Chapter 6

Donna's older sister, Vera, wasn't a bad looking woman. Especially not bad looking when you considered that she was at least fifteen years older and the mother of four kids.

She was starting to go silvery-grey around the edges of her short, modernly-styled brown hair and there was the beginning of a slight bulge where the belt of her green summer dress spanned her waist and accentuated the breadth of her sleek hips. Nonetheless, Vera Liggett was still worth more than a once-over to any man's eye.

I let my eyes roam over her body slowly while I grinned, trying not to let her see that I was somewhat less than happy to get home from the office and find her in my apartment.

"Donna is very ill, Paul," Vera said as we faced each other just inside the front door. "I put her to bed."

The hall door was open. I glanced away from Vera just long enough to close it. "You mean she's drunk again, don't you?" I snapped.

"Yes ... yes, she is, Paul," Vera stammered. "How long has this sort of thing been going on?"

"Well, let's see now," I said, sauntering past her into the dimly lit living room. It was almost 6 p.m. and there was a lot of sunlight left, but the drapes were tightly drawn.

"This is July third, isn't it?" I said absent-mindedly as I snapped on the table lamp near the sofa. "Oh, I guess Donna has been supporting one of the local liquor stores single-handedly for about the last six weeks or so."

"Oh, my God," Vera said, raising her hand to her lips. "She needs help, Paul. She needs help and understanding." She paused for a moment and then continued. "I know better than to include love," she said. "You don't love my sister, do you Paul? You never have loved her."

I turned around and gave her figure another slow, insolent up and down look. "She doesn't want me to love her, Vera," I said with a sarcastic grin. "In case she hasn't confided in her big, sympathetic sister, we sleep in separate beds ... in separate rooms."

"And of course, that's her fault, isn't it?" she snapped.

"Ask her when she sobers up," I shot back.

"I'm asking you, Paul, right now," Vera said with anger flashing in her dark eyes. "I'm asking you to help me save Donna from a nervous breakdown ... or something even worse."

Vera Liggett was quite aware that my eyes were taking inventory of her more-than-adequate physical equipment. She couldn't help but notice, because I was doing everything I could to make her uncomfortable by just standing there, alternating looks from her legs to her hips and up and over her nicely-jutting breasts.

"You're ... you're sleeping with another woman, aren't you Paul," Vera asked, clearing her throat and looking away from me.

"You guessed it, Vera, baby," I replied with a smile. "Would you like a sample of my abilities, too? You'd probably enjoy it."

I knew she wanted to lunge across the living room to slap my face and claw her fury at me. Instead, however, she just bit down on her lower lip and glared pure hate at me.

"Donna was very drunk when I arrived this afternoon," she finally managed to say. "I ... Jim and I have been worried about her for some time. I tried to phone her, I don't know how many times during the past few weeks. She won't answer the phone, Paul. Does she ever go out or does she just stay here in the apartment drinking all the time?"

"She goes out," I said. "Long enough to get another bottle and a pack of cigarettes."

Vera was silent for several moments and then she said: "Do you want her to ... to die, Paul?" Her voice was hushed and her eyes were stricken as she swung around to look at me. "Is that why you're letting her drink herself to death? So you can marry that ... that slut you've been seen chasing around with so openly of late?"

Marry Myra! No chance, baby. She was great in bed and all that, but marry her? Never! As a matter-of-fact, I was more than a little concerned about her possessiveness. That afternoon she had mentioned something about not seeing anyone besides me ever again and she was hinting about a raise now that she'd been my secretary for two full months. There would be no raise.

I walked through the apartment while Vera Liggett stood stiffly near one of the chairs in the living room. I checked in the bedroom and found Donna sprawled on the bed. She was nude except for a pair of sheer panties and her reddish brown hair was tousled. Her breathing was deep and ragged, nearly a full fl-edged snore.

The bedroom smelled like a distillery. The windows were open but not even the incoming breeze could fumigate the stink of stale booze.

