Shirley's life with her prudish aunt and man-crazy cousin is very boring. Things begin to change, however, when she and her cousin convince her aunt to take in male truckers as boarders.
The men are good-looking and Shirley and her cousin are into home-style "cooking"-both know how to make a man's blood boil over with sexual desire.
In the darkness of the night, the floors can be heard creaking as they each tiptoe into the trucker's rooms, ready to satisfy their own kinky needs!
CHAPTER ONE
Shirley's brown eyes sparkled at just the thought of it! She had seen the men around town-rugged, muscular, shirts rolled up tight over their rock-hard biceps. Tight-crotched pants, too, that had not gone unnoticed by the young dark-haired beauty. She was sure her blonde cousin had no such stirrings when she first noticed the truckers invading the tiny dot-on-the-map town. But then she had a cool way of hiding her true emotions.
The two girls lived in one of the two truly quaint but huge houses left in the area. Side by side, the two former estates were a reminder of days gone by. Servants, tea in the afternoon, croquet on the lawn on Sunday, after church. But in 1980, just paying the taxes on them was next to impossible. Thus, the house next door had become a rooming establishment, rent by the day, week or month, and often Shirley thought of it as a beautiful queen who was slowly dying. But the devilish thought of what the neighbor was now suggesting to her Aunt Jenny! Those devil-may-care truck drivers renting rooms in this house! Of course Aunt Jenny would never go for it, and she was saying so now on the phone. Shirley wondered if her Aunt Jenny had ever once in her life felt that certain "itch" just looking at a young and virile man. Of course not, not Aunt Jenny.
"Yes, I know you have taken surveyors and engineers," Jenny was saying in the same cold voice. "You were just lucky that nothing happened and, after all, they were nice young men. But truck drivers! You never know what kind of rough characters they will turn out to be. I think you will be fortunate indeed if you don't lose some of your precious antiques or even get the house burned down over your head. No, thank you, I want no part of such goings-on. I didn't approve of this new highway in the first place. And I am certainly not going to take into my home any of the riffraff who work for the Highway Commission. Goodbye."
Aunt Jenny slammed down the receiver and turned to look at both girls defiantly. She was a tall, spare woman whose dark graying hair was pulled back severely from an angular face. Life had not been kind to Jenny, who had been widowed for fourteen years. But she had not asked for pity or consideration. She had her own rigid principles, and they had sustained her when her small pension had seemed most inadequate.
One of those principles was the firm resolve that her daughter should be brought up as a lady. Of course she could not give the girl the beautiful clothes she should have, but she could give her the respectability and elegant background of the old home.
The other principle had made it imperative for her to take Shirley into her home when Jenny's sister and brother-in-law were killed in an accident. Shirley had made herself useful, as Jenny was the first to admit, but the older woman did not feel the same burning ambition for her niece that she felt for her daughter. Jenny thought, in fact, that Shirley was making a serious mistake in not accepting George Weaver, a widower with a shop of his own.
"Aunt Jenny," Shirley said in a troubled voice, "why won't you take in the truck drivers? I heard that Mrs. Jameson gets eighty dollars a week from each of them."
"What Mabel Jameson does is no longer of any interest to me," Jenny retorted. "She has four of those fellows in her house right now, and it is none of my business if she hasn't any room to take two more."
"You're quite right, Mums," Dolly said, filing her already perfect nails into a more oval shape. "I don't know how she can stand turning her beautiful home over to such low characters." She glanced appreciatively around at the gracious old room.
"I've got to get back to the biscuits," Shirley muttered, and vanished into the kitchen.
She had to get out of there before she said something really angry to Aunt Jenny, she reflected as she kneaded the biscuit dough with unnecessary vigor. It was just too bad that a person who was as fundamentally kind as Aunt Jenny should have this stubborn streak about working men or women. But there it was. Shirley had had it explained to her many times that men who worked with their hands were a class apart, and that nice girls considered only the attentions of merchants such as George Weaver. Nor did nice girls of twenty take a job in a city fifty miles away if, like Shirley, they had a good home with relatives.
Instead, Shirley thought as she slammed the biscuits into the oven, a nice girl was supposed to be content living as a poor relation and working as a household drudge. It was not that she was ungrateful to Aunt Jenny, Shirley told herself for the hundredth time. But it did seem too bad to try to skimp along on a small amount of money when she could so easily have taken care of herself and even contributed to the support of the house. Shirley glanced at the clock and was reminded that she had to feed the chickens and pick up the eggs. Her aunt had objected to even this small venture, Shirley remembered. But she had since become quite tolerant of the twelve "hard-working girls" down in the henhouse.
Shirley moved between the feed bin and trough with almost automatic gestures.
"You don't know how lucky you are," she told one plump white hen who was eating with speed and precision. "You can work anytime, anywhere you want to, while I have to be a nice girl and only scrub the floor and cook the meals and clean the house. I can't even help with the housework if we take in boarders, because then I would be earning money. The only thing I can do is marry a widower with a brat of a child, just because he wants a good housekeeper for free."
Shirley gathered up the six eggs that were in the nests and returned to the house. She had to wait a few minutes for the biscuits to finish baking, so she sat in the big rocking chair near the table in the bay window. In the distance she could just see the green roof of the Jameson mansion, and as she caught sight of it, her resentment flared again.
Mabel Jameson, plump and confident, was, in Shirley's opinion, doing a remarkable job of adjusting herself to modern standards. Her husband had been a weakling who had lost her fortune and had left his widow only the house itself when he died, so Shirley had been told. Yet Mrs. Jameson had found a new life for herself, first opening her home to tourists, and now giving the men who had to work on the new highway room and board. It must have proven profitable, too, if Mrs. Jameson's new car and the fresh coat of paint on the house were any indication of how well she was making out.
But Aunt Jenny would not change. Two months ago when the surveyors had first laid out the highway, Mrs. Jameson had asked her friend for the use of the five idle bedrooms in the Winsted home. She had been curtly refused. Later Shirley had seen the surveyors getting out of their station wagons in front of the Jameson home, and it seemed to her that they were very nice young men indeed. When the surveyors had left, the men had arrived who set the dynamite on the rocky ledges where the highway was to go. They, too, had seemed like nice, clean young men. But Mrs. Jameson hadn't even bothered to ask Jenny's help.
Shirley wondered that the other woman had had the courage to query her aunt about rooms for truck drivers. Surely Mrs. Jameson would know that a driveway not open to station wagons would be adamantly closed to dirty, greasy trucks. With an exclamation, Shirley jumped to her feet and peered out through the bay window. She could scarcely believe her eyes as she saw a huge red dump-truck wheel into the drive and park before the front door.
Hastily she took the biscuits out of the oven and turned off the heat. This she must see!
By the time she got to the living room, Dolly had already opened the front door and was greeting two tall, bronzed young men. They wore jeans and blue shirts almost as if they were a uniform. One man, grinning down at Dolly with obvious admiration, had flaming red hair; the other, who seemed quieter and more reserved, had crisp black hair that was cut short in the obvious attempt to control its curliness.
"Good morning, ma'am," the redheaded man said in a voice with a slight Southern accent. "Could you tell me where Mrs. Jameson's place is? My name's Tom Sanders, and this 'ere's my buddy, Dan Hallbrook."
"Please come in." Dolly backed away from the door as if too fascinated to know quite what she was saying.
Aunt Jenny put down her knitting and got slowly to her feet, as if she too could not quite believe her eyes. The men, Shirley thought, looked too young and vital and big for the quaint old-fashioned living room.
"Who are you?" demanded Jenny sharply.
"They've just told us their names, Mums."
"We work for the highway, ma'am," Dan Hallbrook said quietly.
"So you're two of those highwaymen," Aunt Jenny said disapprovingly. The redheaded one smiled as if she were joking, but the dark-haired man's eyes seemed to sharpen and his lips pressed together in a straight line.
"Oh, Mums," Dolly exclaimed, "what will these nice young men think of us?" She looked at the redhead flirtatiously. "They just stopped to ask where Mrs. Jameson lives."
Jenny had glanced out the window and noticed the big red truck parked in the driveway. She said sharply: "Mabel Jameson lives about half a mile down the road, going toward the center of the village. It will take you only about two minutes to get there-and I will give you just two minutes to get that monstrous red machine out of my front yard!"
Tom Sanders stopped smiling as suddenly as if he'd been slapped. But it was Dan Hall brook who said with deceptive softness:
"That monstrous machine, ma'am, cost us fifty-five thousand dollars. Which, to my way of thinking, is a monstrous amount of money-enough to command respect, ma'am, even from you."
The two men moved so quickly that Shirley was sure afterwards it was no longer than a minute and a half before they had zoomed out of sight down the road.
The Winsted home in Burrbridge had been built in a gracious era. A central hall divided the living room and bedrooms on the first floor at the left from the dining room and kitchen on the right. The dining room table of mahogany could be pulled out to accommodate fourteen, but usually, as tonight, it was set for only five.
The linen cloth was creamy with age and had been washed so often it now reached in silken folds to the floor. White candles in hurricane chimneys burned steadily, and the silver and glasses gleamed in their light. Shirley heard the others coming from the living room and hastily went through the swinging door to the kitchen to get the tuna fish casserole she had decided could most readily combine hospitality with economy.
When she came back a moment later, both Jenny Winsted and her daughter were seated, while George Weaver and Joe Hamilton stood waiting for her to join them.
As Shirley had known she would, Aunt Jenny had placed George Weaver at the right, and the chair next to him was hers. When she took her place, Shirley thought that she actually did like George Weaver. He was not tall and had a tendency to put on weight if he didn't watch his diet. But his ruddy, smooth-shaven face beamed with humor and his thinning brown hair was carefully trimmed and combed. No, there was nothing the matter with George, but Shirley just could not see herself spending the rest of her life in his company.
"How are things at the paint shop, George?" Shirley asked as she sat down. She did not really want to know, but it was a safe question and George would, of course, give her a detailed account of the market and the local demand for paint products. Shirley sometimes thought that she could have told anyone just what painting had been done in the village in the past year and exactly how much it had cost.
While George launched into his favorite topic, she glanced over at Joe Hamilton who, as usual, was looking at Dolly with his heart in his eyes. Joe's hair was dark and straight, with an irrepressible cowlick that he kept trying to smooth down. His face was rather sharp-featured, but was redeemed by a cleft chin and an unusually sensitive mouth. Joe was an electrical engineer and so would have been considered eligible for Dolly's hand by Aunt Jenny. But he also repaired television sets in his spare time, which placed him under a slight cloud in Jenny Winsted's opinion...." And if I could get the contract for the painting of the maintenance building from the Highway Commission, I would really be in clover," George said to Shirley.
Aunt Jenny jabbed at her casserole and said briskly: "Don't mention that Highway Commission. All they're good for is to think up new ways to get more taxes out of us. We had a perfectly good road between Burrbridge and Stanton. There was absolutely no reason to spend a million dollars just to take out a few curves."
"They were dangerous curves," Joe Hamilton said mildly.
"Well, yes," George agreed. "But they needn't have built a whole new highway for fifty miles. I am inclined to agree with our hostess that a new highway which bypasses the village of Burrbridge will eventually do us more harm than good."
There was no need to wait for eventual harm, Jenny pointed out. There was great damage being done at present by encouraging the riffraff and transient foreigners who followed such construction to live in their beautiful village, even to board in their beautiful homes.
"Why, two of them actually had the nerve to come to my front door this morning," Jenny said in an injured tone. "And in addition, they drove a monstrosity of a truck, almost as big as this room, and parked it right out there in my driveway. I sent them packing, I can tell you."
The conversation continued until Jenny had had a chance to express her opinion of the traitorous action of Mabel Jameson in giving room and board to common truck drivers. "More than that, she actually expected me to take in two of them. I told her what I thought of that insulting idea," Jenny finished.
Shirley was grateful to Joe Hamilton for the way he changed the subject and mentioned the dance that was to be given at the Country Club next month. Dolly was a member of the Country Club, and the money she paid in yearly dues was carefully saved by Jenny for this purpose. Dolly had often told Shirley that it was difficult to keep up appearances with the select circle who were members of the club. But the yearly dance that started the season was a must, and Dolly was already planning her costume with care.
While her cousin discussed the program and the decorations with the others, Shirley cleared the table and brought out the chocolate cream pie she had made for dessert. It was George Weaver's favorite, and Aunt Jenny gave her niece a knowing smile as the dish was placed before her. Shirley knew that her aunt was thinking she had baked this dessert especially for George. Actually, Shirley had felt so remorseful over her earlier hard thoughts about Aunt Jenny that she had baked the pie to please the older woman and to salve her own conscience.
They were just finishing their coffee when Joe Hamilton suddenly straightened and stared out the window.
"That can't be the glow from the sunset," he said in a carefully controlled voice. "I think we have a fire on our hands, and I'm pretty sure it's the Jameson place."
With one accord, they jumped to their feet and ran to the windows. A spectacular and frightening pillar of fire shot above the treetops as if the Jameson house had exploded.
"I knew it!" Jenny said in a shocked voice. "I even told Mabel this morning that those truck drivers would probably burn the house over her head. But anyway, this is a terrible tragedy. We must see what we can do for poor Mabel."
"I'm almost certain that fire wasn't started by the truck drivers," Joe Hamilton said at once. "Mabel Jameson has-or had-an old furnace. I've been after her to get a new one for years. It was much too dangerous for her to have in her home."
Even as he spoke he was going to the front door, closely followed by George Weaver. Shirley and Dolly ran after them, and Aunt Jenny called as they got into the car:
"Now be sure to bring poor Mabel back with you. She can stay here as long as she wants to. Or if there's anything else we can do for her ... "
CHAPTER TWO
As they drove up before the Jameson home, Shirley was startled to find that it looked more beautiful than ever. The mansion had always been, like Aunt Jenny's home, a showplace. Although it was in Vermont, the Jameson house was reminiscent of the gracious old manor houses on Louisiana plantations. The building was almost square, and across the front, stately columns ran the full two stories of the mansion. Now the place looked as if it were illuminated by carefully placed floodlights. Yet the tall white columns stood firm and straight, as if neither wind nor wave could touch them. Even the roof was in place, and it was hard to believe that this was an all-consuming fire.
They parked the car in the nearby field, and Shirley noticed that the truck drivers had already moved their machines to a safe distance. She paused before the first group of onlookers which, in addition to the four truckmen Mrs. Jameson had been boarding, included the two young men who had stopped at Aunt Jenny's that morning. They were standing in a welter of suitcases, foot lockers and various household goods that were apparently all that had been salvaged from the burning home.
A few feet away Mabel Jameson sat on a needlepoint footstool, watching the disaster with a strangely calm expression. It occurred to Shirley, a little nonsensically, that the gleam in Mrs. Jameson's eyes was not unlike that which must have been in Nero's as he watched Rome burn.
"Oh, Mrs. Jameson, we're so sorry," Dolly said in a syrupy voice. "Mums said to tell you that you must come and stay with us right away. It must have been a terrible shock for you, and of course all your lovely antique furniture...."
"My lovely antique furniture," echoed Mabel Jameson, "has been given a worthy burial. I wouldn't have believed it, but I feel a great sense of relief that I won't have to wax that pie-crust table or polish the silver candlesticks ever again."
"So long as you are not hurt," Shirley said anxiously, "we can make you comfortable for as long as you care to stay."
"Jenny Winsted was always the first to offer the hospitality of her home," Mrs. Jameson said. "I shall not be imposing long. In fact, I have already made arrangements to visit my sister in California. She has long wanted me to come out there, but I hesitated to close up the house and leave it without adequate protection. Now that it has burned down, I am free," she repeated.
The older woman was silent for a few moments, and then admitted in the same strangely calm voice that she had been told the old furnace should be replaced. But it seemed silly to do it in the spring, and she had not had the money before for a new furnace.
"It's good to know we have such fine neighbors who will take us all in for the night," Mabel said.
"I'm sure," Dolly said instantly, "that Mums will do anything you ask." Shirley wished she could share her cousin's assurance and, as if she had read the girl's thoughts, Mabel said hastily:
"The four boys I had staying with me are being transferred up the line tomorrow. That's why I wanted Jenny to take the two who came today. It seemed like an ideal time to get started for the West Coast. I didn't consciously wish for a fire, but I'm actually not sorry that it happened. Now I can visit my sister without feeling that I am neglecting the old family homestead."
The volunteer fire department came down the road and wheeled into the driveway. As if at a signal, the roof fell in and the noise, the smell of burning wood, and the rain of cinders effectively prevented further conversation. The firemen saw that the fire was wholly out of control, but they started anyway to aim an ineffectual stream of water against the flaming debris.
Shirley did not quite know what to make of this new Mabel Jameson who was not reacting to the loss of her antiques in the proper New England manner. The older woman stood up and, picking up the needlepoint footrest by one leg, advanced to the fire line that had been established. She did not try to break through but instead, with a sudden swing that caught everyone off guard, tossed the footrest back into the fire. Shirley realized that Mrs. Jameson was more upset than she appeared.
George Weaver went over to Mrs. Jameson and offered to drive her car to the Winsted place. Joe Hamilton told the truck drivers to follow him back to the house.
"Mums said that we were to offer you anything at all that would help," Dolly said as she assisted Mrs. Jameson into the car. "We have plenty of room, and the freezer is well stocked. You'll all be more than welcome to spend the night."
Shirley, although she felt equally hospitable, was a little startled by Dolly's statement. It was true that there were five bedrooms upstairs that would take care of the unexpected company; probably Aunt Jenny would have Mrs. Jameson stay in her room downstairs. Shirley and Dolly shared a bedroom on the ground floor. But there was still the problem of getting the beds dressed and taking the sheets, blankets, towels and pillowcases out of storage. Shirley was also thinking that one dozen eggs would have to be made up into an omelet in order to feed these unexpected guests. The quarter-pound of bacon that was left would have to be used mainly as decoration.
"We don't want to impose," Dan Hallbrook, the quiet, dark-haired truck driver said quickly.
Tom Sanders, the redhead, cut him off with abrupt acceptance. "It's very kind of you-all, ma'am. We know Mrs. Winsted doesn't usually take in boarders, but we would sure appreciate having a place to live in this neighborhood."
Joe Hamilton did not miss the frank admiration in Tom Sanders' glance at Dolly. But he merely said: "I think we can plan only for tonight. Mrs. Winsted will have to make her own decision on any future arrangement."
Shirley's concern with the details of taking care of seven extra people was well founded. It was almost eleven o'clock before she had the men settled in the upstairs bedrooms, although the truck drivers had been unexpectedly amenable. Dolly had not helped in any way, but had concentrated her attention on the redheaded truckman and had parted from him with reluctance when Shirley finally announced that the rooms were ready.
Jenny was giving Mrs. Jameson a cup of tea in the kitchen when Shirley came downstairs. Joe Hamilton and George Weaver were still there, although they were not having tea. Dolly seemed to feel that she had been neglecting Joe, and she dropped into a chair beside him, declaring that the excitement of the last few hours had tired her out completely. Shirley felt as if her feet were dropping off, but she helped herself to a cup of tea before she sat down.
Mrs. Jameson was carrying on a conversation that had been started some time before.
"It isn't as if those two nice young men who came today were not well vouched for," Mrs. Jameson said, her plump figure stiffening. "The four men I had with me know them well. They're from the same town in Virginia. As a matter-of-fact, they live next door to each other, the Hallbrooks and the Sanders. I understand they have very beautiful homes, too."
"The farther away you are from home, the bigger the story you can tell about it," Jenny said sharply. "You must realize, my dear Mabel, that I have two girls to protect, and Dolly is a very beautiful girl."
Shirley did not resent her aunt's statement. She had long become used to admit ting that Dolly was the glamorous type and she herself had been born to play second fiddle.
There was ample protection in Jenny Winsted's own presence in the home, Mabel argued. There was also the fact that both Tom and Dan came from Virginia families that had long been identified with the State Legislature.
"Some of the finest families have their own black sheep," Jenny said, but Shirley thought that she seemed less adamant in her refusal.
"Oh, Mums," Dolly said with a glance at the young men beside her, "don't be so stuffy and old-fashioned. I think Tom Sanders is downright cute, and the other one isn't bad-looking either. This isn't the Victorian era, Mums, and girls nowadays know how to take care of themselves. Besides, I think the local talent ought to have a little healthy competition."
