Vicky felt like crawling into the small ashtray on the seat arm and pulling the lid shut behind her. The man cleared his throat and squirmed in his seat. He sounded every bit as uncomfortable.
Vicky pulled up her panties and jerked down her skirt. She tried to straighten her clothes as best she could and dug a comb from her knapsack. Her body was still tingling wonderfully and the crotchband of her panties had already become soaked with her juices. When she looked at her middle finger there was a small smear of blood where she wore her little gold ring. It wasn't much blood… not much at all. And her hole had felt so small when she'd been digging around up there. Maybe she was still mostly a virgin. But something more important was bothering her. That man, the one who'd seen her fingerfucking, was vaguely familiar. She'd remembered something in his face when she'd found him staring at her. But the dark beard speckled with gray bothered her. She didn't know anybody with a beard.
The plane banked slightly and began to lose altitude. The seat-belt sign came on and the stewardess bustled back along the aisle making sure everyone was properly strapped in. Vicky wadded her windbreaker into her little pack and got her own belt in place. When the stewardess came even with her, she bent close to the man across the aisle.
"All fixed, Dr. Holden? I hope you've had a pleasant flight!"
Vicky put a finger in her mouth and bit it hard. The man who'd watched her bring herself off was her family's doctor. Since she never went to the doctor much, she'd forgotten the fact that Dr. Holden had grown a beard the past year. She stared red-faced at her lap. She didn't think she'd be able to even get up when the plane finally arrived at Rocksford.
The stewardess made sure Vicky was buckled in and moved on. The plane nosed down more and clouds streaked close to the windows. In a little bit Vicky would be able to see the lights of Rocksford. She glanced across the aisle and found Dr. Holden looking at her. He was smiling.
"Vicky? Vicky McNarey?"
"Yes?" she said, her voice almost a whisper. She was blushing again and digging at her palm with a fingernail.
"I thought that was you." He fingered his beard. He didn't look so old now, Vicky thought. He started to say something, stopped, started again.
"Listen my dear, I know you must be embarrassed."
Vicky started to get up but remembered they were landing. Her seat belt tugged her down again. She looked around like a caged animal. Why was he saying all this? Why didn't he just leave her alone? She wanted to jump out the window. If she'd had a parachute, she might've considered that very thing.
"… really, it's nothing to be upset about," Dr. Holden went on, "and I even remarked to myself as I watched you just how perfectly normal you went about it." He cleared his throat in a professional way. "Perfectly normal in every respect. In fact I was impressed by the way you went ahead right there in your seat. You didn't try and hide the act like some naughty secret. I think you must be remarkably well-adjusted and healthy-minded, my dear. It would be a pity if you made too much of the fact that I accidentally observed you." He cleared his throat again. "So I wanted to commend you and to make certain that you knew I understood. Everybody does it, after all," he laughed. "It's just that you do it more beautifully than anyone I can imagine."
Vicky stared up at him, hardly believing her ears. It was the doctor's turn to blush. He chuckled goodheartedly.
"You see, I'm shyer than you are about the whole thing." He leaned into the aisle. "And your secret is safe with me." Vicky gave him a weak smile and pretended to be busy looking out the window. Lights were twinkling up to them now. The plane dipped, flattened out and touched the runway. Vicky didn't look across the aisle again until the plane had stopped and people began getting up. Dr. Holden went down the aisle without looking back. Only when she was sure he was off the plane did Vicky get up and make her way down to the door.
CHAPTER TWO
"Well, I certainly don't want to go pick her up," Abby said, pulling the brush through her hair. She loved her hair. So black, so silky, so long. It wasn't the only beautiful thing about her but people seemed to notice it first. It framed her thin delicately featured face perfectly. She rested a hand across her chest and admired the long fingers, the long, crimson nails. It was no wonder that men adored her, competed for her attention. She caught the reflection of her brother in the mirror and frowned. "Somebody has to go meet the plane," she said, "and I'm expecting my date any time now."
Howell finished his beer, put the can down on her dresser and belched.
"You mean that weird dude who works at the bank? I bet he likes you to wear spurs, don't he?"
Abby pinched her mouth tight. "Take your beer can off my dresser, brother dear." She wiped the dampness with a tissue and dropped it in the wastebasket. She didn't think Howell's statement worthy of reply but it had started her thinking. Wouldn't it be fun to really spur a man while he made love to her? She shivered at the ultimate wickedness of it. Perry already let her do shameful things to him and now she was considering spurs! Her nipples went hot with blood and she had an urge to rub three fingers across the crotch of her panties. She resisted successfully. Howell loomed close, smelling of beer and pretzels. His jeans were torn out at one knee and half his shirt was untucked. The black sheep of the McNarey family. At twenty-five he was a leech on their father's fortune. And Dad went on indulging him like the lazy hound Howell was. Her brother leaned closer.
"Come on Abby, tell me what you and Perry do, huh? I won't tell nobody else!"
"Why do you insist on using bad English?" she snapped, getting up. She brushed by him in her bra and panties, opened the closet wide to pick a dress.
"Cause you talk so God-damned nice," he was leering at her legs as she turned with the dress she'd chosen. For an instant Abby had a most uncomfortable feeling. Brothers weren't supposed to look at their sisters like that. She put a hand self-consciously to her chest, covered one cup of her bra. The weight of her tit against her palm excited her for no special reason. Except that she was always aware of the size of her breasts. For her thin, almost frail shoulders they seemed huge. They rode high and firm on her body and the nipples were embarrassingly thick and dark. But men seemed to love them. She wasn't quite sure why. When Perry had seen her undress that first time, he'd almost slipped to his knees in utter worship. She smiled with the memory. Howell made a dirty sound with his mouth and snapped her back to the present.
"Jesus little sister, you are one hell of a piece of ass…"
"Oh Howell, why don't you go get another beer and let me dress?" She swung across the room, pretending not to be disturbed by his words. But she could almost feel his eyes crawling up and down her body. She glimpsed her thin waist in the mirror, the graceful swell of her hips. She had legs that could rival any New York model. Howell made another dirty sound.
"That Perry doesn't know his ass from a hole in the…"
"Please Howell, I'm sure you don't like Perry. But he is a gentleman. Something you don't know anything about." She pulled the white dress over her head and shoulders and wiggled into it. "Besides, what do I care if you disapprove? Perry is my friend, after all."
"But you're my sister…"