"The Step-Mother" - читать интересную книгу автора (Unknown)

Chapter 2

Lisa slipped the white terry-cloth shift on over the brief bikini she had bought especially for her party. With a flourish she freed her long raven hair, shook it out and began to brush with intentions of up- sweeping it into a practical pony-tail. She smiled to herself as she visualized the expression her boy friend Paul would undoubtedly light up with at first glimpse of her teeny-weeny black bikini. At least, she hoped he would; she'd bought it with him in mind. While it actually provided all of the conventional coveting society demanded, it had been designed to provoke the male senses more than nakedness ever could… depending, of course, on what one had in mind.

The vivacious, dark-eyed teenager sipped at her vodka-tonic as she sat before her vanity adeptly styling her coiffure, the little cogs of her mind working right along in unison. She'd been more disappointed than angry when Paul hadn't shown up for their private swim-date earlier, but he'd put her at ease with a phone call, belated as it was. A sudden interview for a position at one of the local banks had come up and he'd only had a few minutes to make it.

Consequently, he hadn't been able to call her until after, and as always, the handsome lamb had been full of apologies. It had been something his father had arranged for him with the bank manager, a business acquaintance Paul had said, but he really had no idea what his chances were of getting the position.

She hoped to God he didn't have any! Lisa could think of nothing more devastating than a life with a banker-husband and living close to everything she wanted to get away from… well, maybe not everything… not daddy, anyway… but Paul's doting, religious parents, and that crafty bitch Shirley who had hoodwinked her father into marrying her. The thought of an existence amidst them was nauseating. Oh, the Valley was a tremendous area all right, but a few thousand miles separating them would be a hell of a lot better, especially between shrewd Shirley and herself. Her mom had probably turned over in her grave, poor darling, and there was no question but what that blonde whore had daddy well on the way to becoming an alcoholic. Of course, he realized his mistake now, after it was too late… saw her for what she was, but she'd already sunk in her fangs. No matter which way he turned, she was going to financially bleed him, and as much as anything, Lisa didn't want to be on hand to watch that. God, she might throttle her with her own little hands!

The well-proportioned teenager gulped from her glass as if to wash away the mounting, never-absent resentment she couldn't help but feel for her "stepmother." She was hardly a drinker, but for the last year her father had permitted her one or two before dinner if she wanted them.

She preferred the non-lingering effects of a little marijuana, though Paul got uptight when she even mentioned it, so she'd been careful to only sneak a joint in now and then with her girl friends.

Lisa had long since made up her mind that nothing was going to go wrong between Paul Fulton and herself. She loved him and had for several years, even knew way back then that she was going to marry him the moment he was out of college, and now he was! He had his degree, was a financial specialist, and she didn't intend that all of those long years of waiting while he prepared himself should be wasted with him ending up in some crummy bank job! There were bigger and more beautiful things in store for them, she felt certain!

Tonight was going to be one of those spectacular events… a happening… because she intended to give him the virginity she'd been carefully saving for that moment when they both arrived! And they had! The education bit was now behind them. She had no desire to go on and be anything but Paul Fulton's wife, and he possessed the credential which could and would support them! They'd get married right away and use the trust fund her mom had left her for a start… go east somewhere… a couple of thousand miles at the least, far from all of this and the bitch of a "stepmother" who had kept her from her own father's wedding!

But she didn't want to think of Shirley, or any of the immediate environment suffocating her… only Paul… the way he kissed her… the myriad times she had unwantingly pressed his creeping hand from between her hot thighs, or away from the swollen fullness of her straining breasts… feeling his throbbing hardness against her aroused, soft belly when he held her tightly against him! Those were the ultimate things in her life, and tonight she'd show him with no limits, right in the back seat of his car, the tiny bikini she was wearing not only the enticing prop which was going to seduce him, but the easiest garment in the world to be rid of in an emergency!

