Howdy, folks. Quick disclaimer: Illysette does NOT exist. Really. She's the product of a 60-odd year-old straight dude with spare time. While I've written a gazillion stand-alone erotic stories in my million and a half years of existence, this series will be the first attempt at 'world building' for me. I hope y'all enjoy watching Illysette as she learns that blooming right where you are planted isn't the hassle she imagined it might be.
Chapter 1
“Ohhh, noooo,” Illysette moaned with her heart hammering as she reread the letter. “No no no no no,” she whined in a small voice. That was replaced soon enough with "God damn it!" and as many other cusswords as she could string together in a much firmer tone of voice.
She picked things off of the table in the sunny country kitchen to throw. She growled and snarled and tore napkins to fluttering bits after deciding not to start flinging shit. Lys wasn’t at all sure she’d be able to stop once she began to get her mad out. She sat down again, smoothing the crushed and wrinkled paper on the table and read it one more time before laying her head on her arms and sobbing her heart out.
It was Trouble that stopped all that ‘feelin' sorry for myself’ business. The leggy pit/dobie mix whined at her side, poking her cold wet snoot against Lysette’s bare leg. Biology was the bane of her high school existence, but Lysette had gotten a little out of the baffling and sometimes icky class. Lessons about Pavlov’s behavioral canine experiments peeked through when she automatically reached out to scratch the worried dog’s neck.
She gave a short bark of laughter and smiled down at the hound. Lys blotted her damp eyes with some of the largest paper napkin remnants littering the table. Trouble’s liquid looking peepers stared up at her and her tail was doing that tentative swishing thing that indicated, “Your dogosaurus is confused as hell, hooman.” It began wagging faster when Trouble had Lys’s full attention.
Proving that high school was not entirely a waste of time, despite the evidence crumpled and wrinkled in front of her, she scratched under her pup’s neck and warned, “Beware. When you train your dog, your dog also trains you.” Lysette didn’t know if Pavlov and Nietzsche were contemporaries or not, but Trouble didn’t seem to care. The sleek critter pushed back against Lys and chuffed happily as she wriggled around trying to get her two-legger to scratch all her favorite spots.
******
“Yeppers, Lyric. Ohhhmigod how this sucks bunnies. I am never gonna get out of Auldburg friggin' Indiana!”
She was laying on the roof of the carport. It was an easy climb from her bedroom window and her favorite tanning -or what have you - spot. The blue rubbery yoga mat kept the gritty stuff from the shingles off of her baking body. Lysette stretched her smooth browned legs toward the sun and wiggled her narrow toes as she told her friend about the rejection letter from the last of the four universities she had hoped she might attend. How the hell could she get herself out of sleepy, rural, gossipy as Mayberry, Auldburg, Indiana Population 1,519? (As the bright green rectangular Information signs at every road leading into the ‘Village of the Damned’ pronounced.) What’s a girl gotta do? Fucking voodoo!? Hard on the southern border of the State, if it wasn’t the Hazzard County of Duke’s fame, Lysette was sure as hell you could see it from here.
Lyric was not as discombobulated as her friend with the news. “So? You do the Community College bit and then transfer later on. Wait, girlfriend. Don’t bark at me. I get it, you want to shake the dust of our idyllic little Paradise off your cute tootsies. I get it.” She tried to mollify her with her unfailing ‘cup half full’ outlook on the lives of pretty teenaged girls. “Illysette, it’s not a disaster. Auldburg doesn’t have a Community College, goof. You can go to Parker CC, get your ducks in a row and transfer. At least you’ll be out of here a little bit. New environment, new experiences - new guys, Illysette!
If that didn’t necessarily improve her mood, it at least got her attention moving in a different direction.
“Yeah, and you’ll be right there to scoop up the cast-offs, right?” She grinned at Lyric’s happy response.
“Well, yeahhhh.”
Lysette teased her some more and got teased back for her efforts. They ended the call and she rolled onto her tummy to sun her pretty tail for a few minutes. Her folks would be home shortly and she really didn’t need them to find their sizzling teenaged daughter, stark naked on the roof in front of God and everybody. Dad might or might not be too mad. There were some confuzzled vibrations between them lately but Momaroo would go off. She was bent over the window, feeding the now rolled up mat, her phone and a bottle of Coke through it before stepping through with one long leg.
******
“Omifuckingod, Garfish! Come see!”
Garland Fischman came over to where his sorta friend Jeff was playing with his new birthday present. He fucking hated the Garfish tag and the diminutive Gar was just as bad. What the Hell were his parents thinking? Despite bruises and the occasional bloody nose or lip, he conceded eventually. The thing was, there was no better alternative! What could he demand of the kids that lived to torment his ass? “Call me fucking Fish? Fish man!?” Garland figured most days that God Himself had set him up for failure.
