Chapter 20: Mothers Know

Evan looked at his mother’s text again, “Went to the airport. Go do any work you have to do. Everything is going to be all right. I love you.” Electronic communication without emojis was void of emotion and often misinterpreted. Evan tried to picture his mother typing the message. Had his father been standing there, forcing her to hide her feelings between the lines? No, Evan imagined his mother hiding in the bathroom, crying while her thumbs dashed across the letters. His father might walk in and read it, so she had to hold back what she really wanted to say. Was everything going to be all right because his father would be in China, or did she plan on handling his father again? That hadn’t turned out well, and Evan had no intention of ever letting it happen again.

The black eye was a dull ache that Evan hardly noticed, but his crushed pride hurt like a broken arm that would end his racing career before it started. Sadness and anger competed for control of Evan’s mind. He hadn’t taken a swing or even tried to get out from in front of his father’s fist. Had his mother’s tits stunned him, or hadn’t Evan expected his father to punch him?

Eventually, he would have to tell Deana how he fucked up their mother’s newfound happiness, but Evan planned on postponing that as long as possible. He left the house right after his parents, too early to do anything except drive around and spin his thoughts as a spider’s web of shoulda, coulda, and woulda. In his mind, Evan walked through the scene over and over, each time the outcome was more favorable for his side. Yes, he fought back, gave it to his father in words and fists, pulled Candy’s shirt closed over her chest, wiped away her tears, hugged her, and kissed Candy while his father lay unconscious on the floor.

When Evan reached Miss Style’s house, there was no point in announcing himself because she knew he was coming. Nobody had seen him since his father decked him, and if possible, Evan would keep it that way until the evidence was gone. Deana, Gloria, and Candy didn’t need to see the purple-black sign of weakness painted on his face. More than that, Evan was afraid to see his mother’s neck. Had his father punched her, too? He couldn’t stop picturing Candy in a giant pair of sunglasses and a scarf tied around her neck.

In the old barn that doubled as Miss Style’s garage, Evan decided to handle the lawn first. That would give him an opportunity to step on an imaginary rake before he saw anyone. Unfortunately, unlike in the cartoons, a shiner wasn’t instantaneous, but it would be plausible later when he saw his sisters. Also, if he were extra toasty after the yard work, he could accidentally fall in the pool while cleaning it.

Before Evan opened the side door of the garage, he heard a splash. Miss Style must know I’m here, he thought, so that meant she wanted him to see her in a bathing suit. Or, if she was a freak like Miss Tonya, Style might be naked.

The plunk, plunk, plunk sound of a steady kick increased with each of Evan’s long, hurried strides. The rhythmic sounds were interrupted by a slosh and water droplets splattering, so he paused for a moment. When the plunking and splashing resumed, Evan imagined the woman had gone under, reversed directions, thrust off the wall, and glided like a torpedo below the surface. He ascended the grass slope, approaching the green, Cosmopolitan style three-rail aluminum fencing. The height was designed to keep kids out. Evan lifted his right foot over and grabbed the top rail, throwing his left leg so his body rotated over the fence. His sneakers met the concrete that framed the pool without announcing him. All Evan saw were the stroked arms and the uplift of water that the kicking feet caused.

After scanning the large backyard, Evan quickly crossed the ten feet of patio and looked down into the pool. It wasn’t Miss Style. If there had been any logical context to support what Evan saw, he would have recognized the ass that cut a wake through the water, but seeing a naked person in the communion line at church would have made more sense than what he saw in Miss Style’s pool. It was like seeing Mrs. Henderson, the cafeteria lady, in Walmart without her uniform. His brain would signal recognition but wouldn’t tell Evan who she was.

The powerful body moving through the water like a seasoned swimmer activated pleasure sensors, but the red ponytail, slapping side to side, triggered Evan’s mental search engine. One lap, two laps, two and a half—Evan’s brain gridlocked, wondering what the fuck Darlene was doing there.

Darlene stopped swimming and rolled over in the water. Her tits briefly broke the surface, then the redhead went under. Her bathing suit had a pale flesh tone that matched her skin, making her appear naked. Evan gulped when Darlene propelled herself with frog-like leg thrusts. He waited without making a sound.

The water stirred, and Darlene’s hands wrapped around the shiny chrome ladder. Evan took a deep breath as she pulled herself up. Her head was tilted back, and her eyes were closed. Water and white flesh spilled from the bikini top. The small triangles were stretched thin under the weight, revealing the deep red rings of Darlene’s nipples. Evan watched the centers plump and bulge.