Vincent Rivers enjoyed meeting new people, they were all potential contributors to his livelihood. He enjoyed flashing his practiced smile, holding a wife's hand a second too long, watching the way they made over Nomad. Women, hungry wives, had always intrigued him in veins even going beyond sex, specifically gold ones, though that sensual sport invariably played a part in the final accomplishment.

He was pleased with the multitude of female guests milling about Frank Douglas' pool-side, hardly noticing their male companions as he quietly sat in a deck chair, arising only when someone chose to introduce him.

Nomad lay stretched out, leashed beside him. It wasn't quite time to let the powerful German shepherd do his Geiger-counter thing, though Vince had no doubts but what he would in grand style. The mutt hadn't failed him yet… and he'd thought he was being taken in that poker game… that fucking gypsy…

A teenage dollie jumped into the pool and came up with one firm, white breast exposed, causing his heavy loins to stir reflexively while the other kids laughed heartily, one boy making an attempt to help the unembarrassed girl conceal the resilient nipple-tipped mound back inside the wisp of her bathing suit brassiere. He watched their hell- raising antics, the enticing young chicks constantly pulling and tugging at their tiny bikinis, the fellows paying no attention. Maybe he was more highly sexed, he thought as he went through the motion of lighting a cigarette, confident that his smile was more handsome than lecherous…

And then, she made her appearance, the belle of the occasion, Miss Lisa Douglas … and wearing a black bikini that was nothing short of nothing! On a body like hers, it could be called "inciting to not!" Damn! When she turned from him he saw that about two inches of her deep young ass-crevice was on display, and any man could hardly ignore the voluptuously rounded ovals of those full teenage buttocks… unless he was looking at her stepmother! Christ knows, he'd feasted his eyes on the both of them enough the past few days, but only in wishful thinking. Right now he had no intentions of lousing up his big score with daddy, and making a pass at his women-folk could sure as hell do it. On the other hand, should either one of those dolls give him the eyes, which wasn't likely, he was damn certain he wouldn't pass it up.

What surprised the casually dressed, roving-eyed house guest was that lovely blonde Shirley Douglas seemed to be on the up and up. At first, he'd figured her for a cool, seductive operator who was putting her own bite on the old boy and using her ass as the tender trap, but that wasn't adding up. They didn't even sleep together, and Frank was zonked most of the time. Still, they got on great together, no outward animosity, with her always right there to look after his wants and needs. A crazy frigging setup… a luscious broad like her with no obvious cock keeping her happy… or maybe she was a lez! Could be! She certainly chilled him right from the beginning. But if she was, little Lisa wasn't her partner, not the way those two got on.

It was obvious that the kid had no use for her "stepmother"… and the way she could spit out that word, like it was burning acid in her pretty teenage mouth.

Yeah, Lisa was jealous, all right, or it might just be that the kid didn't like the cut Shirley would get of the family jewels should something happen to daddy. Well, neither of them were going to have too much worrying over that end of it. He intended to help alleviate their problem and damned soon, as quick as he was satisfied that he had Frank Douglas' signature down pat and he could lay his hand on a company check.

Speak of the devil… Vince saw the big grey-haired man walk onto the scene wearing swim-trunks and a broad gun, with a drink in his hand. He was tall with heavy shoulders, but softening, a layer of tanned flab and the beginning of a paunch showing his age. Once, he'd probably been quite athletic, Vince thought, watching his mark shaking hands and spreading greetings around amongst smiling, drinking friends. Everyone seemed to like the old boy, or at least they were pretending to… and why not, invited to a free bash like this, servants and the whole smear. Lucky bastard, sitting on his pot of gold… while he walked around with fifty bucks in his pocket and the goddamn finance company trying to locate his Continental. Shit, he had to make his move soon…

A burst of rock sounds filled with twilight, drowning out some of the laughter and voices. Vince watched Lisa with her wide-eyed, skinny boy friend join some of the other teenagers in a series of sensual gyrations they camouflaged under the term "dancing." Paul Fulton reminded him of a jack-o'-lantern the way he was grinning and bug- eyeing the curvy young bitch's near-naked breasts, and Christ, Vince couldn't blame him much. Those firm full mounds were doing a mind- bending dance all their own, like the half-revealed ovals of her rounded ass-cheeks, and there weren't too many of the older male generation present who were missing the attraction. Not that the pool- side was lacking in sexy young female pulchritude, but Lisa Douglas was by far the star, over-shadowed only by her blonde stepmother and she was hiding her voluptuous charms beneath a silky summer-slack outfit as she moved among the guests.