"Of course I don't want you to do anything that would be against your principles, Jenny," Mabel Jameson said huffily. "But your daughter certainly has a point there. I think there is such a thing as being overprotective."
George Weaver, to Shirley's astonishment, suddenly joined in the conversation. He heartily agreed with Aunt Jenny. To his mind, three women living in a house without male protection could not afford to take in two unknown young men and be at their mercy every hour of the day or night. Shirley could scarcely repress a giggle at the thought of the stout and flabby George protecting anyone from these hard-muscled young truck drivers. But George's next remark completely drove all thought of laughter from her mind.
"As you know," George was saying in a measured voice, "Mrs. Churchill, where Dinky and I have been staying for the past three years, is not at all well. She finds the care of a five-year-old boy quite trying, although my little son is extremely well-behaved."
Shirley's mind raced wildly ahead of George's actual proposition. But she could find no way to shut him off. Instead, George had her aunt's entire attention, and it was quite obvious that Jenny, too, knew what was coming.
"My thought is this," George said pompously, "Dinky and I would come, here to live and would pay you the same as we are paying Mrs. Churchill. In that way, I would be right here every night and I don't believe any man could take advantage of you. Dinky is a sweet child, and I know you would grow to love him. But at any rate, we would take care to see that we did not cause you any trouble."
The only trouble would be chocolate cream pie every day, Shirley thought as she saw that her aunt considered George's proposal as the ideal solution.
"As you say, George, no stranger could take advantage of us if you were here every night," Aunt Jenny said.
"You know I am not one to go gall-wanting about every night," George announced unnecessarily. "After a clay in the shop I am pretty tired out, and I like to turn in early as a general rule. Of course, it would be a real advantage to me to be considered a member of such a charming family," he added gallantly.
"Oh, Mums, do say yes," Dolly gurgled. "I'm sure that darling little boy would have lots of fun here. And Shirley has such a way with children."
"Well...." Jenny hesitated, and Shirley hoped for a second that she might continue to refuse to take in either the truckmen or George Weaver and his obnoxious little boy.
But Mrs. Jameson thought the idea very sound and said so. "I think it's almost sinful, Jenny, to have all those rooms standing idle when so many people need a place to live. After all, it is not as if these young men would be here forever. When the job is finished, they will move on to another part of the country. "But," she could not resist adding, "in the meantime, you will have made a little extra money, which is always welcome. And .perhaps," she said, "George and his son will like it so well here they will want to make it a permanent arrangement."
Aunt Jenny was not one to be persuaded lightly. The money, she pointed out, was not her primary consideration. She was more interested in the welfare of her girls. On the other hand, she would feel very safe with George in the house, and she did think it was difficult for the aging Mrs. Churchill to take care of a child as young as Dinky.
"What is the child's name, by the way?" she asked George in an attempt to delay giving her consent.
"We named him Richard, after my father," George explained. "We shortened that to Dicky. And then when he continued to be so small for his age, somehow we just called him Dinky."
"The poor child," Jenny Winsted said at once. "He's probably not getting the right food. I wish I could offer you the hospitality of my home, George, without charging you for it."
This was too much for Shirley. If the child were to have the proper food, she put in quickly, there would have to be money to provide the food. "As a matter-of-fact," Shirley said tartly, "the question of food for tomorrow's breakfast has been something of a problem to me. We have only a dozen eggs and a little bit of bacon. Also, I've been meaning to ask Mrs. Jameson at what time the men go out in the morning."
"I give them breakfast at six o'clock; they have to leave the house at six-thirty. Since tomorrow is Saturday, they work only half a day, and there will be no question of packing lunch boxes."
Aunt Jenny did not take kindly to this discussion of food and the cost of it, Shirley knew. But somebody had to be practical, and if two of the truck drivers and George Weaver and his son were to be adequately fed, she had to have enough money to shop in quantity. But Aunt Jenny was looking at her, and Shirley had the uneasy conviction that, in spite of what the others had said, it had remained for her, Shirley, to change her aunt's mind.
"I think you are worried unnecessarily, Shirley, about the food situation," Jenny Winsted said with evident displeasure in her voice. "The Winsteds have always been known for their hospitality. And never in my lifetime have I known the food to be less than adequate. Of course, when I was doing the shopping, I not only bought food, but I made sure we had the proper appointments to serve it nicely. I think, George, that your offer is a most generous one. I will expect you and Dinky to move in tomorrow. Then the truckmen may stay if they want to," she added graciously.
"What's the matter with our appointments?" Shirley asked, genuinely puzzled by her aunt's comment.
"You have only three napkins in the pantry," her aunt said triumphantly. "We'll have to use the linen ones for breakfast."
"Three paper napkins would have been enough," Shirley said with some anger, "if we had only ourselves to take care of. Anyway, I always do the shopping on Saturday. And now, if you'll excuse me, I think I'll go to bed. I'm a little tired. Good night."
Walking up to her room, Shirley heard some strange sounds coming from her cousin Dolly's room. She didn't pay any mind to the noises at first, thinking that Dolly was just having more of her dreams.
But when Shirley was brushing her teeth in the bathroom, she became very curious about those noises. The bathroom had a door at each end, connecting Shirley's room with Dolly's, so it was no problem for Shirley to kneel down at the keyhole and investigate the source of the strange sounds in her cousin's bedroom.
Shirley couldn't believe her eyes. There on the bed were Dolly and one of the truck drivers who had come down from the Jameson place. Dolly still had her nightgown on, but the trucker was half-naked, wearing only his blue jeans.
Initially, Shirley thought that Dolly was being forced against her will by this man to have sex with him. But upon closer inspection, Shirley saw that her cousin was having the time of her life. She was smiling and laughing and giggling, tickling the big man while he nuzzled his face into her breasts.
This has to be stopped, Shirley told her self. I should go in there and break that up immediately.
But somehow she couldn't find the strength to stand up and barge in. Something held her fast to the keyhole, forcing her to stare longingly at the couple making iove on Dolly's bed.
It had been so long since Shirley had felt the strong, loving touch of a man. And now, watching this truck driver kiss and stroke her cousin's tits, Shirley found herself wishing she were the one being loved, that she were the one getting her nipples fondled and licked.
Shirley gasped when the man dropped his pants and revealed his huge cock. It looked so big and wonderful, throbbing between his legs. Watching that twitching shaft of manmeat, Shirley could almost feel it against her flesh, could almost feel it sliding up between her moist pussy lips.
Then Dolly curled around so she was facing the man's crotch. She knelt before him on the bed and squeezed his balls with both hands, rolling the fragile little eggs around delicately. The trucker gasped, sounding his lusty appreciation. Then he dug his fingers into Dolly's hair and held on while she caressed him.
"Yeah, baby," he hissed, "that feels great. You don't know how lonely it gets out there on the highway. Ohh, and to have someone like you waiting here for me, man, you couldn't ask for anything more than that. Now keep it up, baby, just keep doing it like that. Ohhhhh!"
Dolly moved one hand up to clutch his cockshaft. She held the thick meat in her fist and aimed it at her mouth. Opening her mouth wide, she flapped her tongue around in a teasing motion, prolonging her attentions just that much more.
"Yeah, baby," he growled. "Come on and suck it. Please, baby, please!"
Dolly grinned mischievously. Then she dropped her head down slightly and swirled her tongue all around the bloated tip of his penis. While she licked his hot flesh, she jacked her hand up and down, working his foreskin back and forth sensuously.
"I can't stand it!" the man yelped. "Hurry up and suck it, honey. Hurry!"
Shirley, still staring out through the keyhole, was almost as turned on as the truck driver was. She found that she couldn't hold back any longer, and she just had to slip a finger into her pussy and masturbate while she spied on her horny cousin.
Kneeling down and then leaning back, Shirley managed to spread her legs wide and still keep her eye glued to the keyhole. Clutching the doorknob for support, she was able to drive her finger deep inside her pussy, which was dripping wet with fresh lubricants.
She couldn't believe how good it felt to get this sort of relief. Granted, Shirley thought, this isn't the real thing. But it's much better than what I've been getting lately, which is nothing.
By this time, Dolly had managed to swallow the entire length of the man's hard cock. While gripping his asscheeks for support, she worked her head up and down feverishly, putting all her effort into bringing him off.
Her cheeks were caved in from the intensity of her suction. And loud slurping noises filled her room.
"That's so good, baby," the man grunted, beginning to work his hips back and forth. "I can feel it coming! Oh, honey, yeah ... yeah ... here it comes!"
He began pumping his hips back and forth frantically, trying to pump his load of hot semen deep into Dolly's face.
Watching intently, Shirley jammed two more fingers into her vagina and tried to get herself to come, along with the highly aroused truck driver.
Oh, please, I want to come, she said to herself. So bad I want to come.
When she saw dribbles of white jism leaking out of her cousin's mouth and dripping down across her chin, Shirley felt her orgasm begin to unleash itself. Wild spasms of relief flooded through her body, and she clutched the doorknob tighter to keep from falling onto the floor. So violent was her climax that she had to muster up all her willpower to keep from crying out.
Having rode out her orgasm to the limit, Shirley felt suddenly ashamed of what she had done. Spying on her cousin. How could she?
Picking herself up off the floor, she dashed into her room and leaped under the covers, falling asleep almost instantly.
CHAPTER THREE
Shirley was afterwards to remember the next two days as the most hectic in her life. Nothing went wrong-in fact, everything worked on schedule., But there was so much to be done! George Weaver and his son, Dinky, arrived on Saturday afternoon after Mabel Jameson and the four truck drivers had gone on their various ways. Only Tom Sanders and Dan Hallbrook remained, and Shirley had decided to leave them in the rooms she had originally assigned to them.
But as she flew around making beds, washing mirrors and lining bureau drawers, she still had the problem to settle of just where Dinky and George would be placed. George had been generous offering to share a room with his small son. But the smaller bedroom upstairs seemed ideal for the child, and there was a connecting door to the father's room. After Shirley had finished making the beds she went up to the attic and, a little shamefaced, unearthed a limp Teddy bear from her own trunk of childhood toys. When she had made up Dinky's bed, she arranged the bear in a comfortable position with his head on the pillow and his arms outstretched.
"It's up to you to welcome that child into an adult world," she admonished the bear. "I know there isn't much we can do to make a small boy of five feel at home, but at least we can try."
All the new boarders were most satisfactory in coming up with cash in advance for their room and board. Aunt Jenny had gracefully withdrawn from the circle of commercialism and already had told Shirley that all the details of collecting money, readying the rooms, and shopping were to be entirely in her department. To Shirley's surprise, she had even apologized for her comments on the lack of paper napkins.
"I am sure you must realize that I was quite upset," Aunt Jenny explained. "There never has been a time when the Winsted family was reduced to taking in roomers and accepting cash for a gesture of hospitality which we enjoyed extending. But, my dear, you know that you are the only one whom I would trust to carry through this obligation with charm and dignity. You will not let me down. Nor will you be lacking in consideration for our paying guests."
That had been one incident in a crowded weekend. There was another most unexpected one. Shirley's heart went out to the puny child whom George introduced proudly as "my son, Dinky." The boy's topcoat was apparently a hand-me-down from an older child in the village of Burrbridge, and the plain cap, of which he seemed very proud, all but covered his ears. His expression as he looked at Shirley's, while it mirrored the pale blue stare of George's round eyes, had a sharpness that was far beyond his years. He seemed to be daring Shirley to laugh at him or to accept him on anything less than his own terms.
But when he was brought into the living room, he was taken off guard. He had spoken politely and had removed the overlarge cap from a thatch of sandy hair. He glanced indifferently around at the crowded mid-Victorian living room, and then all at once he came alive.
"Are they dawgs?" he demanded, pointing at a pair of Staffordshire dogs that were Aunt Jenny's prized possession.
"They are very special dogs," Shirley explained as she knelt to unbutton the topcoat on the small limp figure of the boy. "Years ago there was a king of England who had long black curls and who was very fond of spaniel dogs. He had them by the dozens," Shirley said, hoping that her history was at least close to the mark. "Because the king liked the dogs so much, the men who made fine china glorified them in these little statues and gave every one of the dogs a golden chain, just like the ones these dogs wear."
"Can I have one?" Dinky asked. "I always wanted a dog, all-over spots like these."
Shirley finished removing the topcoat and said, as severely as she could in the face of the longing in the child's eyes, that these were not dogs to be played with but, were, instead, prized ornaments. That was why they were placed on the mantelpiece, she continued. And then, in retrospect, the scene faded from her mind.
The next morning Shirley decided to take care of a couple of necessary chores as soon as she got out of bed. She didn't even want to get dressed, but she thought she should exhibit some modesty with strangers in the house. But when she looked out the window and saw Tom heading for the truck, she figured both men were outside ready to leave. So, grabbing up some fresh towels, sheets, and pillow cases, Shirley hustled to the truck drivers' room to get that chore over with first.
"Certainly hope they don't decide to return to the room for anything," the pretty, dark-haired girl giggled to herself. "What will they think of me if they see me running around in this outfit?"
What the truck drivers would think would most likely put the house into the same condition the Jameson place had been-on fire. Shirley was quite a delectable sight in her thin blue nightgown that descended only to mid-thigh. She'd had the garment for several years, and now the upper part barely contained her ample adult breasts. But she'd never had the heart to discard her favorite nightgown.
"What the heck," she said gaily. "By the time anybody sees me I'll be fully dressed."
As she went about changing the beds, the young girl was unaware that she was very wrong. She had been mistaken that both truck drivers were outside preparing to leave-Tom had gone out first to check over the rig while Dan was in the shower. Now the young man emerged from the bathroom unnoticed by the occupied Shirley.
My heavens! Dan gasped inwardly. Now that's an eye-opening sight to come across in the morning ... and to come on!
Amusement at his little pun soon gave way to frank admiration as he gazed at the voluptuous Shirley. With the bright sunlight streaming in the window, the young girl's thin nightgown appeared to be transparent; Dan had no difficulty observing the shapely contours of her healthy, well proportioned body. Her long dark hair whipped about her head as she vigorously worked on the beds.
"Man, my eyes are going to pop out and roll around the floor like basketballs!" the trucker breathed.
His breath caught in his throat as Shirley bent over to tuck a sheet in. The hem of her sheer garment rose up-until her ass crack and a tuft of dark pubic hair were completely exposed! Dan's bulging eyes roamed over the girl's very long, smooth legs, then back up to the erotic view of dark crevice between the two creamy mounds of her ass.
"Oh boy," he muttered, "my eyes aren't the only thing that's bulging!"
Sure enough, when the handsome young man glanced down, he saw that his large member was throbbing against the white towel he'd draped about his waist. Its potent pulsations sent streams of fire through his loins. He advanced into the room but Shirley still didn't notice him.
"God, she's beautiful!" he whispered in awe.
The luscious brunette was now at the other side of the bed, and as she bent over her nightgown barely managed to retain her large, white breasts. Dan could see the edges of her red nipples as creamy tit-meat poured out of the garment. His breathing grew labored, and the hoarse sound finally caught Shirley's attention.
"Oh!" she said, startled. She came around the bed. "I ... thought you had gone, Dan."
"Maybe I'm not going," he said huskily, "but in a minute you're going to see me coming!"
Shirley gasped as she got the gist of his statement. Her pretty eyes dropped, then widened as she saw the large bulge beneath his towel. A pink flush spread across her freckled chest and up her neck.
"My goodness, you're ... so big!" she exclaimed.
"Maybe even bigger than you think." The trucker grinned mischievously. "Here, take a full view!"
With that, Dan released the constraining towel and it fluttered to the floor. Shirley gasped loudly as his long, thick phallus was exposed to her sight. It jutted out from between his hairy balls like a missile ready for launching.
"So what do you think?" Dan teased.
"I ... I think it's the biggest ... prick ... I've ever seen!" Shirley cried. "Dan, we shouldn't ... be like this. After all ... I don't have much on."
"I sure noticed that, honey." Then the handsome trucker put on a glum expression. "I guess I'd better go cover myself ... if you don't want some."
"Wait, don't be so hasty!"
Shirley's exclamation startled her. She couldn't believe she could be so brazen. Yet, despite her inhibitions, she found herself advancing on the smiling young man, her wide eyes fixed on his jerking, red rod. Her mouth watered and she had a very perverse thought.
"I ... want to kiss it, Dan," she murmured. "Can I touch it with my lips?"
"Sure, darling ... it's all yours!" He spread his legs and placed his hands on his hips. "Have you ever sucked cock before?"
"N-no," the young girl stammered. "I don't know how ... and yours is so huge!"
"Just get on your knees and lick it, Shirley," Dan advised. "I'm sure you'll do fine." When the brunette hesitated, he added, "If you're a good girl, I'll lick your pussy. You ever get eaten out before?"
"Golly, no!" Shirley was shocked at the depraved thought.
Yet shocked as she was, she felt her cunt warming and moistening, and the prospect of having a man's tongue licking her made her shiver with desire. Casting her inhibitions aside, the young girl decided to see what it was like to kiss a man's dick ... then she would accept the reward of having his mouth kissing her twat.
She dropped to her knees before the throbbing altar of his potent manhood. "Please, Dan," she whimpered, "don't ... shoot your juice in my mouth ... I don't know if I could take it all in."
"Don't worry, honey," he replied hoarsely. "After I lick your cunt, I'll stick this pole in and fill your pussy up with my big wad of cum!"
Shirley moaned at the idea. To have him try to push that big tool in her ... impossible! Yet the prospect thrilled her and sent sharp jolts of need throughout her womb. She decided there was no harm in seeing what they could do together.
"Is this the way, Dan? she cooed.
After licking her full, red lips, Shirley kissed the warm, bulging flesh of the big trucker's cockhead. It surged and poked into her cheeks. She had to reach up and grab his purple-veined shaft to keep it steady. She discovered that she wanted to lick his throbbing phallus ... so she flicked her tongue out and bathed the length of his long staff with glistening saliva. After thus lubricating it, she was able to move her hand back and forth along it in smooth strokes.
"Jesus, baby ... that's the way!" Dan yelled. "Now put your lips around it ... take my dick into your mouth and suck on it!"
Encouraged by his husky ejaculations, the frisky brunette did as he instructed. Holding his lurching tool steady, her wet lips reached out and grasped his hard cockhead. Her tongue rolled around the edge of it, rimming the burning member and causing a steady dribble of warm pre-cum to emanate from the rock-hard tip. She wanted that juice, so tentatively she began to suck, her lips clamping securely. The lovely, dark-haired girl enjoyed the way his warm juice was drawn into her mouth and flowed down her throat.
"Holy fucking Christ, Shirley!" Dan howled. "You're a dick-sucking expert already!"
"Beginner's luck, I guess," the young girl laughed.
There wasn't time for further conversation. Shirley was caught by surprise as Dan grabbed onto her head, and with a quick motion of his hips he plunged every inch of his large, rigid pecker into her startled mouth. Shirley couldn't believe what was happening as inch after burning inch passed between her drooling lips into her orifice. A moment later, Dan's dribbling tip banged up against the back of her throat.
"Way to go, baby!" Dan groaned. "You manage to eat all of my big wong!"
Shirley's eyes were closed, so to convince herself that this was true her lips reached out and came into contact with the hard, throbbing flesh of the trucker's balls. Curly pubic hair tickled her nose. Suddenly, the young girl felt very proud that she could satisfy a man like this. In her joy, she clamped her feasting mouth hard around his embedded tool and began to suck the entire length of it.
"Go, Shirley ... Go!" Dan yelled.
And she went, furiously sucking his pulsing member. Her hands reached up to massage his hairy nuts, and she thought she could feel the rapidly swirling man-juice concealed within. Her smooth cheeks formed inverted half-circles and her breath spluttered as she blew the excited trucker.
"Jesus ... girl ... you're doing it ... to me!" Dan screamed.
He again grabbed a firm hold of her head. He began to move his hips back and forth, withdrawing and implanting his large phallus in rapidly quickening thrusts. Shirley scarcely believed her new-found ability as her warm, wet mouth repeatedly ate up all the prick the trucker had to offer.
I didn't know it could be so good! she moaned inwardly. J didn't know it was so exciting to get my mouth fucked ... I think I want him to come in me after all!
Thus resolved, she temporarily pushed Dan's rod out and looked up at him with glazed eyes. "Dan ... I've changed my mind ... shoot your juice in me ... please!"
