It wasn't anything like the modern little bungalow they'd had on Jamey Halo's estate up at Quarrysite, but she wasn't going to allow herself to become depressed over that, Susan Sheldon mused sullenly. It was clean and fairly well furnished; besides, moving had been her own idea; Jamey, had wanted them to stay, rent free, but with Cal gone such a thing was out of the question. She could only imagine what the Parksburg gossips would have made out of that… and probably with good cause, for certainly she could feel herself weakening more each time she saw him. She'd had to consider Nadine and her future… consider the bitter scars that wicked tongues could leave on the mind of a delicate and beautiful young girl… and she had made her decision accordingly.
Susan sat at the small kitchenette table drinking coffee and smoking her first morning cigarette. She wore a light blue wrapper over matching pajamas, its tailored-design doing little to hide her willowy Eurasian beauty, her erect breasts, slender waist, full rounded hips and buttocks. A voyeur would have to guess at the sleek lushness of thigh, the enchanting contour of calf and the hidden strength of those long, smooth legs, but he would form his prurient conclusions from the dazzling loveliness of her finely featured face and long, raven-black oriental hair… feeling confident in his assumptions.
It was six-thirty and she hadn't been able to sleep; in fact, the whole night had been a fiasco that she laid to her troubled, fear-filled and frustrated thoughts, the unfamiliar, too-soft bed, plus, having her daughter as a sleeping partner in place of Cal.
She shook her lovely head in disbelief. Would she ever get used to it? Cal was dead! My God, it hardly seemed possible… Cal dead… a suicide… in his grave two-months now, yet, each time the realization raced through her mind, its impact was as shocking as when Chief Archer had first broken the horror to her. It hadn't made sense then, her husband of sixteen years shooting himself, and she doubted that it ever would anymore than the typewritten note he had left, explained his reasoning.
Can't make it. Nothing to live for. It's too complex… and there's no love…
Once more, Susan slowly wagged her exotically beautiful head in non-conviction; she was so damned confused. Life at its best had never been generous to her, but at least she'd had Cal… for what that had been worth. She looked around at the little three-room apartment, each chamber opening with large archways into the other, only a collapsible screen partitioning off the bed. Thank God the bathroom was private, anyway, she thought sarcastically.
She'd hoped to find something more acceptable within her limited budget, but after canvassing Parksburg, she'd been almost happy to take this third-floor makeshift that had once been part of a rather plush hotel suite, and in the center of the down-town area. Progress had eliminated the hotel and now the street-level consisted of second-rate, low-rent shops; but, at least it was closer to her work, she supposed, and really it was adequate for just the two of them.
Nadine, poor darling, she'd been so brave through all of it, more adult than child, more sister than daughter… beautiful, talented, a rare teenager, indeed, measured by today's standards. And she was going to have a future; she was! Even her father had wanted that for her in his sober moments, but he'd done little, if anything, to prove it to her. Not that he'd been intentionally cruel, nor physically brutal; he'd simply neglected her… neglected both of them, in fact, since the day their baby-girl had drawn her first breath in that Boston hospital; but the last five-years had been the worst, especially the final two that he'd worked as caretaker for Jamey Halo, and she herself, had fallen under the spell of the young TV actor.
Thinking, she wondered if her husband hadn't shot himself, if he might not have drunk himself to death at the rate he was going… and with never a thought or provision for his wife and daughter. Now, as she pondered over that, she couldn't help but tremble with the overwhelming fright of her sudden responsibilities. Except for their clothing, he had left them near-destitute, and once again she thanked the good Lord for her job. Of course, it wasn't much, prestige-wise… waitress work never was… but it was honest employment and the Diamond Dell was the finest dinner house in Parksburg, even if it was only a front for the gambling casino Max Bovino operated upstairs. Whether the once notorious blind-owner functioned within the law was not her concern, and it didn't seem to bother the elite country-club set who populated the haven nightly… but she was concerned with the additional money the girls 'upstairs' made hustling cocktails, in comparison to those serving dinner on the first-floor, and she had made up her mind to speak to Mr. Bovino about it. In a little while, she would call him.
