Stacy Talbot came out of the building, buttoning up her fuzzy coat as she walked. A cold winter wind blew across the campus. God, why hadn't she gone someplace warm, like Miami or UCLA or even Hawaii? Amherst was such a bitch in the winter, but she only had one more year. That was a consolation.
"Stace!" someone called, and she turned to see who it might be.
"Oh, hi, Don," she said.
He swept her up in his arms and spun her around, heels flying in the air, before he put her down and kissed her. She liked Don. He was strong as a bear and just as cuddly.
"I missed you, so I decided to cut class and scour the campus in search of your body," he leered, his breath frosty in the chill air. He looked so funny when he wanted to be naughty.
"What do you want to do?" she asked as they walked.
"I want to do you," he replied, very sincere. "I want to spread your nude body on a bearskin rug, smear you with honey and whipped cream, and then lick it all away."
"I've had that done before," Stacy said. "It's no big deal. And it's kinda messy. Why don't we just go somewhere and screw?"
"You've convinced me."
She was in the mood to be balled. It had been a rotten week, even if this was only Tuesday, and maybe a good fuck would lift her out of the dumps she'd been in. And she was in the mood for a guy, too. Don was one of three people on campus Stacy was currently tight with. He didn't know about the other two, both of whom were girls.
That was the problem, damn it to shit. One of Stacy's bunkies was bi, and half nympho besides. She was easy to get along with. Sometimes the two of them went cruising Long Island in search of meat – they'd alternate between hunting girls and hunting guys – but it was only fun for them. The other girl showed dangerous signs of being a full-time dyke and she was starting to get possessive too. Sunday night in bed, after a long session of back-and-forth sucking, she'd fried to give Stacy a ring with a real quarter-carat diamond, as a token of love, she said.
Jesus, what a bummer! Stacy's rejection had started a quarrel, hot and bitter, which gradually turned into reconciliation, hot and sweet. Right now the ring was in a box on Stacy's dresser, back at the apartment. She didn't know what to do with it. Obviously, Melissa meant the ring to be a sort of engagement, expecting that Stacy would quit fucking with other people and stick to her exclusively. And Stacy didn't know if she was ready for that.
Funny. She'd seduced Melissa, as a sort of prank. But the blue-eyed sophomore art major had turned into a passionate bedmate, horny and hungry. The impulse had certainly been inside her before the chance came, and now Melissa was almost insatiable. She left teethmarks. It was Stacy's doing, in a way, and she felt responsible, but how responsible? Screw it! She's mess around with Don for a while and get her head straight. She had no more classes today, and the bed at his place was soft and warm.
"Let's go to a movie," he suggested, interrupting her silent monologue. "Something dirty," he added. "There's a new one downtown. Let's go watch the degenerates and see if we can pick up any new tricks."
Stacy shrugged. Why not? Sometimes dirty movies were a real turn-on, if they were dirty enough or good enough. There weren't many of those, however, and she was positive that if she saw one more girl go down on Marc Stevens' ten-inch cock, she'd barf all over the place.
The ticket window didn't open till noon, so they had a cup of coffee in the diner next door and waited. As Don paid for their tickets, he asked the girl in the booth, "Is it any good?"
She shrugged, obviously a U Mass student with a part-time job off campus. "Who knows? The posters have a lot of quotes from Twat or one of those scungy papers saying how great it is. Personally I think it's all a tactic to exploit women."
The theater was almost empty, with only one or two overcoated men spaced out here and there. It was dark and Stacy cuddled Don as they waited for the film to begin. He put his arm around her, one of his hands cupping her left breast, and she purred to feel the strength of his grip. A man held a tit differently from a woman, she was well aware. Stacy liked it both ways, but right now she'd settle for Don and his hearty handhold.
First on the bill were a couple of featurettes. Plotless, badly photographed, with poor sound, they were basically pictures of people having sex. A man and two girls, three girls and four men, a woman and a dildo. Stacy found herself yawning before the second was finished, and she feared she might go to sleep before she knew it.
The feature film was an epic called How to Become a Stud. It didn't look promising from the very beginning, with cheaply fashioned, crude title cards. But it was Don's money, she reflected, and if it turned him on, she'd tolerate it.
