CHAPTER FOUR
Two days had passed… two long days, as far as Sharon was concerned. She watched her mother closely, leaning out the window as Janice pruned the small rose garden out back. Through the bushes, she could hear Hank Harrington's voice booming over the sound of his large Chevy pickup truck. Janice pretended not to notice. But Sharon knew her mother's heart was jumping. Would she be pushed out the next time, rushed from the house on some dumb errand?
Oh, it was maddening. And the rising August temperatures here in Glendale didn't help, either. Sharon wanted to go to the beach to cool off. But that would give her mother the opportunity to do those things again. Sharon felt she had to get to the bottom of this somehow. But what was she supposed to do?
On the late afternoon of the second day, Janice went shopping, calling out to her daughter who lay in the backyard that she would be gone for at least two hours. As the big blue-and-white car pulled from the drive, Sharon felt an odd kind of excitement rushing through her mind and body. Getting up from the lounge, Sharon pulled her sunglasses from her face, blinked in the bright light and squinted into the bushes. She could see movement behind them. Tommy? His dad? Sharon hesitated for a moment, shaking several loose strands of hair from her face. Smoothing her fingers over the oil still glistening on her flesh, she swung her legs over and stood up, pushing the sunglasses back on her head. Sharon knew it was dangerous to go over there, especially with what she knew about that family. But maybe she could yell out for Mrs. Harrington if things became too carried away.
Stepping through a small break in the bushes, Sharon found herself coming suddenly upon a slightly smaller version of Hank Harrington. Young Tommy was standing there leaning against the fender of his dark-red '68 Mustang convertible, his arms folded over his chest, his eyes focused on the dash where several loose wires dangled. At first he didn't notice her, his mind apparently lost in thought about something in the car. Sharon's first reaction was to step back into the bushes and disappear. After all, no one had spotted her, and this was a dumb idea in the first place. Idea? She didn't have an idea, a plan. She just wanted to get over here to find out what the family was really like.
Too late. Tommy had spotted her, his eyes rounding in pleased surprise.
'Hi… I'm Sharon Urban… from next door,' the girl said a little uneasily, tilting her chin up at a provocative angle while shaking more loose hair from her face.
Tommy Harrington was certainly good looking enough. She had seen him once or twice from the kitchen window. But up close, his looks improved. Black-haired and blue-eyed, the tall teenager obviously enjoyed working out, his firm muscles rippling under the greasy, sweat-stained cotton T-shirt.
'Tommy… Tommy Harrington.'
Sharon could see the sheen of perspiration on his arms, and she felt her heart quicken.
'Yeah, I know… funny we haven't met, or anything like that,' Sharon said, swallowing a large lump of excitement.
'Been busy with this,' Tommy said, moving his eyes back over to his car.
'Oh, yeah, a real classic,' Sharon purred, feeling some of the former uneasiness and fear disappear. He seemed far less threatening than his father. Maybe he didn't even know what his dad was doing.
'My dad got it for me a while ago. Been fixin' it up since.'
They talked idly for a few seconds. Sharon was glad to see that Tommy had noticed her body. In spite of the fear about his father and what he said about her, Sharon was still feeling a little excited about being over there.
'It must take an awful lot of work and time,' she cooed, smoothing her fingers over the lustrous red finish.
She saw that he could hardly keep his eyes off the smooth, lightly tanned area of her flat belly. Enticing men was still something new to her, especially enticing someone like Tommy Harrington. The back door suddenly slammed, making Sharon jump. Tommy laughed at her reaction.
'It's okay. Just my mom,' he said, nodding in the direction of an older woman with unkempt hair, a dressing gown wrapped tightly around her body. 'She's been here for a long time.'
'Oh,' Sharon responded, studying the woman analytically as she examined a few flowers growing around the rear stoop. Had Hank Harrington driven her into that state? It was an interesting question.
They talked for a few more moments, Tommy growing more and more interested in her as time went by. Apparently his father was gone, something the girl found appealing.
'I've gotta get going on this thing,' Tommy finally said after a pause, glancing down at his wristwatch. He made a move toward the garage and Sharon followed, folding her hands behind her back and letting her feet glide over the warm concrete. She thought she could see a faint smile over his lips as he strolled inside, one hand barely touching a greasy rope attached to the overhead door. When Sharon stepped in, bending her neck a little so as not to hit her head on the door, she heard a loud groaning sound. The light began dimming quickly. Turning around she saw the door folding down quickly, thudding to a shut position with a loud bang.
'No!'
Her pulse leaped at her throat. Tommy was there, behind her, breathing heavily as he shut the door.
'No, what?'
'It's just that… that I don't like being shut in and… and things like that,' Sharon said uneasily, drawing her hands protectively in front of her while shrugging her shoulders. Maybe she could still talk her way out of this one. Oh, she had been so stupid to come over here like this, especially after what she knew about the father.
'Won't be too long. And I think you're gonna enjoy it, anyway. Won't even notice a thing, after a while,' Tommy said, his sensuous lips curling into a smile.
It was the same sadistic smile his father had. Oh, God, it was like reliving a nightmare! Pivoting around, Sharon rushed for the door, curling her fingers into two tight fists and beating on the rotting wood with all her might. 'Help! Mrs. Harrington, help!' she cried, her eyes wide with fright. 'No you don't!'
'Help. Helmmmfmfffff!'
Tommy had rushed behind her, cupping his greasy hand over her mouth and pressing in so hard that the inside of her upper lip cut against her teeth. He was dragging her back with the other hand, her feet scraping painfully over the cold, cracked concrete garage floor. The smell of gasoline and oil invaded her nostrils, making her head throb, while the touch of his hot body against her bare back, both thrilled and terrified the captive teen.
'Nooooo!'
She had broken away once, twisting her head from his grip and letting out another shout of dismay. Tommy wheeled her around as if she were a piece of paper, slapping her once with his open palm, then backhanding her with his knuckles.
'Ohhhh,' she moaned.
Her head snapped to the right, then the left, the cutting, sharp blows stunning her into submission. As her hair whipped over her face, Sharon collapsed onto Tommy, her world having suddenly shattered.
'Goddamned little slut… prancin' that ass around here and pretendin' that you don't know what the fuck you're doin',' Tommy muttered, dragging the half-conscious, moaning teen away from the door.
'Don't… don't hurt me.'
Sharon's head was clearing. She felt him pulling her over to an old, dusty couch shoved against one end of the garage. He dragged her up to the edge and threw her down, pouncing on her before she had a chance to escape.
'No, don't, Tommy… please…'
Sharon whimpered, fighting him off as best she could with vain, futile frailings of her arms. The big stud let her carry on for a moment, finally slapping her hands away and slipping his fingers in her halter. Sharon gasped, her eyes widening as she felt his fingers pressing against her high-riding tits. No one had touched her there before, no one. And here was this complete stranger blocking her escape, touching her tits. And then he pulled outward, tearing the halter in two, ripping the material. Her full, round tits came tumbling out as the bikini top fell away. Her white flesh gleamed in the darkness as she beat her legs against the front edge of the couch, still trying to push her way past the big teen and get away.
