lovely milk-white set of tits.
Norma let him continue staring at her boobs. Denny knew she knew he was staring at them, but he didn't care. Fascinated by their contour, he longed to grope them and suck them just as he'd done last summer.
'Oh,' she said, 'I never informed your father about the ointment I administered to your poison oak, dear. Your father seemed to admire your bravery under the circumstances, so I never-uh-informed him about my cure- all medicine.'
'Thank you,' Denny said, nodding. He hoped she was subtly informing him that she would keep secret anything that might ever occur between them. Maybe, too, she was informing him that, like himself and Joyce, they had formed a secret agreement. Could that possibly be true? God, he hoped so! Norma definitely wasn't wasting any time 'getting it on.' At the thought that this might be true, Denny felt his prick stirring again inside his pants. And then she dropped the bomb that sent tingles running through his balls.
'Denny, there are quite a few things I'd like you to help me out with here at the house. Someday, when you have nothing much to do, when Joyce is in town or something, I'd like you to give me a hand-in private. I realize this is your first day here and you must show your sister around, but try to save a few days- uh-for us. To help me. Your father's gone all day during the week, of course, and I hate to disturb his relaxation on weekends. I have some heavy things to lift-some very special chores. Would you assist your step-mother sometime?'
Denny actually found himself trembling. 'Sure, Norma,' he said. 'I–I'd be glad to. A beautiful and ripe woman, he thought. Not a girl, but a fully developed woman! It was definitely an invitation, he thought. It had to be. Yes, she had observed his hard-on, referred to the poison oak incident, and now she had come right out and asked him to be alone with her. Was she actually inviting him to fuck her? Or could it all be in his sex-crazed imagination?
Joyce entered the kitchen then. 'Come on, Denny,' she pleaded. 'Let's go! I wanna see Walden Flats, the pond, everything. Let's split, Den.'
Denny was careful to keep his back toward his sister and step-mother. For some reason he didn't want either of these two females to see the semi-erect bulge in his pants.
'Right on, sis,' he said. 'Trying to sound casual. Yeah, let's split.'
'Why are you walking that way, Denny?' Joyce asked. 'Is something wrong?'
'Hardly,' he said sarcastically, wincing at his choice of words. 'O.K.' he said. 'Let's get the bikes out of garage and split for town.' Nervously, he glanced over his shoulder, saw the puzzled look on his sister's face and his step-mother trying valiantly to suppress laughter.
'So long,' Joyce said, giving Norma a peck on the cheek before following Denny outside to the garage. As she watched her brother lift the garage door, she said, 'You're really weird, Denny. Sometimes your behavior is absolutely kooky.'
Finally, and with herculean effort, Denny had thought his hard-on away. Boldly, he turned to face her, hands on his hips. 'Just what the fuck are you talking about?' he said. 'You're the dingy one!'
'Don't you dare use that kind of language in my presence,' Joyce scolded.
'Bullshit,' Denny said. 'Last night you didn't seem to mind. You loved it.'
'Fuck you, Denny Reardon,' Joyce said. 'I expect to be treated like a sister-a lady.'
'Then get your ass on your bike and let's go,' he said.
The garage was dark and even cold inside. Martin Reardon used it solely for storage-tools, lawn mower, bicycles, etc.
Denny climbed on his bike and began pedaling down the gravel driveway. Behind him, on her new bike, Joyce wobbled precariously. She managed though, and they turned up a brief incline and then down the hill to Walden Flats Lane. There, they found the main two-lane road that led to the town proper, several miles away. There was little traffic as they rode easily on level ground, passing big trees and antique-looking wood-frame houses set well back from the winding road. They stopped to rest several times and it was nearly half an hour before they took the last bend in the road and entered the town itself. There were small stores, the town square, a movie theater, their father's office and Sherman's Pharmacy.
Still panting from the ride, Denny saw that his sister was really exhausted. 'Let's stop at Sherman's for a soda, huh?' he said, breathing hard. 'You'll like Mr. Sherman. He's a super guy.'
