The following is probably a work of FICTION. It was sent back in time in a
quantum bottle. So who really knows for sure? ...
Feel free to reprint or take credit for it (as if I could stop you), but
please don't make any changes, or I won't write anything new!
More of TooMuchTime's erotic writings can be found here ...
http://www.asstr.org/~TooMuchTime/
TRICK OR TREAT (m F cons busty)
by TooMuchTime (TooMuchTime2002@hotmail.com)
Copyright(c) 2002, TooMuchTime. All rights reserved.
Henry felt like an idiot. Here it was, Halloween. All his friends were
out egging people's doors, throwing water balloons at cars, and just
generally causing trouble -- exactly what every 14 year-old SHOULD be
doing on this day in a small town ... exactly what he should be doing.
Instead, thanks to his mom, who had to work an extra shift tonight, he got
stuck walking his little Trish around for trick-or-treat. It just
wasn't fair. He loved his and all, and she wasn't nearly as much of
a pain in the ass as some 8 year-olds he knew, but still ... when was his
mother going to understand that he was growing up now, becoming a man, and
that he didn't want to be a babysitter any more?
"Let's go down Dogwood Street," Trish said, tugging at his hand. This
year, she was a white bunny rabbit. The costume was store-bought, and
Henry himself had taken her to go buy it, at the local 5-and-10 shop.
"Why Dogwood?" he asked.
"Because nobody's over there," she said. "Maybe they have more candy."
Henry didn't quite get the logic of this, but he agreed anyway.
"Whatever." It seemed to him, if no other kids were on this street, it
probably meant there was no candy to be found. But he didn't feel like
arguing with her. They'd been out for about an hour now, her bag was
getting pretty full, and he could tell she was getting tired. Soon, she'd
get cranky. Dogwood Street would take them back to Canal Street, they
could make a right, and a few blocks later they could cut up Fairlawn
Street and head home.
It turned out he was right. There were no porch lights on at all on
Dogwood ... and therefore no candy. By the time they reached the small,
quiet intersection with Canal, Henry was more convinced than ever that it
was time to just go home. He noticed that his shoelace was untied, and
told Trish to stand still while he took care of it. As he knelt down, he
heard some voices approaching out of the darkness down the street. He
recognized them immediately. It was Joe and Eddie and Russ, his friends,
laughing it up. Shit, he thought. The last thing he wanted was to put up
with ribbing from those right now. He'd lied to them the day before,
and told them he was going to a party at his cool cousin's house, two
towns over, where he'd probably be playing kissing games with girls.
If they found out what he was really doing, he'd never hear the end of it.
Bad enough they always made fun of him for being the shortest one in the
pack.
Henry grabbed his little sister's hand and quickly ducked into the
bushes in front of a large house on the corner.
"What are you do--" Trish started, but he quickly clamped a hand over
her mouth.
"Ssshhh," he whispered. "Just be quiet for a few minutes."
To Trish's credit, she did as she was told. Henry quickly noticed,
however, that the streetlight was shining directly on them, and that if his
friends passed by close enough, the bushes wouldn't provide much protection
at all from being seen. Again, he grabbed his sister's hand and scurried
low with her across the small yard in front of the house, this time not
stopping until they'd reached the shadowed safety of a narrow alley between
the large house and the one next to it. He let go of Trish's hand and
peeked around the wall to see what the were doing. Thank god, he
thought. As he watched, they passed the spot where he'd been tying his
shoe, laughing and talking about something, and continued on down Canal
Street. When Henry couldn't hear their voices any more, he took a deep
breath. That was too close, he thought.
Before this surge of relief had time to settle in, though, he was
presented with a whole new dilemma.
Without warning, there was a bright light in front of his eyes. It took
them only a few seconds to adjust, but when they did, he realized that he
was standing directly in front of a window, and that somebody inside the
large house had just turned the light on in that room. Shit, he thought
again. Now he was going to get in trouble for lurking outside people's
windows. His first instinct was to immediately grab Trish and run again,
but a voice inside his head told him to stay calm. So he pushed his back
flat against the alley wall, kept very quiet, and waited.
