She watched them walk toward Rodney's car and saw his arm go around Jerri's waist. Then, to Jane's consternation, she looked on as he let his hand travel downward and all too playfully caress her buttock through her clothes. It was obvious to Jane it wasn't the first time he had bestowed such a touch on her daughter's rear and she wondered just how much more had gone on between them at school.
Just as they drove away, the phone rang. It was a man's voice, deep and a little gruff. "Hi, honey," he cockily said. "Who is this? Never mind, I know. You're Jane Spicer, right, baby? Your old man's been dead for a year now and I bet you're just dying to have a nice, big old prick inside your panties, ain't you?”
She was aghast. Before she could get her wits about her and either demand to know who he was and what he thought he was doing or slam down the receiver, he growled, "How'd you like to lie down right now and strip yourself to that hot gash of yours? I've got something in my hand right now I know you'd just love to have fuck the shit out of that wet, hairy cunt of yours!”
Jane crashed the phone down and felt herself grow red in the face.
First she was plain scared, then she was angry. Who in the world could it possibly have been, and how did he know her name? She had never heard the voice in her life but he seemed to know plenty about her. Not only her telephone number, which was bad enough in itself, but also her name and the circumstances of her late husband's death. And the things he had said to her!
She had heard about things like this happening to women but it never had to her before. My God, what if little Karen or Kathie had been the one who answered the phone? Would the creep have poured out the same kind of filth into their young, innocent ears, Jane wondered? She walked around the room fretting for a few minutes and then it finally occurred to her to call the police. They were amazingly unresponsive. The desk sergeant told her it happened all the time and there was no way to trace the call unless they had advance warning. He asked her exactly what was said and Jane was too embarrassed to repeat it. She got red in the face and stammered that the things the man had said were too perverted to talk about.
"It was probably just some nut that got your number out of the book, lady," he glibly told her. "It'll probably never happen again.”
It infuriated her that the policeman was ignoring the other details of the call-the personal things the caller had referred to that no stranger could possibly know. She gave up and hung up the phone.
The phone rang again and startled her out of her wits. She answered it frantically, sounding like an idiot, but it wasn't the deep gruff voice she half expected at all. It was only Harry, her husband's former business partner. There were still a few routine details to clear up about their mutual business interests, he told her. Could she meet him for dinner? A few times before Harry had asked her to come down to the office but nothing like this before. She knew he was a married man even though she had never become well acquainted with his wife.
"Well, I-" she began.
"Come on, Jane," he said. "It'll do you good to get out of the house.”
It bothered her a little that he was obviously referring to her stay-at-home ways now that her husband was gone. She didn't really know why. Reluctantly she agreed to meet him after asking as unobtrusively as possible whether his wife would be joining them, and he had said she would.
The girls came dashing into the house on their way back from the park. They were squealing and yammering about some boy.
"You should have seen Karen's face when Wilbur rode by on his bike and waved at her. Boy, she got red as a beet. Ha ha. She really likes him but she won't admit it!" teased young Kathie, her blonde pigtails flying.
"I do not,’ fumed her older sister. "He's just a boy in my class at school, that's all. All I did was wave back.”
Jane smiled at her two young daughters. She thought it was cute that Karen, now at thirteen, was becoming interested in boys. And ten-year-old Kathie was just the right age to be at her about it all the time. Her elder daughter's proud young breasts pooched self-consciously underneath the top she wore and Jane saw that it clung damply to her torso everywhere except over her brassiere.
"You've both been playing awfully hard. Look at how sweaty you are, Karen. Both of you go take a shower," she told them.
Kathie was still teasing Karen about Wilbur but as they went up the stairs Jane heard the older girl say, "Oh, be quiet, Kathie. You're just jealous 'cause you don't even have anything yet to make a boy look at you.”
Jane saw her jut out her small breasts as they reached the top landing and saw Kathie stick her tongue out and made a face at her older sister in response.
After dinner she told them she was going out and started to call the sitter for them. They wanted to know why Jerri couldn't stay with them and Jane explained that Jerri was old enough to have a life of her own and was out with a boyfriend. They were so insistent about not having the sitter called that Jane finally gave in and told them they could stay home alone if they'd both be good.
She went to her bedroom and started getting dressed. The mirror would have pleased her if she had been uninhibited enough to admire what it reflected. As the clothes came off her still-slender frame, the woman's nakedness revealed a finely turned rear end that jutted provocatively below the curve of her waist. Inside the front of the panties that stretched tartly over buttocks, between her long legs, hid a thick, damp mat of brownish-blonde curls. Above, gently and heavily bobbing under their own weight, the lush mounds of her breasts swelled to twin peaks. Jane was no teenager anymore. Not by a long shot. There was a trace of extra padding at her thighs and her breasts perhaps lacked the tight-as-a-drum perfection of those of Jerri. But to have lived thirty-seven years and to have have given birth to three daughters, she was an unquestionably good-looking woman. She stood out among friends her own age like a pearl in a pea pod.
On went the sheer panty hose, the flouncy yet sedate half-slip and a few quick sprays of cologne to pervade her secret regions with a clean, aromatic scent. She paused as she drew the straps of her brassiere over her shoulders and smiled to herself at what Jerri had said about going without a bra. It was true, she saw to her pleasure, that she could have easily done without the support of a bra. Of course the twin swellings of her prominent breasts would undoubtedly shift and sway under her blouse-but barely more than Jerri's did. She stopped herself. What a silly thing to be thinking! If she wasn't careful, she might find herself adopting some of the far-out ideas of her daughter about how a woman should dress. Or about how she should undress, rather, she chuckled to herself. The way Jerri ran around in her thin long dresses with no bra underneath and her form-fitting mini skirts with her groin covered only by the skimpiest excuse for panties, was more like being undressed than dressed.
When the doorbell rang she let Harry in and ran to get her purse. Kathie and Karen were in the living room watching television. Harry walked past Kathie and patted her on the head, but when he got to where Karen was sitting he was a little more attentive.