Why not? it was easier work, probably more pleasant, and accordingly, more rewarding. Of course, Cal would never have allowed it; he'd always been an extremely jealous man… although God knows, she had never given him any reason to be… But Cal was gone… and she had Nadine to look to now… only her future mattered… all other things were secondary… Cal was dead! Susan wiped an uncontrollable little tear from her eye.
They were large eyes, dark and almond-shaped, long-lashed and oriental, a breathtaking contrast to her ivory complexion. She couldn't help but wonder if she would ever unravel the mysteries that enshrouded her dead husband… for surely, they existed, deep and complex she thought; she had never really known the soldier she'd married…
She'd been fifteen and they'd lived just outside of Seoul. Her father was native Korean, a farmer of some wealth, and her mother the most beautiful woman she had ever seen. She was French, from Paris no less, and she'd come from her country in a missionary capacity. It was still vague in her mind how they had met, her father and mother, but it had something to do with God.
She had been twelve when the war struck, fourteen when Sergeant Cal Sheldon stole her heart, fifteen when her father blessed them and they married. The war was over and she was pregnant. They'd sailed for the U.S. two-days before her parents were killed by a latent, terrorist-bomb, and the government had confiscated everything. Less than eight-months later, Cal had dragged her from a hospital bed in Boston some twelve hours after giving birth to Nadine, and driven them to New York State. She would never forget the expression of fear that warped his face that night, and now, thinking about it, she wondered if it had ever really left him. Somehow, she had held the baby in her arms, nursed her and kept her wits, while her husband raced their automobile through the darkness.
Yes… dear God, yes there were mysteries… but they were hardly of importance now, were they? Cal was dead… DEAD… DEAD!
Nadine made a small sleeping noise behind the screen. It raised a warm feeling of love inside Susan and she smiled tenderly to herself. Her voluptuous fifteen-year old daughter was her whole life… at least, she had been… prior to Jamey Halo… not that there was going to be any change because of Jamey and the uncontrollable feelings she had for him; Nadine would always come first, but she couldn't deny the near-love, or whatever it was, he had set aflame inside her… she could merely resist it, and that she would do.
Susan sipped at her coffee, then dragged on the cigarette. Really, it was ridiculous anyway, given a moment of sensible thought. Jamey Halo was nineteen… nineteen… and she, thirty-one. This wasn't Korea, where such marriages were sanctioned out of experience rather than love.
This was the U.S., where older women never fell in love with younger men, unless they were fools, jet-setters, or harlots… and she felt that she hardly fitted into any of the three categories.
Yet, from the very beginning, from the first day Cal had taken the caretaker's job on Jamey's estate, the galvanic sensations had passed between them. He'd stopped her as she was carrying boxes into their bungalow and smiled.
"I'm Jamey Halo," he'd said. He had grinned lopsidedly, his dark hair long and waved. His eyes were an azure-blue and filled with tiny hazel flecks that began to swirl excitedly as he spoke. "Can I carry that?"
"Thank you, no," she'd replied, dropping her own gaze from his probing stare, sensing the slight flush to her face; then, Nadine had come with a smaller box and Susan had welcomed the interruption.
But it had never changed. She had only to look into his desire-filled, handsome young face to feel her own unwanted, sensual passion rising, and it seemed that he'd managed to come to the bungalow always when Cal was elsewhere. He had even made over Nadine, who, at thirteen was the flowering equivalent of most girls three years her senior, and this, she felt certain, he did only to impress the mother. Still, nothing had come of it… simply because the mother had refused to let it. Cal was her husband and she belonged to him, regardless of his lack of affection. Her oriental upbringing would never permit infidelity; she would give her life for her husband, and she would die defending her loyalty to the vows she had taken.
Again, Susan heard a light stir behind the screen, waited silently, and was pleased at the sound of an even, deep breathing once more. Her darling was going to need all the rest she could get, with what was before her. Beauty contests were more strenuous than the average girl believed, both mentally and physically, but there was nothing that would add to necessary confidence more than a few beauty contest credits to an aspiring young actress, even if one was only Miss Parksburg. Jamey had inspired the idea, and both Nadine and she herself had been elated with it. After all, she had to start somewhere… and success wasn't easily come by, Jamey had reminded them, and Susan didn't ever want her beautiful daughter to find herself in the same position her mother was in at that very moment. She had, in fact, welcomed the idea with open arms; it meant a sound and exciting existence for her darling… if only she didn't get waylaid by some foolish puppy-love.