It opened with a guy, a bit dark for Stacy's taste, making out on a couch with a cute, short, large-breasted girl. They kissed and necked and fondled, and the girl bent down to unzip the guy's pants. She pulled his cock out and teased it with her fingers, but it didn't get hard. She kissed it. She sucked it. She took off her blouse and squeezed it between her large brown-nippled tits. It still didn't get hard. In frustration she began calling him an impotent son of a bitch, and then threw him out of her apartment. They were both pretty rotten actors, Stacy decided.
Cut to the guy, starting out on his job next morning. He was a telephone repairman, and Stacy could see it all coming. Or should that be cumming?
His boss had sent him to a large apartment building – Stacy recognized it with a start – it was in downtown New York City, not far from her mother's place. Somehow that brought a touch of home to the movie. With his tools belted on his hip the guy – his name was Bob – entered the building.
On the second floor Bob passed an open door and stopped to take a look inside. Close-up of his face as he did a double-take. A petite blonde, slim, with fair-sized tits, was leaning over the back of a couch while an enormous black man rammed her tiny ass with his oversized dick. She looked as if she were trapped halfway between unendurable pain and unspeakable pleasure. There was a tight close-up of the scene, so that no viewer need miss the details of penetration. The black's rod looked like a telephone pole jammed up the girl's anus, but it moved easily, shining greasy and black when it pulled back for a fresh stroke.
Bob stepped through the open door, closing it behind him. His foot bumped a chair and the pair looked up.
"What you want, honky?" the black called in a shrill, defiant tone.
"Uh…" said Bob. "I'm here to fix the phone. But I see something I'd rather be doing."
"Yeah?" the black hooted. "Well, drop your pants and rub your shithole with Vaseline, 'cause it's gonna hurt your ass off otherwise."
He grunted and doubled his tempo, suddenly pulling his black rod out of its tight passageway. He grabbed his cock and began to jerk himself rapidly. His cum spurted into the air, gushing onto his partner's back and slim hips. She reached around and rubbed the juice with her fingers, massaging it into her fair skin.
"No," Bob cut in, pointing to the erection inside his pants. "I meant I'd like to do it to the chick."
"Everybody wants to fuck a white girl," said the blonde. "And I don't have a telephone. So why don't you scram?"
It was a rather funny scene, Stacy decided, and she heard Don chuckling softly. She put her hand on his lap and teased the lump on his penis. He wasn't anywhere near hard. Yet… Give her a minute, though. Maybe she'd go down on him here in the theater. He might really get off on the idea. They'd done it before, of course, and Stacy hated to do it the same way twice. But that last time it had been a challenge, because the house was nearly full. He'd thrown his coat over her head while she gobbled his meat, but he came with a groan that was louder than the movie and everyone must have known anyway.
Meanwhile Bob was wandering around the building in search of the phones he was supposed to repair. He knocked on a door and it was opened by a middle-sized girl with long brown hair and a big towel wrapped around her body.
"Oohh," she said breathlessly, pushing back her hair, "my phone's been out of order for a week! I thought you'd never come!" She took him by the hand and led him into her apartment. "It's in the bedroom," she went on. "Just come on in, and don't mind us."
On the bed lay a naked man, his hard-on sticking out boldly. Beside him, on a stand, was the telephone. "Go ahead and fix it," said the girl, letting her towel drop. She climbed onto the bed naked and began to suck the nude man's cock in big greedy slurps. As she sucked, she maneuvered her lower body so that her cuntal region came to rest on his face. He grabbed her by the thighs and buried his head between her legs, and they were into a hot 69 while the repairman worked on the telephone receiver.
The girl was cute but her technique was sloppy, and she made sounds like a pig while she sucked her lover. There were close-ups of her mouth at work, and close-ups of his tongue rimming her pussy. She had a large gash, with fat, protruding lips, and the man nudged them with his tongue, bubbles of spit spilling from his mouth as he licked and sucked her.
Bob stood up, the front of his pants thrust out. "Excuse me," he told the pair, "but I have a hard-on."
The girl looked up. "That's very unusual," she said between licks. "It only happens to men."
"You don't understand," Bob told her. "Last night I was afraid I might never be able to get it up again. I'd kinda like to try it out and see if it's really working."
"Oh, sure," said the girl. "Slide over, will ya?" she told her friend, and in a twinkling Bob was naked and on the bed with them. He had a good body, Stacy determined, though it was hairier than she liked. But he was broad-shouldered and muscular – especially his love muscle! Red and stiff, sticking out of his dark pubic muff, it must have been eight or nine inches long. The tip was dark as a grape and much, much bigger. Stacy felt her saliva flowing at the sight of it, and she pinched Don's cock to let him know. His instrument got hard beneath her fingertips and she smiled a knowing smile. Quickly she unzipped her boyfriend and dragged his prick into the open, just as Bob spread the girl and aimed his rod at her gash.