Donna was perspiring heavily. She had apparently kicked off the sheet that Vera no doubt had carefully covered her with after undressing her and tucking her into bed. Her legs were spread wide apart and the dark patch of her sex was clearly visible through the next-to-nothing sheer panties.

I closed the door and went into the kitchen for a cold can of beer. Vera was at the kitchen door a few seconds later and I could sense her hate-filled look boring in my back. Without turning, I said: "She can have a divorce any time she wants it."

"With no alimony, I'm sure," Vera hissed at me. "You're scum, Paul. You're a dirty, filthy, rotten piece of scum!"

I took a long swig from my beer can and shrugged. "Give my regards to Jim, honey."

"My husband doesn't need or want your regards," she screamed at me. "You've hurt him enough, too! You son of a bitch, if I were a man I'd kill you!"

Again I looked at her soft, ripe feminine body and smirked, "I like you better as a woman, Vera baby. Any time your husband isn't feeling up to it and you need a real man, just give me a call."

At that, she stormed out of the apartment. I chuckled to myself as I watched the fleshy curves of her butt bounce violently down the hallway. Then I closed the door and wandered back into the apartment.

I looked out the window at the soft summer evening and remembered that the next day was a holiday. What would I do to celebrate, I asked myself. Fireworks with Myra seemed as good a way as any. Might as well get started right now, too, I figured.

Finishing off the can of beer, I headed for the bathroom and a quick, refreshing shower. After changing into fresh clothes, I headed for the door. Donna moaned in the bedroom. I stopped with my hand on the doorknob, but she was quiet. She must have really tied one on this time, I thought to myself. I was glad I wouldn't be around the next day when she woke up with a head the size of a basketball.

I left the apartment and aimed my station wagon for Myra's apartment. About half way there, I realized that I didn't have any cigarettes, so I whipped into a shopping center and parked in front of a drug store. Even before I got out of the wagon, I noticed the beautiful young chick walking aimlessly in front of the store fronts.

She was really quite young, and I guessed her age at about 17. Despite the youthfulness of her face, she had the body of a woman. Her long, light brown hair fell softly over her shoulders and down over the dark blue sweater she wore. There was no mistaking the twin bulges under that sweater. She was a kid, but she was really built. Her form-hugging sweater came down over her full, womanly hips and it was impossible to tell what-if anything-she was wearing besides the sweater.

The young girl moved with the easy grace of a cat, slowly walking along the sidewalk as though she had no particular destination in mind and no timetable for getting there. Her attractiveness stunned me for a moment, but then I just smiled at myself and got out of the car. Messing around with 17-year-olds wasn't my bag.

I went into the drug store and bought my cigarettes. When I came out of the store, I was startled to see the young beauty I'd spotted before, lounging against the side of my wagon.

She looked intently at my face as I approached. Just as I was about to speak, she said: "Hi, there, you're Paul Norman, aren't you?" Her voice was soft and youthful, but full of confidence.

"Guilty," I replied with a puzzled smile. "Who are you?"

"Bess Walters," she answered. "You went to high school with my sister, Eileen."

"Oh," I said with an unusual flash of brilliance. Then what she had said registered and I woke up. "Oh, yes, of course, Eileen Walters. Sure, I remember her."

"I thought you would," the teenager smiled.

How could I ever forget Eileen? She was about the best looking girl in our high school class. Like every other guy, I had tried to date her. I succeeded once, but I tried to lay her about 10 minutes after I picked her up in the car borrowed from a friend. That had been the end of our relationship, but I had always longed to get to know her.

"How is your sister?" I asked, fighting to keep my eyes off the beautifully rounded boobs poking through the youngster's sweater.

She answered quickly and easily, tossing her soft, shiny hair as she spoke. Eileen had gone to college for a few years and then married an all-American type. An athlete and computer expert all wrapped into one, apparently. Their marriage had lasted three years. They lived apart for a year and a half and then got divorced. Eileen had come home about a month ago, Bess said. She was still rather depressed, but she was looking for a job and an opportunity to start a new life.

