Chapter 1
The Trent clan was gathered in full force this Wednesday evening before Thanksgiving to celebrate a family reunion. As was the custom, the festive scene was being staged at the home of one of the younger members, since Grandfather Lawrence, 71, and Grandmother Abigail, 68, had sold their comfortable old house in Evanston ten years ago and were living in a senior citizens' high-rise. This time, it was the turn of affable, stocky, brown-haired, twenty-eight-year-old Michael Trent and his flirtatious, auburn-haired, twenty-two-year-old wife, Ruth to play the role of hosts for the family gathering in their two-story white frame house in Chicago's western middle-class suburb of Riverside.
Technically, to be sure, the title of this spacious old house still belonged to Mike's father, fifty-year-old Benjamin Trent, elder son to Lawrence and Abigail, a just-retiring farm equipment dealer who had bought it up for a song a few weeks after V-J Day and made good use of its many rooms for his colorful socials and parties provided for the entertainment of his customers and business associates. But the death of Ben's wife Clara, just three months ago had decided the prosperous Ben to sell his business and make plans for a world cruise early next year, at which time he intended to make Mike and Ruth an outright gift of the big white house.
In the place of honor on the old Chesterfield couch facing the old-fashioned stone fireplace, Lawrence and Abigail Trent, white-haired but still spry and alert, smilingly received the convivial greetings of their kin. In the corner near the door, standing beside the table on which a huge cut-glass punch bowl of hot eggnog was imposingly displayed, other members of the family renewed acquaintances as they toasted one another and clinked heirloom china cups. Lanky, tall, dark-brown-haired, forty-five-year-old Henry Trent beamed and lifted his cup in salute to his mother and father on the couch, then turned to whisper to his buxom blonde wife Joyce, eight years his junior, "Looks as if my nephew Mike is really going to be well off this Christmas, Joyce honey. Well, one thing's for sure-if we ever lose our house because we can't keep up with the taxes, we can always move in here after my brother Ben's gone on his cruise. Chances are hell buy himself a condominium in Florida or maybe even the Bahamas when he gets back from that trip."
"Now don't be envious, dear. First of all, our own bungalow on the North Side is plenty big enough for me to take care of. I declare, if we were living in this old white elephant, I don't know what I'd do for help. She does such a sloppy job there, can you imagine what it would be like if she had to clean up a barn like this?"
"Yes, I suppose you're right." Henry Trent turned to smile at his bespectacled, somewhat dowdy sister Susan, two years his senior, whose fifty-two-year-old husband Jack Lorimer and luscious brown-haired daughter Rose had gone over to the couch to pay their respects to the senior Trents. "Good to see you again, Susan. How's Rose's marriage panning out?"
"You know perfectly well they'll be celebrating their first anniversary in January, Henry," Susan Lorimer tartly retorted. "Wilson is a thoughtful, hardworking fellow, and I think my daughter made a very good choice."
"Yes, he writes pretty good advertising copy, but he strikes me as being the bookworm type, if you know what I mean."
His sister disapprovingly sniffed. "Nobody could ever accuse you of being that, brother dear. Now if you'll excuse me, I'd like to talk with Mother and Father for a bit."
"Sure, Sis, see you later." Henry Trent finished his eggnog and set the cup down on a tray. 'Think we might let Elizabeth have a little sip of this potent stuff for this happy occasion, Joyce honey?"
"Maybe, just a sip, just once," his blonde wife agreed. "Where is the little darling, anyway?"
"Over talking to Ruth. You know," he said thoughtfully, nursing his chin as he squinted over at his deliciously pert fourteen-year-old black-haired daughter, "it won't be many years before we have another Thanksgiving and reunion and find our little girl happily married to some nice guy. She's already a looker, as the boys at Jefferson High will testify. Well, later on, after Mom and Dad have gone to bed, I want to talk to Mike. Might just have some business for him"
"Oh? How's that darling?"
"It's a long story," Henry Trent gave his wife a casual smile. "He's a Chevie dealer, you know, and I'm in the market for some pickup trucks for my commercial delivery service."
"Oh yes, of course, dear. Well, I'm sure your nephew will give you a good deal, it's all in the family."
"I'm sure it will be," he chuckled as he took the ladle and filled his cup, eyeing Mike's luscious auburn-haired wife who at this moment was chatting with Rose's twenty-nine-year-old husband, bespectacled towheaded Wilson Aldrich. Ruth was a petite five feet and three inches, but with an hourglass figure mouth-wateringly outlined by the snug-fitting brown wool jersey dress which clung to the upstanding, rounded, succulent cheeks of her bottom and hugged the ripe columns of her charcoal-brown nylon-sheathed thighs. As she stooped a little lower to exchange a joke with white-haired Abigail Trent, his eyes narrowed and he felt a tantalizing ache at his crotch.. . .
By ten o'clock, Lawrence and Abigail Trent had gone to bed in the largest room on the first floor, and the punch bowl was nearly emptied.
