Chapter 4
Ray lay tossing restlessly in the gray of the dawn that stole in the window. He had been restless all night, and had awakened at five, alert, but with a headache that gnawed at his brain. He took a few moments to orient his thinking, wondering what had awakened him at this ungodly hour. Then it came to him with a rush as he realized that he had a tremendous hard-on; one that had been instigated by his dreams, and not the necessity to take a piss.
He recalled the feel of Marty's tongue in his mouth, and her tits pressing against him; the way her round little ass had felt as his hands encircled it. It had been she in his dreams, but he had awakened too soon. He was about to mount her naked body when he had snapped wide awake.
He glanced over at Helen, making a wry face at the comparison between her tired, aging face and the fresh eagerness of Marty's.
Ray edged quietly out of bed so as not to awaken his sleeping wife, and started for the bathroom. But he continued on past the door and paused outside Marty's door, listening. Hearing nothing, he eased open the door and peered inside. In the false color of the predawn, she looked like a doll laying in her bed. She was totally naked and had kicked off the thin covers, exposing her breasts, her flat stomach, and the full expanse of her pubic area.
She had twisted so she lay on her back, legs spread, with one arm dangling over the edge of the bed. Ray eased inside the room and walked over and stared down at her hungrily, more aware than ever of his symbol of desire for her—his stiff prick that bulged out his shorts. He wanted to feel the taste of those nipples, of his tongue running along her navel, her thighs, then into the gates of her womanhood.
Marty stirred slightly, drawing one leg up so that it opened her crotch even wider and exposed the pinkish-brown of her asshole. Standing there, staring at this lush young temptress, Ray clenched his hands in a gesture of frustration. With one last, lustful look, he whirled and quietly left, closing the door behind him.
He had to have her! If he didn't, he would explode. His desire for her body was even interfering with what lust he still felt for Helen. Stolid, unimaginative Helen, whose idea of daring sex was to allow him to lick her vulva before climbing aboard her tense, uncooperative body in the same old, old-fashioned position he had always used. She thought any other position other than him atop her was obscene. Nor would she even consider sucking his cock to arouse him or to bring him to climax. It was only after three years of marriage that she had allowed him to kiss her body below the breasts.
As he crawled into bed again, Ray looked at Helen, wondering what in hell he had ever seen in her. She was about as exciting as a sixty-year-old whore. He managed to thrust the image of Marty's naked body from his mind and he fell into a fitful sleep that was peopled by hundreds of naked nymphs, all with the faces of his niece.
Ray awoke to the sound of the shower, and, feeling Helen's body beside him, he knew it must be Marty in the shower. His thoughts went instantly to her naked body, and he knew he could sleep no longer. Lust for her was becoming like a disease inside him, eating away at his guts. He got up and dressed for work, then went into the kitchen and put on coffee. He heard the shower stop and, in the hope of catching a glimpse of her as she went to her room, he struck his head around the corner and peered down the hall. To his surprise, Marty stared back at him from the bathroom doorway.
"Ray, will you bring me a clean towel?" she said in a sotto voice that was half whispered.
Ray felt uncomfortable, having been caught spying, but he walked to the linen closet and got a huge, fluffy towel and walked to the bathroom door. He expected to see her at least partially wrapped in a towel or something, but Marty stood there nude, inspecting her face in the mirror. She smiled at him as she reached for the towel. Ray couldn't take his eyes from her lovely form. Her pert, upthrust breasts were ripe for a man's mouth, and her near-perfect body was a beckoning garden of pleasure.
"Thanks," Marty said offhandedly, taking the towel.
"It's okay," Ray mumbled. "Anything else?"
"You could dry my back." She looked at him archly. Ray glanced over his shoulder, thinking he had heard a noise from his bedroom, and quickly shook his head.
"No guts?" Marty taunted. "Like last night?"
Ray wasn't sure whether she was referring to his kissing her, or whether she had only pretended to be asleep when he had crept into her bedroom.
As if reading his thoughts, Marty said softly, "I knew you were in my room this morning. What was the matter? Don't you get turned on at all by all this?" She turned so that he could see her entire front, and for some odd reason, it made him angry. Analyzing his emotions quickly, he realized that he was angry because she had hit a sore spot. He had wanted her badly, but he hadn't the courage to take her. He tried to tell himself that it was using good common sense, with Helen sleeping so close. His marriage would come apart like an exploding flywheel if Helen suspected Ray had even kissed her as hotly as he had.
Ray whirled and stalked out of the bathroom and back to the kitchen. He poured some hot coffee and sat brooding over it at the kitchen table. He wondered how long he could continue to keep his hands off his niece, to maintain a semblance of marriage. For a fleeting instant, he contemplated the alternative of just taking her and to hell with Helen! Or, he could run away with her—sell the garage and just let Helen chase him to hell and gone!