"All right!" the trucker howled. "And you're going to get my load very soon, too!"
Thrilled at the prospect, Shirley again closed her lips around his surging prick and Dan fed all of it in. Only a few seconds later, his hips began to buck out of control and the young girl's mouth was battered by wildly lurching prick.
"God, honey ... here I ... ohhh ... Aaaarrrghgh!!!"
With that shout, Dan released his boiling, pent-up jism. It shot through his shaft and forcefully streamed into the sucking brunette's face. Shirley swallowed as fast as she could, loving the taste of white-hot cum as it went down her throat, but she couldn't keep up with the large amount. It spilled out over her lips and coursed down her chin, forming wide pools of warm wetness on her nightgown.
"Ohhhh ... too much," Dan groaned. He withdrew his softening spear and staggered back.
But Shirley wasn't finished. The urgent need of her pussy cried out for attention. She stood up and drew off her nightgown. She led the moaning trucker to the bed. She stretched herself out on it and spread her long legs.
"Now do what you said, Dan!" she screamed. Her pretty face had become a contorted mask of lust. "Lick my pussy ... I want to see what it's like to get eaten out!"
"You got it, honey!" the handsome trucker cried. He couldn't believe what a frenzied wildcat the demure girl had become. "It'll be better than you ever dreamed!"
He fell to his knees and placed his head between her soft, shuddering thighs. His tongue reached out, and at its first touch of her hot, dripping slit Shirley knew the trucker had spoken the absolute truth. Electric shocks of intense pleasure singed all her nerve endings. She couldn't prevent shrill whimpers of delight from escaping. She flung her long legs around the trucker's back and urged his tongue farther inward.
"Do it, Dan!" she shrieked. "Do it to mmmeeeee!"
Urged on by her evident need, Dan pushed his mouth into the young girl's drenched hole and snaked his tongue between clenched cunt walls to the burning inner recesses of her cascading womb. The horny brunette writhed on the bed and her fingers raced through his hair.
"Oh God, it feels ... so good!" she crooned hysterically. "Can't hold back ... Ooooh!"
Sure enough, Shirley felt a tidal wave of blazing pressure building in her loins. Her entire being seemed to concentrate on the breaking point she was rapidly approaching. Dan's tongue worked vigorously, plunging repeatedly into her twat until she thought she would shatter into fragments. A screaming howl came from her throat, signaling to the world the roaring climax that was taking hold of her.
"Eeeeaaahhhhh! Oh my God ... Dan! Can't hold...." Suddenly her back arched, her swollen tits pointing at the ceiling, and she achieved her release. "Ahhh ... Aaaaiieeeee!!!!!"
Her body bucked wildly as wave after wave of red-misted orgasm swept through her young body. Dan held on for dear life as the girl convulsed out of control, wheezing moans escaping her lips.
Some time later, Shirley's frantic gyrations subsided and she collapsed onto the perspiration-soaked mattress.
Dan stood up and laughed. "I think you'll have to make this bed all over again."
"Ohhh ... it was worth it," Shirley moaned.
CHAPTER FOUR
Shirley was worried about Dinky. The little mite hadn't been seen for quite a while, so she decided to go to search for him. To her consternation, she found him trapped in a hole in the floor of the old icehouse. And, to make matters worse, she discovered he had taken one of her aunt's valuable figurines-a dog-and had managed to break it.
"Oh, Dinky," she said helplessly as she dragged him out of the hole. "To save you from trouble, I won't tell Aunt Jenny her dog is broken."
"I'm sorry," the little boy snuffled.
"Calm down. If I do this for you, you must do something for me. You must not go into this old icehouse ever again-and I mean never."
Dinky nodded solemnly.
"And you must promise, cross your heart and hope to die, that you will not touch the other spotted dog or anything else that does not belong to you for as long as you are in this house. Now if that is a bargain, let's shake on it."
"Pardners," Dinky repeated, extending a small cold hand.
There was no immediate problem when Dolly and Aunt Jenny returned from the Country Club. They were full of their plans for the coming dance, and Shirley listened to them chattering in the living room while she went about her preparations in the kitchen for the evening meal. She felt somewhat guilty about making chocolate cream pie again when George needed to watch his weight. On the other hand, it was one of her specialties, and she was sure that Tom Sanders and Dan Hallbrook could eat and enjoy generous portions without adding an ounce. George would just have to watch himself in the matter of diet.
Supper that night was fun and informal. Both truckmen were enthusiastic about working conditions on the job and the smooth way the truck was operating. They were also enthusiastic about Shirley's chili con carne and hot biscuits. The chocolate cream pie simply vanished. Dolly looked thoughtfully at the truckmen.
"I didn't know you thought so much about food," she remarked sharply. "I should think going around on different jobs the way you do, you'd just eat whatever you could, whenever you could get it."
"But that's just why we're so glad to get home cooking," Dan Hallbrook said quietly. "We haven't had a meal this good since we left home."
Jenny Winsted beamed. "Now you boys eat hearty while you are here. You're both a mite on the thin side, I would say."
"I wish I could say the same," George Weaver said with one of his rare flashes of humor. "But if there's any weight to be added, I think I will have to leave it up to my small son. I do thank you, Shirley, for giving him his supper before we came in. It is important for a child, in my opinion, to eat in a quiet, relaxed atmosphere without bothering about grown-up problems. He's now up in his room watching a Western TV show on that new portable I got him. The Teddy bear you gave him is held tight in his arms."
Shirley felt a pang of dismay as she remembered the Staffordshire dog lying in a hundred pieces in a hole in the icehouse. If only Dinky had taken the Teddy bear instead!
Dolly and Tom Sanders had been murmuring together, and Aunt Jenny seemed not to find anything amiss, but Shirley was vaguely concerned about this sudden intimacy between her cousin and the engaging stranger from the South. She thought, as she caught Dan Hallbrook's eyes on her, that he understood very well what she was thinking. His slow smile was reassuring.
"The kind of food you serve around here, ma'am, makes me feel that we're not paying our way. I'd be glad to work off the debt if you'd let me help with the dishes. I'm something of an expert," Dan added modestly. "I always got roped into wiping the dishes back home."
After the emotional stress of the day, Shirley welcomed a little help and adult companionship. George Weaver announced his intention of turning in early, and Aunt Jenny was knitting a sweater which was to be sold at the church fair next week. She cheerfully gave the car keys to Dolly, who wanted to take Tom Sanders down to the village for cigarettes. Shirley was disturbed by the complete understanding that seemed to exist between the two, Dolly and Tom. She knew that Dan Hallbrook sensed the fact that she was upset.
"You wash and I'll wipe," he said, quirking an eyebrow at her. "And don't worry about your cousin. Tom is all right. He likes to have a little fun now and then, but I am sure Dolly Winsted can take care of herself."
Shirley put the soap in the dishpan, a little irritated by his opinion of Dolly. "My cousin is very beautiful," she said severely, "and your friend would not be the first man to lose his head over her. Why, she's been practically engaged to Joe Hamilton for the last year; he worships the ground she walks on."
"I am sure there is another man in the background," Dan said dryly. "Your cousin Dolly is the romantic type. In all fairness, I will admit that Tom's romantic, too. He just can't seem to resist a pretty girl."
Shirley glanced up at him, wondering whether to take his last remark as a comment that she herself was not pretty. But his admiration was so evident that she quickly bent over the dishpan once more.
"You are not the romantic type, I take it," she said demurely.
Dan Hallbrook gave a shout of laughter. "No, you don't, Miss Shirley-you're not going to pretend that I am an old bachelor who can't stand the sight of women. I have known many pretty girls, but I happen to think it isn't fair to ask anyone to share this gypsy life that Tom and I have cut out for ourselves. When we get the business on a really sound basis, then I'll be able to think of love and of building a real home somewhere. I want my wife to have security."
Shirley learned with surprise that the truck the two young men had brought to Burrbridge was only one of three the young partners owned. The others, operated by hired drivers, were working on construction jobs in Kansas and in Louisiana. When they had finished this highway, he and Tom would check on the progress of the other jobs and then would go up to the midwest, or perhaps on to Canada, in order to pick up future assignments.
"If I marry," Dan explained, "I would want my wife to have a real home with furniture and other possessions that she would treasure. The way it is now, either she would have to stay home alone or follow me in a trailer with the pots and pans bouncing and jangling every mile of the way."
"I don't agree with you and I don't think many other girls of my age would agree with you," Shirley objected. "A woman can have too many possessions. Maybe when you get to be Aunt Jenny's age, possessions are necessary. But right now, while I'm still feeling adventurous, I certainly don't want to go about dusting the Staffordshire dogs. I'd rather go to the ends of the earth in a trailer with the man I love."
Dan put his hand on her arm, and for a moment Shirley was afraid she had said too much. She did not want him to feel that she was throwing herself at his head. But his next words showed her how foolish that thought had been.
"You've been worried about something today. I noticed it during supper. Do you want to tell me what is wrong?"
Almost without meaning to, Shirley found herself telling the story of Dinky's attraction to the spotted dogs on the mantelpiece, and of his naughtiness in lifting one down so that he could play with it. When she came to the episode of the icehouse, he looked grave but did not interrupt. Shirley finally confessed that she was not at all certain she had done the right thing refusing to tell Aunt Jenny of her loss right away. But it had seemed the proper thing to do-to wait until Dinky felt more at home in the house before he had to face up to the punishment.
"I think you made the right decision," Dan said firmly. "The poor kid must feel lonely without anyone of his own age to play with, and without a pet of any kind. Tell you what: I'll take him with me when I go on the job tomorrow morning. He will see how the big trucks operate, and I'll explain to him exactly how they work."
Shirley's eyes were dancing with golden lights. "That would be wonderful," she said with enthusiasm. "But are you sure Tom would agree to it?"
There was no need for both Tom and himself to make every trip between the gravel pit and the dumping area, Dan pointed out. He would take the boy with him in the morning while Tom remained at home. In the afternoon, Tom alone could take the truck on its regular run. After a moment's hesitation, she agreed that this was a plan they would try to follow through. She took the dish towel out of his hand and spread it on the towel bar to dry.
"I ought to give you a gold star as a dishwasher's helper," Shirley said, smiling up at him as they went toward the living room. "Not only do you do a fine job of wiping dishes, but you also have the right solution for our small domestic problems and for those of a lonely bewildered boy. The only thing I can't figure out," Shirley dropped her voice a tone lower as she saw Aunt Jenny industriously knitting while she listened to a favorite radio program, "is this: what have you got against love?"
Dan's arm went around her shoulders and he gave her a light hug.
"My dear worry-wart," he said, bending down so that his cheek almost touched hers, "I'm all for love and marriage. Don't get me wrong. But you were talking about romance and adventure-and that's not the same thing. You'll find that out when you grow up."
"I am glad you have some hope for me," Shirley said indignantly, and all but flounced into the living room.
CHAPTER FIVE
The next morning Shirley watched as Dinky climbed into the cab of the truck. He was wearing a white jersey and blue jeans, and his plaid cap was pulled over his ears in imitation of the cap worn by Dan Hallbrook. He still looked pitifully small and thin, but the glow on his face was brilliant. It was such a small favor to do for a child! To Dinky it was obviously like giving him the world on a silver platter.
Shirley was grateful to Dan for treating the episode so casually, acting as if the child were an adult partner. She handed up a small lunch box that was the same as Dan's and raised her hand in a farewell salute. Dan reached over and slammed the door shut on Dinky's side of the cab.
"Let's get rolling," Dan said loudly. "Those crane operators don't wait for anybody."
Shirley turned and made her way back into the house, grateful that she had so much housework and cooking on her mind. She was so busy, in fact, that it was several hours before she was aware of what others in the household were doing.
Meanwhile Jenny Winsted was kept busy on the telephone, arranging the details of the buffet supper to be served at the Country Club dance, which had been moved up to a week from Saturday. In keeping with her daughter's idea that the club members and their guests were going to appear in the costumes of their native states, she had asked that the buffet supper feature food typical of the states.
There was instant protest from the president of the executive committee. There were fifty states in the Union, she pointed out, and she was certainly not going to encourage any such elaborate plans for a buffet. Even though they had decided to enlarge the scope of the dance and make it a community affair, there was no need to go overboard. It was true that ten dollars of the thirty the individual tickets would cost would be donated to a fund for handicapped children. But, she noted, the more money they spent on food, the less would be available to the fund.
Jenny had grudgingly conceded that this was true and had compromised on a buffet representative of each of the New England states. She herself was to concentrate on baked beans, which she knew were easy for Shirley to make. The other ladies, as she was finding out this morning, were not too eager to volunteer many other types of food. The first five she talked to suggested making raised doughnuts, but Jenny was firm in asking for such items as ham salad, cole slaw, and potato bread.
She paused for a moment to rest and to reflect on the orneriness of human nature in general and the women of Burrbridge in particular, when suddenly the telephone beside her rang.
"Hello, Mrs. Winsted. This is Joe Hamilton," a pleasant voice said in her ear. "I have to go over to Stanton this morning, I wondered if Dolly wanted to ride along with me and have lunch over there. Is she around?"
"Yes-no." Jenny's thoughts were racing. "I mean, she's around, but she isn't in the house right now."
"Where did she go?"
"She went for a walk in the woods." At the startled exclamation on the other end of the wire, Jenny added hastily, "I am sure she will be back soon."
Jenny remembered that her daughter had paused in the doorway to wave while she had been on the phone talking with one of the women. Although Dolly had said something vague about a walk in the woods, it had not occurred to her mother until now that this was a strange thing for Dolly to do. The woods were not too overgrown, nor was there any danger of Dolly getting lost. But her daughter was not given to taking solitary walks. Perhaps this was not a solitary walk. Somehow it seemed to Jenny that she recalled a flash of red hair going by the living room window and headed down the driveway in the general direction of the woods. As if in answer to her thoughts, Joe Hamilton was demanding:
"Is Dolly alone?"
There was a note of suspicion in Joe's voice that caused Jenny to hesitate before admitting that she did now know. "I-well," she said after a moment's thought, "I'm pretty sure Dinky and George Weaver are with her. We, that is, she felt the child should have a change of scene."
Joe instantly sounded relieved and hung up.
Jenny Winsted was not one to suspect anyone unnecessarily, and never before has she had reason to distrust her daughter Dolly.
She went quickly upstairs; the doors of all the bedrooms were open, all the beds neatly made. There was no one but herself on the floor. The sound of Shirley struggling with the clothes washer came faintly from the basement. Tom Sanders could not possibly be down there. He must be with Dolly.
The young truckman and Dolly were indeed together at the edge of the woods. But Jenny would have been reassured if she could have overheard their conversation.
Dolly was sitting on a fallen log, a red sweater flung over her shoulders. Tom Sanders leaned back against a pine tree nearby, smoking and looking around at the view.
"I was talking with Shirley for a few minutes this morning," Dolly said sweetly. "She tells me that you and Dan have three of these tremendous trucks working in as many different states. Isn't that quite a big business for two young men to be in?"
"It took quite a lot of capital to get started, but my uncle helped out some, and Dan's father did, too. We've been in operation almost two years. We're clearing up our debts fast. We've already had about twelve jobs in various parts of the country."
"I bet, like the sailors, you have girls in every port. Only, in your case, I imagine it's a girl in every city, town or village where you stay," Dolly said coquettishly.
"I've never seen any girl as pretty as you, ma'am." Tom's smile dared her to accept that statement at face value.
"But," Dolly persisted, "any man as attractive as you are would undoubtedly have many chances for romantic adventure." Tom shrugged this off. "But Shirley tells me that truck drivers are not the marrying type."
Tom left his post against the pine tree and came over to sit beside her. "How did we get on such an uninteresting subject as me?" he demanded. "Here I am all ready to talk about how silky your hair is in the sunlight and how I seem to melt down when you look at me with those big baby-blue eyes. You're just wasting time, ma'am, when you talk about me or the trucking business."
Dolly snatched her hand away, but not very far. It rested, palm up, near her side. That was the trouble with trying to talk to men, she pouted. They always expected you wouldn't understand anything about business. They never gave you credit for understanding about life and how serious and important it was to plan carefully for the future. She had expected that he would be different; he seemed a more understanding man.
He understood very well, Tom Sanders declared. He understood that what a woman really wanted was good loving, and he was prepared to give her that right then and there in the woods.
"Tom!" Dolly exclaimed, taken aback by his ravings. "How can we do it out here ... like animals?"
"Since I'm an animal, I'll show you," he growled.
With that, the handsome trucker took the young blonde in his muscular arms and began to liberally kiss her pretty face. Though she loved the attention, Dolly couldn't help putting up some resistance. After all, doing it in the woods! What kind of perversion would she stoop to next?
"Tom ... maybe we should find someplace else ... to do it...." she whimpered.
"Be patient, honey," the young man replied. "Let me give you something I bet you've never had before!"
With that announcement, which peaked Dolly's interest though she still felt they were being quite depraved, the handsome trucker sat the girl on the ground with her back leaning against a wide log. Despite Dolly's whimpering protests, he undid her skirt, then as he stood up he drew it off.
"Wh-what are you doing to me?" Dolly moaned.
"I'm going to eat you out!" Tom declared. "You ever had your sweet pussy licked before?"
"OhGod ... no!"
"Well, you're going to like it a real lot!"
So saying, Tom took hold of the beautiful blonde's panties and tugged them down her long, smooth legs and tossed them aside. He grinned with satisfaction as he noticed that despite her modest reservations, Dolly's pink slit gleamed with droplets of glistening cunt juice. The girl's eyes were wide, not knowing what sensations to expect ... yet she knew that already their lewd conduct had made her feel very hot.
"So what do you say, baby?" the trucker teased.
Dolly lifted her legs and spread them. "Yes ... oh yes, Tom ... do what you want!"
Pleased by her crooning surrender, Tom fell to his knees on the soft grass and crawled between her white, widespread thighs. Her smooth flesh shuddered, reflecting the jolts of pleasure coursing through her heating body. Tom brought his mouth to hover at the dripping portal of her honeypot. Without touching her, he erotically blew streams of warm air up into her gleaming, pink slit.
"Ooooh ... Oh! Oh!" Dolly squealed, overwhelmed by this new-found form of love. "That feels so good!"
"Then see how you like this!" Tom cried.
The virile young man reached his fingers in to pry apart her slippery pussy lips. For a minute he allowed his fingers to sensuously rub the quivering flesh as Dolly's face flushed and she mewled with delight. He pried her entrance open farther and blew a long stream of hot air into her steaming interior.
"Jesus, Tom ... you're driving me insane!" Dolly wailed. "I never knew it could be like this!"
"There's a lot more to come, darling," the handsome young man murmured.
And to prove it, his tongue flicked out and slowly circled her dripping meat. Tiny slurping noises rose up into the forest air as Tom drank in the generous flow of cunt juice cascading out of her inflamed womb. Tentatively, the tip of his tongue was inserted between the warm pussy lips. It traveled only an inch into the blonde's grasping hole, but it was enough to ignite Dolly up to another level of ecstasy.
"Eeeee! Oh Tom ... oh God!" she moaned.
He decided to tease her for a minute more by letting his tongue remain at her pleasure portal as his hot breath panted up through her drenched canal. The young girl's face had twisted with naked lust and her delicate hands flailed the air.
"Oh honey, what you're doing to me!" Dolly squealed. "I can't take much more!"
Dolly's sounds of desire did not go unheard. The nearly hysterical cries reached Shirley's ears. The pretty brunette had decided to get out of the house for a while and relax by taking a stroll in the shady woods. At first she thought the noises were those of an animal in heat. Yet as she drew silently closer she realized ... they were the sounds of her beautiful cousin in heat! Discretion almost made her run away, yet Shirley found herself inexorably drawn to the source of the erotic activity. Then through the trees she saw the clearing and what was transpiring.
"Oh my goodness!" she exclaimed. "Wh-what is Tom doing to her? Is it ... what I think it is?"
Upon closer inspection, she discovered that it was. The wild experience with Dan flooded her mind as she saw the inexperienced Dolly getting the same treatment. And from the look of her, she was enjoying every second!
"Oh, the lucky girl!" Shirley cried with envy. "I know now that it feels so good ... to get eaten out!"
It was apparent that her blond cousin would not disagree. Dolly squirmed against the log, her legs raised in the air and entwined around the red-haired trucker's back, her fingers frantically fumbling with the buttons of her blouse. Soon she had the garment open and her full, white breasts sprang into view. The observant brunette gasped with admiration as she gazed at her cousin's large, swollen knockers.
