"How you doing, honey?" he asked with considerable interest. "Haven't seen you for a few months. You're really growing up fast, aren't you? What are you watching there on TV?”
As he spoke he patted her on the head as he had done Kathie but he went one step further. He ran his hand down her smooth blonde hair and instead of walking on past, he lowered himself beside her and allowed his hand to continue over her round young shoulder to the tender area of her ribs. For a fleeting instant the teenager felt his fingers actually graze the base of her breast where the cup of her small bra was stitched to the strap. The touch was ended almost before it began, but his intention was BO secret to the girl. It was obvious that he wanted to get a feel of her titty even though he tried to make his action appear as something far less than it was.
She answered him distractedly and kept watching the screen. By the time Jane returned with her purse he was already up and ready to guide her out the front door. Jane suddenly stopped and yelled back, "Girls, listen, don't answer the phone tonight if anybody calls while I'm gone. I meant to tell you that earlier, Be sure, now, you hear? It would just be someone calling for me and there's no use of you answering it if I'm not here.”
The memory of the obscene caller loomed in her mind and she was afraid he might call back-in spite of what the police had said-and spew his filthy talk into the ears of one of her innocent daughters. She would just die if Kathie or Karen were to be exposed to such language. The girls promised to do as she said but they were very puzzled. She had never warned them before against answering the phone when she was gone from the house.
When the door slammed behind them, Kathie could hardly contain herself. "I saw him. I saw what he did to you, Karen," she exclaimed. "I saw him feel you up after he patted you on the head. I'm going to tell Mom when she gets home. I bet you wanted him to do that, didn't you? Miss Tease! Miss Tease!”
"Oh Kathie, darn it, I did not. What would I like about that old bastard? He's way too old, silly. Besides, he just barely touched me there. You better not tell Mom-you're just jealous because you don't have any ninnies on your chest!" she yelled.
"I am not! I don't care about your old ninnies. They don't make you any prettier. You think you're something special just because you finally started growing a pair. Judy Lee Smithers had same way before you did, and she's your very same age, too!" retorted the younger girl.
But it was apparent that Karen's comment had hit home. The truth was that Kathie was so precocious at the tender age of ten that she simply couldn't wait until she developed the coveted signs of womanhood on her own smooth, flat little chest.
"If you tell, I won't let you sit on my bed and watch that window across the street anymore. You know how good you can see that man and woman from my window-you can't see nothing from where your bed is. You better not tell!" threatened Karen.
There was a lot Jane didn't know about what her two young daughters did at night in their bedroom. She would have blistered their bottoms thoroughly if she had any idea they often spied from their high window down into the house of a neighbor. So far they had only succeeded in seeing a man and woman take off their clothes a few times but they had great hopes of getting to see more. Karen knew that Kathie was every bit as interested in peeking as she was, if not more. If worked. Kathie agreed to not blab about what she'd seen Harry do with his hand to Karen while their mother was out of the room.
The television caught their eyes again. Both girls wore simple day dresses and Kathie was barefoot. She leaned back in her chair and tossed her legs over the arm, hot bothering to keep her knees together. Her young crotch was completely visible from where Karen sat, even the V where her white cotton panties separated the slim lengths of her gawky, coltish legs.
"Kathie, for gosh sakes, watch yourself! I can see all the way to your panties!" she called out.
"Aw, so what. Nobody else is here to see anything and I've seen you do the same thing plenty of times. Besides,” continued Kathie, a smug little smile on her face, "my panties cover up the main thing-you can't see my cunny, can you?”
While the two girls argued with each other at home, their mother was arguing-much more decorously-with Harry. It was bad enough when ^e hadn't brought his wife along like he said he would. He claimed she had to stay in with a cold. But when he insisted that Jane have a drink with him before dinner, she had to look upon the entire evening in a different light. She told him she had already eaten a small dinner with the children, and expected only to have a salad or something while they went over the business papers, and that she didn't want to drink. It had surprised her when they arrived at the place because it wasn't just a restaurant. It was a supper club, complete with a dance floor and dimly lit tables. To drink with him would surely strip the evening of any claim to being a business dinner and turn it into a… well, she didn't know what. But she relented when he assumed a sad face and assured her there was nothing in the world wrong with them having a friendly drink together. After all, he reminded her, he had been business partners with her husband for years. He looked genuinely hurt about it.
"Well… all right," she gave in. "Maybe just one. A small glass of wine or something.”
When their order arrived she discovered her drink was hardly anything as simple as a glass of wine, small or otherwise. It was a tumbler-size glass filled with an exotically colored liquid. But it had a cool, sweet taste so she drank it as they attended to their business papers. There was so little to discuss that Jane was surprised that Harry had even requested her presence. One more detail to make her suspicious of Harry. She'd seen him casting furtive glances at her legs in the front seat of the car. As an unabashedly attractive woman, she was accustomed to more than passing attention from men with respect to certain parts of her anatomy. But since she was in Harry's company-even though it was supposedly for business purposes-Jane felt different about having him look at her like that.
The drink went down somehow much easier than she thought it would and before she knew it Harry had another one sitting in front of her. She started to protest.
"Go on, Jane, at least join me while I finish mine. Let yourself go a little," he cajoled.
It was the least she could do to join him, she thought. And the drink was pretty tasty, she had to admit. She accepted the drink and sat back in her chair a little to watch the dance floor. What Jane didn't know was that the drink was more than just tasty-it was also highly potent. A smooth blend of rum and fruit juices, the concoction's strength was concealed under the pleasant sweetness of its fruity taste. A more experienced drinker would have recognized it for what it was, but Jane had never been much of a drinker since her husband had passed away.
An hour later Harry had the papers all in his briefcase and Jane was twirling her third drink in her fingers. Harry saw that she was gently moving her head to the slow rhythm of the dance band as she watched the couples glide around the floor.
"Come on, Jane," he suggested. "Let's get in on some of the fun ourselves. We don't have to just sit here and watch, you know. Here, let's go join them.”
He extended his hand as he rose and Jane realized she was trapped. She had let herself get so carried away with the music that her tapping fingers left no doubt about her enjoyment of the music. Besides, the alcohol in her blood made such decisions a little easier for her. She rose and took his hand.
Harry led her onto the floor and eased her into his arms. They entered the flow of the other dancers and Jane let herself settle into his arms. It was very pleasant to be able to give herself to the rhythm of the music in this wholehearted way. Back at the table, when she was tapping her fingers and swaying her head to the music, this was what she unconsciously wanted. Harry was not a terrifically handsome man by anyone's measure but she discovered he had an easy, confident style of dancing that made it fun to move across the floor in his arms. He was ten or fifteen years her senior and his hair was quite gray, but the feel of his body against hers gave her the impression he was far from over the hill. There was a certain sense of hardness to his arms and shoulders, and whenever one of his legs touched hers it was with firmness and heft.