Stacy toyed with Don's cock as the three actors worked themselves into a threesome. The girl was sucking the first man while Bob reamed her pussy with his dick, and the bed shook from their combined activity.
"That's a lot better," Don whispered to Stacy as his penis grew harder in her fingers. "I have a hell of a time getting it up when they play for comedy."
But the movie had forgotten its comic theme as the fuck scene grew more passionate. All three of them were into it now, the girl taking it from both ends and the men giving it to her. She sucked the one cock in big hearty swallows, taking it nearly to her throat, handling the balls as she gobbled, and her hips twitched every time Bob rammed her to the hilt.
Stacy bent over and planted a kiss on the tip of her guy's peter. Don's cock seemed to jump right into her mouth, once she'd kissed it, and Stacy took him happily. She began to suck the head while her tongue danced and darted inside her mouth, anointing and tickling him lasciviously. He stroked her hair in approval.
Swallowing a cock hurt Stacy's throat. She had seen Linda Lovelace in action, and she'd tried deep-throating, but she didn't care for the technique at all. What she liked was to nurse the big apple knob and use her hands and fingers on the stalk, allowing a deeper penetration now and then but concentrating on the glans, which was the most sensitive part of a cock, after all. No one had complained yet.
As she sucked him she listened to the movie, but it was difficult to shift her eyes toward the screen. She missed the scene where Bob and the other man did almost simultaneous cum shots onto the girl they'd shared, Bob spraying her belly with his semen while the girl let the other cock fountain its juices across her face and into her open mouth. Stacy knew something exciting must be happening, though, since Don's penis thrust itself at her two or three times in quick, eager succession, as if he were on the verge of a cum shot of his own.
Dialogue sounded on the screen again, and Don's thrusting subsided. Stacy felt him relax where she held him, and she started in once more on her slow suck tactic, cradling him in the wet juiciness of her mouth, a hand slipping inside his pants to tickle his scrotum.
Stacy sucked easily and pleasantly. She reckoned that the movie was about half over. If she kept up at this rate she could bring Don to a good orgasm by the end of it, one that would satisfy him for a while, at least. And the spurt of his cum into her mouth, the jerking of his penis in the grip of her jaws, would make her ready for their arrival at his apartment, when she would take him by the cock, suck him hard once more, slip him into her cunt, and fuck him silly.
From the screen she heard a strong female voice, rather low-toned. "Are you the phone repairman?" Something about the voice. What was it? Stacy thought as she sucked.
"Come in," said the woman. "I need my phone and I don't see why I have to wait so long to get it fixed."
Stacy looked up, letting Don's dick slide free. All she saw was the back of a woman, her hair up in curlers, a housecoat covering her body, and Bob the repairman over her shoulder. The woman stepped back, still not turning, and Bob came into fuller view. His cock was hard in his pants, thrusting them out. Apparently his impotence problem was no longer a problem. But the woman. What was there about her voice?
"My God," said the woman. "Is that an erection? Have you got a hard-on?"
Bob nodded happily, and the woman came toward him. Stacy saw her face now, and her eyes opened wide. She leaned forward, forgetting all about Don's erection, and she stared at the screen.
The woman dropped to her knees before Bob. She was a mature woman, in her late thirties or early forties, with brown hair, and lustrous brown eyes. The color wasn't the best in the world, but it was easy to see that she was a striking woman indeed. She unzipped Bob's pants, struggled to get his cock out, and then decided that she'd best undo the belt and let the pants fall. He had no underwear and his cock swung out as soon as his pants dropped.
She took him in both hands and rubbed him on her face. "It's beautiful," she said, his pecker gliding across her lips. She kissed him on the knobby point, her lips making an audible smack. "I've been a widow for two years," she told the young man, "and every night I've gone to sleep dreaming about a big hard cock just like this one. May I borrow it for just a little while?"
Stacy shook her head in disbelief. Shea just wasn't ready for this. But she watched as the woman got to her feet, undid the curlers and let her brown hair fall to her shoulders, then opened the front of her housecoat. She was totally nude underneath, small, firm breasts set high despite her age, a slim waist, a long torso, good, shapely legs. The housecoat fluttered to the floor and she led the repairman to her couch.
