All Characters In This Story Are 18+ Years Old.
*****
Nel raced her mother's Nissan Altima through the suburban Denver side streets, desperate to show her new gold locket to her friend, Megan Taylor, and tell her about the conquest of Uncle Claude. "I'm not a virgin! I'm not a virgin!" She sang in a playground sing-song voice as she wiggled happily behind the Nissan's wheel, scarcely aware of the outside world.
For instance, she did not see the Denver motor officer tracking her speed toward his position at 43 m.p.h. in the 30 m.p.h. residential zone. Just as he was getting set to take her, a bright red Camaro approached from the opposite direction, doing at least 60. He triggered his laser and saw the L.E.D. flash '61' as the Chevrolet blew past, evaporating the Altima from his targeting. Nel's mind registered the red streak and she exclaimed "WOW!" when it whooshed past, but she did not hear the policeman's bike roar onto the street, or see it in her mirrors, as he chased the more serious offender. Stoked and oblivious, she continued on to Megan's house.
Megan's dad, John, was just backing his Cadilac out of the driveway when Nel pulled up. She smiled at the custom license plate frame: 'Gianni's Li'l Sicily... Ittsa Nice Place' and wondered, for the umpteenth time, if he was aware of how the kids behaved in his dark back booths on those busy weekend nights. He waved through the window at Nel as he drove off and she pulled into his vacated spot in the driveway. She hurried up the front walk and was met at the door by her girlfriend.
The Taylors were pure Italian and Megan had the short version of Sophia Loren's pulchritude packed into her 5'2" frame. Her dark sloe-eyes were set in a round cherubic face with a slightly olive complexion under dark, almost black, brunette curly hair, cut short in a helmet bob. Nel remembered Megan had once explained her great-grandfather changed the family name from 'Sarto', which was Italian for 'tailor' to 'Taylor' when he arrived at Ellis Island to escape the Great War. "He wanted to be more American," Megan had told her, and that was why all his progeny had traditional English names.
Megan wore a long, V-neck baby blue T-shirt, cinched by a 4" black patent leather belt with a gold buckle, over a distressed button-front denim skirt. Her short, but muscular and shapely, bare legs tapered into shiny black strappy open toed pumps showing off her sky-blue toenail polish. The impact of her 38DD-30-37 figure was profound. Although, at 134 lbs., she was borderline overweight, the distractions and attractions of her cleavage, thighs and hips denied that fact to any but the most clinical of observers.
"You look KILLER, girl!" Nel exclaimed, stepping into the house.
"Yeah? Thanks!" Megan replied, "You are pretty freaking hot yourself. That PINK looks GREAT on you," she complimented, studying Nel's lamb's wool sweater blousing provocatively over her shaped breasts. Her new gold locket nestled between them as they crowded the sweater's plunging neckline and showed the least bit of bra edge. "And look at you, wearing a blue jean skirt, too! We are SO on the same wavelength, I can't believe it!" She reached out her hand and lifted the shiny heart from Nel's bosom. "But what's this? Did you have a birthday I didn't know about? I thought you were July 11th..." Megan added with a smile.
"Thanks, Meg," Nel answered, pleased by her older classmate's comment. Megan was 19 and much more experienced than Nel in matters of boy-grabbing fashion. "I have LOTS of news... You ready to go to the mall?" She pulled on her friend's elbow and headed back out to the Nissan.
Megan, calling "I'm there!" to Nel's back, grabbed her purse from the hall table and pulled a light denim jacket from the closet. "Bye, Ma, I'm hangin' with Nel Martin at the mall! See ya, later!" She shouted to the interior of the house, then closed the front door and walked to the car as rapidly as her high heels allowed.
During the drive to the mall and the walk across the parking lot and through the corridors to the food court, Nel talked non-stop and Megan was all ears. She was particularly keen to hear the details of how Nel lost her cherry to her hunky Uncle Claude, who, it seemed, was not really her 'uncle' but a 'family friend' whom Nel had called 'uncle' as she grew up. Not that it made any difference to Megan, who was crazy envious of Nel. "SHIT!" She thought angrily to herself, "She was a virgin until Wednesday and got fucked by a MAN and I have been screwing BOYS all year! Not Fair!" She slurped the melted ice in her empty drink cup. "And you say your MOM knows about this and is OK with it?" Megan asked, incredulously at the end of tale. "Cripes, I can't tell her about my lap-dance with her 'uncle' now..." She cautioned herself, "She'll think I am lame... if she even believes it!"
"Oh yeah, Meg," Nel reiterated, "She's invited Uncle Claude to move in and she said... I'm quoting here: 'we may as well get used to sharing. Can you play nice, Nel?'" Nel stared at Megan. They both covered their excited laughing mouths with their hands and opened their eyes wide as Sally's words hung over the table.
"No one besides you knows or can know, Megan," Nel hissed, "Pinky Swear it's secret! SERIOUSLY!" Of course, Nel knew this was unenforceable, but she hoped her best friend would not blab and there was no harm in putting it out there as an expectation.
"TOTALLY!" Megan agreed, nodding her head vigorously. "I mean you haven't told anyone that you're smuggling me your pills... HAVE YOU? We, like, trust each other." She lowered her head and leaned across the table. "Pinky swear... it's secret!" and she stuck out her extended left little finger.
Nel hooked it with her own and said solemnly, "Pinky swear!"
Megan looked up just then and saw two identical towheaded boys walking into the food court. One punched the other in the shoulder and the second one pushed the first one back. He stumbled against a table and the second boy reached out an caught him before he fell. They both started laughing hysterically.
"Crap!" Megan said under her breath, "The Perkins Twins just showed up."
"So what?" Nel asked, "They're cool, aren't they? I thought you even went for a ride with them once."
"Oh yeah, THAT was a disaster," answered Megan. "They were acting all studly-dudley and making lots of talk about what they wanted to do to me and how many times they wanted to do it and I said, "Put up or shut up. Let's go somewhere and you can pull out your gear and we'll see what's what!" Megan laughed derisively. "We parked behind the school gym and I started to strip for them... Travis came in his pants and Trevor kept laughing at him so much they could neither one get hard... It was totally stupid." Megan shook her head in disgust. "I put my tits back in my bra, got out of the car, told them 'go home and practice' and walked home." She looked over at the twins again. "Uh oh," She warned, "They see us. Shut up about what I just said, right?"
Nel was nodding assent when the 18-year old brothers walked up and sat down, uninvited. "Hey Nel, Megan," they said in near unison. "What up?" added Travis. Or maybe Trevor. Nel could not easily tell them apart if they weren't calling each other by name. "Yeah, Megan," Trevor, or maybe Travis, said hanging his left arm over her shoulder and half-hugging her against himself, "S'up."
"Probably not YOU, Trev," Megan answered smartly, pulling his hand off her arm and leaning away from him. She smiled to take the edge out of her voice and left her victim bewildered as to what had just happened.
