Chapter 6
"Man, you look like the fuckin' cat who swallowed the fuckin' canary," Dick Mario was saying to Mickey Enders as, in Mickey's Corvette, they headed toward the Enders mansion. "For a fuckin' poor relation who's always gripin' about his fuckin rich relatives, you look too fuckin' happy."
"Yeah," was all Mickey would say, not wanting to tell Dick about Abby Barnett. Otherwise Dick might want to cut himself in on a piece of the action. And Abby was someone Mickey was sharing with no one, not even with Abby's husband if what she'd told him was accurate.
He had stayed with Abby a good half hour after they'd fucked, and she had poured out her heart to him. And though he looked satanic with his mustache and goatee, Mickey Enders was a big sucker for a sob story. Besides, Abby had promised him a blow job the next day.
On top of everything else, Mickey was still intent on banging Cousin Laura and letting her think she'd gotten it from the family ghoul. The opportunity was too good a one to pass up.
Pulling his Corvette into the horseshoe-shaped driveway, Mickey parked, and the two of them got out of the car. Both wore suits at the moment, and each carried a box containing a costume for the forthcoming party. Dick had found a Little Tommy Tucker costume, while Mickey, not really ready to spring for a full costume, had packed up a suit of tails and had dug up an old opera cape. Both men had three-quarter face masks, covering everything but their mouths. It was Mickey who had thought of these kinds of masks. Laura would never recognize him when he finally jumped her.
Walking up the stairs, braving the frigid night, the two of them waited until the Enders butler let them into the well-lit mansion. They gave their coats to the butler, who hung them up, then led the two men upstairs to the respective rooms they would be using that night
"Hey Mick," Dick said, once the butler had gone back downstairs. "Where's that fuckin' Myrna, huh? I wanna get a good look at her."
"You will," Mickey assured him. "You'll see all of her before the night's over. Who knows, Dick. Maybe she'll flip out for you, you'll end up marrying her, and then maybe you'll show some gratitude when Myrna comes into her inheritance."
"First I'd like to get a fuckin' look at her. Where is she?"
"Probably in her room. You go into your room and rest. We'll meet downstairs at eight o'clock for dinner. After the meal we'll come back up stairs and change into our costumes. The party starts about ten."
"You're sure about this Myrna havin' hot fuckin' pants now."
"Guaranteed," Mickey nodded, heading for his room. "See you later."
Dick watched Mickey disappear into his room, then headed for his own room. Hell, he'd get a fuckin' gander at this Myrna when they went down to have the fuckin' dinner.
The object of Dick Mario's thoughts, Myrna Enders, stood before the full-length looking glass on her bathroom door. Carefully she scrutinized herself, and almost squealed with delight.
I'm gorgeous, she thought to herself. There's no two ways about it. I'm gorgeous. Not pretty, not beautiful, but absolutely gorgeous.
She was right where her face was concerned. It was an absolutely stunning face, in some ways resembling that of Laura, her fraternal twin, with short brown hair, deep hazel eyes, a short, upturned nose, and a full, sensuous, kissable mouth.
Many men had dated Myrna Enders, and at least half of them had ended up ploughing her. Her life had been one wonderful existence even if men referred to her as a nympho. Myrna knew she was no nymphomaniac. Nymphos were constantly looking for someone to satisfy them. Myrna Enders was always satisfied. Just let a cock slip into her pussy and she began coming, and she kept on coming as long as the prong pounded away at her.
Stretching her long, nude body, she continued staring at it in the mirror. Where Laura was short, about four feet ten inches tall, she, Myrna, was five feet six. Where Laura had small, firm titties, she, Myrna, had large, melon-shaped breasts, and many a man had fed at them hungrily. The immense aureolae were pink, and the nipple centering each melon was dark pink. They were big nipples, and no man chewing on them wanted to stop. She had a flat belly, taut, with smooth flesh. Both she and Laura had milk-white skin. But there, all resemblance to one another ended.
Emotionally, Laura was as different from Myrna as she was physically different. Laura was on the prudish side. She'd dated often enough, but she'd confided to Myrna that she was still a virgin. Poor dummy! She didn't know what she was missing. If she saw a cock she'd probably faint.
On the other hand, Myrna was more prone to believe in the family legend than Laura. She was scared stiff their ghoulish ancestor might pick on her. Not that she wanted harm to come to her sister, but if somebody had to be pronged by the ghost, better Laura than herself.
Turning on the stall shower, Myrna adjusted the temperature until it suited her, then stepped inside. As she lathered her voluptuous body she thought of the evening ahead. Would the stars guide the right lover to her? She was a confirmed believer in astrology, numerology, biorhythm, and the tarot. She took all signs seriously, and wondered what sign she would receive that night.
After thoroughly washing her body down, taking especially good care to soap her twat with the shampoo designed not to cause hurt to mucous membranes, she rinsed herself and stepped out of the shower. Towelling her body briskly, making it glow a healthy red, she admired herself again in the full-length mirror after wiping the steam off. Oh some lucky guy was going to prong that fabulous body. At times like this, Myrna wished she was two people; one male and one female, so she could screw that luscious body herself.
In the room next to Myrna's, Essie Enders, Myrna's and Laura's mother, now the family matriarch, was getting ready to dress for dinner. Her husband, Ralph, was in a room at the other end of the hall. They made no pretense of living together anymore. Ever since Ralph had allowed himself to be seduced, more than twenty-two years before, Essie had no longer wanted anything to do with the man. Had she not just recently given birth to her twin daughters, she'd have divorced Ralph, taking a big fat alimony settlement with her. But her daughters deserved the Enders name and the right to inherit the Enders fortune when that worm of a husband passed away.
In many respects Essie was like Myrna. Just because she'd given up sleeping with her husband didn't mean she'd had to give up sex. She'd had more than one lover, and Ralph had probably known about them, but Ralph was a weakling and hadn't the guts to divorce her. She, not Ralph, was the head of the Enders family. And in spite of all of Ralph's pleading, she refused to have anything to do with him, physically, again.
She'd had no objection to his banging another woman. But he was found with a dead woman in his arms who eventually dissolved into dust. Her husband was a necrophile, a fucker of dead bodies. And the cock and bull story he'd tried to foist on her, filling her with stories of family curses! Hah! He was too much.
Essie was just past forty now, and still a damn good-looking woman. She was five feet two inches tall, taller than Laura but shorter than Myrna. Her hair was a rich brown, though the richness came from a bottle at the local beauty salon. She had medium sized breasts, once again larger than Laura's but smaller than Myrna's. Considering her age, they didn't hang badly at all. True, they didn't quite stand up the way they had when she'd first gotten married, but they didn't really sag, either.
She had a nice, slender waist, but the credit was due to her glands rather than her willpower. Everything she ate was immediately burned up. And she had a large set of swivel hips that made men stare after her wherever she walked.
Pulling a shiny blue dress over her head, she adjusted it, then zipped it up. She had to get downstairs and make sure the place settings were right for dinner.
Mickey, the son of her husband's brother, now dead more than ten years, was coming to dinner and bringing a friend. She loathed Mickey. He was uncouth and had only two things on his mind. The first thing was women, which in itself wasn't too bad, but Mickey was willing to accept any woman into his bed, which showed a definite lack of breeding, and the second thing his mind dwelt on was a way to get his hands on the Enders fortune. The way he'd had to grow that beard to give him a sense of security. Essie found it a bit amusing. She wondered what trick Mickey had planned for tonight, though she doubted if he'd be able to pull anything. Once the party began, at ten, he'd be just another mask in the crowd.