The bottom of the windowsill was about 3 feet off the ground, and fell
just about at chest height for Henry, who didn't take long to figure out
that he was looking at a bathroom. It was twice the size of the one that
he and his and shared. Along the wall that he had the best
view of were wall-to-wall mirrors, which extended from the ceiling down to
the sink level. The fixtures on the sink itself, as well as everything in
the bathroom, were shiny and fancy. Clearly, whoever lived here had a lot
more money than his did.
Henry didn't have much time to size the room up, though, because the
person who'd turned the light on was already walking through the door. It
was a woman, about his mother's age, with shoulder-length black hair and
very striking features. He guessed she must be Italian, because her
complexion was fairly dark and her nose, while almost too big, seemed to
suit her face. It was framed nicely by wide brown eyes like a doe's. As
for her body, well ... that caught his attention immediately. All she
wore was a short pink bathrobe, cinched tightly around her thin waist.
Stopping at half-thigh, it accentuated not only her toned legs and wide
hips, but also the noticeable swell of her chest. This looked just as
"stacked" as his friend Joe's and sister, both of whom Henry
had drooled over countless times in the past. He began to wonder if it was
an Italian thing, and if so, he might consider moving to Italy when he got
older.
Again, a surge of fear shot through him, and he considered running. But
by now, his hormones were beginning to get the better of him. He'd never
seen a naked woman in person before, and on the off chance that he might
see one now, he didn't see how he could pass up the chance. So once again,
he decided to keep very quiet ... and wait.
As he watched, the woman turned to face the mirror almost as soon as she
entered the room, sparing not even so much as a glance at the window. She
turned the water on in the sink, then used a scrunchie to pull her hair
back as she presumably waited for it to get warm. Testing the water again,
she reached down, splashed some on her face, then began to soap it up with
something she had in a jar -- probably Noxema or one of those other smelly
things his used. He wasn't nearly as interested in this, though, as he
was with the fact that as she vigorously scrubbed her face, it set her
boobs to jiggling inside her robe, which was as beautiful a sight as he
could imagine ... and which set his manhood to rising inside his jeans.
After a minute or so of this, the woman rinsed her face off, dried it,
then turned and walked to the shower on the other side of the bathroom,
still seemingly unaware of his presence outside the window. At this point,
Henry could only see her reflection in the mirror ... but he could still
see her. And when she reached in to turn the water on in the shower, it
set his heart to jack-hammering inside his chest. Because if she was
taking a shower, it meant she had to take the robe off first, which meant
that any minute now ...
But then everything suddenly changed. The woman stopped, and looked
over her shoulder toward the still-open door with a look of consternation
on her face. She reached back into the shower and turned it off, then --
much to Henry's dismay -- left the bathroom, flipping the light off on the
way out. Shit, he thought again. I just never get a break.
"Oh well," he muttered. And in that moment of disappointment, Henry
suddenly remembered his sister. It was probably just as well that things
hadn't gone any further than they did, considering that she was standing
right next to him. He spoke quietly into the darkness. "Ready to go,
shrimp?" He reached his hand out, thinking he'd feel her head a foot away
from him. But there was nothing there. "Trish?" No response. He dared to
speak a little louder, he eyes trying to adjust to the darkness in the
alleyway. "Trish, where are you?" He made his way slowly and quietly up
the alleyway. It was the only way she could have gone, because he'd have
noticed her walking past him back out into the yard. "Dammit, Trish, quit
playing."
By the time Henry reached the end of the alley, he realized what had
happened. Peeking around the wall, he could see the woman ushering Trish
into the house through the back door. He back-tracked along the wall to
the first window, which looked into the kitchen, and saw the woman squat
down to his sister's height and touch her face. Apparently, Trish was
crying. Great, he thought. I guess I won't be winning any of the
year awards this year. Let's see what kind of a shit-fit has about
this when she finds out.
There was only one thing to do. Henry took a deep breath, then left the
alley, walked around to the door, and knocked. The woman answered right
away, and as she pushed the storm door open, the first words out of her
mouth were, "You must be Henry."
He felt immediately guilty, and thought for sure that it must be showing
on his face. It was one thing to on somebody through a window, and it
was another thing entirely to have to then talk to them face to face a few
minutes later. "Yeah, I'm Henry," he said.
"Come on inside," the woman said, smiling. "She hasn't been here long."