“What’s got your panties in a wad?” He looked at the screen displaying the drone’s camera take.
“Dude. What panties?” Jeff breathed with some awe in his voice.
They watched Lysette, every tasty inch of her hard body exposed, as she sunned on the roof. When her long, long legs stretched up to the sun, parted just enough to make them wish she’d spread’em further, cute feet wiggling as she talked on the phone, things got tense.
“Can you move it so we can see her puss? Holy shit! This bitch is sooo fucking hot.”
“I’m trying, dude. I don’t want her to hear the damn thing and chase her off.” Jeff played the controls and the view slewed as he flew around Lysette trying to get a better angle. The boys groaned together when she hung up and rolled onto her tummy.
“What a nutcrackin' butt. Fuck me to tears.”
Garland was glad he was standing behind Jeff as he reached down to massage his stiffening pecker. Lysette must have been magnetic because he could not take his eyes off of her tight round tail and skinny hips and those fucking amazing legs. Jeff’s bird was in a pretty good place as the dark-haired slut got to her knees before gathering up her stuff. Her ass was spotlighted in the waning afternoon sunshine. The spy copter had a bird’s eye view of the tiny, wrinkled hole between her butt cheeks and her almost spreading pussy lips. He had to stop rubbing his doo-dads. Garland had already sprung a bit of a leak from his randomly pulsing peter.
Their concern about Lysette going in came true as the guys ended up watching her roll the mat and then put her stuff through the window. The last glimpse of her delightful naked heinie disappearing into her house made them sigh with disappointment.
******
“Hi, Daddy!” she squeaked as he leaned over her shoulder while she was making dinner. She leaned back and smooched his whiskery cheek. “You startled me. Get cleaned up, we can eat as soon as Mom gets home.”
She looked down at Trouble where she waited for treats or stray bits that fell onto the floor. Lysette growled, “You let someone sneak up on me! Worthless hound.” It didn’t change Trouble’s teeth baring grin or still her frisky tail even a little bit.
“Smells good, kiddo,” Jack said.
He began to unbutton the sweat stained chambray shirt. It was hot in the house. It always was in the sunny months. Usually a bit cooler than outdoors but not much. He stood in front of the small oscillating fan on the counter, fanning the open shirt in the slight breeze that cooled the sweat on his chest. The fan didn’t do much to cool the kitchen but did spread the delicious smell of the deer sausage and broccoli florettes concoction Lys was cooking up. He watched her cook for awhile.
Thank God for Summer. Even Charli, who had become much more modest at the ripe old age of 38, tended to wear quite a bit less around the house when it got warm. The only A/C was a unit that stuck out like a house wart from their bedroom window. He had offered to put one in Lys’s room, but she had declined.
Lysette was wearing the bottoms of a swimsuit that looked like zebra patterned short shorts and a tummy baring cropped T. She had one knee cocked with that foot lightly standing on the other as she cooked. A fair bit of her tanned heinie showed beneath the swimwear. The swaying of her boobs under the t-shirt as she stirred, like a couple of puppies wrestling under a blanket, held his interest for a few seconds. When the hell did Lysette get so hot?? He blinked and shook his head then walked toward the stairs and the shower.
Trouble yipped and exploded into action. She pushed her blocky noggin through the doggie door and with a happy bark galloped across the yard to meet Mom. Trouble found out she could brute force the gate by the carport a few months ago. She launched herself when still a couple of feet away and hit the gate broadside. There was a happy yip as she headed for the driveway.
Lysette glanced out the window and waved to Mrs.Crutchfeld who always gave Mom a ride home. The older lady was waiting for it and waved back. Mom fended off the happy dog and had to get a fistful of Trouble’s collar to keep her off her only ride back and forth from work.
Liz didn’t make that any easier as she cooed sweet doggie endearments to the frantic animal. Trouble was halfway into the seat Charli had just vacated. The shivering critter’s tongue lapped every bit of the woman she could reach. Charli dragged and heaved against the monster and eventually she and the dog snuffling her hand for treats watched Liz drive away with a toot of the horn. Trouble answered with a sharp bark of her own.
Lysette took a deep breath and went back to dinner. “Please, God.” She prayed in silence for a good day and a hard limit on drama.
Charli, with Trouble cavorting like the puppy she no longer was, came through the kitchen door and glanced at her too-damned-good-looking and brazen daughter. She rolled her eyes at the expansive display of tanned, toned, teen behind the girl’s back.
Lysette was just turning to greet her mother and caught some of that. It made her twitch.
“Hi, Mommy! Dad’s showering, I’m cooking and Trouble is being a pest. How was your day?”