"She ... might have bigger tits than I do," Shirley breathed. "And look at the size of her nipples!"
The wide, red circles were certainly a delectable sight to behold. As her cousin watched, Dolly's rosy buds stiffened sensuously, making her boobs rise toward the sky. In a frenzy, the young blonde began to massage her aching melons in a slow, stroking motion.
"She looks so hot," Shirley murmured. "And I'm getting hot watching her!"
Sure enough, viewing the erotic action had caused her loins to stir with strong feminine need. She felt her panties dampen with steady trickles of warm love-juice. She desperately wished she was Dolly because the increasing need of her pussy could certainly use a man's tongue.
"Stick it in more, Tom!" the flushed blonde pleaded. "Please give me more of your tongue!"
Shirley was now at the edge of the clearing. She saw that the muscular trucker was about to comply with her cousin's fervently expressed desire. He reached underneath, grabbing two luscious handfuls of soft asscheeks, and lifted her off the grass for a better angle. Then, in one smooth, powerful motion, he thrust his tongue deep into the mewling girl's drenched inner recesses.
"Yeeeaaahhh!" Dolly screamed. "Oooowweee!"
The passionate blonde felt like she was about to go soaring above the trees as her twat was filled with tongue. Tom's invading prod was not content to lie there-immediately after achieving full insertion in the young girl's blazing furnace he began to vigorously move it around, lewdly rubbing and licking Dolly's clenched cunt walls. Torrents of syrupy, musk-scented juice coursed into his feasting mouth.
"Christ! Oh shit oh my pussy!" Dolly howled. Her exclamations were abruptly halted by the large, erect nipple she popped into her mouth. She sucked on it greedily.
"She can't take much more," Shirley observed. "This is incredible-I can't believe I'm about to watch my cousin Dolly have an orgasm!"
Then the voluptuous brunette began to wonder if Dolly wasn't going to be the only one to reach the ultimate in female satisfaction. The demands of her own body were rapidly mounting, yet Shirley tried to hold herself in check.
"I ... I shouldn't masturbate while watching them!" she whined. "It's too perverse ... so depraved ... but, oh God, I don't think I can help it!"
Her moral warnings had no effect in the face of her increasing sexual yearning. Only vaguely aware of her actions, the horny brunette undid her jeans. In a quick motion she tugged them and her damp panties down to her knees. When her trembling hand covered her bushy, moist mound, she could feel the hot throbbing of her wet twat. Slowly, agonizingly, her fingers crawled down until they were poised at the steaming entrance of her overexcited passageway.
"Ohhh ... I have to," she moaned. "I have to finger-fuck myself right away!"
Casting her inhibitions aside, the inflamed young girl allowed her quivering fingers to vigorously rub her slippery pussy lips. Instantly, the digits were coated with warm, gleaming juice. Bracing herself against the trunk of a tree, she pressed her middle finger deep into her blazing hole.
"Ooooh ... oh Jesus!" she mewled. "I wish I was getting my cunt licked ... but this will have to do ... I have to masturbate immediately."
As she continued her agonizing activity, Shirley's eyes were riveted on her cousin's contorted face. She then saw that Tom was wasting little time in bringing the fiery blonde to the point of no return. As Dolly alternated from tit to tit, quickly popping one aching nipple after another into her furiously sucking mouth, the handsome trucker's head was bobbing between the girl's white, shuddering thighs. His long tongue pistoned in and out like a jackhammer.
"Tom! Oh Tom! I'm going to ... can't hold it in!" Dolly screamed at the top of her lungs.
Her hysterical cry served to urge the young man to tongue-fuck at an even faster rate. Dolly's eyes grew wide and her hips began to buck out of control. Before Shirley's astonished gaze, her cousin found a howling release.
"Can't stop ... myself ... Oooow wwaaahhh!!!"
Dolly thrashed against the log, battering it with her smooth flesh, as an intense orgasm roared through her. A series of high-pitched whining exclamations escaped her throat as she was lost in a world of red-misted climax. Shirley shoved her stiffened finger in and out of her burning pussy faster and faster as she watched her young cousin explode.
When Dolly's writhing subsided, and she lay cooing with contentment, Tom stood up. "I thought you'd like that," he said, his chin glistening with pussy juice.
"Oh yes, Tom ... it was wonderful," Dolly moaned.
Suddenly, both lovers were thoroughly startled by a wailing exclamation from the woods. Their eyes bulged with amazement as Shirley dashed into the clearing. The flushed brunette had removed her jeans and panties from around her slender legs, and as she advanced into the clearing she quickly shed her blouse. She stood before Dolly and Tom in all her naked, curvaceous splendor, her full chest heaving with desire.
"I saw what you were doing," Shirley said breathlessly, "and it got me so horny I can't stand it! Please, Tom, eat me out, too!"
"Shirley, what are you saying?" Dolly cried.
"I'm saying I need my pussy licked before I go crazy!" the young girl screamed. "Tom, I beg you, eat me!"
"My pleasure, hot stuff!" the delighted trucker replied. "But on one condition."
As the two beautiful girls waited to see what that condition would be, Tom casually removed his clothes until his firm, muscular build was totally revealed. Both girls simultaneously licked their full, red lips as they observed his long, thick staff that jutted out from between two hard, hairy balls. He directed the dribbling tip at Dolly.
"My condition is ... this blonde cutie sucks on this while I lick her cousin's twat!"
The two voluptuous girls gasped with a similar thought-three people having sex at the same time! How depraved can people get? Yet neither one cared ... Shirley's urgent need overcame any hesitation; and the sight of the succulent manmeat made Dolly shudder with renewed desire.
"Yes, Tom, I'll do it!" the frisky blonde cried. "I'll blow you while ... Shirley sits on your face!"
"Yes, that's what I want!" the brunette exclaimed. "I want my pussy on Tom's face!"
"Then let's get down to it, girls!" Tom said with glee.
Dolly got up from the grass and the frisky trucker took her place against the log. Not wanting to deny her needs another second, Shirley bent down and straddled Tom's head, positioning her dripping twat just above the trucker's salivating mouth. Dolly did not hesitate, either. She crawled between Tom's sturdy, widespread legs and placed her head so that her pretty mouth hovered directly over the young man's massive lurching staff. Her tongue rolled out and lapped up a delicious dribble of warm pre-cum.
"Hurry, Tom," Shirley begged, her eyes rolling. "Lick my hot pussy!"
"Yes, honey ... do it while I blow you!" Dolly called, her small fingers stroking his shaft.
No response was needed from the handsome trucker except for him to reach his tongue up and touch the brunette's fibrillating twat lips. At the first touch of his prod, Shirley felt as though she had come into contact with a live wire. Her body shook, making her swollen boobs jiggle provocatively. She reached up to grab the dancing jugs. Her fingers took hold of her stiff nipples and pinched the aching buds, causing her to mewl with erotic delight. She pressed her mound down, completely covering Tom's feasting face.
"That's the way, big man!" she shrieked. "Eat me ... eat mmmeeeee!"
Tom readily complied. He shoved his tongue upward, forcing it between the horny brunette's drenched, shuddering cunt walls. He reached around and grabbed her hips, thrusting her inflamed twat down onto his slippery prod. With a squeal of ecstasy, Shirley felt her womb fill up with rampaging tongue. She squirmed on his face, grasping in all he had to offer.
"Oh my God ... feels so good!" she groaned.
Tom groaned too as he felt the effects of Dolly's passionate ministrations. The feisty blonde was giving his out-thrust prick the full benefit of her cock-sucking experience. As her fingers gently stroked his purple-veined shaft, her tongue agonizingly -rimmed his pulsing cockhead. She moaned with pleasure at each dribble of man-juice she lapped up. Then, opening her drooling mouth wide, she fed all of his thick pork into her warm, hungry orifice.
"God ... Dolly ... oh shit!" Tom yelped.
Further utterances were prevented by the frantic battering of Shirley's cunt against his face. The beautiful brunette realized her release could not be denied much longer and she wanted to get all she could. Sensing her approaching climax, the muscular trucker rammed his tongue in and out in longer, powerful thrusts. Rapidly flowing cunt juice oozed into his mouth and loud slurping noises filled the air.
"Ooooh ... Agggaahhh!" Shirley squealed. "Can't take much more ... of this! Eeeeee!"
Her warning was almost immediately proved true as Shirley felt her inner barriers disintegrating. The pent-up climax was set free and it roared through her writhing body. Totally out of control, she rubbed her exploding pussy along Tom's face and frantically hopped up and down on his stiffened tongue.
"Aaaaiiiiieeeee!!!!!" the climaxing brunette shrieked.
In addition to having his face battered by detonating twat, the handsome trucker found that Dolly was mounting an erotic attack on his phallus. The full, throbbing length of his meat was securely lodged in the frisky blonde's moist orifice. When with a whimper of satisfaction Shirley collapsed to the side, he looked down and saw that Dolly's smooth cheeks were concave as she powerfully sucked his wong, vacuuming in his rapidly dribbling pre-cum.
"Yeah, hot stuff, go to it!" he yelled, his nuts aching with spinning jism. "Blow that pole!"
And this Dolly did with relish. The lusty young girl began to move her head up and down on his stick, her lips and tongue working the length of his shaft.
Suddenly, she let his red member slip out. "Please, Tom, I want it in my pussy!" she begged.
"God, yes!" the excited trucker shouted. "Sit on it!"
Shirley spoke up. "But ... I want to suck cock, too." Then the luscious brunette had a truly perverse thought, yet she couldn't ignore its excitingly lewd implications. "Maybe ... I can suck even while Dolly's fucking you!"
Tom could only moan deliriously in agreement. Dolly was perplexed until Shirley demonstrated how the acrobatic feat could be accomplished. The brunette crawled between Tom's legs so that her flushed face was next to his out-thrust pecker. Her blonde cousin straddled the lurching phallus.
"Keep putting his dick in and out of your twat, Dolly," Shirley advised. "Every time it slips out, I'll suck it!"
"Oh my God, it's so depraved!" the blonde mewled. "But I love it!"
"Hurry, girls!" Tom breathed. "Can't hold it in for long!"
Urged on by his evident need, the two beautiful cousins went right to work. Squealing with joy, Dolly pushed herself down onto the trucker's large prick, Shirley gazing with delight as it disappeared deep into her cousin's belly. Somehow Dolly fit all of it in, filling her inflamed pussy with pulsating prong. Then, when she allowed it to emerge, Shirley covered the glistening member with her hungry mouth and sucked in the sweet combination of pre-cum and pussy juice.
"Jesus ... too much!" Dolly and Tom chorused.
The needs of their bodies took full command. In a wild frenzy, Dolly jumped up and down on the big pole and Shirley applied her tongue wherever she could-Tom's dick, Dolly's gaping slit it didn't matter. It wasn't long before her two friends reached the breaking point.
"Aaahhh! Can't hold...." Tom screamed. "I'm ... Arrrggg!!!"
"Me too!" Dolly shrieked. "Here I ... mmeee ... Mmmeeeeel!!"
Shirley was in danger of being decapitated by the wildly thrashing and humping bodies of the trucker and her cousin. The lusty brunette continued to work her tongue and lips as Tom piled wad after molten wad of cum into the climaxing Dolly. His load was so large that it spilled out and ran down the blonde's quaking thighs. Joyfully, Shirley's tongue lapped up all of the boiling manjuice she could. The cries of all three soared above the tree-tops into the atmosphere.
Some time later; Tom moaned, "You Northern girls sure know how to party!"
Licking their lips with satisfaction, the two cousins grinned.
CHAPTER SIX
Apparently, Mrs. Jameson's travels hadn't been too enjoyable because several days later Aunt Jenny received a surprise phone call from Burrbridge-her old neighbor. Of course, Aunt Jenny insisted her friend come right out to the house. A short time later, the familiar plump figure of her friend got out of the car, and all three women were at the door to welcome her.
"Jenny, I'm so glad to see you and the girls," Mrs. Jameson said.
"You come right into the kitchen, Mabel, and have a cup of tea while you tell us about it," Jenny invited.
"There's no fool like an old fool, I guess," Mabel Jameson said as she sipped the beverage. "For the last five years I've been anxious to get away from Burrbridge-I used my sister as a convenient excuse, always said I wanted to see her soon. But when I got out in the middle of Pennsylvania, I went to a motel-for which I paid two prices-and suddenly I came to my senses." She paused to munch on a cookie Shirley passed to her.
"That was the flattest land I ever did see," Mrs. Jameson continued. "There wasn't a hill or a view for mile after mile. I guess it's wonderful farming country," she conceded, "but it isn't for anyone who is used to our beautiful hills."
Mabel Jameson suddenly realized, she went on to explain, that she was homesick. Once she had admitted that, she knew that she was under no obligation to continue to California. If her friend Jenny could give her a room, she would use the money that the trip might have cost her to rebuild on the Jameson land. This time it would be a ranch-type house, small enough so that she could maintain it easily.
"But of course you must come to us," Jenny said warmly. "I have missed you, Mabel, and it does my heart good to have someone my own age close to me. There's a bedroom upstairs that is still empty. I think it is one of the nicest in the house. We'll get it fixed up for you in no time, and then you must consider yourself one of the family."
At that, Mrs. Jameson's tears overflowed. Shirley and Dolly stole quietly out of the kitchen to leave the two old friends to their further planning.
In a matter of hours, it seemed to Shirley, Mrs. Jameson was an accepted member of the household. Within a week everyone felt that she had always been there and that she was indispensable. Since Jenny would accept no money from her friend, Mabel Jameson insisted upon making herself useful. She helped Shirley with the cooking and cleaning and with the care of Dinky. Shirley was very grateful for the free time she was given, because it enabled her and Dolly to help with preparations for the Country Club dance, which was now almost upon them.
Suddenly Shirley realized that she had not planned a headdress to go with her Indian costume. She and Dolly drove to Stanton and canvassed the specialty shops there.
They finally found what they were seeking in a costume store, and Shirley bought additional beads to make a child's Indian headdress more glamorous. Shirley could just imagine Dinky's face when, after the dance, she presented him with this token of the Wild West.
"I never knew green slippers would be so hard to find," Dolly complained, her thoughts on her own costume. "And I think the nail polish manufacturers are losing a big bet in not making up green nail polish. I had my heart set on that; didn't think I'd have any trouble finding it."
"We have green food coloring right on the pantry shelf," Shirley comforted her. "We'll try it out tonight after supper."
Later, while Mrs. Jameson bustled about serving the meal, Shirley furtively took off her shoes under the table and wriggled her toes.
"We got almost everything we wanted," she reported to Aunt Jenny. "But I feel as if I had walked a hundred miles. There is so little time left! Are things all set for the buffet supper?"
"They are, thanks to Mabel," Jenny said with satisfaction. "It would be like that Helen Howell to have another baby just when I was counting on her for the potato bread. But Mabel knows the recipe and will make up six loaves tomorrow."
"That ought to be enough even for the throng that is expected for Saturday night's dance," George Weaver observed. He had made himself a one-man ticket agency and reported that, to date, he had disposed of over a hundred tickets. He was proud of his accomplishment and also proud of the costume he had thought out for himself.
He had explained at some length that this would consist of a huge cardboard box which would be open at the bottom so that he could walk. The top of it would rest on his shoulders, with openings on each side for his arms. But the crowning touch, to George, was the fact that the cardboard would be covered with layers of new paint that gave a textured finish. The paint was created for cracked or uneven surfaces, and as a covering for the box it would give George a chance to explain the product to prospective customers.
"Sounds like a good idea," Dan Hallbrook said, "but what state are you supposed to represent?"
"The Granite State, of course," George explained. "I was born in New Hampshire, although I've lived most of my life right here in Burrbridge. When this new paint is applied to the box, it will look like a block of granite."
"That's very clever," Tom Sanders commented, "But it sounds like a might uncomfortable dancing costume."
"I'll wear my tuxedo underneath," George declared, "and take off the costume after the prizes have been awarded."
Shirley suppressed a giggle. Somehow she could not imagine George Weaver as a man of granite. But, she conceded, he did have the figure for it.
When George questioned Dan and Tom about their costumes, neither one of the truckmen would tell except to say that they planned to represent the fine old state of Virginia. Dolly hastily inquired if they intended to come in the costume of the Virgin Queen and drew a reproving glance from her mother. Again Tom Sanders suggested that they could either be dogwood trees or flaming cardinals.
Aunt Jenny inquired as to what costume Joe Hamilton would wear. And, unexpectedly, it was George who replied. Sometimes professional painters, when working in a dark room or underground, wore a miner's cap with a little lamp in the front, George said. For this reason, he always kept a few in the paint shop.
"When Joe told me he was coming as a miner-Pennsylvania is his home state, you know-I offered to sell him one of the caps," George explained. "He snapped it up. He already has an old pair of overalls, and he can blacken his face and hands."
"That sounds like a most unattractive costume," Aunt Jenny commented. "I am sure Pennsylvania is noted for something else besides coal. As a matter-of-fact, since Independence Hall is in Philadelphia, I think he might rather come as Uncle Sam."
"Too late now," George commented airily. After all, Shirley reflected, George has already made the sale of a miner's cap.
"I don't think too much of your costume either, George," Jenny added. "It seems a little-well, commerical to advertise one of your products at a dance that is given for charity. But I suppose you will do what you think best. You'll be glad to know that Mabel has offered to babysit that night with Dinky, although I shall not be late once the buffet supper is served."
"I sincerely hope you will approve of our costumes, ma'am," said Dan Hallbrook. "We ordered them at Stanton this afternoon. But we want to keep them a surprise till tomorrow night."
"I sincerely hope so, too," Jenny said with some asperity. "If I don't approve, I can always ask you to leave this house." Her smile belied her words, and Shirley knew that the two strangers had at last been accepted as respectable men by Aunt Jenny.
"If you don't approve, ma'am," Tom Sanders grinned, "we can still come to the dance as what we are-truck drivers. We don't need any costume for that."
CHAPTER SEVEN
The scene as Shirley and Dolly, escorted by George Weaver and Joe Hamilton, entered the dance hall of the Country Club, was one of so much gaiety that Shirley caught her breath. Her cousin Dolly, for the first time in a self-centered life, had devoted all her thoughts and efforts in the past weeks to perfecting a bright background for the occasion.
The room was long and about half as wide as it was long. Paper streamers in every hue of the rainbow hung from a central chandelier and were tacked firmly to the four walls near the ceiling. On one of the long sides of the room four French windows opened onto a paved terrace. Because the night was balmy even for June, the glass doors stood ajar, and on the terrace could be glimpsed the buffet tables that would be floodlit later on. Shirley saw that Aunt Jenny, who had left the house early, was already in full charge.
The ballroom also doubled as an amateur theater; the stage at one end now had the curtains drawn back, and drawings of the fifty different states showed colorful coats of arms. There were chairs against the walls for those who did not wish to dance, and against the wall opposite the stage a five-piece orchestra was grouped. Over all was a ripple of laughter as more than two hundred guests identified one another's costume.
Shirley was glad to see that she was the only Indian maiden present. Joe Hamilton apparently was the only coal miner. But George Weaver had his rivals in a woman dressed as a purple lilac, the state flower of New Hampshire, and a man dressed as a white birch, the state tree. There seemed to be almost a dozen costumes representing Vermont, the Green Mountain state, but no one looked as lovely as Dolly in her green chiffon robe and green wig.
As they entered the room they encountered such diverse characters as a mocking bird from the state of Florida, an Abraham Lincoln from Illinois, a giant peach from Georgia, and a grizzly bear from California. It was a bewildering array of color and imagination, and as the little group went around greeting old friends, they heard over and over again the thought expressed that Burrbridge should encourage more community affairs.
"Everybody knows the state I represent," George complained to Shirley. "They don't even ask me what kind of paint this is on my costume."
"Never mind," she consoled him. "You'll get a chance to tell them all about it later, George. I wonder where Tom and Dan can be. Perhaps they didn't mean to come at all."
"If they were just fooling us," Dolly said angrily, "I will think up some special form of torture for them. Oh," she said with a sudden gasp, "there they are!"