The redhead pressed her hands against the bridge of her nose and squeegeed her face. Evan looked into that spellbinding spot between Darlene’s hips. The strings that looped over the rounded knobs of her hip bones were practically lost in the V-shaped grooves carved into her groin. The rest of the bikini bottoms were too small to cover the girl’s bush if she had one.

Evan saw a moment of surprise before Darlene’s face went back to the disinterested expression he was used to. Without speaking, Darlene dug into her top, hoisted, juggled, and stuffed as much tit as she could into the bikini top. As far as he was concerned, all she did was take what had overflowed at the bottom and made more spill out into Darlene’s cleavage. He imagined her biceps would bump what pushed out to her sides when her arms swung. Her nipples were still growing.

Darlene said, “Evan, hi,” in a tone that suggested she was annoyed at him.

Evan might have responded with an unintelligible sound, but it didn’t matter because Darlene turned away from him and started walking. The strings holding her top in place cut into her sides. He wanted to untie the bow and watch her gorgeous melons drop, bounce, and roll outward.

The bottoms were a meaningless patch at the cusp of Darlene’s ass cleavage. Her cheeks were fully exposed, moving with her ass as if she wore four-inch heels. Evan watched the sway, the rise and fall, and the jiggle. It was an erotic GIF.

Darlene reached the lounge chair with a towel on it and bent at the waist with her feet close together. She paused longer than necessary to pick up the towel. Her thighs touched all the way up to the gap at the top of her legs, where a textbook porn pussy threatened to burst out of her swimsuit. Evan had been imagining what the redhead looked like without clothes for a long time, and now he pretty much knew. It wasn’t a huge, traumatic letdown like finally seeing Candy’s tits had been.

While drying her face, Darlene straightened up and turned around. “Were you staring at my ass?” she asked and flipped the towel over her shoulders like a cape but didn’t pull it around her chest. The red areolas were cresting, shoving their hard centers out against the bikini top.

Evan licked his lips, and his first unfiltered thought spilled out, “Who wouldn’t?”

Darlene almost smiled and started toward him. He tried to swallow, but the walls of his throat stuck together. There was no reason to be nervous, but Evan was. When Darlene was too close, she looked up at him and said, “At least you’re honest.”

Evan’s thoughts scrambled with a sense of déjà vu. Hadn’t he already been close enough to notice how blue Darlene’s eyes were, and minus some freckles, how familiar her face was? “What are you doing here?” he asked.

Darlene said, “Swimming,” and started to walk away without saying anything more, just like at school.

He heard another voice coming from behind him, “Darlene, remember what we talked about.”

His head snapped around. Miss Style was coming up the stone path toward the gate, glaring at Darlene. She was fully dressed in what looked like business attire; unfortunately, not a bikini. He turned his head back, and Darlene was directly in front of him. She said, “I’m sorry,” her chest bumped against him, “it’s not your fault. I shouldn’t act that way.”

The kiss was so unexpected that Darlene’s mouth was moving away from his before Evan realized how good her lips felt. He wanted a do-over, but she left without adding another word. Miss Style smiled and ran her fingertips across Darlene’s stomach as they passed each other. Evan watched the redhead’s ass until she reached the door and disappeared into the shadows of the screen porch.

“You know, Darlene?”

“I certainly hope so,” Miss Style said. “If I didn’t, a strange girl was swimming in my pool and just went into my house.”

It was annoying, even though a sarcastic response was what his stupid question deserved. “How?”

“We’re friends.”

Evan waited for more, then asked, “What did she mean? It’s not my fault?”

“That’s not important now,” Miss Style said. “Would you do me a favor?” Evan’s mouth opened, then closed when he realized it was like when his mother asked questions. “Give Darlene a ride home. I have to run.” Miss Style reached into her pocket and pulled out a Ben Franklin.

“Thank you, of course, no problem, as soon as I’m done here.”

Miss Style’s hands slid up Evan’s forearms and squeezed. “Thank you. You’re a sweetheart. Sorry, I won’t be here to watch you work, but I know you’ll do a great job. Thanks for taking care of Darlene. Have fun.”

Evan was afraid his brain wasn’t capable of saying anything intelligent, so he nodded and watched the woman leave. Something about Style excited him, but he couldn’t put his finger on it.