Studious-looking Wilson Aldrich, who had had four cups, had yawningly excused himself and sheepishly told his beautiful, vivacious brown-haired wife Rose that he was going on to bed ahead of her. Stocky Mike Trent, standing behind Rose in the leather-upholstered armchair, was leaning over her whispering something which made her giggle, while his wife Ruth was deep in conversation about quick-fix recipes with buxom Joyce. Henry had sprawled on the couch and was enjoying a cigarette and a last cup of eggnog before calling it a night. And pert Elizabeth had already excused herself from the company and gone off to one of the guest rooms on the second floor.
In the bathroom, having undressed, her yellow cotton pajamas atop the laundry hamper as she brushed her teeth before slipping them on and getting into bed, she studied herself in the mirror. Her face was a sensitive oval, with high-arching forehead, thick, expressively arched black brows surmounting intense gray-green eyes with very short thick lashes. She had a dainty snub nose with thin, sensuous wings, and a saucy, small but very ripe red mouth. Her high-set cheeks and the bridge of her nose were covered with becoming freckles which heightened the color of her olive-sheened skin. Her glossy black hair was fixed in a thick braid which fell just below her shoulder-blades. Five feet six inches in height, her nubile young body was slim but with mouthwatering contrasts of surprising ample oval-shaped buttocks, long coltish thighs, and slim high-set calves; and as she drew in a long breath and then exhaled it, the saucy pear-shaped globes of her voluptuous young virginal bosom thrust out boldly, marked by narrow dark-coral aureole and firm little ruby tips in the centers.
"Darn, I wish Mom would let me wear nylons like Cousin Ruth does instead of these silly kid's white knee-length stockings," she complained aloud to the mirror and made another face at it.
Elizabeth shivered as her slim hands smoothed her lithe bare hips. Instinctively glancing down, she blushed a little to see the soft black curls at her lower abdomen, thickening as they ended just over her pink cuntal lips. Her left hand moved to her smooth belly, with its wide shallow navel-dimple and once again she shivered at the sensual awareness of her own young untutored flesh.
She glanced back at herself in the mirror and blushed vividly as her hands slowly glided down from her belly to the silky curls of her pubis. I know I oughtn't to look at myself there . . .or touch myself either. Mom asked me a couple of years ago if I ever had funny dreams at night, and I said I did, and then she said something about trying to lie on my side. She hasn't ever really told me anything about.. . you know, well, sex and stuff like that When I had the curse, she told me that every girl had to go through it, and that I'd find out when I got older why girls were different from boys. My gosh, I'm going on fifteen and that's grownup, and Joanne Claverly at school, she's as old as I am and she's already making out with Ricky Boles-at least that's what she keeps telling me. I don't dare ask Daddy what that means or if I can even go to the movies with a fellow. They don't seem ever to want to talk to me about important stuff. Why do grownups have to be that way? They must think I'm an awful baby!
Glancing nervously over her shoulder, she slipped her forefinger down through the tangled soft curls of her bush till she touched the palpitating pink center. "Ooooh!" she huskily gasped, shifting her legs a little more apart to concentrate on the intensity of this forbidden sensation. It was going to be awfully dull staying here at Cousin Mike's house till Sunday night. There weren't any kids her age to play with, and she certainly didn't dare call Joanne to come over, still less to ask her girl friend to see if she could have Dan Thomas get in touch with her.
Elizabeth closed her eyes and imagined his handsome young vital face, with curly brown hair and dark-blue eyes as she tried to remember some of the flattering but very personal remarks he had made about her in school last week. He was fifteen, and going out for basketball, and all the girls were just crazy about him, but he'd singled her out on the playground during lunch and recess a couple of weeks back and sort of hinted that he'd like to date her if her folks allowed her to go out with fellows. It was a doggone shame they wouldn't, and she knew there wasn't any sense asking either Mom or Dad.
Joanne had said something else awfully funny, about Dan's having a big sharp nose and how that was a sign that a boy had something big in his pants that girls liked. And then she'd giggled and said something about how she liked what her own boy friend had but maybe Elizabeth would really go for Dan. Elizabeth had a pretty fair idea of what Joanne was hinting about, and right now she shoved her finger down a little more until it brushed the dainty nodule of her clit. A galvanizing shiver went all through her, and she could feel the muscles of her thighs jerk and she said "Ohhhh!" in a huskier voice than ever.
But it would be awfully nice if Dan were around right now. Grandpa and Grandma were nice but awfully old and they never really talked to her about anything important. Cousin Ruth-of course she was a cousin by marriage only-was real sweet and treated her like a grownup when she talked but she couldn't expect Ruth to give her much time, what with all the preparations for the big turkey dinner tomorrow and the rest of the weekend.
Hot and cold tingling feelings had begun to ripple through her, and she pulled away her finger just in time before she yielded to the temptation to rub herself real fast until she felt all faint and sticky and happy.
She brushed her teeth quickly, then put on her pajamas, thrust her feet into the little blue slippers Mom had made her take along in an overnight case, and then went back into the bedroom, undecided. She was really sort of hungry. They'd had supper at home tonight before Dad had driven out here to Riverside, and it was a long time until breakfast. If she went down the back stairs, maybe she could sneak past Grandpa and Grandma's room into the kitchen and see what they had in the fridge. There wasn't anything wrong with that.
Very carefully she tiptoed down the stairs, not noticing that the door across the way had just opened for an instant and Henry Trent, in his bathrobe and pajamas, was peering out with a curious smile on his thin lips.