Charli grinned at her too appealing by half daughter. Ok, the girl was scary. Lys was her girl though. She crossed one arm under her breasts, rested the elbow of the other on it and tapped her chin with red nailed fingertips. With her best Game Show Hostess voice she answered, “And the survey says...?” That earned her a giggle and a quick smile over Lys’s shoulder.
“Just another day at the salt mines, Honey. Slaving hellishly so that others might prosper.” The bitterness was pretty well disguised by her playful tone. Charli really hoped so, anyhow.
“Let me see if I can catch your old man in the shower, Lys.”
Lysette's eyes got wide, and her mouth opened in a surprised 'O'. "Who are you and what have you done with my mother?" That was followed with an amused grin.
She winked at her daughter with a bawdy, Mae West-y confidence and smoothed her hands over her body from the slopes of her maybe not as firm as before breasts, down across her two kids a while back tummy and over her flaring mommy hips. Lysette’s stunning beauty intimidated her, but she knew for certain Daddy still found Mommy interesting. Charmaigne was already a little slippery down there as she headed for the bathroom upstairs. She wasn't sure why she was so ready to fool around today but she would not look that gift horse in the mouth.
“Riccccky, I’m hoooome!”
“Luuuucy!” Jack replied, sticking his wet head past the shower door. He reached for Charli and tried to drag her into the shower with him.
Laughing loud enough to make Lysette grin downstairs at the dog in the kitchen, she fought him off. “Quit it, you horny man! Let me get undressed.”
He left the shower door half open and was soaping his balls as he watched his good looking wife get naked. He switched to slowly stroking his half-stiffened cock. He had been doing that earlier, before his wife showed up, recalling his gorgeous daughter cooking at the stove in her animal print bootie shorts. Thank the Holies that Charli had not peeked into the shower stall first.
It did not concern him long. Jack was just a guy. Guys drooled over sexy females. His wife was one of those too, still. His cock stiffened even more as he watched Charli undo the garter belt and roll her sexy black stockings down her pretty legs. Many things about Charmaigne had changed but not this one nod to the sexy and sensual wanton she had once been, back when they had first run into one another. Her clothing and undies, along with her attitude, might be the stuff of the chaste and Holy lately but there was a devilishly sexy imp in the woodpile.
She tucked the stockings into one of the peep toe pumps and bent, straight legged, to slide her chaste panties over her hips with a quick glance past one shapely leg to see if she had his attention.
Charli did. Jack was already out of the spraying water and reaching for her. She laughed happily and watched her hardbodied hubby in the mirror as he moved behind her. He pushed up close to her almost naked body. Jack’s lengthy penis slid comfortably into the cleft between her butt cheeks. He was hard as a rock and Charli felt the excited pulse of his heartbeat through it. She sighed and leaned her head back as his tongue slipped up the side of her swanlike neck. His warm damp exhalations as he whispered in her ear got her juicier in a hurry.
“Bend over, baby. I’ll drive you home.” He wiggled his eyebrows at her in the mirror.
Charli studied her reflection. Her titties, still just as huge but a little jigglier, almost spilled over the top of her modest cream colored brassiere as she leaned over the sink. Jack was licking his way down her back, dragging his wide flat tongue over her spine. Shooting stars detonated like fireworks all over her body. She spread her legs and lifted herself onto her toes to give him access to her dripping pussy.
Jack squatted behind his wife, took her hips in his rough hands and spread her ass cheeks as he bent to drag the warm tip of his damp tongue between them. Licking her gently from the top of the crevice, down, down, down to lap her oozing pussy juice from her cotton candy pink lips. Then again. And some more. When Charli’s legs began to quiver, he pushed his mouth against her twat and speared her with every bit of his tongue. He began fucking his wife that way and her moans were going to get them some teasing from Lys. He chuckled and stood behind her. Now, they were both watching one another in the mirror as he fitted the spongy head of his cock between her damp pussy lips. He held her wide eyes in the reflection as he slowly - really fucking slowly - fed his lengthy cock into her sizzling cunny.
She closed her eyes and gasped, rolled her hips a little and keened like a very ready teakettle. It was the exact same move as the horny devil had used on her the day he gently took her virginity. This time, there was no sharp sting of discomfort. That was for damn sure. Charli pushed her hips into him but the bastard would not take the hint! She groaned as she opened her eyes again and watched his face as she begged.
His maddening cock just slipped and slid between her thighs with a slow rhythm that first buried it into her until she could feel his ball sac tapping between her legs then withdrew with agonizing slowness so he could tease the rubbery head against her tingly clit. Charli panted and pushed into him.
“Yummm, Jacky boy. Fuck your girl. C’mon babe, fuck your pretty girl’s hot wet...”