She had a noticeable accent. Maybe she was not only Italian, but actually
from Italy?
Before he was even two steps in the door, Trish rushed up and hugged
him. "Where were you?"
"I was right there ..." For obvious reasons, he hesitated to say exactly
where he was, instead adding, "where we were."
"No you weren't." His sister's voice was getting angry now.
The woman came to Henry's rescue, though. She put her hand on Trish's
head. "Now now," she said. "Your is here now. That is the
important thing, no?" Trish shrugged, letting go of him, and gravitating
toward the obvious maternal comfort of the woman instead, who took
advantage of the moment to offer his some cookies.
"Thanks," Henry said. "But we should be getting home." In the process
of making eye contact with the woman, his eyes panned up from Trish's face
to the woman's, and along the way, couldn't help but notice that her robe
was considerably looser than it had been in the bathroom. Perhaps
squatting down had loosened it? In any event, from this angle there was
enough of a gap between the folds to show off the side of one breast. He
only lingered on the sight a moment, but thought for sure that she would
notice. Yet if she did, she didn't seem to react in any way.
Trish, meanwhile, had other priorities. "Why can't I have cookies?"
"Please," the woman said. "I insist. Someone with such a cute kitty
cat costume should have some cookies and milk."
"Hey, I'm not a cat, I'm a rabbit!" Trish yelled.
"Oh, I am sorry," the woman said, giggling as she raised a hand to her
mouth. "A bunny rabbit, of course! Please excuse me. I may as well
almost be blind without my glasses on." Interesting, Henry thought. No
wonder she hadn't noticed him standing outside the window, or copping a
look at her just now. "So what does big say," she asked. "Can the
cute bunny rabbit stay and have some cookies?"
"Sure, why not?" Henry said, his eyes this time focusing down directly
at her chest as he spoke. When they returned to her face, it was clear
that she'd noticed nothing. This is too cool, he thought. He could pretty
much stare all he wanted, and she'd never realize. Almost as good as being
invisible -- a fantasy he'd had more than once.
The woman poured a glass of milk, then brought it, a plate of cookies,
and Trish to the adjoining dining room. Henry watched her all the while,
and quickly began to realize that she was even more attractive up close
than she'd seemed from outside the bathroom window. Very pretty, and with
a seductive wiggle to her step. The way her shifted and settled
inside the thin robe with only the slightest motion was almost mesmerizing.
And the way her firm round ass looked through the robe when she bent over
to put everything on the table ... incredible. Without his even realizing
it, a fresh new erection had cropped up in his pants, and he wished more
than anything that he could reach in and start jacking off right there on
the spot. But of course this would be a bad idea. There was no way she
could be THAT blind, was there? Still, there was another option ...
"Excuse me," he said to the woman, "but could I use your bathroom?"
"Yes, certainly. It's right down that hall. I think the light is still
on."
"Oh, I see it. Thanks." Henry made his way down the hall, and felt an
odd sense of deja vu as he stepped into the bathroom -- just as he'd
watched the woman do ten minutes ago -- and pushed the door shut behind
him. The door was and skewed, and didn't quite click in place or
anything, but after giving it the hardest push he could, it seemed to stay
put. He did, however, make a point of quickly pulling down the shade, for
obvious reasons. After this, he wasted no time. Within seconds, his pants
and underwear were down around his ankles and he was sitting on the seat, his skinny legs spread at the knees, his eyes closed, a clear image
of the busty Italian woman in his mind, stroking himself for all he was
worth.
This went on for about ten minutes, until Henry could tell that he was
just on the verge of cumming. He paused, opening his eyes to find the
toilet paper or tissues he'd need to use to catch the mess as he made it
... and saw something that terrified him. The door to the bathroom was
open. Wide open. And the woman was standing in it. With glasses on.
Watching him, with kind of an amused expression on her face. "Having fun?"
she asked.
Henry's first impulse was to blurt out, "Oh, SHIT!" which he did, and
struggled to reach down and pull his pants up as fast as possible. But he
was in too much of a rush. The maneuver was clumsy at best, and he only
succeeded in falling over onto the floor and nearly banging his head on the
sink on the way down.