Shirley looked toward the big double doorway, and there indeed stood the two truckmen whom Aunt Jenny had once refused to have in her house. Tonight they were dazzling in sixteenth-century court costumes of the good Queen, Elizabeth I. Satin doublets in blue and gold with silken hose. On their heads were wide plumed hats. Both Dan and Tom took them off with sweeping gestures and bowed low to the ladies in the room. Above the stiff ruffs of Elizabethan times, the smiling faces of the two young men were eloquent of the fact that they had startled the crowd. Tom had even gone one step further; he had added a mustache that exactly matched his red hair.
"What state are they from?" Joe Hamilton asked.
"They're from Virginia," Dolly said slowly. "Now I remember-Virginia is the Cavalier State. My cavalier-how nice!" With a swift movement she started edging through the crowd in the direction of Tom Sanders. Shirley, glancing up, saw that Joe Hamilton's eyes were bleak.
But the next second, following a fanfare, the orchestra was giving instructions for forming the grand march. Joe Hamilton at once started after Dolly's green-clad figure, and when Shirley next saw them, they were leading the march with the two cavaliers directly behind them.
As the orchestra struck up a spirited march, Tom Sanders leaned down and picked up an edge of Dolly's flowing gown. Holding it as a page boy might hold a train, he marched solemnly around behind Dolly and her escort amid the laughter of the crowd. Jenny Winsted, watching from one of the open French windows, was thankful she had insisted that Dolly wear a heavy cloth-of-silver slip under her green chiffon costume. Nevertheless, her face was tinged with color and she fanned herself vigorously, if ineffectually, with a paper napkin.
Shortly after the prizes were awarded, the dancing began and George Weaver retired to the men's lounge to remove his costume. Shirley found herself dancing with Dan Hallbrook, who looked even more dashing when seen close up.
"You make a right pretty Indian maiden," Dan smiled down at her. "May I call you Minnehaha?"-"You may-ha ha," Shirley retorted. "But only because you are the Laughing Cavalier and so are entitled to have your fun."
Shirley saw Dolly and Joe Hamilton dancing by; Joe was talking furiously and even a little angrily. In the arms of a pseudo miner, Dolly's blonde beauty seemed particularly ethereal and remote. Shirley guessed she was pouting; Dolly would feel that because the theme of the dance had been her own idea, she should not have it spoiled by a sharp rebuke from Joe. Dolly probably knew, Shirley reflected, that she had been in the wrong to leave her escort's side and identify herself with the two truckmen. But that would not make her any the less resentful. It would, in fact, increase her annoyance. Dolly was like that.
Between dances Shirley slipped out to the terrace and asked Aunt Jenny if there was anything she could do to help. Her aunt thanked her, but assured her that everything was under control. Only two members of the executive committee were worth their salt, she added tartly. But they were all she needed and the buffet supper would be served promptly at ten-thirty. She had already phoned Mabel Jameson, Jenny explained further, and Dinky was sound asleep. Once the buffet supper began she would feel free to go back to the house and give Mrs. Jameson a chance to get a glimpse of the gaiety and fun.
Later, when Shirley was again dancing with Dan Hallbrook, she found his attention wandering. She knew that his eyes were darting here and there, as if seeking someone in the crowd.
"Looking for someone?" Shirley asked mischievously.
"For your precious cousin."
"Dolly's dancing with your precious partner, Tom Sanders," Shirley explained. "They make a very striking couple."
"I know they do," Dan said a little grimly. "That's why I'm worried that I don't see them now." With a sudden gesture he swung Shirley around and whisked her through the French doors and out onto the terrace. Shirley had hardly caught her breath before she was being walked at a rapid pace through the rose garden to the part that lay in semidarkness beyond reach of the ballroom lights. Once there Dan slowed down, and suddenly began to laugh in a boisterous and almost hysterical manner.
"That's the funniest thing I've heard all evening," he all but shouted. "I must remember to tell Tom that joke when I see him again."
Shirley came to a full stop, convinced that Dan had temporarily taken leave of his senses. She was not going to be led into the darkness by a madman!
"What in the world...." she began when suddenly she saw a movement under the rose arbor. A second later her cousin's costume gleamed eerily in the half-light, and she saw that the figure beside Dolly was that of Tom Sanders.
"Why didn't you bring a foghorn and a searchlight?" Tom demanded angrily of his friend. "You might as well be a bloodhound baying at the moon."
Dan appeared to take this as a great joke, too. But Shirley noticed that he soon had the four of them turned back toward the clubhouse. A second later they were within the lighted area, and then Shirley saw Aunt Jenny on the terrace, peering anxiously out into the rose garden. When Aunt Jenny caught sight of the two couples together, her expression of anxiety vanished and she darted away toward the club kitchen on one of her innumerable tasks.
"Thank you," Shirley whispered to Dan. "I wouldn't for the world have even the shadow of worry spoil Aunt Jenny's evening." For answer, he only touched her arm lightly as they all went back to the dance hall.
Dolly had plenty of competition for the attention of Tom Sanders. He did not seem to be merely wearing a costume, but actually to be a dashing cavalier-ready to spread his cloak for a queen to walk upon and equally ready with his sword to defend his lady's honor. In the dance immediately following their return to the ballroom, Dolly lost her escort almost immediately to some young and overly anxious girls.
Shirley saw the little scene, and saw, too, that Joe Hamilton immediately claimed her cousin. Shirley gave herself up to enjoying the evening. She did not lack for partners. In fact when George, having taken off his costume, appeared before her in his carefully planned evening attire, Shirley was almost surprised to see him.
"It's harder to get a dance with you than with a visiting princess," George complained. But he seemed very pleased at her popularity. It justified his good taste in asking to be her escort.
"But, George," Shirley protested, "you've been just as popular as I have. All the girls wanted to dance with you, and I just had to wait my turn."
George seemed immensely pleased at this remark from Shirley implying that he did have a fancied romantic nature. Poor George! He did so want to be thought of as a lover, she reflected. And yet his very qualities of dependability and attention to his work made him, in many ways, more desirable. She wished devoutly that she could come to love him as Aunt Jenny expected her to.
At that moment Dolly was saying in a hurt tone: "I just can't understand you, Joe Hamilton. You say you want me to go around with a 'keep-off sign hung around my neck. At the same time, I have not heard you asking me to set a marriage date."
"I'm asking you now," Joe said grimly.
"I don't answer that kind of a proposal," Dolly said, looking hurt. "You sound as if I were dragging you to the altar."
"I'm not asking any girl to marry me if she doesn't want to make it work. The way you've been carrying on with that truck driver all evening makes me doubt that you are ready to settle down. But if you are, say so. I just don't want anyone laughing behind my back after we are engaged."
Dolly considered this for a minute in silence. She looked out at the gay scene before her and seemed to be seriously thinking over Joe's ultimatum. Finally she turned toward him with a smile that was as bright and happy as if they had been discussing trivialities.
"Joe, you're all upset this evening. Let's talk about this another time. You know I've always liked you, but how can I tell if it's really true love? You must realize I haven't met many other men. As for Tom Sanders, you must remember that he is a guest in my mother's home and a stranger here in town. I thought it only my duty to be especially nice to him."
"That is your answer, then?" As he spoke, Joe got to his feet. Dolly was staring up at him in bewilderment. She continued to stare like a puzzled child as, with a curt nod, Joe turned on his heel and walked out of the Country Club. A second late. Tom Sanders stood before her and pulled her to her feet.
"What do you mean hiding out here alone in the reception room, leaving me to the mercies of all the local sirens?" he demanded with assumed gruffness. "You get back in here, young lady. The next dance is mine, all of it."
Dolly's silvery laugh tinkled as she allowed herself to be drawn toward the dance floor. She did not notice that Joe Hamilton, pausing for a moment in the doorway, heard it and turned around. Then, with an exclamation, he dashed off into the night.
Shirley, too, heard her cousin laugh as she came in from the terrace. It was after ten o'clock and she had been helping Aunt Jenny with last-minute preparations for the supper. She was sorry to see Dolly and Tom dancing together again; it did not seem that Joe's proposal had gone so well, after all. Just at that moment one of the club stewards touched her arm.
"Beg pardon, miss," he said diffidently. "There's a phone call for Mrs. Winsted."
"She's in the kitchen and terribly busy," Shirley told him. "I am her niece. Perhaps I can take a message."
She followed him to the bank of telephone booths in the hall and answered the phone he indicated.
"Jenny, is that you?" The voice was so high-pitched and hysterical that Shirley did not recognize it.
"Mrs. Winsted is very busy right now," Shirley explained. "I thought I might take a message and have her call you back a little bit later. I am Shirley Montgomery, Mrs. Winsted's niece."
For answer there was a deep sobbing that was evidently controlled with difficulty. Then, in a more natural voice, the caller said:
"Oh, Shirley, dear, I am so glad to hear your voice. Something dreadful-just dreadful-has happened. This is Mabel Jameson. When your aunt phoned me before, Dinky was sound asleep."
Shirley, thoroughly alarmed, demanded: "Mrs. Jameson, please pull yourself together. Tell me exactly what is wrong. Has Dinky been taken sick?"
"Dinky's gone!" A note of hysteria crept into Mabel Jameson's voice once more. "He's not anywhere in the house. I even looked in the cellar. You know that window in his room was open, and I'm afraid that Dinky's been kidnapped. He may even be dead! Oh, come as quickly as you can."
In a burst of wild weeping Mrs. Jameson broke the connection, and Shirley started on a run to find her Aunt Jenny.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Surprisingly, it was Aunt Jenny who rose to the occasion and Dolly who went to pieces. Even George Weaver, when told that Dinky had disappeared from the house, was calm. He said he would call the state troopers and follow the rest of them to the Winsted home.
Aunt Jenny saw to it that Tom Sanders and Dan Hallbrook were both notified, and they were all ready to go in a matter of minutes. The Country Club dance was momentarily halted while onlookers watched the beautiful young girl in green having hysterics in the middle of the dance floor. It was not until her mother spoke sharply that Dolly regained some control and allowed herself to be led from the club with Tom Sanders' arm about her.
"Poor George, poor George," Dolly moaned, wringing her hands.
"We'll do all we can for him," her mother assured her. "Has that nice Joe Hamilton gone home? I didn't see him and I didn't want to wait."
Dolly seemed to calm down at once. "I don't know where he is and I don't care."
Shirley sent their battered sedan racing out into the road and saw behind her the headlights of the truck as the two "cavaliers" left the ball in Cinderella fashion.
When they arrived at the house Mrs. Jameson had apparently lit every lamp in the place. Even as they came in the driveway Mrs. Jameson punched on the bright porch light before she opened the door. Shirley automatically glanced up at the window of the room where Dinky slept. The white curtains, like a signal of distress, fluttered outside.
Mabel Jameson looked white and tired but controlled. She explained that after talking to Jenny early in the evening, she had picked up a piece of needlework and must have dozed off while she was sewing. It had been after ten when she found he was gone.
"It was not your fault," Jenny assured her friend. "Dinky may just have wandered off in the moonlight. We may find him any minute."
"But he was kidnapped," Mrs. Jameson wailed.
"I doubt it very much," Jenny said, and added dryly: "Nobody would want to kidnap Dinky."
George Weaver came in just then, announcing that the state troopers were on the way. Meanwhile, they wanted him to bring a picture of Dinky down to the barracks and to make a formal statement to the lieutenant in charge. Shirley went with him into Dinky's room and took the silver-framed photograph of the child from his dresser. It struck her that something was missing from the room, but it took her a few minutes to realize that it was the Teddy bear.
For some reason this was reassuring. It seemed to her that no kidnapper would be bothered with a child's worn-out toy. On the other hand, if Dinky had wandered off by himself, he most assuredly would have taken his stuffed pal along with him. She said as much to George, who was not reassured.
"I don't know," he said slowly, his face white and drawn with anxiety. "Dinky is a mighty loving child, and they know I would give up my life as well as my shop and everything I possess just to have him back."
Shirley thought he might be going to break down, but George, with a heroic effort to appear normal, continued:
"I blame myself for this. I have left the boy with others far too much. If he is lost or hurt, I have only myself to blame."
Shirley could only pat his shoulder sympathetically.
Downstairs a few minutes later, George repeated his self-reproach to Jenny Winsted and Mabel Jameson. Both women refused to allow him to take the blame, Mrs. Jameson insisting that it was her fault. Aunt Jenny, even while she was reassuring George, was thinking of the Staffordshire dog and blaming herself for Dinky's disappearance.
"Why don't we do something?" Dolly demanded. "There's no sense standing around just talking about it."
"There's no use going out looking for him," George said. "The state troopers will send experienced men to do that. But I do have to report to the barracks, and I would be pleased if someone came with me."
"Of course I'll come," Dolly said at once. "Give me your scarf, Mums." She disappeared out the door, and George, clutching the silver-framed photograph, followed her.
Shirley felt strangely let down. She had always heard that in a kidnapping the period of waiting for news was the most nerve-wracking. At the same time, she dreaded to hear the telephone ring. She almost panicked when a bell did ring before she identified it as the doorbell.
When she opened it, four stalwart young men in uniform stood outside. They were equipped with powerful flashlights, and behind them she saw the state troopers' car already floodlighting the immediate area around the house. They asked to be shown to the boy's room first of all, and Shirley was relieved when Tom Sanders, who had just started downstairs, offered to show it to them.
Shirley wandered back into the living room, where Mabel Jameson and Aunt Jenny sat side by side, each seeming to derive some comfort from the other's presence. A second later Dan Hallbrook, standing in the doorway, motioned for Shirley to join him in the hall.
"I have an idea," he said in a low voice. "But I don't want to get your aunt and Mrs. Jameson too excited about it. When I took Dinky with me that morning, he seemed particularly thrilled by the maintenance station. He asked if he was big and strong enough to get a job there. I humored him, of course-the poor little tyke-because I thought he wanted to get money for his piggy bank. Could be he's gone there."
"What else did he say?" Shirley demanded. The maintenance station, she knew, was only about a mile down the road, but it was a frightening walk for a child even on a brightly moonlit night. Still, anything was better than just waiting.
"He didn't say much of anything else," Dan replied, obviously trying to remember. "Mainly he asked questions about the machinery and what it was used for. He even asked about that little tool shed and if anybody lived in it. Why don't we take a nice slow ride down the road? Perhaps Dinky is wandering around there. If he sees the truck, he may decide not to walk any farther."
The four state troopers clattered briskly down the stairs. While two of them went in to talk with Jenny and Mrs. Jameson, Tom Sanders led the other two around the house until they stood directly beneath Dinky's window. As Shirley followed Dan toward the truck, she heard one of them sing out:
"No marks of a ladder! And no footprints!"
Dan had spoken of driving slowly, but to Shirley, huddled beside him on the seat of the cab, the trip seemed interminable. It was like living in a nightmare. In spite of their efforts to go ahead, an invisible force seemed to be drawing them back. Perhaps because the moonlight was very bright, the shadows of the hedges on either side of the road seemed particularly black and menacing.
Dinky had stoutly asserted that he "wasn't afraid of nothing." But how large must these black shadows seem to a child? Several times Shirley, peering ahead, thought she saw the small figure trudging with determination down the road just ahead of them. Yet when the truck's headlights reached the spot, there was nothing. Somewhere a fox barked mournfully, and Shirley thought of all the lost children who had wandered off into the darkness of night and been found too late.
The blue neon lights of the maintenance station suddenly came into view. To eyes accustomed to the semidarkness they seemed brilliant. In their radiance, the piles of cinder blocks and lumber that were to be used in the construction of the building could be seen clearly. Huge rolls of fencing lay scattered about and, although the whole area had an eerie, deserted air, Dan assured Shirley that there was a night watchman on duty. As they drove over the rough, uneven ground, Shirley identified Dinky's "little house"-the tool shed that had so intrigued him.
Dan drove around the side of the maintenance station to the door of the one room that was finished. There was a faint light inside. It was dim indeed compared to the battery of neon bulbs that spread like a canopy above the unfinished roof. Shirley and Dan were out of the truck in a second. In answer to their knock a rotund, bespectacled man with his vest hanging open appeared in the doorway.
"What do you want this time of night?" he asked. "This here's a maintenance station and we don't allow no trespassers."
Dan explained their mission, and the man became instantly sympathetic. He inquired as to Dinky's appearance and the length of time he had been gone from home and the possible distance he might have traveled. Shirley was hopeful and could not help but break in on the conversation.
"Have you seen him? Do you think you might have seen him?" she asked anxiously.
The watchman's eyes noted her Indian costume and feathered headdress. But he did not seem any more surprised to see an Indian maiden who had been riding in a dump truck than he had been to see the truck itself.
"Nope. I ain't seen your little boy. I ain't seen nobody at all."
Shirley felt her heart sink so low that she thought it surely must have reached her heels. She turned dispiritedly back to the truck, and after Dan had thanked the watchman, he came and stood beside her.
"Well, I guess that's that," he said in a flat voice. "It was a good idea while it lasted. Only it turned out to be no good. I guess we'd better leave this business to the state troopers and wait for them to call us."
Shirley, looking dully at the outline of the tool shed a short distance away, nodded her head in agreement. Dan was right, of course.
"The tool shed is locked up tight every night, if you're thinking about that," Dan said. "It isn't like that old icehouse we tore down. There are no holes to crawl through."
"I'll just walk around it anyhow," Shirley said without hope. "I wouldn't feel right if I didn't at least look."
Her soft moccasins made no sound as she advanced toward the little house, avoiding the sharp stones that were scattered here and there. The shed looked like a veritable fortress, but its peaked roof did suggest a house, one it would be fun for a youngster to imagine as his own. She made no effort to be quiet, and as she started to circle the shed there was a small whisper of sound as if a nocturnal animal were padding quietly about. She rounded the corner and her spirits gave a sudden leap.
"Dinky," she whispered, not trusting her eyes, but still afraid she might startle him if it were indeed the child. "Dinky, we miss you. We want you to come back home. Please, Dinky, oh, please."
For a second there was no answer. Then a small white face peered at her from the other side of the shed. Shirley advanced slowly, afraid that he might run and fall on the uneven ground. But suddenly the child's whole figure came around the corner and he advanced toward Shirley with open curiosity.
"What's that you got on your head?" were his first words. "It makes you look like an Indian."
With a laugh that was almost a sob, Shirley tore off her headgear and placed it on the boy's head. It was too big for him, but she managed to secure it behind his ears. His Teddy bear was still clutched in his arms, and in his pajamas and feather headgear, Dinky presented a strange appearance indeed. With a cry of joy Shirley swooped him up in her arms and started to run back to the truck.
It was a little while before they could get under way. Dan roused the watchman again and asked to use the telephone. He called the state barracks first and reported that the child had been found. George Weaver was still there, and Dan assured him that the boy was not hurt. Then he called the Winsted home and repeated the glad news to Jenny. He could hear her relaying the information to Mabel Jameson.
When they were finally driving back along the road, Shirley managed to ask in a casual voice:
"How did you get out of the house, Dinky?"
"Just walked out the door," Dinky informed her. "I was going to wait until morning and then ask a man for a job."
Dan suppressed an exclamation of dismay.
"But Dinky, I told you, you would have to eat your cereal and drink your milk so you'd be big and strong...."
"I'm big and strong now," Dinky interrupted. "But nobody knows I am. I guess if I got a job on the highway they couldn't call me Dinky no more. They'd have to call me by my real name."
"Nobody will ever call you Dinky again, Richard," Shirley promised.
"I could have a little house, like the one where you found me," the child said. "And maybe a dog, too. And I wouldn't have to say please or thank you to anybody." His voice trailed off and his head, resting against Shirley's shoulder, seemed to grow heavier.
By the time Dan carried him into the house, Dinky, now Richard, was sound asleep.
"There's one thing I know," Dan growled at Shirley just before they went inside. "This boy has got to have a dog-not a stuffed one or a china one, but a real live pooch!"
CHAPTER NINE
"Mrs. Jameson, I'm going to give you the day off," Dolly said gaily as she came into the kitchen on Wednesday morning. "You and Mums have been talking about visiting Mrs. Carroll over in Stanton, and I want you to hop to it."
Mrs. Jameson paused with the wet dishcloth still in her hand. "What brought this on?" she demanded.
"Nothing new," Dolly explained. "Every once in so often I get to feeling kind of useless. While I was getting ready for the dance, I kept busy enough. But now that it's over, I thought I'd like to relieve you and Shirley of the kitchen chores for one day at least."
