Читать книгу Hot Summer Nights - Joan Elizabeth Lloyd - Страница 8

“She seems nice,” Marie said to Suze as they climbed the steps.

“Yeah, she does.”

“Her voice is so low and sexy, and she’s absolutely gorgeous even without makeup. I really should hate her but it’s difficult not to take to her.”

“I know. Strange, though, it seems like she’s trying to downplay her looks. I’ll bet she’s got quite a shape but with that chest-flattening thing she was wearing, she’s quite, well, flat.”

“Suze, you’re amazing. You notice the oddest things.”

“I guess, but being mayor and all I need to be observant.”

“Right. See you tomorrow.”

As neighbors for the seven years since she first moved to Sound’s End, Suze and Marie had become good friends. Well, Suze thought, maybe not good friends. After all, Marie had only a high school education and wasn’t much for reading good literature. While Suze spent considerable time watching public broadcasting, Marie was always up on the latest TV shows. She could give you the background of each of the Desperate Housewives in great detail and she had a strict “do not ever call during Lost” rule.

As Suze climbed the stairs to her front porch, she heard the loud roar of an approaching motorcycle. With a long sigh she thought, KJ’s home. The roar stopped with a screech of brakes and a scream of rubber as she stepped into the living room and only moments later footsteps pounded up the back porch stairs. “KJ?”

“Yeah, who else?”

“Wipe your feet.”

She sensed rather than heard his long sigh. At that moment she heard a car door slam then the motor roar away. Mingled with the heavy boot steps, she heard lighter ones. “Eliza? That you?”

“Of course, Mom.”

“Right.” Suze walked to the rear of the house and into the kitchen where the two siblings had their heads stuck in the refrigerator. “Dinner’s in less than an hour so don’t eat.”

Totally ignoring her, as they usually did, they each reached inside. Suze barely noticed her son’s jeans-covered behind, but she couldn’t overlook her daughter’s tiny shorts and the wide expanse of skin between the lowered waistband and her tiny tank top. “I thought I said no belly shirts, young lady. Is that new? I don’t remember buying it for you.”

Eliza pulled back and stood, a can of soda and small container of leftover Chinese food in hand. “Oh, come on, Mother. Everyone’s wearing these and I just got it. Nothing interesting is showing.”

Suze gazed at her fifteen-year-old daughter who looked only one step from a hooker. Her lovely chestnut brown hair currently had a bright blue patch over one temple and she wore heavy blue eyeshadow on her blue eyes and deep red lipstick. Suze got a better look at her daughter’s tiny black shorts that barely covered her pubis and cropped red tank top with sparkly white letters that said No, wait. I AM the center of the universe across the front and barely covered her well-developed breasts. The expanse of tan skin below was lean and taut as only a teenager’s could be. “You’re not. Put something decent on before your father comes home.”

“He doesn’t care what I wear.”

“Change.”

“Oh please,” Eliza said.

“Eliza!” Suze said, her voice rising.

Without a backward glance Eliza, soda, food, and a small plastic shopping bag in hand, headed for the stairs.

“You really shouldn’t eat so close to dinner.”

Totally ignoring her, Eliza reached the top of the stairs and, only a moment later, slammed her door. Suze could hear as she turned on her stereo.

“You too, KJ,” she said as he pulled a container of orange juice from the fridge and drank several long swallows from the spout. “And don’t drink out of the container!” Suze looked at her son. When had he gotten to be a man? she wondered. He was already taller than his father with a well-developed body, a cap of curly brown hair and his father’s deep brown, almost bedroom eyes. Where had her children gone?

“Come on, Suze, I’m a big boy now. Lay off.” He took another long drink.

“You’ve really got to get the muffler fixed on your motorcycle. It makes a terrible racket. Isn’t that much noise against the traffic laws?”

“I sort of like the noise and none of your cops would ever give me a ticket.”

“They’re not my cops.”

“Same thing. Whenever they stop me, once they realize who I am, they let me off with a warning.”

“Whenever they stop you? When have you been stopped by the cops?” Suze asked, horrified.

“Every now and then,” KJ said, exasperation accenting every line of his body and every note in his voice.

“For what?”

“Oh, you know, routine kid stuff. Going a little too fast, going through the stupid stop sign at the intersection of Route 1 and Atlantic Beach Road. It’s so bogus. You can see for a mile in every direction so sometimes I just blow through it. You do too, Suze, I’ve seen you.”