The woman's first reaction was to raise one hand to her face, shush him,
then take another step into the room and re-shut the door behind them.
"Quiet," she said. "Your is asleep at the table. You'll wake her."
This, of course, immediately confused Henry. What was she talking
about? How was the fact that his was asleep more important than the
fact that he'd just been caught masturbating in a stranger's house? He
brought himself to a sitting position on the floor, and again started
struggling with his pants, trying to pull them up, his erection wagging
around all the while. Again, he fell over.
"Calm down," the woman said. "You are going to yourself. Bang
your head or something."
Almost frantic now, Henry tried again to sit up, his hand slipped on a
throw rug, and down he went once more. Frustrated, he realized that he'd
begun to cry. He felt embarassed, ashamed, guilty, and afraid, and didn't
know how to handle those emotions all at once. Dammit no, he thought.
Don't cry, not now. But the tears were already there. He'd always been an
emotional child, prone to cry for no reason at all, and took some ribbing
for it when he was in grade school. He thought he'd outgrown it.
Apparently he hadn't yet.
"Oh, now now," the woman said. "It's okay." Her voice was suddenly very
close, and as Henry glanced up, he saw that she was squatting beside him.
Her hands found his shoulder and she helped him up to a sitting position,
propping his back against the wall. Then, to continue the comedy of
errors, her foot slipped on the same rug that his hand had a few moments
before, and down she came as well ... right on top of him. Instinctively,
Henry threw up his hands to break her fall -- one caught her arm, and the
other caught her stomach. But something short, sweet, and amazing happened
as well ...
As the woman fell, her chest landed directly on Henry's face. In fact,
for all of about ten seconds, as both of them readjusted their weight, her
warm pressed and rolled against his face, the satin of her robe
whispering smoothly across his skin and the subtle smell of her perfume
filling his nose. For Henry, it was perhaps the most profound experience
he'd ever had in his life. What's more, several times her hip and leg
bumped his erection, which up till that moment had begun to flag a bit.
Now, however, it sprang to life again.
"I am sorry," the woman said, finally getting her bearings and taking a
seat on the floor, sitting Indian-style in front of him. "I can be so
goffa sometimes."
"So what?"
"Goffa ... uh, clumsy?" It must have been an Italian word.
"Oh. It's okay," Henry said, still crying a bit, trying to pull his
legs up to hide his aroused member. But by now, his pants and shorts were
so tangled around his ankles that he couldn't even manage this much. His
hard cock stood up straight and tall -- well, as tall as it got anyway --
and was as obvious as a giant fly in a small bowl of soup. "I should be
the one saying I'm sorry."
The woman looked more amused than ever. "It's okay," she said, reaching
out to put a warm, well-manicured hand on his knee. Her nails were painted
a bright red, and this seemed to arouse him all the more for some reason.
"You are just doing what your age do. There is no reason to be sad
about it."
"I know, but ... in your bathroom. That was wrong."
"Why?" she said, looking almost insulted. "Is my bathroom not good
enough for you to pleasure yourself in?"
Henry didn't know how to respond to this. "I ... no. I mean, yes. Of
course it is. Obviously."
"Well then," she smiled. "What is wrong with it then?"
"Nothing, I guess. If ... it's not wrong to you. I guess."
"It is most certainly not wrong to me. But may I ask why you chose my
bathroom?"
Uh oh, Henry thought. This could get tricky. "I ... um. I don't
know. I was just in the mood?"
"Just regular teenage boyness?" she asked, gesturing to his exposed
erection.
"Yeah. Something like that."
"There was nothing specific to make it happen?"
"Well ... I don't know."
"You don't know? Or do not want to say?"
"I ... both I guess." Henry couldn't make up his mind if he was really
enjoying this conversation or if he wanted to run screaming into the night.
A bit of both maybe. He'd never had a conversation this frank about
horniness with anybody, much less an attractive woman who was twice his
age.
"Why, what are you afraid to say?" she asked, again looking almost
insulted.
"You know. Just ... private things. Embarrassing things."
"What, you can sit here letting me see your splendida erezione, but you
can't tell me what made it that way?"
"Splendido what?"
She giggled at bit at this, then pointed slyly at his lap. "Your
beautiful hardness."