"That isn't the whole story, Dolly," said Mabel Jameson, shaking her head. "And I won't go along with your idea unless I know what you're up to."
Dolly h-edged for a while longer, but Mrs. Jameson was adamant.
At last Dolly admitted she had told Tom Sanders that she could cook. His glowing praise of everything Shirley cooked had gotten under her skin. Later, when Mrs. Jameson had taken over, Tom had been equally loud in his praises, Dolly added diplomatically.
"He didn't say anything loud enough for me to hear," Mrs. Jameson retorted. "But I guess clean plates are praise enough for any cook. I never did set out to do anything fancy, but I can put a good meal on the table if I do say so."
Dolly pressed her advantage. It wasn't that she didn't give all due credit to Shirley, she pointed out, but cooking was not the beginning and end of the world. She just wanted to show that smart-alecky upstart from Virginia that a girl could run a country club dance or cook a meal with equal ease.
"I think, too, that George Weaver deserves a change of menu. He's been picking at his food ever since Dinky-Richard, I mean-ran away last Saturday. Mums will be glad to see Mrs. Carroll, I'm sure. I'll ask her right away."
Mrs. Jameson dried her hands and untied her apron with dispatch. She glanced around the shining kitchen; everything was in place. But as Dolly turned to leave, Mrs. Jameson said:
"Wait a minute, Dolly. What did you plan to have for supper tonight?"
She had thought to make a lemon chiffon pie, Dolly told her, because she was very sure of her prowess with this type of dessert. She might even make two pies! For the main course, she hastened to add, as Mrs. Jameson looked at her questioningly, she thought she would make up a salad plate. She would put chicken salad in the center and surround it with potato salad, pickled beets, green scallions, tomato aspic and stuffed olives. Those very nice cheese crackers that Shirley had bought last week were still unopened in the pantry, Dolly pointed out.
"We don't have any chicken," Mrs. Jameson said disparagingly. "Anyway, that's no meal to serve three men who have been working hard all day. They always have cold sandwiches for lunch, and at night they need something hot in their stomachs."
"I never thought of that," Dolly confessed.
"Now we've got two things in the freezer," Mrs. Jameson went on, "that would go well with your lemon chiffon pie. We've got two nice T-bone steaks, or we've got enough beef for a stew. Personally, I would suggest you make a stew. It's hard for anyone to go wrong with that if you put in enough vegetables and don't use too much water."
Dolly thanked her for the suggestion and darted out of the room. She was back a few minutes later to say that she had her mother's approval of the idea and that Shirley had agreed to stay out of the kitchen for the afternoon. Jenny had also suggested that they take Richard with them on the trip to Stanton, and with this Mrs. Jameson heartily agreed.
It was a flushed and slightly disheveled Dolly who started flying around the kitchen at three o'clock that afternoon. She had spent most of the intervening hours picking roses for the centerpiece and in choosing just the right yellow damask tablecloth to match the color of the flowers. The only candles she could find were white, but Shirley had taken the car and she could not go to town for yellow ones. However, by the time she had put white doilies under the brass candlesticks, the whole table looked very festive. Stew or no stew, Dolly promised herself, this was going to be a meal to remember!
Because the day was hot, Dolly was wearing a pair of blue shorts and a blue halter. Over this she had tied one of Mrs. Jameson's voluminous aprons, which reached halfway to her ankles but did not quite close in back. She had bound her hair with a blue satin ribbon that had looked very pretty when she first put it on but that kept sliding off her curls in a maddening way.
There was no time to think of that now, Dolly reminded herself as she glanced at the racing clock. She must put the stew on and let it simmer, as Mrs. Jameson had told her to do. She should have taken the meat out of the freezer before this, but she had forgotten all about it. However, while it was thawing, she could make the chiffon pies, and there would still be time to peel the vegetables, put them in the pot and make a salad. The main thing was, the table was all set and it looked lovely.
"I'll show Tom Sanders that I'm no lily of the field," Dolly told herself. "I'll bet by the time he finishes this dinner, he'll know that even a pretty girl can be an efficient cook."
But everything took a little longer than Dolly had expected. For one thing, the stew meat was so thoroughly frozen that it refused to thaw out until Dolly had the happy inspiration of soaking it in hot water. For another thing, there were not quite enough graham crackers to make the crust for two lemon chiffon pies, so Dolly had to compromise on one fairly large pie which could not hold all the filling she had made. And, of course, she would have to cut her finger while she was peeling the potatoes, which made it necessary to run upstairs and apply first aid. While there, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and thought that she looked the part of a household drudge.
But there was no time to bother about that now. She flew downstairs and tried to keep her bandaged finger from getting in the way while she cut up the vegetables. It was already five o'clock, and usually all the men were in the house at five-thirty and ready to eat at six. Well, Dolly thought rebelliously, tonight they would just have to eat at a more fashionable hour; the stew would be ready at seven. Maybe she'd better just skip the salad.
She took the meat out of the hot water-it was a peculiarly sickly gray color, but satisfactorily limp-and put it into the pot. Not realizing that the meat needed a head start, she added the vegetables and put in a scant cup of water, remembering Mrs. Jameson's admonition that too much water would spoil the stew. She turned the gas flame high in order to speed up the cooking and realized suddenly that she was quite tired.
The kitchen was a shambles, but she would wait to clean it up until after she was dressed. Under no circumstances must Tom Sanders see her dressed as she was now. She had just started up the stairs when the front door bell rang.
"If that's a salesman, I'll teach him not to come around bothering women while they're trying to cook dinner," Dolly said in annoyance.
She opened the door and for a second could not believe her eyes. On the doorstep stood two of the most attractive and sophisticated young women Dolly had ever seen. The tall one was as blonde and blue-eyed as Dolly herself. But where Dolly's hair curled softly around her face, the girl wore her hair in a smooth and shining gold cap. Whereas Dolly's face was rounded, the girl's was a classic oval. Her gray linen frock was smartly cut and her shoulders were square and suntanned.
The shorter girl was dark-haired, but she too was perfectly groomed and smartly dressed in a blue linen sheath. Behind them the afternoon sun glinted on the chrome trim of a bright-red convertible which seemed to Dolly's dazzled eyes to be studded with diamonds.
"Is this the Winsted home?" the blonde one asked.
Dolly nodded dumbly. To save her life she could not have uttered a word. The musical, slightly husky voice was as striking as the girl herself.
"See, Cindy, I told you I could find the place," the blonde girl said triumphantly. She turned back to Dolly. "I am Dorothy Palmer and this is my friend Cynthia Hallbrook. We wondered if we could see Dan and Tom this evening. We are on our way to Ogunquit, Maine, for a few weeks' vacation, and it seemed a pity not to stop by when we were so close."
"They-Dan and Tom, I mean-they're not home yet," Dolly said in a voice she scarcely recognized as her own. "But do come in," she added awkwardly. "You can wait for them here. I'm Dorothy Winsted." The next minute she could have bitten her tongue off; why in the world hadn't she said she was the maid?
They came into the house, and as Dolly turned to show them into the living room the blonde girl gave a little squeal of laughter.
"That costume is really something," said Dorothy Palmer. "Did you know that apron doesn't quite close in the back?"
Dolly knew that the comment was made in all friendliness, but she could not help feeling chagrined that she had been caught in such an outfit by such perfectly turned-out guests.
"I was just on my way upstairs to change," she said stiffly. "If you want to wait in the living room, I'll go up and change right now."
The two girls went into the living room with exclamations of approval. At any rate the room looked nice, Dolly reflected as she ran up the stairs; she had been fortunate enough to pick some additional roses for the bisque vase on the coffee table.
Dolly dressed more quickly than she ever had before. She had not intended to wear the white dress tonight, but she felt that the occasion called for nothing less.
"The hostess always wears white," she muttered grimly. "And anyhow, it's the only thing I have that looks sophisticated enough for those two."
She tried to smooth down her hair, although she knew it was hopeless. Thanks to her exertions in the kitchen, her hair was more tightly curled than ever and would no respond to any smoothing-down effort.
By the time she reentered the living room she had regained her poise and was delighted to see that both girls approved of her dress.
"Have you driven all the way from Virginia?" she asked in her best hostess manner.
"Yes, we did," Cindy Hallbrook answered for both of them. "Dan and I and my father have been very close ever since my mother died. Of course he's only been away from home for a month, but when I heard that Doll was driving up to Ogunquit, begged a ride."
"Since your name is Dorothy, too," the blonde girl said, "you know how it is with that name. Nobody ever uses it, and I am so used to being called 'Doll' now that I scarcely answer to anything else."
Dolly said helplessly: "They call me 'Dolly.' "
"But of course! We are so much alike in coloring," Doll commented. "But you are a Dolly, and" -she shrugged expressively- "I am scarcely a doll."
There were many who might dispute the fact, Dolly thought, but she did not make a point of it. She only smiled, and at that moment she heard Shirley come in the front door.
"In here, Shirley," she called. "We have guests."
"I'll be right in," Shirley said in a voice that was oddly strangled. "Something's burning, Dolly. I'll go right out to the kitchen."
With a hasty "Excuse me," Dolly followed her cousin. She had been so upset and so eager to entertain the unexpected guests that she had completely forgotten the beef stew! But, once reminded, she could not imagine how she had missed the odor that hung like a tangible cloud in the hall and which was intensified in the smoke-filled kitchen. There was no doubt about it. She had followed Mrs. Jameson's instructions not to use too much water. As a consequence the meat, the potatoes, the carrots and the tomatoes were scorched until they seemed about to burst into flame.
Before Dolly even came into the kitchen Shirley had opened the back door, turned on the kitchen fan and turned off the gas. Dolly could only stand in the center of the floor and wail:
"What am I going to do? My beautiful dinner is ruined. Oh, what am I going to do?"
"First," Shirley said with authority, "you are going to tell me what you had planned for dinner. And what in the world happened to make you forget that you had food cooking on the stove? It's almost five-thirty, and we have not only three men but two guests expecting to eat. Come on; talk."
It was the guests who had caused the trouble, Dolly explained. They had appeared just as she was about to go upstairs and dress. The one girl, Doll Palmer, wanted to see Tom Sanders. The dark-haired one, Cindy Hallbrook, asked to see Dan.
"Dan's wife?" Shirley's lips were white and she could move them only with difficulty. "You mean Dan is married?"
"I don't know," Dolly said with a puzzled frown. "Of course their names are the same, but I honestly didn't think of it; everything happened so fast."
Shirley rallied and took the situation in hand. Dolly was to go back into the living room and entertain their guests until Dan and Tom showed up. In the meantime she, Shirley, would take the steaks out of the freezer and start the broiler. Since the vegetables were scorched, she would take what they had in the freezer and start them cooking before she herself came into the living room.
"And if I find out Dan Hallbrook is married, after what he said to me, then I'll feed them all burnt stew and they can like it," Shirley added vindictively.
The tears in Dolly's eyes threatened to overflow. "But what about my beautiful dinner?" she wailed. "Now Tom Sanders will be sure that what he said is true: I don't know a thing about keeping house."
Shirley assured her cousin that Tom Sanders would know nothing of the sort. She would broil the steaks, would make a mushroom gravy, and would arrange dishes of frozen peas and French fried potatoes in good time for a six o'clock supper. Dolly, meanwhile, was to put on her sequin-trimmed hostess apron and bring the food in from the kitchen as if she alone were responsible for its preparation.
"Shirley, darling!" Dolly was radiant. "I'll do as much for you sometime." She danced out through the door.
When Shirley came into the living room a few minutes later, the three girls were apparently enjoying each other's company. She hesitated in the doorway until Dolly, noticing her presence, brought her in and introduced her to the others. Because Cindy Hallbrook was closest to the door, Dolly introduced her first. Cindy impulsively held out her hand.
"I'm Dan's sister," she explained. Shirley could only stare at her blankly; she had been so convinced that the girl was Dan's wife she could scarcely believe her ears.
"And this is Dorothy Palmer-Doll to us," Dolly continued. Her wise smile acknowledged the fact that all was well for Shirley.
This time it was Shirley who stretched out her hand in welcome. "I am so glad to know you, Miss Palmer-Doll."
"I am Tom Sanders' fiancee," the blonde girl explained with a smile, and Shirley saw the light go out of Dolly's face.
They were saved from further conversation by the entrance of George Weaver. Shirley thankfully slipped back to the kitchen to put the steak under the broiler. She could not help overhearing when the truck drivers came in shortly after. There was evidently a quiet reunion between Dan and his sister. But Doll's squeal of delight could have been heard in the heart of the village two miles away.
"Sugah! Sugah! What do you mean going off and leaving me alone for a whole month? I purely can't stand having you away from me so long and messin' up with all these pretty Nawthen gals. You come right back with me this minute. You hear?"
Shirley slammed the oven door with unnecessary vigor. Poor Dolly! What was she going to do now?
CHAPTER TEN
Dolly had more backbone than she had given her credit for, Shirley thought a while later as they cleaned up the dishes. The dinner had gone surprisingly well, considering its inauspicious beginning. Dolly managed to ignore the subtle barbs thrown at her by Doll Palmer, though Shirley knew they weren't falling on deaf ears. Her heart went out to her cousin for finding herself in such an unpleasant situation.
Before it got too late, the guest got up to leave. Dolly and Shirley stood at the door waving good-bye, and both sighed-perhaps for different reasons-when they were out of sight. Out of sympathy, Shirley volunteered to wash the bulk of the dirty dishes.
"You're a pal, cousin," Dolly said. She massaged the brunette's neck as the girl stood at the sink. "On a night like this I appreciate any help I can get."
"Why don't you go ahead and take a shower and get ready for bed, Dolly?" Shirley suggested kindly. "I'll finish here if you want to relax."
"Thanks, I will," her cousin replied. "I don't think I'm going to relax for a while, though."
Poor Dolly, Shirley thought as she finished up the dishes. Her cousin had looked very tense as though she'd bottled up too many emotions over the course of the evening. Shirley wondered if there was something she could do, but probably if Dolly got a good sleep it would help her face the world.
When the pretty brunette had completed her chore, she decided to shower and hit the sack also. Fortunately, Dolly was done so Shirley got right in after shedding her clothes. The water felt very soothing, and soon she forgot all about the difficult evening.
She wrapped a towel around herself and went into the room. She left the light off, preferring the shaft of silver moonlight that came in through the window. Dolly was in bed, covered by a single sheet. Shirley peered close to see if her cousin was asleep.
"Still awake, Shirley," her cousin said. "I guess I'm too wound up."
"Anything I can do?" Shirley asked sympathetically.
"No, thanks." Then Dolly rolled onto her stomach. "Well, there might be one thing."
"Certainly. What is it?"
"I tell you, I've found that a little rubdown never fails to get me good and relaxed for sleep."
"That's no problem at all," Shirley laughed. "Here, move over and let me sit down."
"You're a real friend," Dolly cooed. "I'll ask you to massage my back for only a minute."
Glad to be of service, Shirley sat down and tugged the sheet down to her cousin's hips. The pretty blonde had not bothered to put on a nightgown and Shirley admired her white, smooth skin. She reached down and placed her hands on the soft flesh, then began to gently rub in slow circular motions.
"Hmmmmm ... that feels nice," the beautiful blonde murmured.
Shirley's hands roamed all over her cousin's back, up around her thin shoulders, down to the slope of her hips, and along her trim sides. When her fingers came in contact with the two large bulges of Dolly's bunched-up breasts, Shirley gasped inwardly at their formidable size. She remembered the time out in the woods with Dolly and Tom, when she had seen how voluptuous her cousin was-how round and firm her white, red-tipped boobs; her slim torso; the blond, triangular muff....
Now, now, Shirley, the young girl inwardly admonished herself. This is no time to start getting any randy thoughts in your head.
Yet the effect was evident as the pretty brunette felt a few drops of telltale moisture course through her vagina. She did her best to ignore them, concentrating only on giving Dolly a professional massage.
After all, she mused to herself, not only is Dolly a girl ... but she's my cousin. What kind of depraved person would I be if I did something lesbian and it was also something incestuous?
Fortunately, Dolly seemed unaware of he cousin's uncomfortable thoughts. She lay still, crooning her gratitude as the soft hand moved all over her back. It felt so good that she wanted more of her skin massaged.
"Do the legs, Shirley," she whispered "This feels so wonderful ... please massage my legs."
Shirley found herself in a quandary Because of the rising heat in her body she didn't want Dolly's beautiful body to be further exposed ... yet, if she refused, he cousin might realize the perverted thought the brunette had. Reluctantly, Shirley drew the sheet all the way off. Barely controlling a sigh of delight, Shirley gazed at the sloping, creamy mounds of the blonde's smooth ass-cheeks and the slender, smooth flesh of her long legs.
"That's it, Shirley," the girl cooed. "Mmmmmm...."
Shirley felt her face flushing as her hands began to travel up Dolly's limbs. She tried to stop her hands at the blonde's knees, but they went farther upward as though they had minds of their own. Soon they were slowly massaging her cousin's soft thighs
... then, out of control, the backs of her fingers began to stroke Dolly's succulent ass-cheeks.
"Yes, now I'm getting relaxed," Dolly murmured. "Here, it's more comfortable for you if you get up on the bed."
So saying, Dolly spread her legs and Shirley had no choice but to climb up and kneel between them. Her hands trembled as she rubbed Dolly's thighs. Shirley tried to shut off her rapidly mounting desire but her efforts were to no avail. More droplets of warm juice emanated from her womb and moistened her furry brown mound.
"Oh Shirley, you don't know how good this feels!" the luscious blonde crooned.
Yes, it felt good, but it was no longer relaxing. Dolly discovered that the effect of her cousin's hands on her thighs and her buttocks was to ignite a flame in her young loins. She stretched herself out fully, grinding her swelling jugs into the mattress as she offered herself to her pretty cousin's ministrations. She decided it was only harmless fun-there wasn't any danger of going further ... was there? Abruptly shocked at her own wanton nature, Dolly realized she wouldn't mind if they did go further.
"More, Shirley," she whispered hoarsely. "Run your hands all over me."
Despite the loud warnings of her inhibited nature, Shirley complied with her cousin's request. Now she swept her stroking fingers the length of Dolly's delicious body, starting at her shoulders, down her back, across her sloping ass-cheeks, along her inner thighs, and down her long, slender legs. As though to tempt her beyond all reason, Dolly spread her legs wider and lifted her ass a couple of inches off the mattress.
"Are ... you relaxed, Dolly?" the brunette whispered huskily.
"Almost," her cousin lied. "Don't stop."
Against her will, Shirley's mouth watered as she observed the tuft of blonde hair peeking out from the smooth crevice of Dolly's ass crack. Then the blonde hitched up another inch, and Shirley could see the edge of the girl's pink slit.
Am I dreaming? Shirley gasped inwardly. Or is Dolly's pussy wet? Maybe ... she's excited, too!
The idea of her cousin being as excited as she was made Shirley quiver with anxiety. What a charged situation this was! Here were two pretty, voluptuous young girls, both in the same bed while a silvery moonlight flowed in the window, touching each other, their pussies moistening with wanton sexual excitement. Shirley almost left the room because ... she realized she desperately wanted to have sex with her cousin!
Maybe I'm a lesbian! her mind reeled. And this would be incest! Oh Cod ... I don't care ... I want to get down and lick Dolly's juicy twat!
The shuddering of her body loosened the wrapped towel. As though it was a go-ahead signal, it slipped off and fell across one of Dolly's legs. Realizing that her beautiful cousin was now as naked as she, Dolly discovered that she could no longer control her urgent need.
"Shirley ... honey," she heaved, "please ... rub your bush against my ass!"
"God, Dolly ... I want to...." Shirley wailed.
"Then do it ... right now!"
Any further inhibitions Shirley might have had immediately evaporated at the sound of her passionate cousin's hoarse demand. The curvaceous brunette hoisted herself forward and touched Dolly's quivering, soft ass-cheeks with her wet, burning mound. Instantly, both girls ignited and they pressed against one another-Shirley grinding her aching pussy against the blonde's up-raised buns.
"That's what I want, honey!" Dolly whined.
"Me too, sweetheart!" Shirley cried. "I wish I had a dick ... so I could fuck you up the asshole!"