Deana was awake enough to know that it was a knee touching her stomach. It made her smile even though she knew waking up with Rebecca’s body touching hers would be a hard habit to break when school started again. They’d have to go back to the occasional weekend sleepovers. Deana didn’t open her eyes. She wanted to prolong the lazy, hazy period between fantasy and reality and make sure Rebecca woke up in the same mood she was in.

With a growing smile, Deana slid her hand up Rebecca’s thigh. Her sleepy mind anticipated fondling Rebecca’s ass. Moving under the nightshirt, Deana found the round cushion. Her heart rate increased. The globe overflowed her hand, and Deana’s fingers dove deep into the gap between the two halves. They hadn’t been lovers for long, yet Deana already knew her girlfriend’s butt by touch, and it wasn’t Rebecca’s ass in her hand.

No wonder Evan was always handling Gloria’s butt, Deana thought as she peeked through the strands of black hair draping her face. Gloria was sprawled face down like someone who had fallen from a building, legs, and arms bent at crazy angles. Her head wasn’t on the pillow; it was stuffed under it. The knee in Deana’s stomach was connected to Gloria’s left leg, which jutted out at a forty-five-degree angle from her body. It was one thing to appreciate another girl’s well-defined ass, but touching it shouldn’t make her warm between her legs. Did her body’s response confirm Deana’s fear?

Deana reluctantly moved her hand away from the ass that felt as good as it looked. A bit of envy stirred in her heart. “Wake up,” she whispered and lifted the pillow off her sister’s head. “Wake up, bedbug.”

“Aw.” Gloria’s head turned, and her eyes fluttered. “Oh, Dee.” Her legs pushed straight out, and her body arched in a long stretch. “Mmm.”

“Why are you in my bed?” Deana asked.

Gloria pushed up, fell on her side, and did a few full-body shimmies to finish turning over on her back. “You mad?”

“Nah.” Deana stuffed the pillow under Gloria’s head and asked the question, even though she knew the answer, “Did you have a dream?” She turned on her side, facing Gloria.

Gloria’s face scrunched with concentration. “Mm-hmm.”

Deana knew she was Gloria’s second choice, and that didn’t bother her because she knew about the dreams. “Why didn’t you go upstairs?”

“Something happened to Evan in my dream. It might have been a fight, but he’s not home.” Gloria fidgeted, moving closer to Deana. “Dee, what’s a meddler?” she asked. “Is it a bad thing?”

Deana took a deep breath, put her arm over Gloria’s stomach, and summoned the courage required to play the role of big sister. “Meddler, that depends,” she said. “Who said it?”

“Never mind.” Gloria looked away. “I, ah, I know.”

“Gloria, we don’t have secrets. Sister’s tell-all,” Deana lied.

Gloria shivered and hugged her chest. “Daah, Dad—”

Deana’s question was out before she could stop it, “Did he hurt you?”

“No, no.” Gloria’s head shook repeatedly. “He was in a bad, really bad mood. He said mean things, that’s all.”

“Good.” Wasn’t it ridiculous to be grateful that their father had only said mean things? “What did he say?”

“Dee, I’m scared. What if he makes me leave? What if he sends me and Mom back to the trailer park? He said that.”

Deana refused to cry. “He’d never do that, but if he did, he’d be all alone because I’m going with you. Evan, too.”

“He’s mad at her and me,” Gloria said. “He said I’m a meddler just like Mom. What did he mean? Did Mom do something?”

“What else did he say?”

Gloria rolled toward Deana. They were face-to-face. “Why was he so mad at Mom?”

“Listen to me,” Deana said, “don’t worry about that. He’s talking stupid. You’re not any of those things. Neither is Mom. She saved us from him. Saved me and Evan. If it weren’t for her, we would have been alone, stuck alone with him. Nobody to love us and protect us. She saved us.” The tears had their way, and Deana hated her father for making her cry again. “Mom isn’t a meddler. She’s a hero. I’m sorry you had to get dragged into this with us.”

Gloria used the sheet to dry Deana’s tears and said, “I’m not sorry. I love you. We’re a team.”

Their hug was powerful, and they trembled, neither willing to tell the whole truth. Gloria burrowed her face in the crook of Deana’s neck, and their legs tangled together.

“Deana?”

“What?”

“Does kissing Rebecca feel good, um, make you feel good?”

Deana squinted her eyes. “What makes you think I kiss her?”