Vince felt his penis stir agitatedly in his pants as he watched the generous curves of the provocative teenager ripple and sway temptingly to the rhythm of the music. Christ, what a delight it'd be to sink his thick cock between those, young, tender thighs. He wondered if she was a virgin? Probably not… rarities these days… but was she wasting it on that scrawny bastard, Fulton?

Shit, he didn't look as if he'd know what to do with it… and she was a friendly kid, too, at least she had been so far with him. No come-on or anything like that, but no chill the way blonde Shirley stirred him, either…

Nomad's sudden whimper beside him caught Vince River's attention. He looked down to see the big animal staring in the direction of an approaching redhead.

She was smiling down at the mutt, a shapely doll about his own age, Vince appraised, her over-abundance of breasts straining the multi-colored halter trying to harness them. Her hips and thighs were just a little meaty, but maybe it was the tightness of the shorts she was wearing. Christ, the outline of her pussy-lips was as distinct as the part in his hair!

She bent down and petted the dog, giving Vince an ample display of deep white cleavage before beaming him a smile. "You're Vincent Rivers, aren't you? I'm Anita Parsons, next door neighbor," she introduced herself as he stood up catching her hand to hold in a gentle pressure.

"I've already met Nomad. He's dropped by for a snack a couple of times…"

I'll bet, Vince thought, nodding and smiling as she rambled on. So, the old Geiger-counter was working true to form… and her hubby was an attorney… probably with some loot stashed, too, but nothing like daddy Frank was sitting on. Well, she would do for a romp or two if nothing better turned up, the slick con-artist decided, fileing her into his mental archives. And she was turning it on for him like a whore on holiday… Then a couple more neighborhood wives joined her, all with special attentions for the lecherous mutt who always got the gravy before he did, and by the looks of things the four-legged cock- hound had really been getting around.

Vince unleashed the whimpering German shepherd, watching with inner delight the way he began brushing up against the trio in turn to brighten the atmosphere with some scarlet faces. Then, he was off to rub the thighs of a few more, Vince making his excuses and following along to keep score. Christ, the bastard had really been doing all right for himself, though only Anita Parsons looked like anything worth following up. But guests were still arriving, and the party was getting livelier and bawdier; lots of goodies could happen yet. A couple trying to dance with the younger group suddenly fell into the pool. The teenagers were getting more disgusted by the minute. Oh, that generation gap.

Vince grinned to himself… and then, he saw Paul Fulton leading Shirley by the hand to the dance area and Lisa's eyes glaring like a pair of jeweled flame-throwers! Yeah, things were getting wilder and wilder, all right!

Frank Douglas wasn't too surprised after he'd raised his hands and asked for quiet, then beckoned his only child to his side, putting his arm affectionately around her slender young waist to feel her recoil.

He knew he was drunk and that she hated that, and that she regarded most of their neighbors and friends as a generation of hypocrites with their booze and sleezy infidelities, practicing a "do as I say, and not as I do," philosophy on their children. He was well aware of all that, plus her dislike of Shirley and lack of respect for him in marrying her. But he was in hopes that when he handed her the keys to the new convertible parked in the drive which he'd bought her as a graduation present, she would understand he loved her, and above all that he wanted her to love him as she always had…

Lisa smiled, thanked him, then kissed his cheek while everyone clapped, the cold little imprint of her lips lingering there long after the party was back in full swing. Frank went to the bar and replenished his Scotch on the rocks, bantering meaningless words with grinning-faced guests, feeling empty inside.