Charli must’ve gotten that just right. As sudden as surprise, Jack had her hips in both hands and was just fucking pounding her! She squelched a surprised yelp and began giving as good as she got. Charli thrashed and squealed as her husband screwed the living hell out of her!
His steamy jizz shot into Charli’s thirsty puss with throbbing pulses she could feel in the wet hot flesh wrapped around her man’s spitting cock. His big strong hands pistoned her hips onto him with jarring force. The head of his throbbing spear jabbed at her cervix with every stroke which was a small price to pay for such a thorough fucking. The madman was never going to stop gushing into her!
Charli’s own meltdown was not far behind. Her spasming twat led her to an astonishing orgasm that made her eyes squinch with tears leaking from the corners. She turned and bit into her shoulder to muffle her cries of pleasure and abandon. Charli found herself squished against the sink as Jack collapsed against her, cock still buried to the root in her practically vibrating cunny. His harsh gasps matched hers as they caught one another’s eyes in the mirror again. Jack cuddled her like that, arms wrapped around her waist, chuckling as he tried to undo her bra with his teeth, whispers and soft kisses. His long whistly sigh as he straightened behind her and eased his softening dick out of Charli’s bruised pussy brought her another orgasm, much gentler but no less incredible. She took Jack’s hand and led him to their bedroom. Dinner could wait. Lys wouldn’t let it get cold.
******
“Hey! What’s a guy gotta do to get something to eat around this joint?”
Jack grinned over his shoulder as Charli whispered, “Thought I just answered that.”
Lysette and Trouble were in the yard. She was flinging a Frisbee that the dog snatched out of the air with magnificent leaps and happy yips. She gave Daddy a grin and said to the dog, “My Master’s voice, pup. To be continued...” She wiggled the Frisbee at her and the dog bounded onto the postage stamp sized deck and into the kitchen behind Lysette.
She gave her folks a teasing smirk. “Ohhh, now y’all have an appetite.” Her mom’s faint blush made her day. Lysette giggled. It was good to see them like this. Mommy had been on fire when she came home! That wasn't a common thing. Dinner was fun.
Right up until it wasn’t.
“Sooo, get any mail?” her mom asked after pushing away her empty plate and quaffing a long swallow of Lysette’s creative Arnold Palmer, tangy lemonade with iced tea ice cubes.
The look on Lys’s face was apparently enough to convey the answer to that.
“Uh ohhh. Me and my big mouth. They said no?”
“They said no, Mom,” Lys confirmed with eyes that were suddenly swimming. “It sucks.”
Her dad reached across and took one of her hands, rubbing his thumb over her knuckles. “I’m pretty sure the Marines are hiring and if nothing else, there’s still the convent.” She glared his way. “Ok. Umm, the circus! That dog of yours knows some tricks.”
“Daaad?” The daggers shooting from her eyes did not cow him any.
“Nutz, Little Bit. I’m sorry. I know how much you were looking forward to parole.”
Which did make her grin, although it was kind of a beat-up example of one.
“To answer your unspoken question. I don’t know what I’m going to do, yet. Lyric’s pushing me to go to Parker CC. I’m not even sure how to make that work, though. It’s not like we have buses and y’all fired the chauffeur. I’ll figure something out. Look at the bright side, you guys have a live-in cook for the foreseeable future.”
She tried to be strong. Mommy and Daddy had been so happy at dinner and if that wasn’t rare, it wasn’t exactly the norm anymore, either. She was trying to figure out how to delete the last few minutes when the tears spilled over and Illysette ran to her room with a soft wail of despair. Trouble, ears folded and tail limp, trotted head-down beside her as she went.
******
Sitting on her bed in a loose Lotus and cuddling the stuffing out of her pillow, Lys cried. Trouble lay at the foot of the bed, chin on her paws, her warm dark eyes on Lys’s face. Whenever her favorite two-legger looked up the dog gave a tentative wag or two of her long thin tail and her ears perked for a second. Never the most patient of critters, Trouble was quite vocal and she growled and squeaked and yipped and grumbled as she did her doggie best to console Lysette.
Some subtle signal got her attention and she did a commando crawl on her belly a little closer, tail swishing. Then, closer still. She watched the sad girl with an attentive gaze. After a bit, she pushed her blocky, long muzzled head under the pillow and scooted until she could push past it and lick Lysette’s chin. She immediately ducked back under the pillow. Her shiny black nose peeked out and with a quick dart Trouble slurped her again before hiding under the pillow.
Lysette laughed. This was Trouble’s peek-a-boo game. The dog had taught it to her years ago. She joined in, pulling the pillow away and giving her dog a smooch before covering the thing’s head again. Trouble let out a playful snarl and squirted between Lys and the pillow for hugs of her own. By the time she heard the soft knock on her door, Lys and Trouble were wrestling on the bed while she giggled, and the dog chuffed and yipped at her in between sneaky slurps at targets of opportunity.