“I do not.” Actually she frequently glanced both ways then went through the light but she certainly didn’t do it when anyone was watching. “It’s the law, even if it is in a dumb place. We’ve been trying to get it changed to a yield for years but the state DOT won’t hear of it. Anyway, stop changing the subject. I don’t want you getting stopped by the police. It doesn’t reflect well on me as mayor.”

“Don’t sweat it. It’s all bullshit.”

“And don’t use that kind of language either.”

“Right,” he said with deep sarcasm. “Call me when dinner’s ready.” His motorcycle boots made loud clunks on the wooden stairs as he climbed to his room.

He’s certainly a handful, Suze thought with mixed emotions, but he does well at school and so what if he wants to play on his bike? Kids should be allowed to be young. God knows I don’t remember ever being that young. And when did he start calling me Suze?

The phone rang and Suze answered it. It couldn’t be for either of her children since they each had a cell phone. “Hi, Suze, it’s me,” her husband, Kevin, said. “I’m going to be a little late. I ran into George Parissi. You remember him, the guidance counselor? Anyway…”

“That’s fine, dear,” Suze said, mentally rearranging what she had been going to make for dinner.

“I assume you’ve got work to do so I thought George and I would just grab a bite together in town and catch up. He wanted my opinion on…”

She did have a stack of town paperwork to look over and the local newspaper to read thoroughly before her council meeting. “That’s great. Then I’ll see you later.”

After a slight hesitation he said, “Fine.”

Kevin hung up the phone and looked around for his friend George. Suze didn’t seem to care whether he came home at all. She’d already been mayor for two three-year terms and was going to run for yet another. He didn’t begrudge her her career but it would be nice if she paid a little attention to him once in a while. They hardly ever talked, well maybe about the kids, and they hadn’t had more than weekly, perfunctory sex in forever. Maybe he wanted more. He glanced toward the bar and noticed a statuesque redhead sitting, nursing a drink. He wondered what would happen if he sat down next to her and struck up a conversation. Nope, he wasn’t desperate enough to go outside his marriage. Not yet.

He could tell George that he’d changed his mind and approach the redhead. It would never occur to Suze to consider that he was seeing another woman, and he secretly wondered whether she’d care. As long as he was discrete and no one knew, and as long as “the other woman” kept him out of his wife’s hair, he thought, she’d probably be grateful. He sighed, then plastered his usual big smile on his face and caught George’s eye. As he passed the redhead he paused, then kept walking.

Eliza closed her door, put the food container and soda on her desk, and turned on her computer. She put the bag containing her new designer jeans on her bed, propped a chair under the doorknob, and, when the computer asked, entered the password that protected all her files and mail.

She’d been out all day with Angel. Angel wasn’t really a friend, but she was old enough to have a car so a bunch of them had driven to a large, upscale mall where she’d spent most of her very generous allowance on a pair of skin-tight, low-rise jeans. Her mother would pitch a fit, of course, but that hardly mattered. All the girls had told her how really great they made her look, thin and grown up. She’d wear them the first day of school. Stop thinking about school, she told herself. She had many weeks until then.

She clicked on the icon to bring up the list of her incoming mail and let out the breath she’d been holding when she saw that there was a letter from Dennis.

Hi Eliza—such a pretty name,

Sorry I couldn’t write sooner. You understand how busy life gets sometimes in the advertising business. It’s just work, work and more work to meet deadlines. I got the picture you sent and it’s even better than the posed one on the site. You’re so beautiful that I can’t believe that you’re only fifteen. Wow, you look so mature I’d have assumed you were in college. I’ll send you my picture soon. Oh, and I’ll be online after nine tonight so, if you’re on, IM me. I can’t wait to talk with you.

Bye, gorgeous,

Dennis

Would she be online? Of course she would. She looked at her watch. Less than four hours to go. She could live until then, just barely. She leaned back and daydreamed about the handsome, mature man who thought she was beautiful.

She’d first gotten mail from Dennis three weeks before, only about a month after she’d posted her school picture on the “Friends” Web site. He’d told her a little about himself, that he was thirty-two, not too tall, with green eyes and black hair, lonely, eager to make friends with someone so youthful and vibrant. They’d exchanged letters, then she’d sent him a snapshot one of her friends had scanned in for her. She couldn’t wait to get a photo of him.

Next door to the Murdocks, Vicki Farrar heard the roar of KJ’s motorcycle as she sat on the sofa, her pink polished toes tucked beneath her, poring over a pile of legal papers. God, she thought, reading all this is going to be a nightmare. Marty Simonetti, the real estate attorney who was both helping her with her current project and sleeping with her when his wife, a sales rep for a pharmaceutical firm, was out of town, had insisted that she couldn’t sign anything without reading it at least once.