Did she just say beautiful? He blushed instantly. She was probably
just being polite. Still, she was right, of course. What was there to
hide at this point, really, considering what she'd seen already? Still, he
wasn't sure ...
"Please," she said, leaning forward, offering a clear glimpse of her
ample cleavage, whether she meant to or not. "There are no secrets here.
Tell Mama Gina all about it." But as Henry stared down into her robe, into
the valley between her magnificent breasts, she apparently figured it out
for herself. "Oh, I see. Is that what this is all about?"
Henry shook himself out of his drooling reverie. "What? Sorry. I
didn't mean to --"
"Did not mean to what? Stare at my tettas?" Henry didn't need a
translation for that one. It sounded close enough to the word he and his
friends used. She smiled devilishly. "Oh, I think you did mean to."
"I--"
"In fact, I think maybe you were staring at them in the kitchen, when I
didn't have my glasses on yet. Weren't you?"
Henry nodded.
"And I think maybe you liked Mama Gina's tettas so much that you had to
come in here and pleasure yourself. Am I right?"
Again, Henry nodded. "Yes," he said, his voice cracking.
"Well well," she said. "Arrapato E onesto." This time, Henry just
looked confused, and waited for the translation. "You are both a horny AND
honest boy."
"I try to be," Henry replied. "Um ... honest I mean."
"Well, I believe that honesty should be rewarded," she said, still
smiling, and reached down to the sash on her robe. Slowly, teasingly, she
untied it. "Do you agree?" she asked.
"Y-yes. Definitely." Henry hoped he wasn't dreaming.
The woman ran a fingernail up and down the hem of the robe, teasing it
open just a little. "Are you ready for your reward then, Henry?"
"Oh yes."
She glanced down at his now throbbing erection. "Yes. I think you
are." With this, she spread the robe open and pushed it aside. Her
now-revealed bobbled slightly. They were perfect. As huge if not
huger than Henry had expected, bigger than the biggest grapefruit he'd ever
seen, round and firm, the nipples dark and wide and erect and curving
outward slightly. If only she really was his "Mama", he didn't think he
would ever have stopped breast-feeding.
At this point, Henry didn't quite know what to do. He stared, of
course, his mouth partly open. More than any other time in his life, he
wanted to jerk off. But for all of her sexual teasing, he wasn't sure
whether she'd get mad about it him doing that in front of her or not. All
he knew was that he was about to explode.
"So, Henry. Tell me. Are they everything you dreamed they would be?"
she asked.
"Oh yes," he said. "And more. Holy shit, more. They're beautiful!"
She smiled. "It makes Mama Gina very happy to hear you say that." With
this, she pushed the robe off entirely, over her shoulders and down her
back, uncrossing her legs and standing all in the same motion. The robe
fell to the floor around her feet -- which he saw now had toenails painted
the same bright as her fingernails -- and Henry was greeted to a
worm's-eye view of her black bush looming above him.
He'd seen pictures of several women's pussies in dirty magazines before,
of course, but all of them, it seemed, had been either trimmed to almost
nothing or shaved entirely. Hers, however, was lush and dark and hairy,
almost the size and shape of some of the smaller bikini bottoms he'd seen
girls wear at the beach. Unlike the women in the magazine, hers added a
bit of mystery to the sight. He couldn't help but wonder what it would
feel like to run his fingers through that bush ... or even his face. What
would it smell like?
Henry let his hungry eyes trail upward, where they fixated once again on
her amazing breasts, which from this angle jutted out even more seductively
from her body, swaying slightly as she moved her weight from one foot to
the other. She reached her arms down to him. "Stand up, please." He did
as she said, taking her hands and allowing her to pull him up. Once they
were both standing, facing each other, the height difference between them
became even more noticeable than it had been in the kitchen. She stood
almost a foot taller than him ... which put her directly in his face
once again. "Now give Mama Gina a big hug," she said, and Henry almost
fainted on the spot.
Again, though, he did as he was told. He reached his arms around her as
she did the same, and as they hugged, her huge wonderful bare pressed
into his face. The nubs of her hard nipples kissed his cheeks. "Such a
good you are," she said, reaching her hand up to the back of his head,
running her long nails through his hair as she rocked her body a bit,
until one of her nipples landed squarely in front of his mouth. "Mama Gina
loves her bamabino so much." Hearing this, remembering what he'd thought
about before -- breastfeeding -- he couldn't resist any longer. Carefully,
he opened his lips, and let her nipple enter his mouth. Then he waited to
see what she would do.
