I'll show you to the bathroom," said Fern, and placed a hand on her back to guide her away from her bemused daughter. In reality she wanted to feel how wide the band of Mary's bra was, for it had to be a remarkably sophisticated gannent to keep her full breasts so high on her chest. She was astounded to feel no bra band there at all.
Mary was awed by the opulence of the bathroom, and Fern found herself somewhat awed by the natural beauty of the girl who was washing her tanned hands in the marble sink. When she removed her glasses to wash her face, the change in her was startling. Fern saw that this was a real beauty in her house, but she still couldn't quite believe it. Beauty such as hers simply didn't come naturally, especially under the harsh conditions of farm life, and Fern decided that the beauty she saw was only there in contrast to the frumpy clothes and spectacles she was wearing. Still, the natural grace was certainly there as Mary sauntered toward the dinner table.
When Mitch started to pour the wine, Mary quickly refused. "No, thank you. I never touch alcohol in any form, I'll just get myself another glass of that lemonade."
It startled Lucy and Mitch for a moment, then broke them up with laughter. Smiling foolishly, Mary blandly asked them what was funny, and now Fern saw that the girl was a little drunk and had no idea of her condition. She said, "Sit still, Mary. That's what the servants are for. Sarah, bring the pitcher of lemonade from the terrace for my niece."
Mary was feeling extraordinarily good. It was, no doubt, the relief at having arrived safely after her long and frightening trip. She realized Lucy and Mitch were having a little fun at her expense, but she didn't really care, as long as they were enjoying themselves half as much as she was. Her aunt was being just wonderful to her, and wasn't at all the wild, wicked woman her mother had hinted she might be. She explained what Tournedoes were in a manner which covered up Mary's ignorance at such things, and she acted as a buffer for some of the jokes that the other two pointed at her. She helped her to more of the incredibly delicious food and she saw that she had a full glass of the tangy sweet lemonade at all times. She was a very nice woman, Mary decided, despite her city ways, and certainly a very beautiful one. All of them were beautiful, and so was the lavish apartment, and so was the big, fascinating city.
Mitch was surely the most handsome man she'd ever seen in her life, and just looking at him made her blush and feel funny down below. Lucy was a devilishly pretty little pixie, younger than she in years, but vastly older in experience and sophistication, and Mary found it difficult to talk to her. She addressed most of her remarks to her aunt, who was probably the only woman in the world good-looking enough to make a match for Mitch. She admired her table manners and her warm voice and everything about her in addition to her beauty, and she almost wished she could be like her someday. At the moment, almost anything seemed possible, for she felt as if she were floating on a cloud in an unreal world where she had become a princess.
The meal might have lasted a minute or an hour; in Mary's condition of glowing happiness she had no way of telling. All thoughts of her parents' death and the funeral were gone from her head, and nothing mattered at the moment beyond the unbelievably good dessert she was having so much difficulty in getting from her plate to her mouth.
"She's really zonked, Mother," Lucy said.
"Mary's doing just fine. She's just a little tired from her trip. But she's due for an early bedtime, and I think Fd best stay here and see that she's all right. You two go on to the theater without me."
"Oh, I'm awright... all right," Mary said. "I c'n fine my way to bed jus' fine, Auntie. Whoops. S'posed to call you Fern, Fern."
"Darling, you should come with us," said Mitch. "After all, you went to a lot of trouble to get three tickets."
"Nelson went to all the trouble. Let him use the third ticket. I'll stay here and play hostess. You go on now. It's getting late. Don't give me any arguments."
Mary started to protest again, but it was just too much trouble. She smiled her thanks at her aunt and tried to reach a stray dab of ice cream on her lip with her tongue, and Mitch and Lucy rose from the table. It would be even nicer, Mary felt, with just the two of them there. They could get to know each other better.
Nelson faced the front of the elevator riding down, and behind his back, Mitch and Lucy squeezed each other's hands and felt each other's bodies as they spoke.