Thinking about that, Susan shivered with the cold little ripple of clamminess that passed over her. She drank from her cup and inhaled the cigarette smoke deeply. Sex, she thought… sex between her husband and herself had been a horror, when she had so innocently expected some thing beautiful. Now, she tried to recall the exquisite loveliness of her mother's words regarding the delicious sexual-love of marriage… but somehow, they choked in her throat, and the beauty of the vision she had endeavored to picture became distorted.
Had it ever been beautiful between them… even good? She couldn't remember a time. Instead, her mind filled with Cal, drunk, his wickedly hard and massive, thick, long male member poised above her unready and unwanting vagina, her legs held high and wide-apart obscenely, knees pressing into her full, erect breasts, while he cradled himself for the impalement… then, the near-unbelievable viciousness of his thrust as he plunged his huge rapacious cudgel into her barely moist, sensitive flesh unmercifully.
Invariably, she would scream, and invariably he would laugh sadistically, ramming the blunt head like a madman from the very beginning, his heavy-veined rod of rigid, swollen flesh sinking to its full depths inside her snug passage and battering her small-mouthed womb and cervix, until the pain would become almost weirdly bearable, even pleasurable in her masochistic, subjugated state, and sparks of excitement would begin to ignite within her; then, it would be over… al ways over, like that… and he would gush into her as she wanted him to… but never, never so soon.
Dear God… she would suck him the way he had taught her, while he pillaged her genitals with his tongue, and forever, she had felt certain that this time it would happen… but then he would shoot his hot, white, sweet-tasting sperm into her mouth and throat, and momentarily she wouldn't care. His ejaculation had been all that she'd waited for, just as when he placed it in her rectum… or between her breasts and she would slip her warm lips over its massive head when he was ready to cum.
Damn! What was she doing? She was working herself up into something by just thinking, that's what she was doing. She'd better get hold of her self. She took a long pull from her cigarette, following that with a draught of coffee. Really, if she wanted to face it, Jamey's visit last night was the inspiration. He'd come to see the apartment he'd said, and with Nadine off to the movies, it had nearly happened. She'd had all she could do to keep from giving in, and even then, it had gone way beyond what she'd promised herself.
She hadn't expected anyone and had just bathed. She was getting out of the tub when the knock came, and had quickly tossed her favorite, old chenille robe around her, tying it tight and assuring herself it was close around her throat. Her mid-back-length hair she had piled onto the crown of her head and she wore a towel wrapped strategically around it. She had felt like an idiot answering the door that way, but the caller was insistent with his knuckles and she'd responded just a bit irked, wondering if this new down-town location was going to bring them all of the door-to-door salesmen in the world.
"Jamey! Wh-what're you doing here?" Her delightful smile was automatic. "I-I obviously didn't expect anyone… let alone you."
"Obviously," he grinned. "Well… aren't you going to ask me in? I came to see the new abode."
"Y-Yes… yes, of course, come in," she stammered, still surprised at the sight of his presence, but more embarrassed with her own appearance. "I-I just took a bath…"
"Oh? If I'd known, I'd have come earlier… maybe even have gotten to wash your back," he said, moving inside as she closed the door behind him. He was still smiling. He watched the tinge of blood rush into her cheeks, an easily detected sight with her alabaster like skin, and one that always delighted him.
Hell, she was absolutely stunning, he thought. Of all the women he had ever seen, known, and made love to in his prime young existence, she had to be the most beautiful and desirable. His brain raced wildly. What a stupid bastard Cal Sheldon had been. He'd plucked a gem and traded it for a poor facsimile. And Jamey'd thought that Elaine Trent represented beauty when he'd laid her at the Roadhouse… but Christ, there was no comparison. Thirty-one? She looked younger than her own daughter!
"Why don't you sit down, Jamey, while I slip on something…" she was saying, still embarrassed by his unexpected call.
"I'd rather help you," he said, making no move toward accepting her offer to a chair. "As a matter of fact, I prefer you remain as-is. You're lovely when you're natural, Susan… but then, you're always lovely."