"Oh, the baby is hungry, is he?" Instead of getting angry or pushing him
away, she gripped his head and pulled it even closer. He took this as his
cue to take even more of her nipple, her sweet soft tit into his mouth and
begin suckling it, licking it, kissing it. This is it, he thought. This
is heaven. I don't remember when I died, but I must have.
Meanwhile, his throbbing cock, which had been poking straight out in the
air between her long legs, now brushed against the inside of her warm
thigh, sending a jolt of electricity through his body. He wanted, needed
to touch it -- to stroke it -- so badly. So as he hungrily suckled her
tits, he slowly reached down to do just that.
"No no no," she said, slapping his hand lightly a split-second before it
made contact. "That's Mama Gina's job."
Henry's first instinct was to be frustrated. Until he realized what she
was saying. "Your job?"
"My job, yes," she said, smiling. Then, without any warning, she took
him by the shoulders and gently pushed him against the wall. With her
chest still in his face, one tit still glistening from his saliva, she
reached down and gently ran her fingernail along the underside of his
throbbing member. Again, Henry felt something like electricity pass
through him. It was the first time anybody other than himself or a doctor
had touched his cock. Next thing he knew, she was gripping it lightly,
barely touching it with the skin of her fingers ... a teasing, tickling
sensation that made him stand on tippy toes. "Does that feel good?" she
asked.
"Y-y-yes."
"Good."
She teased his shaft a few more times like this, nearly driving him
insane, then stopped, and began to shrink. Well, not shrink actually, but
get shorter. She was lowering herself down, getting to her knees. Oh my
god, Henry thought. She can't be ... is she? A moment later, there she
was, on her knees, peering up at him, her at the level of his cock.
Considering this, it didn't seem likely that she'd be able to put him in
her mouth. Not unless he grew some in the next few minutes or unless she
had a spine made of rubber.
But this quickly became a moot point. Because the next thing she did
happened so quickly that it seemed she might have had it in mind all along.
Putting a hand under each tit, she leaned in closer to him and wrapped the
beautiful globes around his erection like a bun around a hotdog, then shook
them playfully up and down. The sight of it, the thought of it, the feel
of it drove Henry instantly insane. It was something he had fantasized
about a thousand times in the past.
Finally, the electricity that had been building up could no longer be
contained. He was overexcited to the point of no return. As his balls
began to contract, Gina seemed to sense what was about to happen. She
pulled herself back a bit, then brought one hand up to grasp his cock.
Expertly, she stroked it, milked it. Almost immediately, it exploded, the
first blast of semen shooting out so fast and hard it nearly made a
splattering sound as it struck her just beneath the chin. "Oh yes," she
said, grinning widly. "Show Mama how much you love her." And so he did.
Henry's body sang with a humming kind of pleasure as wave after wave of
cum jetted out of him, urged on by this beautiful woman's hand. Warm,
thick strings of it painted her and neck -- over and over -- more of
it than he even realized he had to offer. It seemed as if he must have
shot out a gallon already by the time the orgasm subsided. And even then,
as the dwindled to a trickle, his cock continued to spasm quietly.
Using his own as a lubricant, the woman continued to stroke, more
gently now, concentrating mostly on the tip, the most sensitive area. As
sensitive as it was now, the sensation was overly intense, and sent a
shudder through his body that culminated in making him laugh. Finally, he
couldn't take it any more. "N-n-no more," he sputtered. "Please. It's
too much."
And so the woman stopped, then stood, smiling widely like the who's
just eaten the canary. Henry could see his dripping seed spread out all
over her chest and neck, and thought he may never glimpse a more beautiful
sight. He wondered what would happen now. The possibilities were endless.
Just then, a small voice came from down the hall. "Henry?" His heart
sank as he realize it was his little sister. "Where are you?"
As his eyes met "Mama Gina's", she seemed to anticipate the question on
his mind. Shrugging, the woman said, "I guess she woke up. Perhaps you
should let her know you are here."