Yet the frisky brunette was doing a very good job of simulating that erotic action. She shoved her hips back and forth, battering Dolly's soft ass-cheeks with her inflamed pussy. Then she went wild as she pressed her wet bush along the length of the blonde's damp ass crack. With her face buried in the mattress, Dolly got up on her knees. She reached behind and spread apart her succulent mounds, exposing the rubbery circle of her asshole to her cousin's rampaging bush.
"Oh God ... Dolly ... I'm getting so hot!" Shirley called in a high-pitched voice.
"Yes, I'm horny as a goat, too!" her cousin replied huskily.
Any previous restraint or composure the two young girls might have had before was now totally forgotten as their healthy, voluptuous bodies writhed against each other. Suddenly, Dolly turned over on her back.
"Please, Shirley, lie down on top of me," she whimpered. "Let's rub our cunts together!"
Speechless with desire, Shirley readily complied. The two female lovers clutched each other, pressing their large, swollen tits into the other's flesh, the erect, aching nipples digging in like tiny daggers. With wildly frantic motions, they hitched up and down, rubbing their drenched mounds together.
"I ... I wish I could fuck you, Dolly!" Shirley screamed hysterically.
"Christ, yes! Hurry, Shirley, I'm so hot ... let's do sixty-nine!"
Shirley hesitated. "I ... never did that before!"
"It's great ... c'mon, let's do it!"
Spurred on by her cousin's encouraging cries, Shirley turned her inflamed body around. She brought her drooling mouth to hover above Dolly's pink, steaming slit, and her own fiery cunt was draped over the blonde's waiting mouth. Without further hesitation, the two girls fell to their mutual feast.
"That's the way, Shirley!" Dolly squealed. "That's the way to lick my twat!"
"Ohhh ... feels so good!" Shirley yelled. "Stick your tongue ... in mmmeeeee!"
As Shirley's lips nibbled on the sweet, slippery flesh of her cousin's succulent pussy lips, Dolly stiffened her tongue and lewdly snaked it into the brunette's dripping canal. Both howled their ecstasy as torrents of syrupy, musk-scented cunt juice were lapped up by furiously active tongues. Slurping noises echoed in the small bedroom.
"Never knew it could be so good," Shirley heaved, "to eat out another girl!"
"Jesus ... it's wonderful ... Shirley, your pussy is so delicious!"
The mutual enjoyment of their erotic snack thrust the two kissing cousins into a higher realm of excitement. Their luscious bodies now completely took over; their senses overwhelmed by wanton, lesbian activity. Tongues flashed and heads bobbed as the girls pistoned their wet prods in and out of each other's burning twats. Hands clutched desperately at long, slender legs and bulging boobs, capped by aching, protuberant nipples, thrashed together. Very soon their hoarse cries rose to an uncontrollably hysterical pitch.
"Shirley ... Shirllleeeee!" Dolly squealed in a frenzy. "I can't stop ... going to...."
Her lusty cousin knew exactly what the blonde was trying to say. "I am too ... I am ... Oh Jeeeeesus!"
Sure enough, their exclamations were signals that orgasms were at the very verge of release. With final ounces of strength, the cousins pushed their tongues into tropically hot pussies and they brazenly rampaged the succulent inner recesses.
"Dolly ... this is it ... can't hold back ... any more!" Shirley shrieked. "I ... I ... Aaaaiieeeee!!!"
"Me too ... mmmeeeee ... Mmmeeeeeee!!!!"
Reality was shattered into a trillion fragments as both girls were sent spinning into a universe of total feminine climax. The battered bed rocked against the floor as the two exploding forms thrashed ecstatically, their screams of release reverberating throughout the room.
Light years later, the girls felt consciousness returning as the detonations of their bodies subsided. With a groan, Shirley rolled off her cousin. They lay next to each other on the perspiration-soaked bed, arms entwined.
"Ooooh ... that was wonderful," Dolly cooed.
"I know," Shirley added. "If I knew female love would be like that...."
"Well, we can always make up for lost time," the blonde giggled.
Yet Shirley had some misgivings about the experience. "You know, Dolly, I don't think I'm really a lesbian ... because even right now I wish I had a long, hard cock in me."
"Yes, I agree." Then Dolly gave her cousin a mischievous grin. "Maybe I can help us out."
"What do you mean?" the brunette gasped.
Without replying, Dolly got out of bed and went to her dresser. A moment later she returned with a long, thick object in her small hands.
"I have a confession to make," she whispered. "The other night I was really horny thinking about Tom. I went out to the truck because I thought he was there ... but instead I found this billy club he keeps for protection on the road." Dolly's face contorted with remembered and renewed need. "I was so hot I ... fucked myself with this!"
"Dolly! How perverted can you get!" Shirley said in a shocked whisper. Yet, inwardly, her interest, among other things, was aroused. "What ... can we do with it now?"
As Dolly related her plan, the breathing of both girls grew labored with depraved desire. "We'll stick each end in our pussies ... and fuck it! Shirley, it will be like we have dicks and we're fucking each other!"
The titillating prospect proved to be too much for the brunette's modest reservations. "Yes, honey, let's do it! I'm hot all over again ... so let's fuck each other!"
Without further conversation, the two excited cousins got into position. They sat facing each other, legs entwined, tits jutting out provocatively, with the large billy club between them. Each held an end as they hitched forward and slowly inserted the huge dildo into hungry twats.
"Dolly, honey ... it's so big!" Shirley squealed.
"I know ... ooooh ... just keep feeding it in!"
And that they did, hitching closer and closer as their dripping cunts swallowed up the long, hard club. Soon they felt its thickness deep in their bellies and their grasping cunts were so close they almost touched hairs.
"Now let's fuck it!" Dolly mewled. "Yes ... uunngggh ... and play with my titties!"
Unable to resist the lewd action, the two pretty girls began to work their hips back and forth, riding the long pole like a bucking stallion. Their hands were busy rubbing each other's swollen, out-thrust boobs, tweaking and pinching erect nipples until with a lunge Shirley fell forward and popped a large red bud into her drooling mouth.
"That's it, Shirllleeeee!" Dolly screamed. "Suck on my big jugs!"
Dolly also leaned forward and took a juicy nipple between her full, red lips. She greedily nibbled on the tasty tit-flesh as Shirley did the same to her. In a frenzy, their jiggling bodies humped together, their inflamed, drenched pussies repeatedly swallowing the huge, brown dildo.
It wasn't long before both masturbating girls felt more orgasms boiling up in their loins. Their hips bucked wildly now as they frantically drove toward satisfaction.
The blonde instantly joined in. "I can't stop fucking this tool ... I ... Aaaayyyyaaahhhhh!!!!!"
Mutual climactic explosions rocked the cousins as their frenzied humping had the longed-for effect. Their howls of joy bounced off the room's walls as wave after searing wave of orgasmic power overwhelmed their senses. It seemed like half the night passed by before they returned to earth.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The voice that came over the telephone when Shirley answered was clipped and impersonal:
"Is a Mr. Thomas Sanders there?"
"He lives here, but he isn't in right now," Shirley explained. "May I take a message?"
"I have a telegram for Mr. Sanders," the voice answered. "When do you expect him?"
"Not tonight. Probably not until tomorrow evening." Isn't there some message?"
After conversation with another person in the office, the voice came again clearly. "You may take the message. Do you care to write it down?"
"Just a minute." Shirley rummaged in the desk and finally found a pencil. The back of an old envelope had to serve; she indicated that she was ready, and the voice said without inflection:
"Mr. Thomas Sanders, care of Jenny Winsted, Burrbridge, Vermont. Truck seems to be having nervous breakdown. Local people in the garages cannot find what trouble is. Suggest you come as soon as possible to get her rolling. Still have ten days' work here. It is signed Ray Marsh, Kansas City, Kansas, care of Drover's Hotel. Do you want it read again?"
"No, thank you," Shirley said as she wrote the word "Drover's."
"I will see that Tom Sanders gets the message."
She propped the envelope in a conspicuous spot on the desk and started back to her room. Aunt Jenny suddenly appeared in her own doorway; she was still dressed, Shirley noticed, although she was undoubtedly tired from the unaccustomed activities of the day.
"Who was it, Shirley?"
"A telegram for Tom Sanders. One of his trucks-the one that's working in Kansas City-is out of order. Somebody named Ray Marsh, who is the driver, I suppose, wants Tom to come out there right away." Shirley could hear the relief in her aunt's voice. "I can't say that I'll be sorry to see him go; that young man is becoming something of a problem."
The next morning and afternoon seemed to go by on leaden feet. It was not raining, but the sky was overcast and even the garden seemed gloomy. Shirley helped Richard put on his sweater and played with him for a while out of doors. Then she read to him for an hour, choosing a story from his favorite book on King Arthur and his knights of the Round Table. Richard should really have a playmate his own age, Shirley thought. But when he went to school next year he would automatically find friends and then he would no longer be alone. Richard had grown very little since he had been with them, but he seemed to stand straighter since the name "Dinky" had been dropped.
Mrs. Jameson called that Richard's supper was ready, and Shirley went to her room to freshen up. Dolly was already in the living room, talking with Aunt Jenny, and Shirley knew that both women were waiting, as she was, for the truckmen to come in.
Dolly had received with surprising indifference the news that Tom would have to leave.
Shirley saw the truck drive up and ran to open the door. She felt a premonitory pang of loneliness as she realized that first Tom and then Dan would no longer be returning at night. They had become a familiar and important part of the household.
When Tom heard the news, he instantly asked if he might use the phone. He called the railroad station in Stanton.
There was a train leaving about midnight bound for New York, Tom reported after talking with the railroad information service. He might not be able to get a berth, but he would try to sleep in the coach.
"The only thing is, how am I going to get to Stanton?" he inquired. "I don't like to take the truck over there again; the brakes should be adjusted before Dan takes it on the job tomorrow."
"But of course I'll drive you in our jalopy," Dolly said quickly. "It's not a fancy job, but it will get to Stanton and back."
Tom objected: "That's a round trip of over a hundred miles."
"You could take my car," Mrs. Jameson offered, pausing on her way downstairs after seeing that Richard was all set for his favorite TV Western-and bed.
"No, thank you," Dolly refused. "I'm used to our old heap and I'd feel nervous driving your car. I haven't been over to Stanton lately, and I'd just as soon go for the ride. Sorry you have to go, Tom. But I suppose there is no help for it."
Dan was making frantic signals to Shirley to follow him outside. Puzzled, she left the living room and followed him through the front door. He was grinning down at her in a conspiratorial manner.
"What gives with the cloak and dagger stuff?" Shirley demanded. "Supper is almost ready, and Tom should eat before he starts on that long journey."
"Where's Dink-I mean Richard?"
"Looking at TV, I suppose. Mrs. Jameson usually gets him ready for bed before she turns on the set. But what in the world...." Shirley began to feel annoyed at his strange air of mystery.
"I have a present for him," Dan said with dignity. "And I'd like you to be there when I give it to him."
"A present?" Shirley asked. "Where is it?"
"In the truck, but it's a secret until I get it up to the room." Dan went over to the cab and took out a bundle wrapped in his old raincoat. He held it carefully, almost as if it were a piece of china and, motioning Shirley to follow, entered the house.
The others were gathered in the living room. Only George looked up as Shirley and Dan started up the stairs, and his glance was casual.
Richard, with only his night light turned on, was watching TV with an enraptured expression. As Shirley came in and turned on the light on the bureau, he blinked.
"Say, what's the idea?" he protested. "The sheriff just shot two men and he has three more to go. This here is a whale of a story. Turn that light off!"
"No, Richard," Shirley said firmly. "You must turn the TV off. Dan has a present for you, and we have only a minute before we go down to supper."
"What kind of a present?"
"I don't know," Shirley admitted. "It's wrapped up in Dan's raincoat." As she spoke Dan deposited the bundle carefully on Richard's bed and started to unwrap it. Richard, instantly diverted, walked over to the bed and stood watching. Shirley took that moment to switch off the television and then, as round-eyed as Richard, stared at the scene unfolding before her unbelieving gaze.
In the middle of an old raincoat stood a shivering ball of fur that was apparently part spaniel, part bird dog and part collie. His face was almost square, but the rest of him was too round for the short stubby legs that supported his body. He took one wavering step and then collapsed, but gamely dragged himself erect and stood watching them warily. His tail was surprisingly long, and he waved it once in a gesture of friendship. He was, Shirley decided, the most mixed-up dog she had ever seen. He was mostly white, but his ears were black and his eyes were ringed with black in an uneven way. His body was freckled with black, almost like a Dalmation, but his tail was like a beautiful white feather.
Richard threw himself on the bed with a joyous yelp that Shirley had never heard before. The little dog was not startled but seemed, instead, to recognize an old friend.
He stopped shivering and licked the boy's face.
"Oh, Stuffy! Stuffy, you came alive! You're alive!" The boy's ecstasy was almost beyond his powers of expression.
Shirley finally came to. "Dan Hallbrook, how could you?" she demanded. "Aunt Jenny will never in the world allow a dog in the house; you've built his hopes up just for nothing." She advanced firmly toward the bed, and Richard threw himself on the puppy protectively.
"No, you mustn't take Stuffy. He's mine; he don't belong to you."
"But, Richard dear, this is Aunt Jenny's house and nobody asked her about a puppy...." Shirley glared at Dan for putting her in such a spot.
Dan Hallbrook did not seem to care. He was regarding the boy and the dog with great satisfaction. "She certainly won't mind if we keep the pup overnight," he said carelessly. "Then in the morning Richard can ask if he can keep him. If she says yes then I will personally build Stuffy a house all his own; he won't have to live in Aunt Jenny's house or bother her in any way. How about it, Richard?"
"Yes, oh yes!" breathed the boy, moving a little away so that Shirley could see the puppy's black-ringed eyes gazing adoringly into Richard's. "I don't never want Stuffy to go away. He's alive!"
Mrs. Jameson called up the stairs: "Shirley, we're just about ready to eat. Will you tell Dan, please?"
Shirley answered in a voice that she hoped sounded normal and then muttered to Dan: "If that puppy is to stay even one night, he'll have to have a box or something of his own. Otherwise I'll go right downstairs and tell Aunt Jenny this minute. It's your problem; what are you going to do about it?"
"No problem at all," Dan said in the same maddeningly calm way. "I have a big box my windbreaker came in. I think it's a little large, but we'll try it on Stuffy for size. There's even some tissue paper still in it."
He disappeared, and Shirley picked up the dog and set him firmly on the foot of the bed. "You get into bed, Richard," she said as sternly as she could, "and remember this is only for tonight. Tomorrow you have to let Aunt Jenny decide about Stuffy. Why do you call him that?"
"Because he's just like the little dog that fell down and died, the one I took into the little house to play with. Can Stuffy have a gold collar, too?"
"The Staffordshire dog!" Shirley did not know whether to laugh or cry. This bundle of fur with the black spots resembled the purebred spaniels of centuries earlier only in coloring. But to Richard that apparently was enough.
"Can Stuffy have a collar?" Richard was repeating as Dan came back. The box was put in a corner and the puppy deposited in it without much ceremony.
"We'd better hurry." Dan could not resist giving the puppy a furtive pat. "Tom's already downstairs."
With the thought that the puppy would rather have some food than a collar, Shirley turned out the light on the bureau and followed Dan down to the dining room.
She felt extraordinarily guilty as she settled down to the ordered serenity of the table with a murmured excuse. Mrs. Jameson had made chicken fricassee with fluffy white biscuits on top. It was one of Shirley's favorite dishes, but tonight all she could think of was that absurd little dog and the look of radiance on Richard's face. It would be hard to smuggle out any of the chicken, but somehow she must manage to get a biscuit and cover it with the fricassee sauce.
"That's the best fricassee you ever made, Mabel," Jenny was saying with satisfaction. "Shirley, you usually do a better job than you are doing tonight."
"I'm not too hungry," Shirley said, and caught the twinkle in Dan's eyes. Just for that, she thought to herself, I'll make you carry Stuffy's supper up to him. It had occurred to her that she actually had no excuse to go upstairs after the beds were turned down and Richard settled for the night.
"This must be an exciting life, Tom," George said a little wistfully. "It's sort of-well, sort of romantic to go dashing off across the country at a moment's notice."
"There is nothing romantic about a truck breakdown," Tom assured him. "But it does give us a chance to get around the country and compare different parts of it. I didn't know if we were going to like it here"-Tom's bland stare was for Jenny-"But I declare I've never had such meals in my life. I'll never forget this part of New England, ma'am." Although he spoke to her aunt, Shirley felt sure the words were meant for Dolly.
Her cousin was looking a little pale, and the silk jersey dress was a bright shade of blue that made her eyes look washed out. She had seldom worn the dress and had told Shirley she did not like it. Why would she wear it tonight, the last night she would see Tom? Shirley could not puzzle it out. But Aunt Jenny was waiting for her to clear the table, and she had a special reason tonight for saving a minute or two.
She flew around quickly and managed to find the small covered dish she was looking for. Shirley put her uneaten biscuit into the dish and poured some sauce over it. Then she purposely left one of the coffee cups in the kitchen, and when she came back with it into the dining room it was easy enough to slip the dish onto the sideboard.
All the others were concentrating on the chocolate cake and coffee, with the exception of Dan. His slight nod confirmed the fact that he saw her and would carry Stuffy's supper up to him.
Shirley finally began to relax. Well fed, the puppy would probably sleep through the night, and that meant Richard would sleep well, too. In the morning, she would talk with Aunt Jenny, and perhaps they could think of someone who would give Stuffy a good home. Because, of course, her aunt would not keep the puppy! She did not keep any pets.
After they had left the dining room, Shirley put everything in place and noted with satisfaction that Dan had picked up the dish. He had done it so unobtrusively that she had not seen him, and she doubted if any of the others had noticed it either. Certainly not Aunt Jenny, chatting with Mrs. Jameson in the kitchen as they washed up the dishes. Or George Weaver, who had announced his intention of reading the paint shop annual report in the living room. Or Dolly, who had apparently gone straight to her room.
Shirley started toward the room herself. Then, through the screen door, she saw Dolly outside. She was slamming and locking the trunk door of the car, and for a minute Shirley wondered if, by some misfortune, they had a flat tire and Dolly was getting the spare. Then all at once she realized that Tom must have brought his suitcase downstairs and Dolly had had him put it in the trunk.
"Do you mind if I borrow that white cable knit of yours?" Dolly asked when she came in.
"Of course not," Shirley said at once. "But do you need a sweater on a warm night like this?"
"You never know...." Dolly said vaguely, and broke off as Tom and Dan came downstairs and the older women came out of the kitchen. Even George came out from the living room to join in the farewells.
Jenny, with true graciousness, said: "We have enjoyed having you stay here, Tom. We shall miss you very much indeed. You are both fine boys."
"Well, the job is nearly over so far as we are concerned, anyway," Tom said. "It will only be two weeks longer that Dan has to carry on alone."
"I hadn't realized the highway is so nearly completed," George Weaver said in a surprised tone.
"The landscape men and those who put up the fencing are already working," Dan explained. "The highway should be opened this fall if all goes well."
There was a brief flurry of goodbyes and a salute from Tom to all of them as the car turned into the road. Shirley sighed; it was the end of an interlude.
CHAPTER TWELVE
"Want to go for a ride?"
Dan dangled a set of car keys in front of Shirley about half an hour later. She had been sitting in the living room, staring with unseeing eyes at a magazine, ever since Dolly and Tom had driven away. Aunt Jenny with her knitting and Mrs. Jameson with her needlework made a few remarks in a desultory tone, but no one seemed much interested in talking. Only minutes before, George Weaver had tucked the annual paint shop report in his pocket and announced that it was so bad it had made him tired. He was going up to his room to relax.
"I hadn't thought of a ride, Dan," Shirley said slowly.
"Why don't you go, dear?" Jenny asked indulgently.
"You've been cooped up with Richard most of the day and it will do you good to get a breath of fresh air."
"Where did you get the car?" Shirley asked.
"George Weaver was kind enough to lend it to me," said Dan, and left it at that. Shirley suspected that George had found Dan in the boy's room and had met Stuffy. It was probable, in the father's eyes, that the dog was no less than beautiful if his son thought so. But it would be like George to suggest that Dan get out of the house and he stay with Richard. Then neither Mabel Jameson nor Jenny would be tempted to look in on the boy unexpectedly.
Shirley agreed to go riding, feeling she had little choice. She said good night and went with Dan out to the car.