It seemed that the redness wouldn't leave her cheeks. She couldn't remember when she'd ever felt quite so embarrassed, nor quite so excited.
Dear God, he was young and handsome! And the wickedness of it was, that she never felt her superior age with him… but more like a teen-ager, or maybe it was that he became older, more mature, when he was with her.
"You're at your best tonight, I see," she heard herself say, surprised at her own repartee. She smiled. "Can I fix you a drink?"
"If I can help."
"You can't. Sit in that chair and I'll play hostess," she said, pretending firmness.
"On one condition… you don't run off and slip something on," he said, grinning, his blue eyes alive with swirling bits of obvious lust that were sparking unbelievable tiny sensations inside her.
It had always been the same, every time they were together, but tonight… hell, he had to have her, or go out of his mind, he decided emphatically. Susan could hardly control her trembling. Dear God, she hoped it wasn't noticeable. She even felt wet down between her legs, and he hadn't been in the room two minutes.
"Sit!" she ordered, half-smiling.
"No changes?"
"No changes… at present, anyway."
She went to the kitchen, an open view from where he sat in the one comfortable chair, and talked back over her shoulder.
"Nadine's gone to the movies with Ann Trent," she said, pulling the ice-tray from the refrigerator. "I thought a little change of mental ideas would do her good."
"She should make a habit of studying movies the acting… the same with TV," he said.
"I've talked to my old teacher about taking her. He's hip to the idea. He thinks she sounds like great material… and I can tell you that Eben Lang is one of the best. Expensive, but the best."
Susan paused in her concocting and turned to look through the shell of her apartment to where he sat. "What do you mean, expensive?"
He laughed. "Like money, baby. But don't worry, we'll see to that. Let's have her get a couple of these beauty things behind her first, and maybe some high school acting."
"She's all enthused about the acting idea, Jamey," Susan said. "She talked to her school drama teacher and he wants her to try out for the next play."
"Great… great," he said, his mind a million miles from his words. "That's what she needs… any and all kinds of experience." Damn, he'd stake his life that she had the most beautiful legs he'd ever not seen… and she was naked beneath that robe. She'd just gotten out of the bath… she had to be! Shit, he could cum right in his shorts thinking about it. His prick was half-hard and he hadn't laid a hand on her. In fact, now that he thought about it, when had he touched her, except by accident? Only yesterday, when they'd moved, she'd let him kiss the sheer white-skin of her cheek where those blue-veins in their almost-transparent beauty, intrigued him. And he'd hardly slept all night. Christ, there'd never been a woman like her, not in his life, anyway…
"There," she said, re-entering the room and handing him his glass, then taking the end of the davenport across from him. "So… how do you like our little place?"
He watched her ease herself gracefully into the corner of the sofa, catching at her robe as she crossed her legs, but not before he caught a flickering view of white smooth, outer-thigh flesh, and his cock lurched in his pants excitedly.
"Cosy," he said, his eyes dwelling upon the fine-lined bone structure of her smiling, enchanting face, the absence of makeup and her unbelievable, girl-like freshness intriguing him. Her tiny white teeth sparkled, enframed in the natural redness of her full mouth, while those eyes… oh Christ, those magnificent, exotic eyes were too much…
"Yeah, you've got quite a place here. A little open, but there's a warmth, nevertheless. I think it's you."
Susan ran the tip of her tongue along her upper lip. She raised her drink and sipped at it, while he did the same, nearly consuming half of his. Dear God, they were playing a game, weren't they, she realized. Yes… yes, they were… both waiting and watching for the cue that would allow them to come together. And she wanted him! Face it! She wanted him! How long had it been? Months… a lifetime, really! God… God. She had to keep control of herself… couldn't give in to this wanton desire that was eating at her… He said something; she answered. She said something; he answered. Again and again. She made a second drink… a third… then, he was on the couch beside her… his arms went around her… she gave herself… he kissed her…
"Damn. Susan!" he gasped. "I can't wait any longer!"
It had been nothing more than a kiss and an embrace. He'd crushed her to him, her palpitating, hard-nippled breasts flattening against his chest, his lips hot and eager. Nothing more than that.
"I-I know," she heard herself respond. "I know, darling… but we have to."