Henry nodded, trying not to let his disappointment show through too
much. He started toward the door, then realized that his pants were still
down around his ankles and pulled them up and buttoned them. Once at the
door, he paused to turn back and gaze with longing at the tall,
dark-skinned, buxom beauty he was leaving behind. As if to tease him once
more, she ran two fingers up along one of her tits, scooped up a fair
amount of his still-dripping cum, then licked and the fingers clean.
Then she winked at him, and shooed him away. "Your is waiting."
The next time he saw Gina, it was in the kitchen again, when she emerged
from the bathroom dressed in the robe to say goodbye to he and his sister.
After some prodding, a sleepy Trish thanked her for the cookies, and Henry
thanked her for finding his sister.
"It is nothing, really," the woman said, a bit slyly. "Any time." As
she said this last bit, she made full and deliberate eye contact with
Henry. "Any time at all," she said again, then winked.
Encouraged by this, Henry felt his erection begin to rise, and decided
that now was as good as any time to make his escape, fairly certain that
she'd just invited him back for another round of fun whenever he wanted.
He and his said their final goodbyes, and as they disappeared into
the night, Henry could feel an extra spring in his step.
* * *
The next day, after school, Henry made a point of ditching his friends
when they all got off the bus. They were going downtown to buy some comic
books, but he claimed to have to do some yard work for his mom. They
hounded him for being a momma's boy, but let him go, and once he knew they
couldn't see where he was going, he cut down Dogwood Street, just as he had
the night before. But when he got there, he was instantly confused.
He knew where the house was. Or rather, he knew where it was supposed
to be. But it wasn't. Which is to say, there was nothing on the piece of
property but a wide lawn of green grass. Henry spun around a few times to
get his bearings. Maybe he was wrong? But the more he looked around, the
more sure he became that he was looking in the right spot. But ... how
was that possible?
He spotted a middle-aged raking leaves on the other side of the
bushes he and his had ducked through the night before, and started
down the sidewalk toward him. "Excuse me," he said.
"Yes?" The lowered his rake to his side.
"Um ... this might sound like a stupid question. But didn't there used
to be a house here?"
The looked over his shoulder at his own house. "There still is.
Right there."
"No, I mean ... where this yard is. Another house, right next to
yours."
"Next to mine?" He shook his head. "Nope. Well ... not for a long
time anyway."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, there used to be a house on this lot. A big one. But that was a
long time ago. Before you were ever born. It burned down to the ground
back in the forties. The whole died, I think. My bought up
the lot for almost nothing, and it's been the way you see it ever since."
"Oh," Henry said, a persistent chill running up and down his spine.
"It was a shame too," the went on. "They were nice people as I
remember. I was only a at the time. Italian or Greek, I think they
were. They had money for some reason, when nobody else did. My friends
and I always got the impression it was dirty money. Like maybe they were
the children of gangsters or something."
"Oh," Henry said again. "Um ... what do you remember about the people
who lived here?"
"Well, I don't remember much about the father. He got sent off to Japan
during The War and never came back. The mother, though, she was hard to
forget. Very beautiful. Dark hair, tall, dark skin." A wistful expression
passed over the man's face. "She was ... quite a woman. And nobody's
victim either. Even with a dead husband and all that money, she always
helped out where she could. She babysat half the kids in the neighborhood
at one point."
"Do you ... happen to remember what her name was by any chance?"
"Her name?" The scratched the back of his sweaty neck. "Hm. Not
sure I do."
"Was it Gina maybe?" Henry asked.
"You know, that sounds right. She babysat us a few times, and I can
remember now, she used to make us all call her Mama Gina." The chuckled. "Yeah, that was it. Mama Gina." He sighed. "Quite a woman, she
was."
"Well ... thank you," Henry said, and started to walk away, his mind
buzzing.
"Hey, how did you know what her name was?" the asked.
"I ... um ... somebody just told me a about her once."
The nodded. "I'd love to hear that someday. She was--"
"I know," Henry said. "She was quite a woman."
Boy, did he know. He wasn't sure how exactly it was possible that he
should know ... but he did.
Just like he knew that the phrase "Trick or Treat" would never have the
same meaning again.
FINI
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