One beautiful June morning two weeks before exams were to begin and all the fraternal brothers were breaking their backs cramming vital information into their brains, one of the two waitresses suddenly became very ill and was hospitalized indefinitely.
All morning Gloria James tried in vain to get a replacement. All of a sudden no one was immediately available. Finally, her last resort, she called the town's only employment agency.
Normally this agency supplied only factory workers and other skilled personnel, grounds keepers for the college, cafeteria help and cleaning women who worked in any one of the many buildings on campus.
"But we do have one applicant whose application says he's had experience as a waiter," said the agency woman.
"I'd prefer a waitress," said Gloria. "You know how college boys are, a pair of pretty legs, stuff like that," she laughed.
"I do," smiled the woman over the phone, "and I'm so sorry, Mrs. James, but this boy is the best I can do at the moment… "
"How old a boy?"
"Eighteen." She paused. "I remember him. He has a most unusual problem. He needs work, too."
"What sort of problem?"
"He and his sister are stranded here in town. Would you believe that in this day and age, Mrs. James?"
Gloria smiled to herself. Once she'd been stranded. She'd never forget it, either. No fun.
She asked for more information.
"Well, according to him, and his sister, and I might say, they're both very good looking kids, well, they have a step-mother who's traveling in Europe. They can't locate her. You see," the agency woman continued, "these two were traveling around the country in a van, sightseeing, and so on. Understand?"
"Yes."
"Well, the van broke down here in town. They had it towed to that bastard Bill Frank's garage, and you know what a rip-off robbing bastard Bill Frank can be? Well, it's simple enough. He's holding the van with all their things in it in lieu of payment.
"The two sweet kids have tried everything. They have no relatives except this stepmother, no friends to speak of. They're really stranded. I feel sorry for them, but I've tried my best to find something for either of them to do and it's just no go, understand?"
"Yes." She hesitated. "Let me think. I'll phone you back, okay?" She paused again. "By the way, how old is the sister?"
"She's the same age. They're twins."
"You don't mean it?"
"I sure do. she's very sweet. She's also very pretty. And he's very protective. You can tell they are twins, too; but they don't look all that much alike. It's their smiles. When they smile, you can tell."
"She's not had any kind of work experience, like waitressing, anything like that?"
"No, Mrs. James. She's just not the type. You can tell that on looking. But she's not a snob either. She can't even help drive the van. I listened to their whole story very carefully."
"Where are they staying?"
The agency woman laughed.
"That's another story. They have no place. The hotel wouldn't take them in because they had no luggage, see?"
"This all sounds perfectly dreadful."
"It is." She coughed. "Well, they're staying here in my office at night. He sleeps on the couch. She sleeps on the floor on the couch cushions. I would have taken them home, but my hubby, well, let's not get into that… "
"I see… and during the day…?"
"They either sit in the park, try to locate the step-mother, using my telephone, or they sit on the campus library."
"What are they doing for food?"
"I don't want you to say anything, but they're eating in Garretson's Luncheonette. I placed the cook there and he feeds them, well, sort of under the table, if you know what I mean, Mrs. James?"
"I know what you mean. This is really sad. Look, I'll tell you what, when you see them next, send them over here. Tell them to ask for me, all right?"
"Both?"
"Why not?"
"I agree. Why not?"
"Look, Mrs. Griffin, I'll find someway to handle the situation. Just send them over, okay?"
"I sure will, and listen, if you take him on, dot worry about any fee for the agency."
"You're very kind, Mrs. Griffin, very kind."
When Gloria James hung up the telephone in her apartment, she sat back in the swivel chair behind the small desk she used as an "office" in the so-called living room of her apartment.
She took a deep breath as her eyes scanned the room. Directly opposite her was a convertible cough that, when opened, became a very comfortable double bed.
Pulling up her skirt, she slipped her right hand down inside her cotton panties. Her fingers began to caress her hairy vagina. At the mere thought of what she had in mind, her pussy was already heating up.
She slid her index finger between her plump cunt lips. How moist it was. Almost slippery. She touched her little clitoris and it leaped to attention.
She let her eyes close. Her left hand went up under her cashmere sweater. She wasn't wearing her brassiere. Her nipples were erect, as excited as her clitoris as she gave each a pinch in turn. She squeezed her ripe breasts and then massaged them gently as her finger up inside her cunt began to stab in and out, but very slowly, rubbing over her vibrating clitoris and then dipping back up inside her moist slit.