"She's priceless. I didn't know such people existed."
"She's not a bad-looking girl, if only she'd do something with herself."
"She should learn a lot while she's here."
"Shell probably stay drunk all the time on that lemonade' she likes so much. She'd have a hemorrhage if she knew it was loaded with rum."
By the time they reached the ground floor, the bottom of Mitch's jacket was concealing a terrific hard-on, and the crotchband of Lucy's panties was wet with her dew. They had a few minutes alone while Nelson went to get the Rolls.
"Mitch, you've got to think of a way to get rid of him. We've got to be alone together."
He ran a finger up her spine, sending a hot chill through her. "I've already thought of a way, my pretty. You're going to feel faint in the theater, and I'm going to take you out for a walk."
"And where can we go then? Vd love going anywhere with you. I love you so."
With his hands on her arms, he turned her to face him. Grinning, he said, "Lucy, we'll get a lot more out of our time together if we forget about the love bit and concentrate on having fun." He pressed his bulging loins aginst her palpitating tummy. "Find someone your age to fall in love with. With me, just have fun. I can teach you how."
She wrinkled her nose and pressed back at him, saying, "Okay, teacher. Whatever you say. Just get me to that hotel room."
The hotel was rather a shabby one, but it was the closest one to the theater. They had had no trouble in escaping from Nelson. Registering at the place as man and wife was an agonizing excitement for Mitch, for he well knew the penalties for fornicating with a fifteen-year-old girl, not only those imposed by law, but also those which Fern might inflict. And Lucy was so excited that her knees were shaking and she had to hang onto his arm, admiring him anew for his calmness and feeling certain that at any moment the police would burst into the sleazy little lobby and haul them both away. The relief at having successfully registered was so great that she was dizzy and panting as he led her to the elevator.
As ancient as it was, the place had a bellboy operating the elevator, a small, wizened man in a soiled uniform, whose sidelong appraisal of them in their fine clothes left no doubt that he knew the illicit nature of their visit there. "Anything I can get you?" he said. "A bottle or anything?"
Mitch took a twenty-dollar bill from his money clip. "A bottle of chilled champagne, French, and a package of rubbers. If you're quick about it, you keep the change." The bellboy smiled like a lizard.
Lucy had not known rooms like that existed outside of movie sets. It was small and dingy, illuminated by a bare bulb, and what little was in it was soiled with age. Traffic sounds and neons intruded from outside the tattered, fly-specked blinds, and the sagging bed looked as if it had been a workbench for a thousand whores.
Mitch took her narrow shoulders in his hands and said, "I should've taken you to a decent place. I should've been able to wait."
"No! I-I like it here. I really do."
"You do? Whatever for?"
"For this," she said, tilting her pelvis up against that delicious hard warmth of his, and feeling sexier than she ever had before in her life. She went on tiptoe to kiss him, big and hot and juicy, and then said, "Let's undress."
"Best wait till our messenger boy gets back."
"Hell with him. He knows what we're here for anyway," she said, and pushing off from him, began to disrobe.
From six feet away, they devoured each other with their eyes as they stripped off their elegant clothes and draped them over rickety straight-backed chairs. First he was fascinated by the bright pink nubbins of her titties, then by her all but hairless little-girl cunt, and by the time his big, hard organ was laid bare, she was flushed all over and breathing very fast as she stared at it. They came together to kiss by the side of the bed, openmouthed, with tongues tangling, and she grapevined a leg about his and tried to climb up his big body while he dug his fingers deep into the little mounds of her ass. Her body was seething everywhere with hot desire, and she simultaneously wanted his cock in her mouth, her cunt, her hand, everywhere.
They heard the second knock at the door.
Lucy was plastered against Mitch's back as he opened the door a crack, grinding her loins against his ass. She could almost feel the gooseflesh raise on him, and then it broke out on her as she heard him whisper, "Nelson!"