The New Neighbor

She nodded again, but her brow was beginning to wrinkle with suspicion. 'Why?'

'I think you'll know why in a little bit.' Miss Dupree stood and took Jen's hand. 'Ready?'

'I guess so.'

Miss Dupree led her into the dark bedroom and to the side of the bed.

It was Robby. He lay on his back, arms and legs splayed, mouth hanging open as he slept. And he was naked.

Jen let go of Miss Dupree's hand and started to back away from the bed, but the woman put her hand on Jen's back and gently pushed her toward it again. Jen's eyes traveled down her brother's body, stopping in the middle, where his thing lay to one side, shining wetly. She was startled by Miss Dupree's hands as they reached around from behind and pulled Jen’s coat off, but her eyes did not leave her brother’s cock.

With her mouth pressed close to Jen's ear, Miss Dupree whispered, 'Have you ever seen it before?'

She looked up at Miss Dupree, hesitated, then nodded.

'Have you ever touched it?'

Bluish-white bolts of electricity shot through Jen but, at the same time, thick black guilt oozed up in her throat. What if her parents found out? What would Robby do when he woke and found her there?

She couldn't believe she was even considering staying there.

Jen shook her head and mouthed no.

'Well,' Miss Dupree whispered, 'if you do as I say… he'll pay more attention to you from now on. I promise. He'll look at you very differently after today.' She took Jen's wrist and eased her hand toward Robby.

Jen resisted at first, wincing at the prospect of touching him and at the thought of what might result, but -

– she could not forget the memory of watching her brother squeezing thick white fluid from his penis and she could not ignore the excitement she felt at seeing her hand just inches away from it, fingers outstretched and trembling.

Giving in, Jen let her fingertips brush the end of Robby's penis. It was soft and damp, and when she pressed a bit harder, it gave beneath the pressure like a stiff, dry sponge.

'Go ahead,' Miss Dupree whispered, moving her hand closer.

Reluctantly, Jen wrapped her fingers around it. It was fat and warm. Her lungs released a long quavering exhalation as Miss Dupree moved Jen's arm slightly so that her hand slid up and down Robby's penis. Then Miss Dupree let go of her wrist, knelt, and began to untie Jen's red high-tops, removing them first, then the socks, whispering, 'Let's get your clothes off.”

* * * *

Sleep was like a lead weight on Robby's chest, but he remained vaguely conscious of the sensations he was experiencing. A hand on his erection… hot breath on his testicles… a mouth on his nipple… at the same time.

No, he thought, that can't be… can't be…

But it was. There were two mouths on him, two soft, breathy voices whispering to each other.

What had Lorelle done? Who had she brought into the room?

Robby thought of the man at school with a mangled face. What was it he had said about Lorelle?

'Souls,' Robby managed to whisper, his head rolling from side to side. 'Too many… souls… to eat… too… many… souls… '

He struggled to open his eyes as hands and tongues moved over his body, as a hot, wet vagina slid down his erection. He fought to raise his heavy eyelids.

Oh, my God, Robby thought, feeling vaguely nauseated. He was unable to speak as he stared up at Jen's sleepy, half smiling face.

She was straddling him, eyes closed, hands flat on his chest, moving slowly.

Robby lost consciousness.

Jen never returned Woody Gibson's call.

Chapter 12

More Dark Thoughts

Karen woke briefly and heard movement outside her bedroom. Just footsteps, and doors opening and closing, no voices. That's the way it had become, almost overnight, it seemed.

She lay in bed passing in and out of a doze, wondering what time it was. She could not focus her eyes enough to read the digital clock on the night stand.

Although she had not felt well at work that day, that was not the reason she had left work early. She'd been tired, but not sick. The real reason was that she could not stop thinking about Lorelle Dupree. Karen spent the day imagining her at home, working on something – a piece of sculpture, or perhaps a necklace or ring – and those thoughts made her wet. She’d walked around at work that day with her panties soaked through.

Only a fraction of the guilt she'd been feeling still remained. Even though she tried to feel guilty, she could not.

This is something that makes me feel good, she thought. I spend the day at a difficult job, then go home to another difficult job, and there's so little that makes me feel good… so why shouldn't I indulge myself as long as no one gets hurt?

But, another voice inside her countered, what if someone is hurt? The children? Or George?

Well… I'll just have to make sure that doesn't happen.

But the other voice continued: Of course, it's not like George has done a lot to make you feel good lately, has he? In fact, the only time he's affectionate is when he wants you to make him feel good… when his ugly, stubby penis is feeling restless. Isn't that right?

Karen tried to go back to sleep, but the inner voice prodded her.

Well, isn't it?

George is a good man, she thought, curling up beneath the covers.

True, true. But even a good man follows the orders of his stiff one-eyed skin snake, doesn't he?

She sat up in bed, barely able to lift her eyelids, and heard something outside the bedroom.

A sob.

Another, deep and thick with anguish.

Jen? It might even have been Robby. But why?

Karen considered trying to get up, but fell back in bed and lay there, thinking of the two late morning hours she'd spent with Lorelle that day. She’d been so eager – so desperate – to be with Lorelle again that she’d broken all the speed limits to get home as quickly as possible. Once again, being with her had made Karen feel so good.

But she did not feel good after going home.

She was lulled back to sleep by the rhythmic sobs that went on and on beyond her bedroom door.

* * * *

George was not feeling well either.

He'd been so exhausted all day that he'd been incapable of getting much done, and his few accomplishments at work were so uncharacteristically sloppy that his secretary had suggested he go home early and get into bed. By