“Yes, isn’t it?” Carla responded, sipping her brandy. Her mind was slightly confused with the suddenness of his presence in her home and life. She was still a little intimidated by him—so masculine and handsome and magnetic, with some sort of musky pervasiveness which hit her with an animal attraction she hadn’t known since Arnold had died. Even now, as they drank and talked in a most respectable and civilized manner, she couldn’t help thinking of him in a detached way from the standpoint of a sex partner.
Sex! What a stupid thought! Still, it bothered her, and she had a hard time meeting his frankly brazen gaze, and she felt uneasy in an ethereal fashion, as if she was in danger. Which was a silly bother, for she was safe, and perfectly all right in entertaining him alone in her house; the age when such things were considered naughty was of her own mother’s Victorian age, not now. And Mort was the soul of discretion… but still the air of something wrong, something deliciously frightening clung to her, and she tried to put her finger on exactly what it was and failed.
It had been two hours now, the time simply flying, and while too many drinks had been consumed, nothing else had happened. She shrugged off her apprehensions as she drained her glass again, determining to enjoy this man’s company and stop being such a wet blanket, and chalked up the butterflies in her belly as being the result of too much brandy. What the heck, this was better than being alone.
And the hypnotically talking McDonald caught the almost imperceptible relaxing of her reflexes and grinned in satisfaction to himself. This was what he’d been waiting for, had with consummate skill worked towards for the last boring few hours—and it was just about time to strike. He said suavely: “I could use another refill, Carla. How about you, hmmm?”
“No, not right now, Mort. I better not.”
“Oh, come on. There’s still a little left in the bottle, may as well kill it off.”
“Mort, please. I’ve had a little too much as it is.” Carla’s eyes dimmed slightly from the slowly building effect the alcohol was having on her without her realizing it before.
“Carla…” McDonald’s eyes narrowed slightly as he lowered his gaze to the couch momentarily. “I think you had better go for one more. I’ve been putting it off as long as I could but I’ve got to get around to the real reason for my visit. And… I’m afraid it isn’t going to be very pleasant for either one of us.”
“W-What do you mean, Mort.” Carla stuttered, confused momentarily by his sudden serious tone. “Y-You sound as though something were wrong.”
“Yes, my dear,” he grimaced. “Something is wrong. And it involves the conduct of your daughter and her young girlfriend, Nancy.”
“Well for God’s sake tell me,” the young voluptuous women demanded, lifting her glass automatically for the offered drink. “It can’t be so horrible. They’re both nice young kids.”
“I’m afraid, Carla,” McDonald looked straight into her eyes now, “that they’re not quite the innocent little things you seem to think they are. I caught them in a very compromising position with my son and a friend of his.”
“Oh Mort, surely a little innocent petting isn’t going to upset you. After all, this younger generation is a lot more casual in their ways than we were during our time.”
“I’m not talking about innocent little petting.” His eyes dropped again away from Carla’s as though he were having difficulty saying the words. “I’m talking about stripped down naked petting.”
“A-About w-what?” the blood drained from the open mouthed young woman and she quickly raised the glass to her lips, draining the contents completely. “I-I’m sorry,” she apologized, “I-I needed that.”
“It’s perfect understandable. I think we both need it.” He echoed her feeling by lifting his glass also and emptying it without pause.
Carla’s head reeled from the combination of the alcohol and the sudden revelation about Tamara. She just couldn’t believe that Mort McDonald was telling the truth. He must be lying, oh God, he must be.
But why, why would he make up such a story. It just didn’t seem like him.
“Mort,” her tone changed to one of motherly indignation. “I don’t believe what you are saying. I’ve brought Tamera up to be a nice girl and I have no reason to doubt her just because you—you say so.”
“I think you had better have another drink, Carla.” McDonald shook his head slowly as though a great weight were on his shoulders. “I-I wanted to spare you this but… I guess I’ll have to show them to you.”
“Show me what?” Carla asked hurriedly, a slight catch rising in her throat. “Surely you don’t have any proof other than your word.”
“I took some pictures,” he admitted candidly.
“Y-You what?” the now visibly trembling young mother half shrieked. “Of… of Tamera and your son.”
“Yes, I did,” his seriousness changing slowly, almost imperceptibly to a thin lewd grin. “I wanted to make certain the girls didn’t cry rape afterwards and get the boys in trouble. Just a little precautionary measure.”
“W-Why that’s the most despicable thing I’ve ever heard of,” Carla retorted angrily. “I want you to get out of this house immediately, Mr. McDonald, and don’t bother coming back again.”
She rose from her seat, her face white and her body trembling from the horrible shock it had just received, but she immediately fell back again from the forgotten effects of the large quantity of alcohol she had consumed during the afternoon.
“There, there,” McDonald smilingly consoled. “No need to get all upset over the girls making out with the boys a little. As you said yourself, this young generation’s way ahead of us.”
“Mr. McDonald,” the still trembling young woman demanded and at the same time fought vainly against the alcohol daze spreading over her mind. “I asked you to leave!”
Eddie’s father’s smile slowly faded and an unmistakable coldness flickered into his eyes causing the distraught Carla to freeze momentarily as she sat.
“Not until you see the pictures, every one of them, and get it clear in your mind that my boy wasn’t the only one at fault. Your hot-pants’ed little daughter and her girlfriend were fucking, like two turned-on minks.”
“P-Please don’t use words like that,” Carla groaned, knowing that she was helpless to do anything if what he said was true. “I’ll look at the pictures, if—if you’ll promise to go afterwards.”
“No promises, Carla,” he smiled again, this time with a slight suggestive leer on his lips. “Let’s just play it by ear, shall we?”
She shook her head in abject assent, knowing full well she had absolutely no choice in the matter.
“That’s a good girl,” McDonald purred, “now get us another bottle and let’s fortify ourselves for the pictures we’ve got to go through, shall we?”
Carla rose obediently to her feet and staggering slightly made her way to the kitchen shelf for another bottle. After she had sat down again and poured them another drink in complete silence, McDonald reached in his pocket and pulled out the small packet of pictures, a triumphant and satisfied little smile curling across his lips.
“Now let’s get down to the nitty gritty,” he said and moved next to Carla so that his leg pressed tightly into her. She thought momentarily of moving but her liquor-numbed mind passed the thought away immediately. She didn’t want him to get angry again and besides she felt herself capable of handling him if he tried to get too fresh with her.
“Here’s the first little beauty,” she dimly heard McDonald say, his breath heavy with excitement of looking at the dirty pictures with the helpless young mother of his son’s hot little girlfriend.
“See, Eddie’s just going to ram his cock into her and she’s got her legs spread wide open just waiting for it.”
“Oh God no!” Carla moaned, clasping her hands over her mouth to keep from screaming as the lewdly spread body of her daughter, Tamera, passed before her eyes. Tears streamed helplessly down her cheeks. She could see the young girl’s eyes tightly closed in rising ecstasy as though she were actually wanting it to happen to her.