She picked up the first stapled stack but got a sudden reprieve when she heard the front door slam. “Trish, that you?”

“No, Mom, it’s a burglar.”

“Ha, ha. Very cute. Where have you been?”

Trish entered the living room, dressed in a loose-fitting T-shirt and lightweight jeans. “Around.”

Vicki gazed at her eighteen-year-old daughter. How in the world could someone as special as she was have such an ordinary daughter? She’s such a stick: limp mousey brown hair, a sallow complexion, and no breasts at all. She had great eyes, or she would if she ever wore makeup. Well, with the right guidance, she’d straighten out and understand that this life was all about good looks, and men. She ran her fingers through her thick, honey-blond hair. It would just take a little time. “Right. Around. With KJ?” When her daughter remained silent, Vicki said, “I just heard his motorcycle. Why in the world do you ride on that death trap? You know what they call people who ride motorcycles without helmets? Organ donors.” She thought about the silver Z4 convertible sitting in the driveway. A much better way to travel indeed.

“Mom, we always wear helmets and anyway, KJ’s always careful.”

“You know that Suze hates it when he hangs around with you.” She reflexively adjusted her tiny bikini top over her large, silicon-assisted breasts. “She thinks I’m a bad influence on you and thus on him.”

“He’s my best friend,” Trish whined. “Anyway, Suze won’t know anything. She never notices what KJ does. She thinks he’s still ten years old. Just in case, however, since it’s low tide KJ dropped me at Middle Beach and I walked here along the sand.”

“You’re right about that. She hasn’t noticed that he’s turning out to be quite a hunk.”

With an exasperated sigh, she said, “Please, Mom. Enough.” She spotted the stack of papers and raised a curious eyebrow.

Vicki patted the sofa beside her with her long, graceful fingers, tipped by perfectly manicured bubblegum-pink nails. It was time to tell her daughter all the wonderful plans she’d made. “It’s business stuff but it’s got to do with you, too. I’ve actually got a surprise. I know you’ve been looking for a job since graduation, but I’m taking care of that for you. I’m opening a business in town and you’ll be able to work for me. It should pay off quite well. I’ve made several business plans and my accountant has helped me with cash flow projections and one-year forecasts. I’ve even gotten a small amount of bank financing.” She’d had to put up the house as collateral for her small business loan but it would be worth it.

Trish picked up a sheaf of papers and flipped through them. “You don’t know anything about business, Mom. What kind?”

“I know enough about this kind of business and Marty is helping me with all the legal stuff. I’ve gotten a license, lots of permits and stuff, and the only thing left now is to finalize the lease on the storefront.” She was quite proud of herself. She’d only slept with Marty a few times before they started to talk about what she did to keep herself occupied. She’d done a few things over the years but she’d hated most of them.

“How do you support yourself?” Marty had asked.

“My folks were killed in a bus accident and the settlement with the transportation company left me quite a bit of money. I manage pretty well.” Actually she managed with some astute financial guidance from a guy she’d slept with almost a year ago. He’d set up an account with his brokerage firm and since they’d split, a few comments from her about how his wife wouldn’t want to find out about their “relationship” encouraged him to continue to manage her money. He’d been quite successful and her nest egg had kept her in relative comfort.

“You must be bored to death, especially with Trish ready to go out on her own,” Marty had said. “You should really think about doing something more with your life.”

She had thought about it and over several long dinners at an anonymous restaurant fifty miles from Sound’s End, they had hatched the idea for her new venture.

Now Trish said, “So what kind of business are you thinking about?”

“I’ve done much more than think. We’re opening an erotic boutique. Vicki’s Erotic Emporium. We’ll have lingerie and stuff in the front with a video rental and toy area in one back room. There will be computers linked to several sites on the Internet and, with my advice, we’ll sell everything anyone might want to play with. This afternoon I poked around the building that used to be Sherman’s Art Gallery before it closed. It’s perfect and I’ve got the lease right here.” She pawed through the papers. “Somewhere.”

Trish’s mouth dropped open. “In this town? You’ll start a revolution. What makes you think there are women here who want that sort of thing?”

“Actually the lingerie in the front will attract lots of women, like the Victoria’s Secret in the mall in Saybrook. I wandered through it several times and it’s always crowded. The stuff in the back will have men coming in, too.” Vicki giggled at her double entendre but her daughter’s face remained grim.

“What about Suze? She’s not your biggest fan, and once word gets out about the store she’ll go ballistic.”