“Um, I guessed.”

“You been spying again?” Deana asked.

Gloria rolled on her back and stared at the ceiling. “Not really. I notice things, and I—”

“You notice them because you’re looking where you shouldn’t be looking. Now admit it, you were spying.”

“Dee, I swear, I wasn’t spying. I might have forgotten to knock and might have seen something, but it wasn’t actually spying. I learned my lesson last time.”

“Did you close my door right away, or did you keep watching? If you kept watching, then that’s spying.”

Gloria said, “I think you’re trying not to answer my question.”

“Is that so,” Deana said.

Gloria smiled triumphantly. “It’s so!”

“How much did you see?” Deana asked.

“Enough to know you been kissing a bunch.”

“You snoop-a-doodle. One of these days, you’re gonna see something you wish you hadn’t seen.”

“Maybe I already did, but answer my question already.”

“Yup, it does. Kissing Rebecca makes me feel good. Why, you wanna kiss her too? She’s totally into you. Said you got a better ass than me.” Deana took her turn wearing the victory face. Her little sister would learn to mind her business one way or another.

Gloria flipped on top of Deana. “Really? Will you be jealous if I do?”

Deana stared at Gloria’s face, searching for a hint of sarcasm. All she found was the blue eyes and face that reminded Deana of their babysitter before—

“Are you, um, are you in love with Rebecca?” Gloria asked.

Deana sighed and put her hands on Gloria’s butt. “Do you go up to Evan’s room like this ... without underwear?” She honked the shapely ass playfully, but it still stirred something in the pleasure zone where her orgasms started.

“Please don’t treat me like a kid, Dee, please. I’m not. You know that, don’t you?”

Deana wished she didn’t know how grown-up Gloria was. “I’m sorry. I’ll try and remember.” Her face flushed as the words came to her lips, “Yes, I love her. We love each other.” Had she just admitted to being a lesbian?

“Aren’t you scared?” Gloria asked.

Deana nodded and brushed Gloria’s hair off her face. “You think I’m bad?”

Gloria shook her head with tears building at the rims of her eyes. “I did it, I did it, too, but I’m not in love. I did it because it felt good. Does that make it, make me bad?”

Deana wrapped her arms around her sister. She could feel Gloria’s heart thumping through their crushed breasts. “Gloria, there isn’t anything bad about you. I love you.”

“Thank you. I love you more, a thousand times more than anybody.”

“Don’t tell your mother that.”

“I love her too, but it’s different, a different kinda love. You know?”

“I do,” Deana said. It was that mutual suffering that made their bond of love so strong. They knew each other’s secret, but neither would say it out loud.

Darlene had been in the house the whole time Evan worked, then, as if she had been watching, she came out ready to leave as soon as Evan finished. Once they were in the car, Evan got the impression Darlene would rather walk. The first ten minutes of the drive were painfully quiet. He glanced her way often. Darlene’s presence was tangible, and it drew Evan in, even if he didn’t want to be drawn. All but three inches of her pale thighs stuck out of her denim mini-skirt. Her knees were raised, swaying side to side, taunting him, but it was Darlene’s profile that kept his attention. The redhead who had been called Carrot Top, and worse, had a very pretty face.

The rural two-lane road didn’t have any subdivisions, just plenty of large plots of land, farms, broken-down shacks, rusty trailers, and an occasional fruit stand. Evan had no idea where they were going, so he broke the silence, “When do I turn?”

“Look for Sunny Haven on the left,” Darlene said. “There’s a big sign. You can’t miss it.”

“Okay.” He wanted to kiss those lips again. “What did you mean, it’s not my fault?”

“Nothing,” Darlene said.

Evan took his eyes off the road and gave her a hard, searching look.

“We don’t have time for that now,” Darlene said, continuing to stare straight ahead.

“We have a few minutes,” he said, “and there’s always tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” Darlene pushed her feet against the floorboard, lifted her butt, and tugged on the skirt. “Tomorrow, there’s no tomorrow. We’ll be strangers again tomorrow.”

“What? I’m not like that, not that kind of person.”

“No, but you’re not from the same world as me. You hang out with your people, and I hang with mine.”

“Wait a minute.” He reached for her. “You don’t give me much credit. I’m not a dick or a stuck-up cheerleader. That’s not the best example, but you know what I mean.”

“That would be crazy, though, and sexy. One of my fantasies.”