While the girl spoke, my eyes traveled up and down her lithe, young body. She wore no shoes and her long, tanned legs were bare up to the point where her sweater came down over her thighs. Suddenly she shifted her position and the sweater crawled up even higher. She wore a white bikini bathing suit under the dark blue sweater and my eyes almost fell out when she spread her legs slightly and caused the sweater to hike up again.

My look was not lost on young Bess. She smiled knowingly as my eyes feasted on her charms. Then, when our eyes met, she looked at me suggestively and said softly: "Why don't you drive me home and stop in to say hello to Eileen? I know she'd love to see you."

I couldn't believe what this teenage sex-bomb was promising with her eyes. It was all there ... just for the taking. Then her suggestion finally soaked into my brain and I snapped out an anxious, "Yes, sure. That's a great idea."

In a few seconds, Bess had parked her white bikini bottom on the front seat of my wagon and we were pulling out of the shopping center parking lot. We didn't talk much at first and I concentrated on driving and keeping my hands on the wheel. That sweet young thing beside me just radiated sex. She had a strange, wild animal magnetism ... and she knew it, too. Her appearance was that of a young teenager, but her eyes had the experienced look of a woman of the world. Bess was no cherry, that much I could tell without further investigation.

As we zipped along the busy streets, it suddenly occurred to me that Myra was expecting me at her apartment. We'd talked about trying a new supper club out along the lake that evening and I knew she would be mad as hell at being stood up.

Tough, I thought to myself with a smile, shooting a quick glance at the tender piece beside me. It was time that Myra learned that we were playing house on my terms.

If she didn't like it, she could quit-both job and joy sessions. I realized that Myra was a fantastic sex partner, beautiful, completely uninhibited and passionate. She'd been great, but, well, I guess a guy gets tired of even the juiciest, tastiest dessert if he has it as a steady diet. I was a little surprised at myself, but that's what I discovered I was thinking as we drove into the Cleveland suburb where the Walters' lived.

I knew that I needed a little variation in the menu, a different dessert. I knew it would be taking a chance, but the young girl in the bikini and sweater might just be what I was looking for to celebrate the Fourth of July.

"You used to date my sister, didn't you, Mr. Norman?" Bess asked, breaking the long silence.

"Well, not exactly," I said. "We only went out together a few times." That was a slight exaggeration, but what else could I say. Eileen Walters had looked right past me throughout high school. She had been my dream girl, but except for our one ill-fated date, she had hardly even known I was alive.

"She's still quite good looking, you know," Bess said. "Blonde and really built."

I laughed softly at her phrase. "That's a pretty good description of her when she was in high school," I said. Then I looked over at the young girl and ran my eyes quickly over her appealing body. "Except for the word blonde, that's a very good description of you, too."

She smiled and stuck her chest out another inch or two. "I'm glad you like me, Mr. Norman," she purred. "I hope we'll be friends."

"At least friends," I joked and she laughed.

"Does it have to be Eileen that you're coming to visit?" Bess asked in a serious voice. I knew her eyes were staring at me as she waited for my answer. Frankly, I didn't know what to say. She certainly was tempting, but her youth frightened me more than a little bit. There are some pretty tough laws about screwing broads under 18 years of age-no matter how badly they appear to want it.

But there was more to my reluctance than that. I really wanted to see Eileen again, too. She had been a knockout in high school and the chances were the few years since then hadn't changed her very much. And, too, as a divorcee, she just might be looking for a little action in the sex department.

Fortunately, however, I didn't have to answer Bess' question because we arrived at her house just then. It hadn't changed.

"Don't look now, sweetheart," I said to Bess, "but I believe we have arrived."

"Oh, damn," the teenage beauty muttered. Then she smiled impishly and thrust out her jugs again, straining at the soft material of the sweater. "Just when we were getting to know each other."

"We can talk later," I said. "Now how about telling your sister that I'm here. I mean you did invite me, didn't you."