“It’s open, Daddy,” she called out.
Lys knew it was Dad. A sharp jab of regret poked her as she thought the days of Mom coming to comfort her were behind them now. She couldn’t really remember when things had changed between them for certain. Lysette had no inkling of why that should be, either.
Jack sat on the bed and Trouble forced her muzzle under his arm and grumbled until he started petting her.
“You ok, kid o’mine?”
“I’m good, Dad. Sorry I screwed things up for you and Mom. Y’all looked happy for a change.” She clamped her hands over her mouth and her eyes went wide. “Oh god, Daddy. I didn’t mean it like that. I, yi yi yi yi. What the hell was I thinking!? I’m so.....”
He chuckled and pushed the dog away. Jack moved until he sat with his back against the headboard. He spread his legs and said, “C’mere, Little Bit.”
Lysette crawled over his outstretched legs and leaned back against her dad’s warm chest. He folded his arms around her tummy and put his chin on Lys’s shoulder.
“One landmine at a time, alright? First things first. You going to be ok, Lys? That had to be a tough punch to take.”
“ohhh god,” she said in a small voice. “Daddy, I don’t know what to do. There has to be more to life than this, you know? It’s home and I love that about it but in every other way, Auldburg is killing me. Or something. Every day I feel a little dimmer, a little more of me disappears.” She looked up at him. They were almost at kissing distance. Which, of course, was when Mom poked her head around the partially open door.
She was already asking “Who wants to go get some ice...” when she saw Jack and Lysette on the bed together. His arms around her and looking into her eyes. ”...cream?”
Lysette saw a dozen different emotions and thoughts flit over her mother’s surprised and maybe even a little embarrassed face as the last word sort of peeped out of her mouth.
Charmaigne’s eyes were flicking from them to anywhere else and back again to focus on her shirtless husband’s ropy muscled arms around his, their!, achingly beautiful daughter. Logic told her that there was no way this was what it looked to be. Jealousy and insecurity were formidable challengers though and beat logic all hollow. Charli was surprised, hurt and instantly as pissed off as she could ever remember being.
“I’ll swing by DQ while I’m out.”
She turned to go and a minute later they heard the pickup door slam hard. A few seconds after that, Charli was smoking the tires off the thing as she tried to outrace her imagination.
Jack took in a very slow deep breath through his nose and laid his head back against the top of the headboard. He held it for a long moment. It hissed back out every bit as slowly. Lysette was shivering against him and the dog was thoroughly confuzzled and sat still as a statue for a change.
“In the military, there’s a term for this, honey. Has its own acronym. OBE Our conversation has just been ‘overtaken by events,’” he said quietly, still looking at the ceiling. “We should go sit in the kitchen. I think our ice cream will melt before Mom comes back in here, kiddo.”
******
“Bobby, I wish you were here,” Lys moaned as she took off her clothes and laid back onto the yoga mat. “You always knew what to say. Or how to deal with shit. like. this!” The hot sun dried the tears that fell from the corners of her eyes.
For weeks now things had been going from bad to much much much worse. It was lots cooler around the house now but the chill was not the good kind. Everyone walked around one another like they were on egg shells. Neither she nor Dad could thaw Mommy’s icy behavior. The only thing she could compare it to was when her brother Bobby’s life was swallowed in Afghanistan. It was despair and infinite sadness that made the house so funereal then.
Lysette’s eyes flew open and she sat up so fast that her boobs bounced up and down a couple of times. That was it. That’s when Mom got weird, started to anyways. She began going to church. Tried to talk Lys and Dad into it but it just didn’t take. She was irritated but continued to attend by herself. That’s when she started dressing differently, too. More Gramma-like was the only way Lys could describe it. Knee length or longer skirts, blouses buttoned to the neck, the bare minimum of makeup and those hideous thick heeled pumps like all the other church ladies wore. (Although the peep-toed pair were kind of cute in a Frankensteiny mismatched way.)
She rolled over and propped her chin in her hands. She was on to something. Lysette watched the agitated fraidy cat standing in her window as she began to think hard.
Trouble stood with her front paws on the window sill, watching. When Lysette looked at her the dog’s tail went into overdrive. Trouble did puppy pushups against the sill and tossed her big head and grumbled her frustration but she would not come out with Lysette onto the roof. It was the only place Lys could go that Trouble wouldn’t follow her.
******
Garland and Jeff got addicted to spying on sexy Illysette Ames. She was always on that damn roof soaking up the sunshine. Peeping the leggy black-haired bitch had become a regular, and welcome, part of Garland’s day. Garland had seen her big ol’ titties and her shaved bald cunt so many times now that he could see them again any time just by closing his eyes.
