“Really, Milly, I didn’t mean—”
“We’re not that remote, you know. There are men in town, mostly transients, come here to work. It’s out there, it’s easy enough to find if you look.”
This was getting embarrassing. Then Milly added, “But you don’t have to worry about that yourself. You have a man”
Jesus, did everyone around here regard men as property, as prizes? Was that what love was when you got right down to it? Territorial? Nevertheless, now that they’d broken the ice, Ann couldn’t resist asking: “Tell me about Maedeen.”
Milly offered a huge grin. “Let me guess. You and Martin met Maedeen recently, and now you’re jealous.”
“I wouldn’t go so far as to say jealous. She just seems—”
“A little forward? Well, don’t worry. That’s just the way she is. She’s outgoing, friendly. She likes everybody and everybody likes her. Your mother gave her the store when the old man died. She’s done a wonderful job.”
Is that how I seem? Ann wondered. A jealous city priss?
“She and I go out sometimes. We have a wild time.”
But what could Milly mean? There were no dance clubs or night spots in Lockwood. Where did they have a wild time around here?
“A woman’s gotta do what she’s gotta do.” Milly pushed her hair back and laughed. But, “Oh, damn,” she said next. She rummaged through the medical bag. “It’s time for your father’s B-12 shot. I don’t have any left. Would you mind running to my house and getting me some? It’s just a short walk. I don’t want to leave your father alone between IVs.”
“Sure,” Ann said. Actually, it would be a relief. She liked Milly, but her straightforwardness sometimes got too nettling. Milly gave her instructions for what to get and where. When Ann went back downstairs, she noticed her mother and friends still chatting over the photo albums. Her mother looked up suddenly, frowned, then looked back down. She scarcely even spoke to Ann anymore. I’m the prodigal daughter all right, she thought again. Ann wondered if there was anything she could ever do to win her mother’s approval.
Forget it, she dismissed. Ann cut through the town square to Milly’s house. The town looked idle as usual. Several old men sat on the porch of Maedeen’s general store, bantering and chewing tobacco. A dog lazed in the sun. Not a single car could be seen. Ann felt obstinate; she was always too quick to criticize. Lockwood, however idle, had something the city never had. Peace. But suddenly the thought waned. At the end of the square, she saw the church, its great front door and stained-glass windows staring at her like a looming face.
Milly lived in a little one floor house on Bathory Street. Quaint little shrubs out front. A quaint little yard. It seemed honest somehow. No luxuries, just an honest little house. Milly hadn’t given her the keys; there was no need. No one in Lockwood locked their doors. Inside was just as honest. Sparse but clean. Old but well kept furniture. A bowl of potpourri filled the living room with pleasant herbal scents. Milly had said the B-12 was in the kitchen, above the refrigerator. Ann went down the short hall, but stopped. She thought she heard something…
It sounded like a humming noise, ever faint. But she heard something else enlaced with it. From down the hall.
Was it Rena, Milly’s daughter? The noise bothered Ann. She hesitated, then advanced. The hall was dim. The carpet left her footfalls silent. To the left, a door stood half open.
Ann peeked in.
A bedroom, sparse but comfortable like the rest of the house. The decor, however—bright curtains, brightly painted furniture—couldn’t possibly be an adult’s. It must be Rena’s room.
But what was that humming noise?
She looked in further. Sunlight slanted in, and movement caught her eye. White movement in the glare of sun. What the… Ann blinked, staring. The soft, faint hum persisted.
She gulped when she realized what she was seeing.
A figure squirmed on the little, neat bed. Bright white skin in the glare. It was Rena. Naked. Her back arching. Moans and hot breath escaped her throat. At first Ann thought the girl must be convulsing from some illness. But another moment’s staring showed her that it was not discomfort which sent Rena’s young body into clenching spasms. It was ecstasy.
The hum persisted, wavering. Ann noted its source.
Milly’s daughter manipulated a shiny white vibrator between her legs. The vibrator was huge. Tendons strained at the apex of the girl’s legs as she wielded the device with both hands. The girl’s breasts were tiny on her heaving chest. Her stomach sucked in and out; her toes dug in the sheets. The giant vibrator’s volume rose and fell each time it was inserted and withdrawn. The size of the thing, compared to Rena’s tiny sex, made Ann visibly tremor.
Rena continued to writhe, drawing the device slowly in and out. The sensations contorted her face. Melding murmurs of words escaped her lips.
“Doefolmon, bludmon, all the dothers give lof…”
Each time the humming device plunged, Ann thought she could feel it herself. This disgusted her. Immediately, she felt compelled to barge into the room, to stop this.
But would that really be within her rights? This was another woman’s daughter. What right did Ann have to discipline Milly’s child? And what would she say anyway?
“Give lof, give lof, I give lof…”
Lof? Ann thought. What were these words she was muttering? The vibrator hummed. Rena moaned then, her eyes rolling back in her head, when she next pushed the vibrator so deeply into herself that only the end showed. Ann grew faint.
She retreated back down the hall, not making herself known. Quickly, quietly, she found the vial of O’Neal 50mcg B-12. As she left the house, she could still hear the vibrator’s steady hum and Rena’s anguished voice: “Doefolmon, doefolmon…”
Ann walked briskly away from the house. God! Was she being unrealistic? She didn’t care that it was none of her business, nor did she care how sexually liberal the times had become. Fifteen year olds are not supposed to be masturbating with vibrators, she felt convinced. Did Milly know what her daughter was doing when she was out? The walk back through the town square cooled her down. True, it was none of her business, yet one point wouldn’t let go. This was the same girl who had become friends with Melanie. Ann didn’t want to contemplate her reaction if she ever caught Melanie doing the same thing.
And what were those bizarre words Rena had been muttering?
Ann decided to let it pass. Mentioning it to Milly might cause a misgiving, not to mention embarrassment. What could she possibly say? Hey, Milly, I saw your kid masturbating with a vibrator the size of an ear of corn. No, she couldn’t say that. Let Milly worry about her kid herself, she settled.
Pickman Avenue remained as idle as before. The big steepled church reflected bright white in the sun. Ann crossed at the walk, then stopped. A car was pulling away from Nale’s, the general store.
Ann stood in the street, staring back.
It was a blue Mustang GT. My car, she realized.
Though she couldn’t be positive, there appeared to be two people riding in it. The one on the left appeared to be Martin.
The one on the right appeared to be Maedeen.
«« — »»
The glass tube measured eight inches in length, three eighths of an inch wide. The dother liberally lubricated it with petroleum jelly. She paused, grinning. Then she began to slide the tube into the tiny hole at the end of Zack’s penis.