Lacy sat on the porch swing. She was rocking back and forth with the cool afternoon breeze while waiting for her best friend, Brandy, to get home.
They both attended the local community college, and after long summer days like these they usually found themselves up in Brandy's air-conditioned bedroom. They would dance around and sing along to the radio while gossiping and sipping ice-cold sodas, but lately things had started to change.
Brandy had met a guy named Hart at the local Dairy Queen where he was the night manager. Lacy thought he was a jerk. He'd grab her ass when Brandy turned her back, and once, when he was dropping her off on his way home, he'd asked her to have sex with him. Lacy hated him.
Lacy looked at her watch; she'd been waiting for nearly an hour. Brandy wasn't coming home any time soon. She stood up and started to walk down the porch steps when she saw Brandy's dad, Greg, pull into the driveway. She walked toward the car and waited for him to get out.
Greg stepped out of his jeep and waved to Lacy. He was home earlier than usual and he was surprised to see her standing there. Lacy was his daughter's best friend and she was as gorgeous as they came. She was about three inches taller than his daughter was, her hair was blond, her eyes a sparkling green, and her body a perfect ten. He couldn't count the number of times he had jacked-off while imagining her standing in front of him, totally naked, and playing with her giant tits. He grabbed his briefcase and walked over to her. She wasn't wearing a bra, like usual, and her erect nipples fought against the thin fabric of her worn vintage tee that said "Impeach Nixon."
"Nice shirt," he smiled.
Lacy looked taken aback, she looked down and laughed, "Oh yeah, thanks." She smiled, "Say, you don't happen to know when Brandy'll be home, do you?"
"She told me she would be out late. It's Hart's night off, I think, and they're going out." He looked at her quizzically. He'd been disappointed that Brandy hadn't been hanging out with Lacy lately, but what could he do? He noted the disappointment on Lacy's face.
"Oh, well thanks anyways," she said half-heartedly.
Greg nodded and watched as she turned to walk away. "Lacy, would you like to come in and have a glass of lemonade, or water?" He grinned his most welcoming grin, hoping desperately that she would accept.
Lacy turned and flashed her brilliant smile, "sure!"
Greg led the way into the house, setting his briefcase down in the hallway on the way to the kitchen. Lacy followed behind him like a puppy dog.
When in the kitchen he opened the refrigerator and turned to her, "water or lemonade?"
"Lemonade," she said decisively.
"Good choice," he said as he took out the pitcher of lemonade and poured two glasses. He set them on the table and sat down across from her.
"Thanks Greg," she said. He'd finally gotten her to call him Greg two months ago, his favorite sex object calling him 'Mr. Folsom' was too weird for him.
"You're quite welcome." He smiled at her and sipped his drink. It sure was hot out. He sat there a few more minutes before deciding to engage her in conversation. The silence was giving him a hard-on. "So I haven't seen you around much lately."
"Yeah, I know," she kind of shrugged and took another sip.
"Brandy's been out a lot with Hart." Greg looked at her and set down his glass.
She nodded and looked out the window. "Yeah, she really likes him." She looked at Greg," I guess since she has a boyfriend, and I don't, we really don't have too much to talk about."
He was surprised by her bitterness and even more taken back by the way her eyes began to water. She missed her best friend. "Well, he's an asshole," he said abruptly.