“Nice change of subject,” Evan said, his anger building. “My sister tries that, too.”

Darlene said, “Deana? How is she and that little wildcat friend of hers?”

“Wildcat? You mean Rebecca?”

“Yeah.”

Evan had no intention of dropping the subject, but he was intrigued by what he assumed was a description of Rebecca, not a nickname. “Why do you call her that?”

Darlene’s expression suggested she was surprised he didn’t know. “I’m sure you’ll figure it out eventually.”

“Oh,” was all Evan said.

“About that other thing,” Darlene said. “I didn’t mean a guy in cheerleader’s clothes.” Some of the stiffness seemed to go out of Darlene, and she turned her body toward Evan. “I meant a girl with a dick. You ever seen a shemale?”

Evan considered how serious Darlene sounded. “I have the Internet.”

“I had this dream,” she said. “It was so real that it was more like a vision. Since then, the idea of a sexy woman with a cock turns me on. I fantasize about it. Big breasts and a sexy round ass, plus a dick. What would you do if we were dating and you thought we were going to do it, but you found out I had a big cock?”

“You been with many women?” he asked.

“Nice try,” Darlene said. “Answer my question.”

Without looking at her, Evan answered. “If you were actually you, and I was going with you, I’d probably faint.”

“That’s a cop-out. Here’s what I think you’d do. You would turn me around and fuck me in the ass while you jerked me off.”

Evan realized the fuckin’ redhead was one of the girls from the internet that he fantasized about. In his fantasies, though, he never felt like he was in over his head. Darlene was all he’d heard, imagined, and more. Evan blew out hard, hoping she’d talk about anything else.

“I guess that sounded crude,” Darlene said. “Sorry, sometimes I let out thoughts that are better kept to myself. You think I’m a slut?”

Darlene caught Evan off guard again. “No.” His stomach twisted. “I think you’re honest and matter-of-fact.” Special was the word that Evan almost said. “Nothing wrong with that.”

“That’s nice, thank you. Your mom raised you to be one of the nice people.”

“Stepmom, you know she’s my stepmother, right?”

“A stepmother is still your mother. She must be special.”

Evan saw the sign for Sunny Haven. It was large but unimpressive. He made a left into the trailer park, thinking about Darlene’s words and how their conversation had made another drastic turn. It was weird how she used the word he had been thinking. What did she mean by special? “She is.”

Darlene pointed at a tan and white double-wide trailer. “Over there.”

The wooden steps up to the door looked like they had collapsed and been thrown back together without nails.

“Okay, thanks for the ride. See ya,” Darlene said like a stranger he had picked up hitchhiking.

Evan felt rejected. “Hold on, wait up,” he said and jumped out of the car.

Darlene stopped at the foot of the precarious steps and said, “Don’t you have something you need to do?”

Evan stepped closer, challenging. “Why the cold shoulder all of a sudden?” She told me her most bizarre sexual fantasy, he thought and added, “Not even a kiss goodbye?”

She glanced in the direction of the door, then looked down at the dirt. “Evan, I didn’t lose a glass slipper, and you’re not gonna take me back to the castle. You see how it is. Don’t make it hard. It’s not like I can invite you in, or you’re going to call me. It’ll never work.” She started turning away.

Now Evan was angry. “Wait.” He yanked Darlene toward him. “I told you I’m not like that.” He pulled her mouth to his. Darlene responded with aggression. To Evan, it didn’t feel like their second kiss. It was familiar and passionate. He squeezed her face between his hands and stared into her eyes, looking for a sign. “What is it about you?”

“It’s my aura,” Darlene said. “It makes guys want to fuck me.” She pushed away. “As much as I’d like to get fucked right here on my porch, it can’t work. Go back to your world.”

Darlene was inside before Evan spoke, “No, it makes me want to love you.” His words were only heard by the mud-stained front door. He never thought having a lot of money could be a disadvantage.

Inside the trailer, Darlene leaned against the door until she heard Evan’s car drive away. Like she could really let him love her, even if he wasn’t her cousin by marriage. The boy had no clue what kind of girl she was. Darlene walked toward the woman on the couch and said, “I’m home.” When there was no response, she added, “Did you notice I was gone?” She’d notice if the assistance checks stopped coming, Darlene thought and continued down the narrow hallway into her room. The door shook the flimsy wall when she slammed it. “Fuck, how the fuck!”