"Why? Why? My God…"
"We have to!" she snapped, worming herself from his grasp and gaining her feet. "There's Nadine… and there's Cal…"
"Cal's dead! For God's sake, Susan… Cal's dead!"
"And what about Shelly Granger?" she had thrown at him, before she'd even realized what she'd said. But she couldn't help herself. The flaming redheaded beauty he had brought to the estate to play with for a couple of weeks just before Cal's death had been almost more than she could bear. She'd never known such jealousy… and then, on that very day when her husband had taken his own life, the girl had disappeared…
"W-Who?"
"Shelly Granger!" she spat, walking aimlessly around the room. "Oh, don't tell me she didn't mean something to you, Jamey Halo. Beautiful… sexy… an actress… you slept with her didn't you?"
"Y-Yes… I slept with her. She was a pig… a smalltime pig, trying to make her way up," he said, watching her closely. "And I sent her away."
"But not before you had your fill of her, eh?" Susan half-spat, unable now to control her emotions. "Was she good, Jamey? Did she kiss it? Suck it for you…"
He could barely believe the licentious word-meaning tumbling from her luscious lips in rage… jealous rage, he reasoned. A brand new sensation of excitement roared through him. He just couldn't believe it! She was jealous! And at first, he'd been afraid… but there was nothing to be afraid of… her confused frustrations proved that. He arose from the davenport and went to her, took her into his arms and pressed his tall frame slowly, but tightly, against her, his hard throbbing prick imbedding itself into the soft flesh of her abdomen and belly in undeniable demand, his hands caressing the small of her back and her buttocks through the warm softness of her robe.
Susan whimpered in his arms, not struggling. Ohhhhh, she had never wanted anything more in her life than that magnificent shaft pressing into the soft flesh of her belly… she could imagine it slipping inside her… up into the hot, velvety, moist channel of her wanting, needing vagina… strong, warm and masculine… bringing her ecstatic peace… entrancing bliss as it plunged and rubbed in and out of her… but… but, she mustn't… she mustn't…
He kissed her and played at her lips with the tip of his tongue. She left them open, like ripe grapes to be plucked, and he taunted them, went behind them to her teeth, speared into her mouth, while her hot, sweet breath panted into his face, and his hand slipped inside her robe to her breast, massaging, stroking, his finger-tips working ever toward its nipple to caress and roll it teasingly between them.
He was overwhelmed with the firm fullness of her breast! Certainly, something medically plastic had to be done to make their sleek warmness stand so erect to his hand… but, he knew this was not so. They encompassed the full breast of their side, not elongated, never pulpy, but strong and firm, still resilient. Christ, he was going to lose his mind! She was like velvet to his touch, yet hot and respondent, and his cock was leaping against the soft warm flesh of her belly. He pulled the tying strip of her robe apart and let his hands run down the length of her slightly delineated ribs to her hips… then smoothed them slowly back over her satin-like buttocks. She came tighter against him with his demand.
Susan moaned beneath his hands. Her brain swirled madly. Desire and need fought for the supreme, but the facial aspects of Nadine were over crowding all things… Dear God, how she wanted him to bury his beautiful young penis inside the depths of her hungry vagina! Oh, how she needed him… wanted him… loved him!
She felt his hand trail over the softness of her belly… down the strong muscle of her hip and thigh, then over slowly to her mound… through the light patch of dark, pubic hair to the very lips of her… her cunt, taunting, feeling, tracing the thin hair-lined slit… then, slipping inside with breathtaking gentleness to find her clitoris throbbing gently in erotic delight.
She clasped her lips to his, open, and her tiny tongue shot into his mouth with all of the fire of a taunted, enraged snake. Again and again, she stabbed into his mouth while he sucked at her tiny, sweet tongue and simultaneously twitted her clitoris between thumb and forefinger… finally sliding down through her moist slit to her vaginal entrance and easing inside, teasing her urethra enroute before he buried the long finger up into the depths of her excited and hot, dilating pussy.
She gasped into his mouth and he knew he was going to fuck her! He was certain of that now! And… and holy Christ… she had wrapped her fingers around his prick through his clothes. He couldn't breathe!
"Damn!" he gasped and pressed her backwards to the couch while she struggled to keep her thighs together as they folded down onto it.