The same age, but a class behind her, Garland had always had a bit of a crush on Lysette. Bitches like that did not have time for lumps like him. They banged jocks and the pretty boys some of the guys he ran with called ‘Chads.’ He never even considered asking her out. In fact, Garland had never asked any bitch out. Never got remotely close to having a girlfriend. The sum total of his romantic experience came from the fumbling, nervous groping and sloppy kisses of drunken schoolgirls at one ‘party’ or another. If not for Rosie Palm and her five skinny daughters Garland would be a virgin. Wait. Did cumming count if it wasn’t with a girl? Garland didn’t know or really care. If he was still virginal, so what? There wasn’t another fuckin' thing gonna get him to Heaven. Might be one o’them blessing in disguise deals the Bible thumpers yapped about.
Where the hell was Jeff and his damn spy bird?
It would be several frustrating days before he learned that Jeff was away at Church Camp and would be for a few weeks. Figured. He knew that dude was a pussy. During that time Garland’s addiction chafed and prodded and finally, as unsatisfied addictions sometimes do, caused Garland to do something rash.
*****
He almost broke his ass when the stepladder wobbled under him as he was reaching for the lowest branch he could get. It was a long way up the trunk of the old oak and the ladder just a bit short. Garland’s legs shook as he got onto the very top of the damn thing. He was bent over like a fucking circus clown with both hands and his feet on the bright orange top of the stepladder. Garland was afraid of heights and he straightened up real slow, hands out to his sides, just a little at first then finally straight out like he was balancing on a tightrope. His heart was going a mile a minute and he was sweating like a goddam pig. He finally thought he had it and looked up. It shifted his balance and he almost pissed his drawers. He lifted his hands toward the branch and found out he still had to jump a few inches to get his hands on the bough he was aiming for! Oh fuck me. Garland’s knees began knocking again.
He crouched a tiny bit and tried to jump. A frisson of terror, one of those goose just walked over your grave things turned up past 10 to ‘Are you fuckin NUTS!?’ washed over him before he was able to carry it off. Garland found himself hugging the rough bark of the fucking tree with a trickle of warm piss running down one leg. Fuck all this. I’m gonna break my goddam neck. He closed his eyes and willed his quivering legs to hold fucking still so he could climb his silly ass back down the ladder.
Looking back at it later on, Garland thought, Shouldn’t have closed my fucking eyes, dammit.
But he did and lifelong crush Lysette in all her naked glory beckoned him forth. Garland opened his eyes again and looked at the tree. The trunk was too wide for him to shinny up. He couldn’t get his arms even halfway around the gnarly friggin' thing. He looked around at the ground beneath for something, any damn thing, that might help. He even tried a quick prayer to a God he was pretty sure did not like him much. Nothin'. Sweet Jesus, it was jump or go home with wet pants and blue balls. Before he could puss out again Garland leaped.
The off balance hop that was a better de***********ion of the spastic Hail Mary attempt made the ladder shift under him and it almost fell over. Garland bleated FUCK! like a little bitch but he had both hands on the branch in a death grip. He was breathing hard and could smell his stinky fear sweat but he was on the fucking tree. Almost. He was a thick, hefty kid. Not fat or nothin'. Big hefty kids are not natural climbers. He sweated and cussed a blue streak under his breath. His feet scrabbled for purchase and in this the rough, gnarled bark helped him. Garland wound up belly down on the thick oak bough with his beefy arms wrapped around it in a stranglehold while he panted.
For the first time since he began Garland smiled.
Working hard at not looking down, he made his way further into the leafy oak. It was slow going but the hardest shit was behind him. Garland’s goal was a comfy looking fork where several branches came together enough to give him some concealment. He edged into it with a ragged sigh. For awhile Garland did nothing but breathe deep draughts of air. He was pretty pleased with himself. He reached into the leg pocket of his baggy jeans and pulled out Dad’s small binoculars. He put the string thingie around his neck so the binos couldn’t get away from him. He wished he had a drink. Garland waited. The gentle breeze at his back cooled his sweaty skin and whispered secrets to the oak leaves as it passed.
Trouble was agitated. She kept running from the kitchen into Lys’s bedroom and back. Now and then she wiggled through the doggie door and barked at the gate in the fence to the carport. She didn’t try to force it, Trouble was guarding it. Her dog was in protecto-beast mode and Lysette didn’t know why. She wasn’t alarmed. The goofy hound got that way when she caught scent of coons or possums or stray dogs. Lys teased her, “Yep. Still here,” as the dog ran out of her room and rushed into the kitchen, took a peek to make sure her two-legger was there and scrambled back to the bedroom. Lysette followed her and found the dog standing at her window with damp nose prints all over it. A low and menacing growl and the tense attitude of her stiff quivering body got Lys to come over and stand next to Trouble. They looked out the window together at the tree line fifty or sixty yards away with Lysette’s arm around her newly demonic dog.