"On your knees," she told him. "First I want you to lick my puss. I want you to kiss it, and lick it, and suck it. Fuck me with your tongue and fingers before you fuck me with your big, beautiful prick." There was a commanding tone to her voice. She didn't have the nasal New York and Jersey accents the other girls in the movie had had. Hers was a cultivated voice, dripping with the promise of sensuality.
Bob knelt at once, removing his shirt, as he began to eat her out. The camera came in for close-ups from two or three different angles, interspersed with reaction shots of the woman. Her face was wrapped in delight. Watching her, it was possible to believe her. The intensity of her face matched the intensity of her voice. It was like peeking through a window and watching someone get it on, Stacy thought. Her hand was still on Don's rod, and she squeezed it forcefully without thinking. He groaned and touched her hand with his own. She jerked as if she'd just been flogged, and she turned to look at him, but she didn't really see his face. Stacy heard him say something but she shushed him and looked back at the screen.
The actress was in the throes of what appeared to be a real orgasm. She clutched her small, firm breasts, her fingers flicking across the stiff red nipples, and she sighed and moaned. Her eyes were slits in her pale-complexioned face, but they were sparkling all the same. Bob's head bobbed between her legs.
"I'm cumming!" she screamed, her voice raking Stacy's spine. Her legs encircled Bob's neck and she pulled him into her gap. There was a close-up of her twitching toes that conveyed more of the power of unleashed sensuality than anything else Stacy had ever seen an a movie screen.
The woman jerked and tossed with her release, and then she let go of Bob's neck. Her legs settled to the floor and she pulled at his hands. He rose onto the couch with her, his stiff dick wiggling till she seized it and forced it into her mouth.
She only gave it one hearty suck at first. As soon as she'd wetted him with her spit she let him out of her oral ring and began to kiss his cock from balls to tip and back again. She had his balls in one hand, the other thrust between her legs to attack the moist slit of her cunt.
"Suck it, baby, suck it," Bob grunted in a voice that seemed quite inadequate.
She wasn't exactly sucking it. Instead she was using her mouth on him. There was a difference, Stacy thought. The woman was making love to Bob's pecker in a thrilling way. Stacy felt a warm, wet sensation between her legs and she squeezed them together in an effort to intensify that feeling. The tight crotch band of her jeans rode high, pushed into her slit, and she sighed. Beside her Don leaned close, his arm sliding round her, his hand covering hers on his cock.
"What's wrong, Stace?" he asked. "C'mon this is pretty hot. If you suck me a time or two more, I'll drown your tonsils."
She shook her head. "No, I have to see this."
He shrugged. "Are you picking up pointers? Christ, I can feel that old girl's mouth on me right now. She's damned good, isn't she?"
Stacy said nothing in reply. She just stared.
The woman had her index, middle and ring fingers buried in her slice, working them ferociously as she sucked Bob. Her hips jerked and twisted in a motion that was too natural to be feigned, and Stacy felt cold all over. If this was voyeurism she wanted none of it. But what about that twitching between her own legs, that itch she was trying to scratch with the back-and-forth motion of her thighs?
Bob grunted and came, his jism gushing from the tip of his cock. The woman caught it on her tongue, shoveling it into her mouth. She played happily with the spurting cum, swallowing some of it, letting more splatter her chin and lips.
It should have been gross, in a way. Cum-on-face shots usually were, and Stacy didn't like them. But this wasn't gross. In its own fashion it was beautiful and sensuous. The woman didn't look exploited or used. If anything, she was using the man for her own gratification, milking his masculinity to satisfy her own needs.
Close-up of the woman, with cum on her face. She was licking at the drops which sparkled on her chin, licking with a tongue that the bad color made incredibly red, but her teeth were white as pearls and her brown eyes had a liquid softness to them thanks to the same inadequacies of the photography.
Cut. Now the woman was sitting on the man's lap, her back to him, riding up and down on his once-more-hard cock. He fondled her tits as she bounced, and she fondled his fondling hands. The camera came in for a close shot of the prick and cunt, her pussylips separating as he shoved it up her. Again it was almost too much for Stacy to watch, from its very intensity of feeling, but she couldn't turn her eyes away. Don's penis was harder than ever in her hand, but she had not the slightest interest in sucking or masturbating him. Not now!