“She thinks she’s got clout, but Marty tells me she can’t really do anything about it. All I have to do is sign these papers and it’s a done deal.”

Trish sighed with resignation. “Do whatever you want, Mom. You will no matter what I say, but I, for one, think it’s a dumb idea.”

Vicki looked down at the stack of documents. “I’m expecting you to work there with me, of course.”

“Me? I don’t think so, Mom. I’ve gotten several positive responses to my résumé, positions that might become careers in time. I want to get started on making my own life.”

Nonsense. Trish would never get anywhere without the right guidance and her mother was just the person to show her exactly how to get what she wanted. “Don’t be ridiculous. This is the opportunity of a lifetime. This store will be worth a mint but I can’t run it by myself six days a week. I expect you to participate and that’s that.”

She watched her daughter’s shoulders stiffen. “I don’t think so, Mom.” Trish would resist, and Vicki watched her jaw tighten but she was sure her daughter would come around. This was best for her, and the store would keep her close and under Vicki’s tutelage. That was part of the attraction.

Another part of the lure of the store was the men it would attract. All kinds of guys, from lawyers to truckers, would hear about her store and its creative products and wander in. They’d never expect to find someone like her, gorgeous and willing. As she watched Trish walk into the kitchen, Vicki leaned back on the sofa and closed her eyes. She saw the store, colorful, exciting, all done in black and various shades of reds and pinks. There would be piles of silky panties, bras, and gowns, and she could pick and choose what she wanted to keep for herself, at wholesale.

Vicki wiggled down so she could rest her head on the back of the couch and pictured the scene. In her mind, a guy walked in and picked up a deep blue bustier. He had large hands and a jaw stubbled with five o’clock shadow. His long black hair flowed past his shoulders and his eyes, a deep, icy blue, seemed to see through her clothes. “You’d look good in this,” he said, looking her over with obvious interest. “Wanna model it for me?”

Did she want to? Her pussy was already swelling and her panties were getting wet. “There’s a dressing room in the back,” she said in her dream, flipping the sign on the store’s window to show it was closed, then leading him through a curtain to the try-on stalls beyond. She opened the door to the largest one and he followed. “I’m going to have to undress to put that on,” she said, licking her lips to moisten her deep red lipstick. “Turn your back.” She knew he’d turn, but with mirrors covering the walls and the back of the door he’d be able to see her anyway. She went along with the game though, slowly, sensuously removing her blouse and slacks as though she didn’t know he was watching, then taking off her bra and panties. Gloriously naked she posed, sucking in her stomach and thrusting her large breasts forward.

She slithered into the bustier and slipped on the matching panties. “You can turn around now,” she said, her voice breathy.

He turned and his grin showed white teeth. “I knew you’d look sensational in that,” he growled. “You look sensational without it, too.” He grabbed the top of the bra and pulled her close. “You’re fabulous.”

His kiss was deep and demanding, just the way she liked it. He cradled her head in his long fingers and pressed her lips against his mouth, his tongue plundering. He cupped her scantily clad buttocks and ground her pubis against his groin so she couldn’t mistake the rigid rod beneath his zipper. With a single motion he scooped one breast from its cover and lowered his mouth to the rosy tip. As he sucked he made loud slurping noises, and she cradled his head against her. He loosened the other breast and licked its tip, then alternated between them.

He grabbed the back of her hair and pulled her face to his, covering her mouth with his, ramming his tongue into her dark cavern. God, she loved it this way, hard and hungry. Finally, he said, “I’ll pay for the outfit,” grasped the front of the panties, and pulled until the slender sides parted. He pushed his finger into her soaked depths and laughed. “Hot little bitch, aren’t you?”

“Hot for you, lover.”

“I’ve got what you want.” He unzipped his fly, lifted her, and pulled her legs around his waist. He pushed her back against one mirrored wall so she could feel the cold against her skin then thrust into her, driving his thick cock deep. He lifted one breast and bit her erect nipple, hard, until she screamed with pleasure. She came from the combination of pleasure and pain and the rumble of his laughter reverberated through her body.

Several more thrusts and he came as well, filling her pussy with thick goo.

“Mom,” Trish called from the kitchen, dragging Vicki from her fantasy, “when’s dinner—or should I just fend for myself?”

Shit, Vicki thought. “Get whatever you want. I’m going upstairs.” She dashed up the stairs and into her bedroom, found her vibrator, and pressed it between her legs. The buzz echoed through her body and brought her to orgasm quickly. God, I can’t wait until I set up the store.