“Seeee? Nothing out there, you silly crazy girl. Not a squirrel to be seen. No hulking menaces creeping about. Watch. I’ll go outside and show you.”
It was that time of the day anyhow. She got out of her clothes, tossing them into the hamper by the closet and checked herself out in the mirror. Lysette was good-looking. She knew it but it wasn’t something she dwelled on. She looked over at Trouble and giggled. “Sorry baby, that was a fib.” Being a teenaged walking wet dream did not suck. Maybe a little harder to make real friends.
Lys saw herself as the fortunate recipient of a Blessing that she was meant to return, that’s all. She had a Gift, capital G, that made people happier for a little bit. Lysette thought that was cool as hell and was sharp enough to feel responsible about it, too. She didn’t have to go out of her way to be nice. She was born a sweetie. All she had to do, her sense of responsibility said so, was make folks smile when she could! It was a terrific coincidence to also be enchanted with exhibitionism. Folks enjoyed looking at her and she loooved being looked at. If this wasn’t Heaven-sent, she’d eat her socks.
She turned sideways and inspected her boobs. Lys’s titties anchored high on her pectorals, and they sloped, full and heavy, toward dark nips backed by still darker circles about the size of a quarter. She shimmied a little and they swayed on her chest. Lys’s breasts used to embarrass her sometimes, usually in the shower after Phys. Ed. when she compared her body to those of the other girls in her class.
If she was going to be honest with herself and Trouble, Lysette thought there weren’t many girls 'in her class.' She had begun blooming at an early age. Mom told her once, when she became anxious about her “bumps,” that she had been the same way. Between seventh and eighth grade Lys got much taller. That was when those bumps started to grow, too. By the time she had graduated the coltish legs of childhood had developed into conversation stoppers. She had Daddy’s slim hips, with just the teensiest bit of a feminine flare. Her butt, she turned and looked over her shoulder to check it out, was firm with muscled definition that always surprised her. Lys was not a gym rat, and she didn’t do sports in school. She did like to swim and went to the lake with Lyric all the time. Maybe that had something to do with it. Her skin was smooth and flawless, her tummy pretty flat with just a hint of baby fat that gave it a slightly rounded look if she stood a certain way. Illysette thought that was crazy sexy cute.
Lysette was sure other folks had different ideas, but she thought her feet were her best feature. Maybe a bit too big, but just a bit. A high curving instep led to longish narrow toes with nails that were made to be pedicured. They were wide and deep and when Lys polished them, or better yet, when she and Mommy had one of their real rare ‘spa days’ and she came home with that French style, they just popped. Her soles were smooth, pale against her tan and she had a pronounced curve in the arches that looked hot in the right heels.
She wasn’t cocky about it but Lysette knew she was a really sexy looking girl. She had overheard a comment once from one of the old guys who played cards on the overturned cable reel with stacked cement blocks for seats outside the gas station, “That girl was aborned nekkid ‘cuz the Good Lord meant for her to be so.”
Maybe the old fella was right. Lysette certainly liked being naked. Lys stuck her tongue out and tried to cross her eyes in the mirror. Dammit, why could she never pull that off? She giggled with a tiny bird trill. With all this going for her she ought to be a slut. At least a prostitute. (When she once said something similar to Lyric, her pretty blonde partner licked the inside of her thigh and said, “Nope. A porn starlet,” with ‘I’ve thought about this before’ certainty. Lysette laughed it off then and never gave it a second thought but didn’t forget it.)
A few folks would be gobsmacked to learn Illysette was still a virgin. Mom would be pretty thrilled though. There’d be a few more surprised if they knew that she had never seen a hard dick for real. And only one soft one. She was hardly a prude. If it was quiet and muggy with a little heat lightning sheeting the sky, she could still feel the kid’s damp and nervous hands on her boobies for that delicious first time. There had been more fun stuff to learn. But the prettier she got the harder guys tried to get in her bloomers. Some of them were cute, one or two with more money than was good for them, some just had the gift of gab but every single one of’em wanted to put their dick in her. Intensely wanted to do that, and it scared the shit out of her.
She got her yoga mat and phone then hip checked the dog out of the way. “Scoot, galoot. The day’s not getting any younger.” She raised the window while pointing out the nose prints and threatening the dog with menial chores. Lys turned sideways and fed one leg through the window, she ducked and pulled the other one after.