"Oh… oh, darling… darling… we mustn't. No… no… not now," she pleaded raspily, his hot breath suddenly against the soft flesh of her breasts, coming in ever increasing gasps. "Oh… oh, please, darling… we mustn't," she whimpered hotly down into his face that was kissing and sucking at her breasts, while her arms embraced his head tightly to her.
But it was as if she hadn't spoken and his hands continued to fondle and graze her tingling flesh, and she gasped aloud to the electric-like sensations surging through her from his probing finger deep inside her wanting vagina, causing her to writhe feverishly beneath his hand.
"Oh… oh please, Jamey… wait… wait," she begged, but then she heard the metallic whisper of his zipper… and suddenly felt the delicious hard, hot fleshy bluntness pressing against her upper thigh. Dear God! It was his penis and inherently, her body recoiled at its alien touch, even as his finger probed deeper between her legs into the warm, veloutinous moisture of her vagina, causing greater intoxicating waves of inner excitement to surge through her, nearly rendering her powerless. She lay as if mesmerized, physically entranced by the pleasurable sensations rippling about wildly inside her… and then he'd taken her hand and placed it on his naked hardened rod, his own hand covering hers and enclosing her fingers around it.
She had compulsively squeezed tight, feeling its hot rigidness give slightly beneath the pressure, and heard and felt him gasp excitedly against her breast, the sounds of her own breathing filling the room as she realized surprisingly, the enormity of its size. An anticipating thrill of delight raced through her. She would never have dreamed that he would be so big… so long and thick… her fingers could barely encircle it! And suddenly, she was aware that she was stroking it… massaging the thick outer layer of skin back and forth to the same rhythm he had established with his finger deep inside her moist, receptive channel.
Oh… oh… there was no stopping him now! She'd let him go… even encouraged him beyond that final stopping point… and now her whole body trembled passionately, hungrily, in the enchantment of the moment, as did his, pressed tightly against her and in her hand. She squirmed blissfully beneath his finger sinking ever deeper into her cunt, so moist from the juices he had stimulated there. She felt it seeping from her vaginal lips, moistening her entire crotch, even to the cleft between her round full buttocks; and then it dawned fully upon her what they were doing… that Nadine could walk in on them… that there'd never been any other man to have her except her dead husband… that it was all wrong… all wrong! But, she didn't care didn't care… didn't care!
His prick jerked in her hand at every stroke, and as he increased his maddening, pleasure-inciting thrust up into her, so did she quicken and lengthen the pumping of her small, slender hand clutching tightly at his throbbing, erect shaft of flesh, feeling it grow and grow beautifully into unbelievable male hardness.
Perhaps it was his sudden squirming on top of her, trying to open her legs, that helped restore her wits, or maybe it was simply the reaction of strong religious convictions and loyalty to a memory thrusting its way through the ecstatic delirium of forbidden pleasure clouding her mind; whichever, she clamped her strong naked legs together tightly, her thighs clasping his stiff, pulsing cock between them, while he struggled frantically on top of her to get the blood-filled tip of his prick into the moist opening of her excited and passion dilated cunt.
"No… no, Jamey! No, we can't… we mustn't!" she hissed up at him, her teeth clenched as she writhed and struggled with every ounce of resistance she could muster, clasping his hot, hard rod tightly as it strained to enter her, its smooth nozzle splaying the soft lips of her throbbing cunt, inching ever forward from the weight and force of his near-insane attempt at penetration. "My God, no! You can't, darling… please!" she cried again, as she squeezed and writhed furiously; then, she felt it lurch, still within her clutching fingers and heard his uncontrollable gasp of frustrated ecstasy.
He groaned and grunted and she felt the thick, hot stream of his sperm shoot from its jerking head, saturating her tingling vulva, the palpitating open lips of her vagina and the surrounding dark pubic hair, until she was drenched with the warm, viscous liquid, even to the inner-sides of her soft white thighs, dribbling wetly down between her legs to moisten the davenport beneath her passion-dampened buttocks.