The fuck scene was interminable, or so Stacy thought as she watched it. The woman bounced for an eternity on the man's lap, her face wrapped in a blissful expression. She was a sex actress of stunning power. Stacy had never seen anyone like her on a porno screen before, and she was certain she'd never see anyone else comparable. "My God," she said in a law tense voice. "My God!"
"OOOOHHHHHHHH!!!" the actress moaned, her head leaning way back. Bob was fucking furiously to keep up with her. He muttered something, and the woman jumped off his cock. She lay down on the floor, her knees up, widely spread, her hands inviting. Bob sprang to join her, his cock shaking, and he dropped to his knees between her legs. In a second they were joined once more, and he was fucking her from above with a shivering desperation that registered vividly on the screen. It figured, Stacy thought. How could he stay blase while screwing a woman as vibrant and passionate as this one?
Stacy was scarcely aware that Don had his hand under the tail of her sweatshirt, that he was trying to stuff it down the top of her jeans. She made no resistance when he pushed downward, when his fingers slid through her crinkly pubic hair. She wasn't wearing panties – they were such a waste of time – and his fingers found her slit almost at once. Stacy jerked when he pushed on her labia, and she heard him say, "Jesus, Stace, you're sopping wet! I've gotta bring you here more often!"
His middle fingertip oozed into her squishy slice just as Stacy brought her thighs together once again. The resulting pressure was amazing, and Don's soft mumble of appreciation proved that he enjoyed it too. She squeezed his cock with her hand, not taking her eyes from the movie screen.
Bob and the woman were hard at it now. She'd raised her ass from the floor and he was gripping her knees as he pull the meat to her. Camera angles alternated between close-ups of their passion racked faces, a long shot of the two bodies at work, and a close-up of the cock slicking in and out of her wet cunt.
Stacy could feel Don's finger prodding her clitoris. The red trigger of her sex was alive with interest, responding well to his caresses. Instinctively Stacy's hand tightened on his pecker and, without looking, she began to shuck his outer skin. Don met her masturbatory caress with a jerking action of his middle finger in her hole. Now he brushed her clit, now he stabbed deeply, riding home in the wet slickness of her inner sweetness. Stacy twisted her hips as he fingered her, sucking him into her gash.
The couple on screen finished first. Bob tried to pull his cock from the woman's hole so he could squirt his seed on her belly – it was required in porno, Stacy knew, for the men to have visible orgasms. His penis was squirting even as he pulled it out, and it shot his sticky goo in wild gleaming arcs. Some of it dripped onto the woman's belly, some of it collected in her pubic hair, and some of it spilled onto the carpet beneath them. The camera was tight on his juicing dick, and he seemed to be cumming a gallon. Was there no end to his jism stock? Stacy had never seen a man squirt that much, and she'd been around.
She felt Don grabbing her head. His intention was obvious and his strength undeniable. Stacy resisted, reluctant to tear her eyes from the film. The last thing she saw before her head was forced into Don's lap was Bob the repairman walking down the corridor, apparently on his way to yet another conquest.
Stacy opened her mouth in resignation and sucked in Don's cock. He was hot and ready, as she could tell from the throbbing swollen condition that met her tongue, and it would only take a few good sucks to get him off. Christ, it would only take one or two more finger stabs to get her off! She wiggled her hips to get him into action and his finger plunged deeply.
He took her hint – he could feel the agitated jerking of her cuntal muscles – and he masturbated her in quick strokes. At the same time Stacy lightened her lips on the head of his pole and wrapped thumb and finger around the base. As she sucked his knob she started to jerk her digital ring up and down, stroking him from his balls to where her lips circled his prick. Her shucks became faster as her own passion stretched to the delightful breaking point, until she was pummeling her mouth each lime she jerked on his flesh.
Stacy felt a magnificent oozy shudder beginning somewhere just beneath her navel and filtering through the rest of her body. She sighed around his cock, just as the first tingle of cum rippled in her labia, and then she opened her gullet to receive Don's love offering.
He was really turned on. His cum flowed in thick, greasy spurts, each ejaculation following upon the heels of the one before, and Stacy's cheeks puffed out with the weight of Don's cream. She rolled it in her mouth before she swallowed, savoring the taste of him, and her fingers kept working to tease every last drop of juice from his balls. As he squirted he thrust into her mouth, attempting to ram his cock down her gulping throat, but Stacy had enough presence of mind, despite her own orgasmic convulsions, to keep her lips tight and her fingers a steady rein on his dick.