Helen appeared in the doorway, drowsily scratching her matted, snarled hair. She yawned, "Want me to pack a lunch, honey?"
Ray shook his head. "I'll eat at the diner. Go on back to bed."
Helen poured herself some coffee, sipped at it until she seemed fully awake. The softness had left her face and her tone as she said sharply, "Ray, you've got to do something about Marty!"
It was ironic, Ray thought, how right Helen was. He did have to do something about his niece—and soon. But not what Helen was suggesting.
"Yeah, I will," Ray nodded, his thoughts far away—at least as far away as Marty's bedroom.
"She acts like a tramp."
"Aw, come off it. She's just a healthy kid, feeling the first hot blood of puberty. Christ, weren't you ever a teen-ager, Helen?"
"You needn't curse!" Helen whined. "And she's not acting like a normal teen-ager. She's boy crazy! I guess man crazy would be better. I see the way she looks at you, and you always take her part. I'm just about fed up with having a young tramp in my house!"
"Don't forget," Ray snarled, "it's my house, too!"
"Then be the man of the house! Do something about her, before it's too late—before she gets pregnant or something."
Ray stood up and put his empty cup in the sink. "I'll see you tonight," he said, grabbing his jacket from a chair. He left without kissing her good-bye, and Helen sat brooding over her second cup of coffee until Marty appeared, fresh and bright-looking, fully dressed for school.
"There's cereal there if you want to fix breakfast," Helen said sourly, rising and walking out.
"Thanks a lot," Marty said sarcastically, then, under her breath, "You cold-assed bitch!"
It was to be a hectic and eventful day for all three members of the household, and Helen was the first to be involved. After showering and dressing, she glanced into Marty's room to check on its orderliness. The bed was made and there were no clothes scattered about. As Helen started to close the door, she spied a bright green paper sack. She knew it came from Harper's Drug Store, without even reading the printing on it. It was lying on a night stand near Marty's bed, and she wondered what could have been in it. Probably cosmetics that Marty was sneaking in, in spite of Helen's constant objections to her using so much makeup.
Helen idly opened the drawer in the night-stand and stepped back in surprise. She reached in and took out a round, plastic container and opened it. Inside, with small numerals marking the spaces occupied by the pellets, were nineteen birth-control pills! One had already been used.
Hurriedly returning the flat container to the drawer, Helen rushed to the phone and called Ray. When she heard his laconic "Hello," she immediately launched into a tirade of invective, pointing out her many suspicions about Marty's sex morality, and ending with a triumphal, flat accusation, all verified in her thinking, by her discovery of the birth-control pills.
Ray listened impatiently as his wife ended her oration with the demand: "Now I want something done about her as soon as you get home tonight! I mean it! I'm not harboring any whore in my home!"
She hung up, leaving Ray with a puzzled expression. His thoughts were far from punishing measures for Marty. They were all involved with how he might take advantage of this heartening bit of news. The kid knew how to take care of herself, and that would be a big load off his mind. But as he busied himself about the shop, he was filled with a wonder as to where and how she had managed to obtain the contraceptives. Knowing his brassy niece, he wondered if she had traded sex for the pills. After all, she had told Helen that she had been out fucking! Ray put her out of his thoughts with the conclusion that, if Marty was passing it out, he wanted his share, and he wracked his brain to figure out a safe way to screw her without jeopardizing his marriage or his place in the community.
He busied himself until after three, and he was still at a loss as to what course to pursue in his seduction of Marty.
Marty had been intrigued by the note she had received from Bill Brady. It said simply that he had to see her immediately after school was out. She walked to his tiny office and knocked, entering without waiting to hear his voice bidding her to come in. Inside, she closed the door and leaned against it, her breasts jutting out, her hips at a provocative angle, her eyes hard and challenging. She was making a mental comparison between Brady and Ben Abrams and, in her imagination, comparing both with her uncle, as sex partners.
"So?" Marty asked with a rising inflection and a shrug.
"I—I just wanted to find out how much it would cost me to get my key back." Brady was brusque, trying to throw off the hot desires that were forming within him as he looked at Marty.
Marty laughed raucously. "No way! Nooooo way! It's mine!"
"It can't be yours," Brady snapped harshly. "Those things have to be earned!"
Marty giggled, "I earned it, didn't I?"
Brady's face grew livid. "With brains you earn them, not with your ass!"
"You go your route and I'll go mine," she snickered.
"I want it back! You can't ever wear it! Just give me your price."
"No deal! No way."
Brady stood up, fists clenched. "You little bitch! I ought to tell your parents on you!" he thundered.