Trouble immediately resumed her post and growled harder. Her nose was poking in and out, flaring, as active as Lys had ever seen it. She would have laughed, it looked funny wiggling and flexing like that, but she was afraid to hurt the mutt’s feelings. Trouble was serious. She spread the mat and laid back onto it, spreading her arms out to her sides and parting her legs wide. Lysette giggled. She’d bet she looked like one of those Human Anatomy diagrams in the Biology book.
A shit-eating grin spread across Garland’s face as the hot little bitch climbed out of her window. He wriggled in the fork to get seated firmly and raised the binoculars. The first thing he noticed was the view from small binos was way better than the one from the spy bird. He got a boner on the spot as he focused on her spread out shiny pink puss lips. Holy Christ! He undid the zipper of his jeans and reached in to squeeze his weasel while he peeped Lysette.
Lysette was startled when Trouble went ballistic. She turned to look at her dog and had a moment of not recognizing it. Every muscle was quivering, she was leaning further out the window than Lys had ever seen her do. And the racket! Trouble snarled and growled and barked her ass off. Her ears were flattened against her skull. The possessed hound was straining forward and her lips were peeled back over her wide sharp teeth. Slobber dripped from her jowls. Trouble was pissed and Lysette had zero idea why. Now she was maybe a little scared. She had never seen Trouble like this.
Neither had Garland. He was laughing at the irritated dog. The more crazed it got the harder he laughed. He went back to focusing on the nekkid bitch and yanking his chain. A second later Garland was confused by the shiny black streak that darkened his view for a sec. He didn’t know it, but Trouble could hear his laughter and she had long had his scent, borne on the summer afternoon breeze - the astringent remnants of his earlier fear, the spicy sex pheromones, the stale stink of his sweaty body. Trouble was on the way.
Lysette screamed, “Trouble, NO!!” as the dog scrambled out of her window bellowing a ferocious series of raucous, angry barks, ran the few steps to the edge and leaped off of the nine-foot-high carport like Super fucking Dog! Lysette gaped with astonishment and then practically dove through her window. She snatched a handful of clothing from the hamper by the closet door and raced into the kitchen. Lys was hopping like a spastic kangaroo as she put on the cutoffs and a t-shirt with a food stain. She blasted out the door and headed for the gate yelling for her dog at the top of her lungs. Lys ran for the wood line.
Holy SHIT!! The fucking dog was climbing the goddam ladder! The forgotten binoculars banged against his chest as he stared in terror at the slobbering, growling barking snarling, dangerous looking animal that was again trying to climb the ladder after failing the first time. Garland stood in the fork, hugging the tree and pissing his pants. Now he could hear the bitch screaming Trouble! Trouble! at the top of her fuckin' healthy lungs and in a minute this whole side of the county was gonna be here looking up at his ass, treed like goddam Rocky Raccoon. Christ, you dumbass! Why’d you close your stupid fucking eyes!!
They didn’t have any real close neighbors, it wasn’t like that on this side of town but Jack’s brother lived close by enough to hear the screams. It was only a heartbeat later that he recognized the screaming voice. “That’s Lys!” wasn’t even completely formed in his mind as Hollister ran for the truck. He didn’t even bother to turn it around, just backed down his drive and stuck his foot in it shooting the rest of the way to Jack’s place still in Reverse with the tranny howling under his feet. He caught sight of Lys’s white t-shirt in the trees and spilled the box of twelve gauge rounds as he tore it out of the glovebox. He grabbed some off the seat and the Remington 870 in the rack behind his head and ran toward where he’d seen her, loading on the fly.
Just like his big brother, Hollister had been a Marine. He had been downrange and knew better than to go busting through the woods yelling for his niece. He couldn’t hear her, just the crazed barking and snarling of her awful scary dog. He racked a round into the chamber and heel-toed briskly forward, head on a swivel.
Which probably kept Hollister from needing stitches. The dog heard him, smelled him, something, and like a sleek black pissed off missile flying nap-of-the-Earth came at him. He had time to glance at Lysette’s horrified face because her uncle was pointing a shotgun at her dog before it recognized him however the hell dogs do that. Trouble jammed on the brakes and her clawed feet gouged clods of dirt and leaves as she lowered her butt and dug in before sprinting back to get between Lys and the tree. Lysette ran to him and threw her arms around her uncle.
“Unc..Unc, Unc,” she had trouble getting the words out through her hitching cries. “Uncle Holly, I know him!” Lysette pointed a shaking finger up at the tree and Hollister followed her directions. He had to move a little to see the chunky guy better past all the leafy branches.
“You’d be Artie Fischman’s boy, right? Garfish?”
Garland hung his head. It had turned into one of those days. He silently vowed never to close his fucking eyes ever again.