When she was about ready to explode another sound suddenly overlapped her heavy breathing. The door-buzzer! Someone was out there! Who? Not her mother, for Lois had a key.
Careful not to make a noise, thrilling anew at the touch of the dress on her bare skin, feeling especially excited at the knowledge she wore nothing under it, making sure she wouldn't trip in the high heels, Maryon crept down the passage, through the living room, and across to the front door. Through the peephole she saw the magnified image of… Jim! What could he want? He wasn't supposed to be here? Caution flung to the winds, keyed up and already excited, Maryon opened the door a crack and stuck her head around it, her long, fancy blonde ponytail dangling.
"Jim? Mother's out for the day. She's mad at you. What are you doing here?"
It was evident, even to her, that he'd hit a few bars on his way over, for his face was flushed and his eyes mindfully solemn. With a nod he indicated the two packages he carried. "Came to make up. Brought some presents, too. Got something for you… ain't you going' to let a man in?"
A present for her!? Well, why not let him in. Lois would get over her mood, eventually. And Jim paid so little attention to Maryon, that he wouldn't now concern himself about her dress. She'd get him out of here in a hurry, anyway, once she'd found out what the present was. She pulled the door open and waited till he'd entered before closing and locking it again. She really didn't know why she was being so careful…
Jim put the three packages carefully down on the low coffee table and let himself fall – phhheeewww! – to the couch, putting his arms along the back. "Gee, little girl," he said, not yet looking at her, "that's a mean weight to carry about. Your mom's not home, you say? When'll she be back?"
"Oh, not for hours, I expect. She's gone to see one of her friends…"
"A boyfriend!?"
"No…! One of the ladies she went to school with, or something."
"Oh. Say, Maryon Alysun, are you all dressed up to go riding with us today? Aw, that's a pity. But it ain't really my fault, y'know. And you took so pretty like that, come to think of it, don't ever remember seeing you wear a dress like that, and those shoes! Why, you look all grown up."
"Oh, thank you, sir," said Maryon, making a mock curtsey, aware of the length of leg she exposed as she raised the hem of the bright-blue dress and bent her knee.
"No, I mean it, kid! You really look grown up. Say, how old are you again? Thirteen? Wow, when I was your age little girls didn't look like you, kid. You know your mother when she's in one of her spats, though. Don't understand her sometimes. And she doesn't seem to understand me! But you wouldn't know about that. Jeeze, but I could do with a drink. She's out and won't be back till late, you say? Well, tell you what, I've, got a gallon of Chablis here – not great stuff, local but okay for a picnic, which is why I brought it. Since we're not going on a picnic, I might as well break into it, huh? Can you get me a glass, girlie? Old Jim ain't got much class, but he hasn't gotten to where he drinks out of the bottle, yet. Oh, and say, get a small glass for yourself, Maryon. We'll celebrate my solitude, a slug won't hurt you."
Acutely conscious of her over-swaying slender hips, bare under the nylon, Maryon sauntered into the kitchen, found a couple of glasses, and returned, wishing the while that he'd hurry up and get out of here – after he'd left his present! – so that she could further investigate the mysteries of her mother's roomful of clothes. Now she put the glasses on the table and, watching as he expertly poured, sat down on a red leatherette hassock across from him, careful to bend her tight-closed legs away from him and pull the edge of the dress down over her knees, lest he see beneath it to her nude little nubbin.
"Now, sip that carefully, don't want your mother to get mad at me all over again 'cause I got you drinking," said Jim, taking a healthy swig from his own larger glass. Maryon felt a warm glow go through her as she drank. The wine tasted a little bitter but as her mouth and throat and chest warmed to it she could understand why grownups would like it.
"Mmmhhh, that's good," she said, looking at him out of her big blue eyes, screwing up her nose and shaking her long ponytail. "Uh, Jim, what present did you get me?"
He was already pouring his second glass and waited until he'd taken another drink before he indicated one of the two parcels, the flat, smaller, square one. "Bet you can't guess what it is?"
Maryon took another drink of wine, a bit more, this time. It was beginning to taste good, and nothing seemed to be happening to her. "Can I touch it?" she asked.
"Sure, sure," he said expansively. "Hey, come sit on my knee, and then you can open it. But you should guess, first. Bet you don't get it, first time off. Hey, mind my glass!"
Wondering what it could be, Maryon hastily had finished off her drink, picked up the package, which seemed light, and sat herself uncaring down on his knee so that she almost spilled the glass in his hand. Leaning around her he refilled both glasses and leaned back to watch her as she puzzled. "Hey, what'll you bet?" he asked, putting a hand on her shoulder.
"Oh, I don't know…" she said, reaching for her glass and weighing the gift in her other hand. "Uh… if I win, you get to buy me another something like whatever this is; if I don't guess, I'll give you a big kiss. And you get a kiss for this present anyway."
"Oh, yeah, just like all you girls," he said, laughing a bit ruefully. "Doesn't cost you anything, but I'll have to fork out if I lose. Well, okay. Can you guess?"
"Oh, don't rush me," she said, jiggling on his knee, feeling his bones through the thin dress against her rump. She moves a bit closer to him up his thigh and wriggled back until she sat on both his legs. His arm went about her waist to hold her. There was a moment's silence as they both drank. "Oh, I give up," she said, and began to fumble at the wrappings.
"The bet first," he said, and pulled her toward him. She turned her face up and kissed him full on the lips as they came together, having meant only to dab him on the cheek. But even though she was intent at the moment on getting into the package, she couldn't help giving him a responsive open-mouthed kiss as his warm hand came up around her shoulder in what had probably started off being a friendly hug. And then she pulled from him and ripped into the fancy covering paper. It was a record, an album, The Sound of Music! She'd wanted to get it but her allowance wouldn't allow it. Tucking it under one arm, she threw her other about his neck and wildly kissed him, full on the mouth again pleased that he'd thought specially of her, and driven by the wine to extravagant gesture. "Oh, think you, Jim," she said, looking at him with shining eyes. "Can I play it now?" And with a fine disregard to the high-riding of her bright blue skirt up her stockinged legs, she slipped down from him and ran into her own room, where she impatiently set the record on the player and waited for it to start.
When, floating with the music, she returned to the living room, she found her glass once again full and Jim lying back against the couch grasping his own.
Feeling light-headed, grown-up and happy, Maryon danced around the room, arms outstretched, pausing only now and again for a gulp of the heady wine, careless of the way the high-waisted dress swirled out from the stems of her legs, letting the music decide her movements for her. When, out of breath, she paused, the skirt settling down over her dark-stockinged legs, she was surprised to see that the gallon bottle had been reduced by over a third. Jim, with a peculiar smile on his face, eyed her through half-closed lids. "I've never seen your mother move about like that," he said, his voice comfortable and blurred. "That's a piece o'real 'ntertainment. Y'deserve a li'l som'p'm fr y'r time. Screw Lois, always standin' a man up. Here, kid, take this instead o'… instead o' her. Try it on, lemme see if it fits though, huh? At least a man deserves that, don't he?"