When he came out of his room, carrying a boxful of trash, she was waiting for him, anger blazing on her face. The wait hadn't been good for Stacy. She had a lot of resentment toward Gerry, and she couldn't keep it from flaring up inside her. Before he left, she planned to share a few opinions with him.
"First of all," she began, "I want you to know how much you hurt your mother. When I found her that evening it scared the shit out of me. I thought she might try to kill herself. How in the name of hell could you tell your own mother she was nothing but a cheap rotten whom?" Stacy took a deep breath. She felt her tits heave inside the bathrobe, and she knew that it was gaping open at the top, but she didn't care. These were words she must speak no matter what else.
"Wait a minute," he said weakly. "I suppose you know all about this…"
"A hell of a lot more than you do! For instance, I know that she did it because someone she loves very much needed help and Mom was the only one who could give that help. If that makes her a whore, well, then…"
"Is she all you think about? What about me? How do you think I felt when I picked up that cruddy newspaper and saw my mother on the front cover? Naked! Or when I looked inside and read about what she'd done, how she was the newest thing in dirty movies? Jesus, Stace, don't you have any morals? Doesn't it make you sick to think about her doing all those filthy things in front of a camera so that everybody can see her?"
"There's nothing filthy about it," Stacy retorted. "She's a woman. She has sex impulses. Everyone does, except maybe you. I have plenty, myself, and I love Mom. I'm proud of her. In front of the camera you're talking about, she's the best actress anywhere. Not everyday can do what she does. I wish I could. But I don't have any talent." She saw him make a face.
"And as to how you felt, what does it matter? You were like I was. You had Daddy's inheritance money, and you only came home when you had to. You probably thought about her once or twice a month, unless she sent you a letter you never got around to answering. Right? To you, she was somebody living here in this apartment who always smiled when you stopped by to say hello, and you kept her in cold storage in your memory. Well, she isn't in cold storage. She's a person, a very beautiful person. I only hope I can be half the woman she is. I'm trying, by God. I'm trying!"
The words had come fast and furious, burning Stacy's throat with their impassioned ire. She had to stop for a breath, and as she did, she saw her brother's face go scarlet once again. Her body had shook and trembled as she berated him, and one of her lush, brown-nippled boobs was hanging from her robe. Such a hypocrite he was! Pretending to look away, he was still eyeing her tit like a Goddamned peeping Tom outside a bedroom window.
Stacy whipped open the robe and flaunted her nudity at him. "Get a good look," she sneered. "Or, even better, be on the watch for Hooker's Holiday at your local porno theater. I just have a small part, but they tell me I'm lookin' good, baby, lookin' good!"
His eyes bulged. "You too?" he said tightly. "You're making dirty movies too? Isn't one slut in the family enough?"
She wanted to rip his eyes out of his head. But she gazed at him implacably, up and down, and suddenly a laugh burst from her lips.
"Slut?" she taunted. "Slut? Do sluts give you erections?"
It was true, and he knew it. Stacy pointed scornfully at the front of his pants, at the hard-on which pushed them out. She laughed again. "Does it turn you on?" she wondered. "I think so." Her hand flew out, caressing the bulge of her brother's erection. She could feel the heat of him, even trough the layers of his clothing, and he was rock hard.
Stacy shook her head. "Is this what happened when you found out about Mom, too? Did you get yourself an itsy-bitsy hard-on? Bet you did, and then felt guilty about it, so you took it out on her. Huh? Well, fuck off, creep!"
He dropped his box of possessions. There was a cannon-like thump as it hit the floor, and Stacy found herself shoved up against the wall, pinned by Gerry and unable to move.
"Let go of me, you motherfucker," she panted angrily.
His first reply was to twist her wrists viciously. He pressed against her, making no effort to prevent her from feeling his stony erection, and she mewed in protest. "Don't call me a motherfucker!" he snapped.
Her body went loose where he held her to the wall, and she smiled at him. "You don't have to be so rough," she said. Her robe was still open and her bare tits shoved right against his chest. It wasn't hurting his erection. If anything he seemed to be just a bit stiffer right now. Stacy twisted her hips in a suggestive fashion, scraping her bush back and forth across the thrust-out front, of Gerry's trousers. She felt his cock quiver responsively, and her brother made a soft, choked sound, as if he were about to squirt off in his jeans. Wickedly, Stacy rubbed him again. Cum stains on his pants would be a fitting reward for Gerry.
His hands slackened their grip on her wrists. Stacy worked them free and stood looking at him. His eyes were still enlarged, his face still red. She let her hair touch his cheek, and the tremor that passed suddenly through his body was a tribute to the inspired nature of her determination.
"What do you do?" he asked softly. "In the movie, I mean."
She held her head to one side, as if she were struggling to remember. "Well," she drawled, "first I got laid doggie-style. Not what you're thinking! I mean, there was this German shepherd, and they've got him trained, and he's a real snatch-hound, see – oh, stop blushing! I'll be onscreen for maybe three minutes. I get to say a few lines, which I do terribly, and – well, it's an orgy, see, and I start licking this girl between the legs and a guy comes up and puts his thing in me, and we have kind of a threesome going. My acting is really bad, but I know how to do what I'm doing."
"What about Mom?" he asked, still in almost a whisper.
Stacy smiled benignly. "She was in it too, but how can we sell any tickets if we give away the plot? Go see it. You saw the last one, didn't you? I mean, you called her and gave her hell, but you hauled ass to see that movie. Right?"
He nodded.
"Well, this one is a lot better. If she turned you on before, she'll melt your dingus this time. Hey! Don't blush so, and don't look guilty! You should have been with me when I saw her up on screen. On second thought, maybe you shouldn't have. I got kinda physical with my date." And with her mother, too, she reminded herself.
Her brother was still leaning against her, his hard-on sticking out. She could feel it pressing on her bare body. It felt stiff and solid, certainly big enough. Funny. She'd never given a single thought to her brother and his sexual life. He must have one, but in Stacy's world Gerry didn't figure at all. Not until now.
Oh, she didn't want him. Not in that sense. At the moment Stacy was very deeply in love with Ellen Pascoe and she was certain Ellen felt the same way toward her. But she owed something to her mother, too, and if she could help reconcile Connie and Gerry, well – if it was for Connie…
She looked into her brother's face and smiled. "If you've ever wanted to take a porno star to bed, this is as good a chance as any. You coming?"
The invitation shook him, and Stacy had to undress her brother. She did it quickly, expertly, and his stiff cock sprang into sight. It wasn't as big as some of the ones Stacy had enjoyed, but it was long, thinnish, and pretty, and she didn't mind. After all, Gerry was the one with the problems, wasn't he? Connie was pretty well adjusted, and Stacy herself was loose as a goose. With baby brother acclimated to the realities.
She rolled onto the bed, lifting her knees to give him a straight-on shot at her fluffy cunt. Her fingers dropped between her thighs and she teased the slitted opening with them, humming softly as her nails scraped the tender flesh. Gerry sat on the edge of the bed watching her play finger games. He wasn't saying much, but he was still sticking out, and Stacy noticed a gleaming drop of moisture in the little slit at the tip of his dong. She'd figured him right, hadn't she?