"You wouldn't dig them up just for that?" Marty countered. She backed up and turned the doorknob, opening the door a bit. "You lose, Brady. And, speaking of telling somebody about us, what if I were to spill the story? What do you think they'd do to you—slap your wrist? Stop all the horseshit. And," she eyed him with disdain, "please don't send me any more notes. Okay?" She opened the door and left.
"If I ever see you with it on," Brady roared after her, "I'll rip it off you and shove it up your cunt!"
He was still in a foul mood when he stopped for his sports car that was being tuned up at the Downtown Garage. He pulled the "loaner" to a halt near the open doors, spotting his car inside. He climbed out and was heading for the tiny office when he stopped short, staring. Marty Wells was coming out of the front door of the place. Behind her stood the owner of the shop— Ray something or other, Brady knew, because he had his first name emblazoned on the pocket of his coveralls. Marty swung jauntily up the street, not seeing him as Brady stared after her, angry at himself because of the lust she aroused in him with the provocative swaying of her ass as she walked.
As he entered the office, he thought to himself that if his car wasn't ready as promised, he'd give somebody hell. It would do him good to blow off some steam. Ray smiled at him in a somewhat sheepish way and picked up an itemized bill from the top of the desk. "All set, Mr. Brady," he said warmly.
Brady was wondering what the little whore, Marty, had been doing in the office. Ray looked rugged and young enough for her to go for. But, it wasn't any of his business. Or—was it? After all, Brady reasoned, somebody should blow the whistle on a little hustler like her.
"You can tell me it's none of my damned business," he said hurriedly, "but—you'd better watch your step with that young stuff that just left here. I know."
Ray eyed him quizzically. The man obviously didn't know that Marty was his niece. Nor could he know that Marty had stopped to explain about the birth-control pills, after he had called her at school and told her of Helen's discovery of the pills, and her angry reaction. Actually, Ray had stressed to Marty not to continue the cold war with Helen, because she was running out of patience, and Ray couldn't act as a peacemaker much longer.
Marty had laughed it off, as Ray was afraid she would, and had ended up by giving him her most seductive smile and asking, "Now, you wouldn't throw a nice little girl like me out in the street, would you, Uncle Ray?"
So Ray decided to hear whatever this Brady guy had to say.
"What do you mean?" he asked innocently.
"I mean she's a hustler—a little blackmailer. Oh, she puts out, all right. She likes sex like most kids her age like ice cream sodas. But she's no young chick when it comes to collecting what she wants!" He was almost boastful at the end.
Ray frowned. "You mean she ... takes money?"
"Yes, that too," Brady went on. "But she's a 'collector'. She collects things from men. It's a mania with her. She says she has a charm bracelet she is filling with her sex mementos."
"What did you go for?" Ray asked.
Brady flushed slightly and shuffled his feet. "Well, she got a college pin. But I tried to buy it back and she wouldn't even name a price. It's no good to her—it's a Phi Beta Kappa key—an honor-society award."
Ray was nodding thoughtfully. "Well, thanks for the tip. She was just in here to ... to inquire when her dad's car would be ready," he lied.
He tendered the bill to Brady, saying, "That'll be thirty-two seventy, Mr. Brady. You'll be happy with that little bug now, I know. But if anything doesn't seem right, bring her back in and we'll make it right."
Brady looked as if he had more to say, but he presented an oil credit card to Ray and, after it was receipted, left without any further word.
Ray stood staring after the disappearing sports car, nodding his head. It was beginning to make some sense now—the careless attitude that Marty had developed. Her unconcern for the rules. She had probably lied every time that she said she was at a movie, or at a girl friend's, doing school work, and so on.
But it wasn't that that was bothering Ray. It was that he had all this ripe young cunt at his beck and call, and he had allowed silly moral views to prevent him from getting his share of some good fucking. No more! Now that the melon was cut, Ray wanted in on the good meat inside. Maybe he would play Marty's own game—apply a little pressure on her to put out to him, or to get out at Helen's insistence.
Thinking about Helen caused Ray to remember that he doubtless faced a nasty scene at home. He'd have to handle both Marty and his wife with kid gloves, to keep the powder-keg situation from exploding in his face. Helen was at the end of her patience, and the birth-control pills had clinched it, in her mind. She wanted Marty out of her house and that meant that she would probably be more watchful and suspicious than ever of her.
When Ray arrived home, he entered in the middle of a tirade from Helen, being delivered in harsh tones to his niece.
"... and don't think I haven't seen you playing up to Ray!" Helen was shouting. "I want no more of it! When you're not in your room, I want you fully dressed ... not running around the house naked, shoving your body at my husband! Is that clear?"
Ray stepped into the room, turning angrily to Helen. "I told you I'd take care of this!" he stormed. "Don't forget, she's got some rights. Her way is paid, and she's not a baby, you know!"