Style is right, Darlene thought. It wasn’t Evan’s fault. He didn’t even know, and Candy might not be her aunt. If she was Aunt Candy, why didn’t she stay in touch, invite Darlene over, and act like an aunt? It had something to do with her husband, Darlene thought, but what?

Darlene turned in a circle, searching her paneled room for something, anything that could make her feel better. Being bad was her medicine, and she needed a huge dose, a Boy George-sized dose of bad medicine. The bed hit the wall when she threw herself on it. Darlene sat Indian Style and pulled her journal out from under the pillow. There was a pair of shiny scissors inside the cover. The cool steel warmed quickly on her inner thigh. Could she cause enough pain to distract her from reality?

When Evan drove away from the Sunny Haven trailer park, he was wondering what kind of psychological mystery drama he had stumbled into. That morning, Darlene’s name wouldn’t have caused a twitch on his emotional meter. She was just some girl he used to know in school. Evan had forgotten about her red lips, the body that was on par with his mother’s, and the redhead’s high step, ass-shaking walk. He had moved on to girls he could actually have sex with, talk to, and fall in love with. Darlene had only existed in Jason’s fantasy world, where Jason probably had threesomes with her and Becky. How quickly things changed in Evan’s life.

The fuckin’ redhead was an enigma, and she still rejected him, but she had become a challenge again. Evan wanted to understand her. He needed to strip off the layers of peculiarity and find out who Darlene really was and how she knew Miss Style. However, Evan might have been looking for a conquest so he wouldn’t have to pursue the two lovers who would break his heart in the end.

A droplet of blood filled the divot created by the scissors. Darlene thought back to when she was young and first discovered ways to escape. Masturbation had been her first avenue. It was as if she had been born sexual; she couldn’t remember being taught or experimenting; she always knew where to touch herself. It felt good, but her friends thought it was wrong. Their parents told them it was bad. If adults saw it as deviant behavior, it worked for Darlene because being bad was good. She loved seeing the shock or disgust on someone’s face when she got caught touching herself or worse.

Darlene could remember the day as if it had just happened, but she couldn’t remember whose birthday party it had been. It certainly wasn’t hers; foster kids didn’t have clowns at their parties. The clown had been blowing up long balloons, making animals, and handing them to some of the girls, but he stared at Darlene for a creepy moment before giving her one long balloon. The second it was in Darlene’s hands, rubbing against her skin, the thought came. She pressed the long balloon against the front of her body, between her budding breasts. Her nipples swelled, and the evil thought festered in her dirty little mind. Casually, she slipped the uninflated tip between her lips, sucking air into it and flicking it with her tongue. That was exciting, and it made Darlene squirm like a kid with ants in her pants.

When the birthday girl started opening her presents, Darlene snuck out of the room and ducked into a bedroom. It was the first birthday party anyone had invited her to, and Darlene saw how wrong her life was. She’d never had a party for any of her birthdays and didn’t remember ever getting a present she liked. The realization was painful, and Darlene needed a shot of emotional Novocain.

She wanted to get naked but only pulled her pants down and rubbed the head of the balloon on her crotch. Nothing that fat had ever been in her, and Darlene didn’t expect it to fit, but she pushed it between her spread legs anyway. The balloon flattened and bent. Darlene used a fingertip to tuck the uninflated rubber tip between her tingling pussy lips, sliding it up and down. The limp tip glistened with her excitement. She fingered some of the floppy end inside her narrow opening and gently pumped the long, phallic clown prop into the pink groove. Desire and need turned to frustration, which made Darlene squeeze.

“Ohhhh, God,” she cried out. Her tight sphincter stayed closed, but air rushed through and inflated the top of the balloon inside her body. Lubricating juices surrounded the intrusion. Darlene took a deep breath, twisted and wiggled more of the clown cock into her body, and flattened the balloon against the mattress with both hands.

The air that had been under Darlene’s hands was suddenly forced inside her body. Slippery with crazed excitement, the expanding rubber stretched and filled a void that hadn’t existed before. She bit her tongue to keep from screaming but didn’t lift even a finger to ease the painful pleasure.

The clown, handing her the balloon, flashed through Darlene’s mind. She should have been upset by his uninspired offering, yet she took it happily with a smile. Whether it had been developed or she’d been born with it, Darlene didn’t know, but the sixth sense was there. She had known what the clown wanted, and now she was taking it the only way he had been willing to give it to her.