He saw Lisa in her white shift now, pulling at Paul Fulton's arm as if she were trying to drag him away from dancing with Shirley.

"We're all leaving… come on, Paul!" Frank heard his teenage daughter snap.

"This party's getting to be a drag… isn't that right, stepmother? Come on, hon, I'll let you be the first to drive my consolation prize. We're all going to Jerry's!"

Christ, what had happened to his whole goddamn world? Had he been that wrong in thinking he was entitled to a second helping of happiness after Mavis died? It wasn't as if he'd rushed out like a madman with his cock in his hand looking for someone to stick it into. He'd waited for five years, five lonely years that he never would've been able to endure if it hadn't been for Lisa, along with his work. Then, his blonde angel had come along, but even when he realized that he was crazy in love with her, he'd waited, letting it grow on him, not wanting to make an ass of himself or hurt anyone. And in the end, he'd done just that… wound up an impotent old fool hurting everyone involved.

He watched his beautiful young wife move gracefully away from the teenagers without a word back at his embittered daughter, immediately smiling and joining a circle of older guests. Christ, how he loved her, but he loved his daughter Lisa too, and how could he take sides? He'd hoped that somehow they'd be able to work it out between them, that gradually Lisa's jealous rancor would mellow, but it hadn't, and he knew that Shirley had bent over backward to reach the girl.

Damn, his Shirley was such a luscious beauty. He'd never forget their wedding night when he'd seen her for the first time all breathtakingly naked.

Spellbound, he'd stood there stating at her lying on the bed like a sculptured statue of a goddess come to life, waiting for him to come and take her. His heavy cock had burst into the hardness of an anvil, he remembered, throbbing and hurting with its long denial. He'd been gasping, almost choking as he crawled onto the bed, afraid to touch her for fear she might shatter, or dissolve right before his eyes… And then, he'd kissed her all over, every secret inch of her soft intimate curves and smooth hollows with a hungering reverence that seemed to drain the sap from his very bones! His loins had pulsated with a torment the likes of which he'd never imagined, and though the aching desire to thrust his lust-swollen cock up into her waiting hot belly had been a near-insanity inside him… he knew he couldn't… she was too precious… too delicately gorgeous to violate!

A fixation? That's what Doc Gordon had told him…

"Nothing unusual about it, Frank," he'd said. "Men who revere rather than love a woman often get hung-up this way. But I wouldn't worry too much about it.

Give it a little time, fellow… remember, you're fifty like me, and you've suddenly walked back into the Garden of Eden." He'd laughed. "Some of these young apples can really give you a belly ache, and they don't have to be green either…"

There'd been more… nothing of value. He'd gone to a bar and drank himself into a lusty state, then taxied home, leaving his car behind, determined to do what he'd finally come to realize she really wanted him to do, make passionate love to her! God, how excited she'd been, sensuously offering that beautiful white body up to him… and even moving down over him to suck his refusing limp penis into hardness for both of them… but he couldn't let her! He just couldn't let her… she was too beautiful.

Someone said something, addressing him directly and the big man nodded and laughed. He hardly knew what was going on around him. Christ, he was drunk… and that was the best part… not knowing what was going on around you. He wandered off, knowing he was staggering, but making a special effort. Maybe Lisa was right, the party was getting to be a drag, especially for incapable old men. He'd go to his study where he could drink in quiet and think about Shirley. What the hell did he care about these neighborhood scrubs? Nothing… not really, and his daughter's cold kiss still clung to his cheek… Christ, how he hoped Rivers would take the operation of the business off his hands… maybe then he and Shirley… maybe… just maybe…

Shirley had drunk more than usual, but she wasn't sorry. God knows, she really needed its effects to keep her going this horrible night. Frank had just gone off into the house and there wasn't much doubt what his intentions were. Lisa had hurt him deeply, damn her. What she needed was a good face slapping and someone to bring her to her senses. Oh, Shirley didn't care about the way the embittered girl had acted with her; that was unimportant, but with her own father and in front of everyone… My consolation prize…! What a wicked thing to say… and the way she'd acted because Paul had asked her, Shirley, to dance!

