Chapter 23

I was bubbly while eating breakfast. The curling brush was by far the best present I had gotten that Christmas and I was going to use it often. Mrs. Russo was so thoughtful. Such a good friend. I knew my father didn’t have anything to do with the makeup I had gotten, but I wondered if Mr. Russo had a hand in my curling brush present. I hoped so. I liked him a lot and it would mean he thought about me as well.

“You’re in a good mood,” my mother said.

“Yesterday was the best.”

My mother eyed me from head to toe. “I can see that. You couldn’t wait to wear your new sweater and boots, huh?”

“I love them.”

If she had only known that last night I couldn’t wait to use another present—the curling brush.

“But not one of the new skirts,” my mother said with a frown.

“Oh, Mommy, all the girls wear pants.”

My mother smiled. “At least they’re warm. What are you doing today?”

“Going to see what Debbie and Gina are up to.”

I had no intention of seeing my friends. At least not right away. As soon as breakfast was done, I rushed to the Russo’s apartment below our house and rang the bell. I couldn’t wait to thank Mrs. Russo. I shifted from foot to foot waiting for her to answer the door. But she didn’t so I rang the bell again.

The door finally opened, but my smile turned into a gaping mouth that looked like an “O” and my eyes got almost as round. Mr. Russo stood there in a robe, his hair disheveled and dark stubble on his face.

“Julie, is something wrong?” he asked.

“No, I um ... I’m sorry, did I wake you?”

“Don’t worry about it. Do you need something?”

“I, um ... I just wanted to thank Wanda for the Christmas present.”

A smile spread across Mr. Russo’s unshaven face. “We thought you’d like it.”

So Mr. Russo had participated in my gift.

Mr. Russo stepped back from the door. “Please come in. Just excuse the mess.”

“Oh, I don’t want to bother you. I didn’t know you’d be home.”

“On vacation. Christmas to New Years. Please come in.”

I followed Mr. Russo down the hall to the living room. When passing the master bedroom, I glanced in. The bed was unmade and crumpled. Mrs. Russo was sitting on the couch with Suzy playing on the floor. Mrs. Russo wasn’t actually sitting. At seven months pregnant, she was sprawled on the couch with a pillow supporting her lower back. She was wearing a knee-length lavender nightgown. The thin satiny material showcased, more than hid, her braless breasts that lay beneath it, especially the dark nipples. Her legs were spread with one foot on the floor and one on the couch. Because of her big belly and the way her legs were spread, the hem of the nightgown had ridden up almost to her crotch. My first thought was how cold she must be, but then I realized how much warmer they kept their apartment than my father did our house.

“Mind if I don’t get up?” Mrs. Russo asked without a smile. “My back is killing me.”

“No, no, of course not. I didn’t mean to bother you. I should leave.”

“Absolutely not. You’re always welcome here.”

“I’ll leave you two ladies to chat,” Mr. Russo said. “I’m going to shave and take a shower.”

Mr. Russo left and Mrs. Russo patted the couch. “Come sit with me.”

I removed my coat and sat on the end of the couch where there was room, between her foot and the couch arm. I don’t know why, but my eyes traveled to the hem of her nightgown. It was only for a split second, but I saw under it at her silky-smooth labia. When my eyes returned to hers, she was smiling.

Without thinking, I blurted out, “How do you shave down there with your big belly?” I blushed as soon as I had said it.

Mrs. Russo’s smile broadened. “You’re right, I can’t see it. Don shaves me.”

I blushed even redder. That was such an intimate thing, yet, as usual, Mrs. Russo thought nothing of telling me something so personal. I wished I had her confidence. I didn’t know what to say. And I didn’t know where to look when I realized my eyes had settled back underneath the hem of her nightgown before darting away.

Mrs. Russo’s eyes twinkled with mischief as she tugged her nightgown up to the bottom of her big belly. That exposed her vulva in its entirety, especially with her legs spread.

“Did he do a good job?” she asked. “I can’t see. All I can do is feel it.”

Her fingers skimmed over the shaved skin.

I looked at it for a split second before my eyes darted away. Flustered. My throat was constricted. Dry. I couldn’t speak so I nodded. When I noticed her hand continue stroking herself, it drew my eyes back between her legs.

“Is there something you needed?” Mrs. Russo asked while her fingers nonchalantly brushed the smooth skin.

“I wanted to thank you for my Christmas present.”

“It was my pleasure. I hope it will be your pleasure, too.” The twinkle returned to her eyes.

I blushed. “Yes, it was the best present ever.”

“So you used it?”

“Last night.”

“Not this morning?”

“My mother woke me and I had to go down to breakfast. I didn’t have time.”

“You’re sweet for taking the time to thank me. Is that sweater new?”

“I got it from my aunt.”

“It’s pretty. But why wear it just to see me? You should wear it when you’re with a boy.”

“That’s what I want to talk to you about,” I said.

Mrs. Russo’s fingers stopped moving momentarily and she tilted her head to the side. “How to dress for a boy?”

“No, no. You see, I was at a girl’s house the other day and a bunch of boys showed up uninvited. Her parents weren’t home so they came in. I danced with one of the boys and then he took me into a bedroom.”

Mrs. Russo’s hand had left her pussy and was resting on her thigh. It moved back between her legs and once again stroked her smooth skin, but now near where her clitoris lay hidden.

“Go on,” she said, almost breathlessly.