"I'll say she isn't!" Helen retorted. "Look at her, sitting there sneering at us—half dressed. She's ... she's a common slut!"
Ray knew that Helen was really on the warpath. Slut was a pretty strong epithet for her. He turned to face the indolent stare of Marty. "What's all this about you having some kind of pills—birth-control pills?" Ray tried to look and sound gruff, but it came off badly.
"Old snoopy found some in my room, where she's got no business to be!" Marty said smugly. "It's none of her business—nor yours either. If you must know, I'm keeping them for a girl at school. That answer your question?"
Ray shook his head in wonder at the brazenness of her lie. She manufactured lies as easily as she breathed. He met her challenging gaze and his eyes were the first to unlock the engagement.
"I think we do have a say in your behavior," Ray said firmly. "I am your legal guardian, you know!"
"So, guard me already!" she taunted.
"I already flushed the pills down the toilet!" Helen cut in. "And if I find anything more like that, I'm calling the authorities and packing you out of here to some home. Either you'll do as we say, or you'll live somewhere else. Ray and I have a good name in this town, and we intend to keep it!"
Ray waved a hand to silence his wife. Marty was elated. Helen hadn't found the rest of the pills, or she'd have been bragging about it. Marty decided that the use of discretion at this point was wisest. After all, things were just getting interesting with Ray, and, once he had fucked her or she had sucked him off, she had no more problems. Between them, they could handle Helen all right.
"I ... guess I was stupid to bring them home," she said grudgingly, averting her eyes to hide the triumphant leer in them.
Helen seemed dismayed that Marty didn't fight back viciously and provide her with an excuse to get rid of her. Ray turned to her, saying, "All right, let's let it drop. She said she's sorry—that it was just a stupid favor for a girl at school. Let's eat. I'm hungry."
As he headed for the bathroom, Marty went to her room, leaving Helen to set the table with loud slammings to indicate that she wasn't satisfied with the easy letdown given Marty. But peace prevailed at the dinner table, and while they were still finishing their meal, the phone rang. Ray answered it and called, "It's Tom, my foreman. He's in a jam for a babysitter and wants to know if Marty could help him out."
Helen and Marty exchanged cold glances, then Helen answered, "Tell him all right, but you'll take her there, and you'll bring her home—and no later than midnight!"
Ray relayed the information, nodded, and hung up.
"Seven o'clock," he told Marty. "They're just going to a movie with another couple."
Marty nodded. She was looking forward to the ride to and from the babysitting job with Ray. She'd make him squirm when she got him alone!
Ray had some ideas of his own, and they had no more than pulled out of the driveway before he said to Marty, "You're getting to be pretty cocky, aren't you?"
"Nothing I can't handle," Marty replied breezily.
"I'm not talking about Helen—I'm talking about some of the guys that you've been fooling with."
Marty frowned, puzzled at his reference. "Like who?"
"Like Mr. Brady, the teacher. You remember him—the guy with the Phi Beta Kappa key?" It was his turn to be sarcastic.
"The sonofabitch finked to you, huh?"
"Not really," Ray said easily, enjoying the position of being in the driver's seat momentarily. "He just made a comment about you. He saw you leaving my office today when he came for his car. What's it all about?"
"So, he gave me his key and now he wants it back. I won't give it to him. That's all."
"How did you get it in the first place?"
Marty giggled and said, "Didn't old big-mouth tell you that you have to 'earn' those things?"
"Don't be a smartass! I'm not as dumb as Helen."
"Well then, you figure it out!" She spat it out, and sat sideways in the seat, her mocking gaze on him.
"That doesn't take any brains. And I'm not concerned about him, or anybody else. I'm just the guy who isn't knocking a good fuck—I just want to get in on the deal!" Ray enjoyed using the word "fuck," and seeing her look of amazement. She recovered quickly and assumed that taunting smile.
"Christ, Uncle," she said, "I thought you'd never get around to making a play." She bent over and kissed his cheek, running her hand quickly up his thigh and grasping his rapidly hardening cock in her hand. "Now we can clear the air and have a little fun around the house!"
Before he realized what she was doing, she had unzipped his fly and had his swollen tool in her hand. She pulled it out and played with it, almost making him lose control of the car. "Christ! Take it easy. There's plenty of better places than this!" Ray protested, slowing the car.
"With old snoopy-drawers around? You're kidding. She'll never give us a chance to be alone."
"We'll find ways," Ray said confidently, squirming under her hot hand. She bent her head and engulfed the head of his prick in her warm, soft mouth, sucking hard, running her tongue around the head of it. Then she released it as quickly, shoved it back in his pants and zipped up his zipper. Sitting away from him, she smiled devilishly. "That's a sample of what you'll be missing, Uncle!" Marty laughed.