Her black shiny hair mussed from the ride, Joyce nodded agreement. They braked to a halt, got off their bikes, lifted them over the curb, leaned them against the building and went inside. Mrs. Sherman and a hunch- shouldered, weird-looking clean-up man were the only people in sight. When Denny and Joyce sat down at the counter, Mrs. Sherman came over and asked them what they would like.
Denny ordered an orange soda, grinning. Then he said, 'Remember me, Mrs. Sherman?'
Peering through her thick glasses, the elderly, gray-haired woman squinted, trying to remember. Suddenly the haggard face beamed and the old woman threw her hands in the air. 'Why it's Denny Reardon!' she gasped. 'What a pleasant surprise! Haven't seen you since last summer. Your father said nothing about your coming this summer.'
'This is my sister, Joyce,' Denny said. 'We just flew in last night. Give her an orange, too.'
'Delighted to meet you, dear,' she said. She fixed the drinks quickly, then set them on the counter.
Denny sipped for a moment, then fiddled with his straw. 'Where's Mister Sherman?' he asked.
Mrs. Sherman's face grew serious. 'He passed away, Denny,' she said. 'Six months ago.' She looked away for a moment, hiding the tears in her eyes. 'He had a heart attack right over there-by the cosmetic counter,' she said, her eyes distant, as if she were remembering, vividly visualizing the death of her husband.
Stunned, Denny sighed. 'I–I'm awfully sorry… I didn't know. I–I really liked him a lot.'
Denny didn't know what else to say. Kaleidoscopically, his mind flashed back to last summer. He recalled sitting in this same drug store with Rex and Ray, inhaling the combined fragrance of candy, pharmaceuticals, cosmetics. No drugstore had ever smelled quite like Sherman's. But now the place smelled different somehow, as though old man Sherman had taken some of that special smell with him. It was an awful thought, and Denny remembered reading comic books at the counter, turning the pages endlessly until Mr. Sherman (who looked much like his own father, except he was older and wore a beard) began frowning and clearing his throat and wiping the counter vigorously. Then he would stare at the boys' empty glasses as if wondering why they didn't order more drinks. Denny almost cried. Mr. Sherman was gone now-struck down by a heart attack in his fragrant corner drugstore-and Denny knew the place would never smell or be the same again. Denny did not know what to say to widows. He wanted to say that Mr. Sherman had been a good man who talked to boys as if they weren't just boys, but adults. But he did not know how to say it.
'I liked Mr. Sherman a lot,' he managed, finally. 'I'm sorry, Mrs. Sherman.'
The old woman forced a smile-a good one. 'And he liked you boys, too,' she said cheerfully. 'Well, just where are you youngsters bound for today?'
'I'm gonna introduce sis to Rex's sister, Sue,' he said. 'Yeah, I'm showing my sister around today. We thought we might stop by Rex's or Ray's place.'
'Well, I might be able to help you,' Mrs. Sherman said. 'By coincidence, they were here about twenty minutes ago. You'll probably find them at the pond. That's where they said they were going.'
Denny paid for the drinks, stood up and thanked the old lady. 'Thanks,' he said, 'and I hope you do just fine here at the store without-'
'Yes, just fine,' she interrupted. 'I've hired Louis here to help me out. You musn't feel sorry for me.'
The man she called Louis was staring at them weirdly from across the store. His shoulders were hunched and his dark eyes narrow. Spooky looking, Denny thought. His stare gave Joyce the creeps, too, Denny noticed. They said goodbye to Mrs. Sherman and departed for Landon Pond.
From Walden Flats to Landon Pond, the road was downhill most of the way. But Denny pumped his bike hard anyway, eager to see Rex and Ray and Sue again. Joyce coasted, lagging behind.
'Hey, come on!' Denny screamed over his shoulder. 'Pump harder! Dig that hot little cunt of yours into the bike seat and let's make some time.'
'Shut that filthy mouth of yours,' Joyce shrieked back.
A big pine tree with a rope attached lay just ahead, beyond a flimsy wooden bridge. Denny and his friends had played there just last summer. Denny feasted his eyes on the smooth surface of the pond. Excited, he spotted three bicycles-two boys' bikes and one girl's. Panting, he laid his bike on the hard ground and, in a moment, Joyce pedaled up and laid her bike down, too. 'Are they here?' she asked, excited, too.