She had lain perfectly still and held him tightly all through it, feeling his body convulse on top of her while his organ pumped spasmodically in her slender hand, heard him emit his final groan of release… then, he seemed to collapse all over her, his penis rapidly growing limp in her hand, and it was then that she sensed an indescribable feeling of having cheated herself… yet, she said nothing, only held him, running her hand tenderly through his hair while he began to whisper apologies in a choked, almost shamed voice…
Nadine rolled onto her back, opened her eyes and gazed at the white ceiling. She waited until the tiny zigzagging plaster-cracks focused distinctly; finally, she looked at the small watch on her wrist. Nine-thirty! She gave a start, then remembered that it was Saturday… no school, and lay back quietly, letting all things fit into their proper perspective. A thousand thoughts raced through her young mind. One of them was Jamey Halo. She liked to think of him as he appeared on TV… as Brace Collins in the Sunday night Gallant Rangers series. God, he was handsome; he just made her tingle all over every time he looked at her, was all. Yet, she couldn't help but hate him, too. He must know how she felt about him… how she had felt about him ever since the day she'd first seen him when they'd moved onto his estate… but he'd never given her a tumble… hardly any acknowledgment whatever except an occasional little wink… Damn him! He was just a conceited ass the big star… but just wait.
One day, she, too, would be a star in her own right, then, he could just get in line with the others. She'd bet he would sing a different tune then… because Nadine Sheldon was going to become a great star… just like she was going to win the Miss Parksburg contest Monday night. Now that Ann Trent had decided not to enter, she felt certain of her chances. Ann had been her biggest worry; the judges always seemed to be partial toward blondes over brunettes, and Ann was absolutely beautiful. If only she had a little more of her mother's face and statuesque figure, Nadine wished longingly, not that she wasn't thankful for what her mom called 'voluptuousness', with her firm, erect and rotund breasts, waspish waist and full rounded hips, and she was well aware of her lush and shapely thighs and legs, but if only they were longer like her mother's. It seemed that men always preferred taller girls. At least, she did have her beautiful mother's smooth, white skin, and just a touch of her exotic, dark eyes, but her own long, black-hair lacked that silken, fairy-tale woven luster of her mom's. God, if she didn't love her so much, she'd probably be hatefully jealous. Her mom was so beautiful.
But then, so was Ann Trent… What a lucky girl she was… her father president of Parksburg Paper Mills… all of the luxury any girl could ever want. A beautiful home, cars, clothes and a wonderful younger brother… yet, when she thought about it, she couldn't help the strange feelings she had about them as a family. She'd never seen such closeness between sister and brother, or father and daughter. Even little Donnie Trent was always kissing his mother and putting his hands on her almost too affectionately. And lately, Ann had kept asking her to stay over for a night, but for some reason she hadn't wanted to. Of course, she and Ann had always been close, and secretly, both of them enjoyed the little bed-games they played in the darkness… like cuddling, kissing and feeling of each other… it always worked her up so… especially when Ann would massage her breasts, then put her head down between her legs and run her tongue through her pussy… God! Just the thought was getting her hot right at the moment.
Her mother's voice brought her back to reality. She must be talking on the phone, Nadine decided, suddenly aware that her own small hands were gently caressing her breasts and taunting their tiny, cherry-red nipples into hardness through the gauzy material of her shortie-nightie. She felt her face flush and forced her hands away from her self. Her mom's voice said: "Yes, Mr. Bovino. I'd like very much to talk to you… When? Late this afternoon? I have to be in the dining-room by six… Yes… fine, I'll be there, sir. Four-thirty. All right… and Mr. Bovino… thank you… Good bye…"
God, her mom had such a sultry voice, with only the slightest trace of accent. If only she could mimic it, what an asset that would be to her career. Her mom was so wonderful… so cool… Dear God, why hadn't Daddy ever seen that? How could he have ever preferred Shelly Granger over Mom? That must be what booze did to a person. Oh sure, she was young, but in God's truth, she looked older than her mother, and that was not an exaggeration. Not only that, but Shelly Granger was a bitch! Hadn't she heard Jamey and Shelly fighting and calling each other the vilest of names that very day when she'd actually seen her father and that redheaded witch strip naked in the woods and go at each other?
She was a bitch, all right, and her own father was no better. She was glad he was gone… dead… and that she'd never have to look at him again. Glad! Glad! He deserved to die… Now, he could look up from hell and watch his daughter become a star… damn him!