Then the thought that finalized the conspiracy brewing in her brain fin alb materialized. Pulling her hand out from inside her panties, she brought her inquisitive finger up to her nose. She sniffed it and smiled. She rubbed its wetness over her lips and then licked her lips. She took a deep breath.
Reaching for the telephone on the desk, she dialed the intercom. It rang down in the lounge where she knew Dianne, the maid, was cleaning.
"Yes, Mrs. James?"
"Dianne, I just received a most surprising telephone call. I've never told you, anyone for that' matter, but I have a niece and nephew. My sister's children, and they're twins."
"I'm listening, Mrs. James." Often Dianne was very caustic and unfriendly. She took her work seriously and had very little time for small talk. Besides, she always suspected that when Mrs. James called her on the intercom from up in her apartment, she was checking up on her.
This was, however, never the actual case; always a figment of Dianne's less than fertile imagination.
"Well, Dianne," Gloria James continued, smiling to herself, "they've just come to town and they're going to have lunch with me… up here."
"Yes, go on, please, Mrs. James."
"Well, I expect them almost any time. Would you be good enough to let them in and show them how to get up here?"
"Of course, Mrs. James." Dianne sounded much relieved. "Would there be anything else?"
"Yes, Dianne. They'll just ask for me by name, Mrs. James. It's been a long time since we've seen one another. Once they arrive and get up here, I'll call the kitchen and make arrangements, all right?"
"Yes, Mrs. James, but that reminds me… do you want me to help out in the dining room today… unless you've found another waitress?"
"Yes, Dianne, would you mind terribly?"
"Oh, no, Mrs. James. Not at all. Besides most of the boys are eating sandwiches up in their rooms. They're too busy to come down to the tables."
"Very well, Diane," said Mrs. James and she hung up the receiver.
Again Gloria James sat back in her swivel chair. A wide smile flooded her pretty face, she got up. In the bathroom that adjoined her bedroom, she slipped out of her cashmere sweater. She folded it neatly and placed it back into its cellophane protective bag. She I unhooked her skirt, stepped out of it. She folded this, too, and placed it neatly on one of the shelves.
Wearing only her panties now, she sat down on the black toilet seat. She leaned back against the tank. She spread her knees wide apart.
She raised her bare feet up to balance them on the edge of the toilet seat after kicking off her high heeled bedroom slippers.
Closing her eyes, she began to run her right hand all over her panty crotch, cupping her ripe mound so prominent under the material of her cotton panties. She fingered between her slit, forcing the material into her vaginal hole.
Her hand massaged and stroked her breasts. She teased her nipples until they were erect and throbbing sweetly from her affectionate caresses. She pinched them until the pain was severe, almost unbearable, then rubbed and smoothed them with her palm until they were harder than before.
Then she got up from the toilet seat. Turning her back to the door, she straddled the toilet, facing the tank. She leaned forward, her head on top of the tank. She lay her cheek on the cold porcelain surface of the toilet tank. She sat back and glancing down between her naked thighs she stared at the crystal clear water in the bowl.
She strained her bladder then and her urine began to piddle through the panty crotch, warming her cunt, soaking the crotch; and finally, when her urine began to squirt, she cupped her hand roughly over her mound, rubbing it vigorously.
She began moaning as her warm urine began to spurt forcing it way through the tight, stretched panties. Quickly, she raised up. She backed off the toilet, dribbling urine all over the tiled floor. She pulled her panties down to her knees, staring at the soaking crotch.
Then she backed up, sat down on the toilet and gripping her clitoris between her thumb and forefinger, began pulling and pinching it at the same time until the pain was so severe and her clitoris was so raw, it took only seconds before she was down on the cold tile, squirming and writhing all over, now on her back humping up at her fingers, now over on her belly, her right hand reaching up under between her damp, urine-stained thighs as her fingers, four of them, swam in and out of her drenched cunt.
When the orgasm finally struck, it almost knocked the breath out of her. Now again on her back, her legs thrashing, her naked toes flexing, she kicked off her panties and then, reaching them with the bare toes of her left foot, caught them, picked them up with her little toes and carried them up to her waiting hand.
First she sniffed them, then she tasted the wet crotch, then she rubbed them all over her pounding breasts, ringing them out over her nipples, eyes closed, her happy cunt throbbing as a second wild orgasm threatened.
She was just about to explode when she heard the soft knocking on her apartment door.