They said little in the short drive to the top of a hill overlooking the new highway. The old road that had once climbed its crest had been bypassed in favor of a shorter, lower route for the new road. But it was peaceful up there, with the pines as a backdrop on one side and the undulating slopes down to the dim white ribbon of highway on the other. In the distance the lights of the village of Burrbridge were a pencil-thin line.
"I know you're mad at me," Dan said a minute after he had parked the car in what used to be a wayside rest. "Maybe you've got reason to be. But in our family there was only my sister and myself, one more than poor little Richard can count on, and there was never any question but that each of us would have a dog and that both animals were loved and cherished like humans. I've always thought that was a big part of growing up."
"But Jenny never had any pets, so far as I know," wailed Shirley. "She never had any boarders, either, until I said I wanted them. She'll think I put you up to getting the puppy for Richard."
"The puppy will do as much for your aunt as he does for Richard," Dan said firmly. "The time is coming when you and Dolly will be getting married and will move away into your own homes. Mrs. Jameson had plans for her house. Tom has already left, and time is running out for me. Your aunt should have something helpless and dependent; she's spent all her life taking care of others."
"That's true," Shirley admitted. "But you still should have said something to me first."
It had been a spur-of-the-minute idea, Dan told her. Because they had had no lunches with them, one of the crane operators had mentioned a little sandwich stand on the old road. The place itself was none too clean and the food, to Tom and Dan, was tasteless. But the litter of four puppies in one corner of the room had claimed the attention of all of the highway workers. There was only one Stuffy among the puppies, and Dan felt he had to take him right away or someone else would snatch him up.
Shirley felt his arm go around her shoulders. "Besides, Shirley darlin', you have only to look at anyone with those big, beautiful brown eyes and they'd do anything you asked. Why, I'd even take the puppy back if you asked me, but I know you won't."
Before she could catch her breath, Shirley felt her chin tilted up and Dan's lips were on hers. His caress was surprisingly gentle and sweet, yet his lips were seeking and asking for a response. Without intending to, Shirley felt herself returning his kiss warmly. A minute later, she abruptly realized what she was doing and ducked out of the circle of his arm.
"I don't know, Dan," she said, looking out the window. "J don't think we should ... go on."
"What do you mean by that?" he asked, trying to pull her closer. "You didn't seem like you were having a miserable time just then."
Shirley tried to back away, but his embrace was too insistent. She didn't want to make him mad, so she let him hold her close. She rested her chin against his shoulder and tried to lean far enough away so he couldn't kiss her again.
"I know. It felt good, Dan. It felt real good. But I just have this feeling that it isn't right."
"What are you talking about?" he said, almost shouting. "You women and your feelings. Well, I've got feelings, too. And right here and now I feel like it's right to be with you. And I feel like it's a good thing to do to kiss you and hold you close. And whatever happens after that can't be wrong, either. Not when I feel this strongly about it. Not when it feels this right to me."
"Oh, Dan, are you serious? Do you really mean that?"
"With all my heart I mean that," he said. "And if you don't believe me ... well, I'll just have to find some way to prove it to you."
There was silence between them for quite a while as Shirley thought over the young man's words. Dan certainly seemed completely sincere ... then the pretty brunette began to wonder how much it really mattered right then and there. As time went on she and Dan could explore their true feelings about each other. Right now, sitting alone with him in the car, Shirley had one feeling that she knew was true.
"Is there a blanket in the car, Dan?" she asked.
He laughed. "You're not cold, are you?"
"No, of course not. But I think it would be nice to go sit out under the stars."
The handsome trucker readily agreed and managed to find a blanket in the trunk. After leaving the car, the young couple found a secluded spot on a patch of soft grass. Overhead, twinkling starlight was directed at them.
After a while, Dan turned to the lovely girl. "Have you been thinking about what I said?"
"Yes, Dan, I have. And I think there's one way you can prove your love for me right now."
"Just tell me what it is and it's done."
After that confident statement, Shirley gave her muscular companion a mischievous grin. "Dan, I'd like it very much if you would slip my jeans off and lick my pussy."
The trucker gasped with astonishment. He couldn't believe he had heard right. This was certainly a brazen request! And one he wouldn't mind complying with at all.
"At your service," he laughed. "So why don't you just lie back down right there and let me put my mouth to work where it will do a lot of good."
"Fine with me." Shirley discovered that her breath was quickening in anticipation. Now that she had taken the plunge with her wanton request, she wanted all of it. "Dan, go nice and slow, licking and nibbling everywhere...."
"Don't worry, darling, I know exactly what will turn you into a howling wildcat."
Now that the matter was settled, the frisky brunette stretched herself out flat. Her full chest heaved as she pictured what was about to take place. She knew she had been pretty forward but she didn't care. It's what she fervently wanted-and she was going to get it!
"Now just relax, sweetmeat, and let old Dan take over," the handsome trucker murmured.
A moment later Shirley felt his fingers undoing her jeans. He slid them down off her long, slender legs. The brunette was completely at ease, placing her body at the experienced man's disposal. She grabbed the discarded jeans and put them under her head as a pillow so she could observe all his lewd actions.
Dan crawled between the smooth limbs, lowering his head to the up-raised mound located between white, slightly quivering thighs. For a minute his fingers gently massaged the covered bush and his teeth slowly nibbled on the girl's moistening panties. A sigh of pleasure escaped Shirley's lips as she felt warm trickles of twat juice emanating from her heating womb and further dampening her tiny garment.
"Dan, that feels good," she cooed. "Do more."
To answer her panting plea, the handsome young man took hold of her wet panties with his teeth and gradually drew them off her hips. Then his hands took over and tossed the garment aside. Now her thick brown bush and gleaming pink slit were fully exposed to his admiring gaze.
"Lovely!" he breathed. "Your pussy looks so delicious, Shirley."
"It is, Dan. Taste it and see for yourself!"
That idea was uppermost in his mind. But first his fingers gently stroked her damp, delicate pubic hairs, occasionally allowing the back of his hands to brush against her glistening cunt lips. Shirley moaned with delight, her body heat increasing by leaps and bounds.
"Mmmmmm ... Dan, lick me ... don't wait," she mewled.
The drooling trucker had no desire to wait any longer. He brought his mouth to her dripping entrance and rolled his tongue out. At the first touch of his warm prod, Shirley's back arched and she whined with joy. This was exactly what she wanted-to feel a cool breeze on her almost-naked body, to gaze at the stars, and to have her cunt eaten out by a man who knew exactly how to do it right.
"Yes, you are delicious," Dan whispered, smacking his lips. "I bet I can make a full meal out of you."
"Then do it!" the brunette cried. "Eat up my pussy!"
The frisky young man went ahead and did just that. His probing fingers took hold of Shirley's slippery, pink twat lips and he languidly licked each one. His long tongue rubbed and circled the outer area of her hot honeypot, and tiny slurping noises drifted up into the air as he drank in the increasing flow of love juice. The sweet scent of musk filled his nostrils as he lapped up the syrupy juice.
"Oh God ... yeah, that's it!" Shirley shouted.
"You ain't felt nothing yet," Dan growled.
And to prove it, he moved his tongue to the middle of her gleaming slit and slowly eased it in. The handsome trucker began a succulent journey into the girl's inflamed inner recesses. His tongue snaked its way in, paused to lodge between clenched cunt walls, then with one final push he buried his wet, warm prod deep into Shirley's burning womb.
"Oh shit ... oh my pussy!" she squealed. Grinning with satisfaction at the erotic effect of his efforts, Dan pried open her steaming hole farther and began to lewdly move his tongue in slow circular motions. Shirley watched with breathless amazement as he inserted all of his mouth into her drenched canal. She felt his quick hot breath adding to the mounting flames in her loins. Trembling with wanton desire, the lusty brunette reached down and frantically ran her hands through his dark hair.
"Harder, honey!" she yelled, her voice rising in pitch. "Push your tongue in and out!"
He immediately complied with her desperately expressed wish. By bobbing his head up and down the hard-working trucker was able to brazenly shove his tongue in and out of Shirley's fiery womb in a rapid pistoning motion. The flushed girl's hips soon joined in with the erotic activity. She bucked them up and down, emphasizing the wild tonguefucking rhythm as a wave of orgasmic pressure built up to tidal-wave proportions deep within her aching loins.
"Jesus ... oh shit ... Ohhhh!" the brunette moaned deliriously.
Sensing her approaching climax, the young man increased his vigorous motions. His strong hands reached underneath the bucking girl and he grabbed two soft handfuls of creamy, quivering ass-cheeks. He buried half his face into the steaming passageway, the heat from her inner furnace bathing his face and love-juice coursed down his chin.
Urged on by her hysterical cries, Dan's tongue went completely wild, furiously thrusting, circling, licking, rampaging through her detonating pussy. Only a scant microsecond later, Shirley found a roaring release.
"This is it ... oh Jeeeesus ... Aaaayyyaahhh!!!" the exploding girl shrieked.
Dan held on desperately as Shirley's body wildly bucked and thrashed. Wave after hot wave of orgasm raced through the impassioned brunette. She writhed and squealed her ecstasy, not knowing or caring if she would ever stop coming. The stars blurred and spun above her like a galaxy being hurled out of the universe into a red-misted dimension of desire.
Eventually, however, Shirley managed to claw her way back to reality. Dan released his hold and stood up. Seconds later, he had disrobed, and he stood above the girl exhibiting all his masculine potency.
"Wh-what now?" the young girl stammered.
Before replying, the virile trucker bent down and undid the voluptuous girl's blouse. Her swollen, up-raised jugs sprang free, the erect red nipples jiggling provocatively.
"Now, my love, I'm going to fuck those titties!" Dan bellowed hoarsely.
Shirley gasped, glancing up at his long, jerking cock. "How can you do that? You're ... so big!"
"So are you," he growled. "I'm going to put my dick between those white mountains and shove it up to your mouth!"
Igniting with renewed need, Shirley mewled her agreement. The lusty trucker straddled her heaving chest, poising his inflamed dork at the entrance to her creamy, smooth valley. With a harsh grunt of effort, he slid his swollen member up along her freckled chest until his purpling cockhead popped into view at Shirley's neck.
"Suck it, Shirley!" Dan demanded. "Take it into your mouth and blow it!"
Encouraged by his cheers, the young girl got her first taste of what French-fucking was ail about. She leaned her head forward, her eyes widening at the sight of his red, throbbing meat lodged between the two white mountains of her swollen knockers. His cockhead, pulsating and purple, dribbled pre-cum onto her neck, and the warm, slippery fluid oozed down her shoulders in thin rivulets. Tentatively, she flicked her tongue out and lapped up a small amount of man-juice.
"Is that ... what you want?" Shirley whimpered.
"I want much more than that, twatface!" the lusty trucker roared. "I'm going to shove this pole through your tits and into your mouth! You're going to suck it and like it? What do you think of that?"
"Oh Dan, I love it!" the brunette squealed. "Here, shove it in my face!"
No sooner was the last word out of her mouth when the potent young man lunged his hips forward and fed inch after throbbing inch of thick man-meat into the girl's startled but drooling orifice.
"Guuullfff!" Shirley spluttered as his purple-veined shaft passed between her full, red lips.
"Now blow it!" Dan bellowed. "Blow my pud, you bitch!"
Titillated beyond all reason by his coarse epithets, Shirley immediately followed his instructions. Her smooth cheeks formed two concave half-circles with her blowing efforts. Her panting breath escaped in short, quick wheezes from around his embedded tool. With her salivating mouth, Shirley's tongue furiously lathered the length of his quaking staff.
"Ooooh ... that's it, Shirley baby!" Dan exclaimed. "Now for the next step!"
So saying, the lusty young man hitched his hips back, slowly withdrawing his surging, glistening phallus. When his dribbling cockhead again was poised at the entrance to her smooth, freckled valley, he quickly rammed it back through and once again buried his rod into Shirley's flushed face. He howled with joy as his rock-hard tip banged up against the back of the young girl's tender throat.
"Oh shit ... this is great!" he shouted at the hillside. "Now I'm really going to fuck your tits and mouth!"
Without hesitation, he carried out his threat. By bucking his hips back and forth, he repeatedly plunged his swollen member between Shirley's up-raised jugs and into her warm, drooling orifice. The girl's large, stiff nipples scraped against his thighs with a sensuous friction. Faster and faster he went in a steady mouth-fucking rhythm.
"How do you like this, cunt?" he roared. "Like the way my dick's battering your face?"
All the flushed brunette could do was splutter frantically in reply. Her face was ravaged by his constantly thrusting prick, and she concentrated her entire being on it. The wildly erotic activity had caused her womb to again fill with warm, cascading pussy juice.
"Oh my God!" Dan howled. "This ... is ... I'm getting so ... hot!"
Suddenly, a thoroughly depraved thought entered Shirley's fevered mind, yet it caused her to become even more excited than she already was. With an effort, she pushed the prodding phallus out of her mouth.
"Dan ... have you ever fucked a girl ... up the ass?" Shirley breathed.
"Is that what you want, honey?" Dan said hoarsely, his eyes bulging with astonishment. "Don't worry, sweetmeat, I'll show you how it's done!"
"But I'm not sure...."
"Too late now ... shut up!" Dan roared. "Turn over and stick that pretty ass in the air!"
The pinned brunette had no choice but to reply with his forceful demand. She rolled over onto her stomach, and shuddering with anticipation, she raised her hips up. Immediately, the inflamed trucker spread apart her succulent buns and used his finger to tease the rubbery circle of her asshole.
"Oh! Ohhh! Dan that feels so good!" Shirley mewled.
"See how this feels, bitch!" he bellowed.
With that pronouncement, the dark-haired man brought the tip of his bulging cockhead in line with the young girl's tiny hole. Without hesitation, he slid the glistening pole past her steaming entrance and began to fill up her ass with all of his thick, potent prong.
"Eeeeeeee!!!" the brunette squealed. "It's so big ... can't take it all in!"
"You're going to have to, damn it!" Dan shouted. "Because I'm going to come in your ass!"
Thrilled by his prospect, the moaning girl thrust her ass back, her clenched hole swallowing more of the invading tool. She believed any moment that she would split in two-yet she didn't care. All she was conscious of was the wonderfully erotic feeling of having a man's bulging pecker embedded deep into her hungry, moist asshole.
"Do it, Dan!" she screamed. "Hump my ass!"
The impassioned trucker was beyond words. Knowing he could not control his pent-up, swirling load for long, he initiated a steady ass-fucking rhythm. Soon he was in a total frenzy, his hips bucking out of control. Shirley joined him as a fresh wave of orgasm hovered at the breaking point.
"Shirllliiieee ... here I ... Ohhhhhh!" Dan roared.
An instant later, the first spurt of his boiling jism rushed into her accepting asshole. Shirley was only vaguely aware as her own body achieved its sweet release.
They thrashed and humped together wildly, both part of a spinning universe of released lust. Wad after wad of white cum piled into the girl's ravaged asshole she bashed her hips against his exploding meat.
Some time later, Dan collapsed with a groan. Then the two lay back, gazing at the stars, knowing a good part of the night was still ahead for more fun and games.
But their evening together was ruined with Shirley's realization, based on what she had seen and heard earlier that night, that Dolly had run off with Tom. Shirley and Dan raced to the station, in the hope of stopping her and saving her from making a terrible mistake. The train for New York had just pulled out, but with great relief they found Dolly sitting in the station, where Tom had abandoned her. She was disconsolate but also defiant-she would never return home again, to "that small-town, provincial little hole-in-the-wall," as she called it. She was, she claimed, going to get on the next train to New York and "stay there," she added defiantly.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
"All right, folks, all out. I'm going to lock up the station for the night."
The ticket agent came out of his enclosure and addressed them in a tired voice. He was a small, bent figure of a man, but his voice had the ring of authority. Two disheveled men and a plump woman were the only ones there in addition to Shirley and her cousin and Dan. The homeless ones wandered off into the night. Dan said briskly:
"There's an all-night diner across the street. We'd better get some coffee and then start back."
"I'm not going home," Dolly repeated sullenly.
"So you're going to New York," Dan retorted. "But I still want that coffee. Come on."
With a hand under each of their elbows, Dan started them toward the diner with a purposeful stride.
They enjoyed a quiet late-night snack and some coffee while talking for a long time. Dolly admitted that she had been foolish to spend so much of her time and energy on Tom. And even though Dan was his friend, she admitted that she had gone too far with Tom, and that he was not actually the marrying kind.
Much to Dolly's relief, Dan agreed with her, and he even offered a short toast with his coffee cup, congratulating her on coming to her senses.
After their conversation in the diner that night, Dolly vowed she would not be so hasty to leave town. She knew she would be leaving a good thing if she did anything so foolish as to run off.
No one much believed her, but they were glad to have her back. But when Dolly announced some surprising news a few days later, there wasn't a person in town who doubted that Dolly was sincere about remaining right where she was.
Because Dolly and George had decided to get married.
After the initial shock had worn off, everyone helped in the preparations for the wedding day.
With the house a bustle of activity, Dan and Shirley decided to step outside for a walk. Dan had to be leaving soon, and he told Shirley that he had some unfinished business he wanted to take care of.
As they went down the path, Dan told her that he had heard from Tom, who was still in Kansas City. However, that job was finishing, too, and he would meet Dan back home. Doll Palmer had set the wedding date, and Dan was supposed to be the best man.
"Weddings seem to be in the air," Shirley commented as they approached the fallen tree where Tom and Dolly had made love only a few weeks before. "It's strange how things work out. I didn't think so much could happen in a little over a month."
Dan put his hand on her arm. "Let's sit here for a while in the shade," he said, nodding at the fallen tree.
Shirley sat down. Her heart beat faster at the sound of Dan's voice. Apparently, he was going to tell her something very important, and she could only guess at his actual intentions.
After a long silence, he said, "You told me last night that I had told you I was the 'kiss-'em-and-leave-'em' type. Why did you say that?"
"Don't you remember?" Shirley decided she had better come right out with it. "You were helping me with the dishes one night, and you said you would not marry anyone unless you had a more stationary job and could have a home for your wife and family."
"Don't you remember," Dan mocked her, "that night we went for a ride I said a man could change his mind?"
Shirley was momentarily silenced. She did remember he had said that. At the time, she had thought to follow up the remark, but she had been too concerned with Dolly to think of it since.
Finally Shirley said in a small voice: "And have you changed your mind?"
Dan h-edged. "If a man fell in love with a girl who didn't mind living in a trailer and was willing to go wherever the job called him, I think he might be foolish to wait until he could build a house," he said as if discussing an imaginary man. "Of course, a lot would depend on the girl, too."
"Of course," Shirley agreed. Dan was not looking at her and not touching her. He seemed entirely impersonal in his remarks. He was silent for so long that Shirley grew impatient.
"There is more to it than just that," she said with spirit. "When we went for a ride and you kissed me as if you expected me to act like Dolly and believe you were making love to me so that I would run off with you, just like that! The way all girls run after highwaymen," she added bitterly. Dan turned to her with a smile so tender that Shirley caught her breath.
Suddenly she was in his arms and Dan was saying softly: "You little nitwit. You can't argue from the general to the particular. There's always the exception that proves the rule. But we're talking too much. When I kiss you this time, you can believe I mean it."
When he released her, he demanded: "Well?"
"I believe you," Shirley said breathlessly. "And you'll live in the trailer at first?"
"And I'll live in a trailer for as long as you like," Shirley said as if she were taking a vow. It was some time later that Dan released her and reached into his shirt pocket where, Shirley had noticed, a small box was making a lump. As he took it out she saw that it was a ring box. Her eyes opened in astonishment.
"Were you so sure of me?" she demanded.
For an answer, Dan pressed the spring, and Shirley gasped at the beautiful ring she saw. It was a carved amethyst in a raised setting with a wide band. On the face of the stone a thistle was carved in gold and studded with three small diamonds.
"It belonged to my mother," Dan explained. "It is to remind you that the road of marriage often has thistles as well as daisies, but that the thistle is strong and has beauty, too."
He slipped it on her finger, and Shirley felt her heart bursting with joy as he kissed it in place.
"I had Cindy send it up to me after she had met you," Dan added.
"You knew, even then?" she asked, her eyes beginning to brim with tears of joy.
Dan looked at her for a long time, enjoying what he saw, confident that Shirley was just the woman he was looking for.
"Yes, Shirley," he said softly, holding her close. "I knew from the minute I saw you that I loved you and that I wanted you to marry me."