Don kept jerking and thrusting, even after he'd stopped gushing, and his middle finger stabbed a counterpoint through the raw mouth of Stacy's cunny. They came apart slowly, Stacy still gulping and sloshing as she sat up once more. Don's cock was a small red dangle now that it had shot its wad, and she tucked it back inside his pants. Even in the darkness she could see that the theater was as empty as before and, if any of the few other patrons had noticed what she and Don had done, they gave no indication.
On screen Bob was with his girlfriend once again, the same girl who'd tried and failed to get him up. He was explaining his day's adventures to her, mentioning that he was still horny, pointing to the big lump in his pants.
"Ooohh!" she gurgled. "You're my big beautiful stud again!" And with that she got his prick out for some sucking. Stacy knew that the film was nearly over. Maybe one more fuck between those two, and that would be it. She looked at her watch. The film had been running for almost seventy minutes. That was about standard length for an X-rated movie. "C'mon," she told Don, standing up. "Take me home."
He came without reluctance, following her up the aisle as she went out. His car was down the street and Stacy waited impatiently as he unlocked the door. Don started the engine and signaled for a left. "No," she said, "take me home, I told you!"
He shrugged and turned right at the light. Stacy squirmed as she at beside him, and she didn't notice that she was, tapping on the dash. "Is something wrong?" Don asked, "I thought that movie was gonna turn you into a maniac or something. Jesus, did you catch that old lady? The one in the curlers and housecoat? She wasn't bad at all when she got naked, and the way she made it! God, I wonder how they ever got somebody as classy-looking as that into a fuck film?"
"I intend to find out," Stacy said in a voice so soft she barely heard it herself. Don was still talking but she wasn't listening to him.
The car pulled up in front of the apartment building where Stacy lived. Dan reached to shut off his engine but she caught his hand. "I'm sorry as hell, love," she told him, "but I can't ask you up. We'll have to postpone it for a day or two. I have to go into the city this afternoon. Call me Thursday, okay?"
She left him in the car and trotted up the steps to her door, unable to forget the filmed image of that classy-looking woman. Wasn't that what Don had called her? An old lady, he'd said, too. God, even when she closed her eyes Stacy could see that naked body, mature and trim, the passion-etched face, the nipples stiff with their arousal, the cunt opening to receive the man's penile thrusts, the mouth that drank hungrily of his spurting jism – It was all far real, she reminded herself. This wasn't one of those simulation features, where the actors just pretended to sex each other. It was a genuine X-rated movie, hard core, cum shots. Everything. They were really doing it, those people.
Stacy let herself in and turned on the light. It was always so dark here in the winter. She walked past the typewriter. Three days ago she'd started a letter to her brother, in response to one he'd sent her a month ago, and she'd never gotten around to finishing it. Maybe she should write him now? No. Definitely no. Gerry was her brother, but he was such an asshole. He had the makings of another Nixon in him, God forbid. When he wanted, the kid could be the biggest horse's ass alive.
She went into the bedroom, not bothering to take off her coat. On the dresser, beside the stupid ring that Goddamned Melissa had given her, was a picture of the three of them. Stacy, Gerry, their mother. It was a summery photo, two or three years old. She picked it up.
When had she seen them last? At Christmas. She'd been home for a day or two, long enough to say "Hi" and hunt up a party. Jesus, Amherst wasn't that far from New York. She should go home more often, find out what was happening, for Christ's sake!
As Stacy looked at her mother in the picture, the image seemed to change before her eyes. The chic pantsuit dropped away, the body twisted into a bare, erotic posture, and the eyes began to sparkle in liquid brown passion – Stacy hugged the photograph to her bosom. "I still don't believe it," she said aloud. "It couldn't be." Everyone had a double, somewhere in the world. She'd heard that once. Somewhere there was somebody who looked exactly like you. If the two of you met on a street corner without warning it would be like stumbling against a mirror.
That was it. No, it wasn't. The woman in the porno movie couldn't have looked so much like Stacy's mother, couldn't have sounded exactly like Stacy's mother, unless – unless she was. "Oh, Christ, Mother," said Stacy. She put the picture down, packed a few clothes into an overnight bag, and went to the basement garage where her Volkswagen was parked. With any luck, and if it didn't snow without warning, she'd be in New York by nightfall.