Nothing had gone right all evening for the unhappy blonde wife, though she had anticipated most of it. All the same, she'd been careful not to let the guests read it like an open book on her face. Not that she personally cared about appearances, but for Frank and Lisa's sake, yes, she did. And to make matters just a little worse, she had seen the way Nomad was being friendly with some of the neighbor wives, an odd sensation of jealousy gnawing at the base of her belly. Maybe, she'd been a little too free in letting Mr. Rivers' pet out to roam around.

Anita Parsons had been making over him every chance she got all evening, and Nomad had responded by rubbing up against her… God… had that red-headed bitch taken advantage of him too?

"They've changed the music to something a little more in keeping with my era, Mrs. Douglas… would you care to try it once?" Vincent Rivers' voice jarred Shirley from her thoughts. She half-turned to see his too-handsome face smiling confidently down at her. Simultaneously, Nomad trotted up, whimpering, and began to brush affectionately against her legs.

"Well, hello, darling… where've you been all evening?" she managed, bending down to pet his great animal-head, her mind racing like an atomic engine. She knew she was blushing when she straightened. "Th- They never forget the hand that feeds them, do they?"

"No… of course not, and I'm sure you've fed him well… taken the best of care of him while I've been following your husband around the plant, Shirley," he said, actually using her given name for the first time. "You're very kind and I appreciate it, but I think I'd like it better if you danced with me."

She could think of no way to refuse her house guest, and after all, it was a little ridiculous, wasn't it? At last surveillance, this was supposed to be a party, and there were some thirty other people milling around… She let him take her hand and draw her possessively inside his arms. He didn't dance… he floated, and that was certainly what she would have expected from Vince Rivers.

Not one tiny mistake as she sensed herself seeming to blend with his lean, tall frame to the pleasing rhythm of the music; yet he didn't clutch at her, nor suggestively press against the soft give of her enjoying body as she feared he might. It'd been so long since she'd danced this way… and the liquor, warm in her belly, was excitingly spurring her on.

"Do you do everything as well as you dance, Shirley?" he whispered down into her ear.

She felt herself starching to the question, made a misstep and stumbled. He caught her gracefully, smoothing back into basic steps.

She said: "I'm not very accomplished, Mr. Rivers. I suppose you'd just have to call me a… loyal housewife?"

"The backbone of the world they tell me," he replied. "But then, like Kinsey, I like to find things out for myself. He tells a raft of secrets regarding loyal housewives."

Shirley swallowed tightly, but not from his words as much as the more possessive hold he had taken around her. For the first time, she felt the undeniable swell of his hardening male flesh snug against the resilience of her soft belly. She looked up at him, her defensive blue eyes fighting his shifty dark ones. "You've got the wrong wife, Mr.

Riven," she hissed, but not before the sensation of his lengthening hardness stirred whiskey-roused impulses to flutter through her man- denied young loins.

"No… I've just got a girl who's made up her mind to dislike me," he replied, still smiling. "She likes my dog but she despises me."

"Your dog wears his heart on his collar, Mr. Rivers. There's nothing pretentious about him."

"And me? Am I some sort of vampire?"

"Some sort, but I haven't figured that out yet," Shirley replied as the song ended and she backed out of his arms. "Maybe I will if you're here a few more days."

"And maybe you're just trying to protect what the virgin does," Rivers said, wishing immediately that he hadn't. Christ, she was sharp…

Shirley laughed. "Virgin? Let's not make the game too complicated, Mr.

Rivers. Virgins are your meat, as the saying goes. No… no… you have bigger stakes in mind than innocent little girls, and I'll remind you that I'm not one of them. Be careful, sir! Be careful! Frank Douglas isn't without people who love him!"