Chapter 1

It was a lovely morning. But, then, it was always a lovely morning in San Diego. A Mr. Branson, retired, henpecked, was out tending his garden bright and early. His wife was pleased with his sudden interest in gardening. Actually, old Branson didn't care a hang about flowers or lawns, they were all weeds to him. What he did care about and why he was out in the garden bright and early every morning was for the pleasure and excitement of seeing their neighbor, young Gail Hanover, walk out of her house and down to the mailbox and then back up the path again.

On what Branson called "good days" she would open the mail then walk slowly back up the path to the house. The slower, the better, for Branson's interests. This particular morning, he positioned himself in a corner of the yard, crouching over a bed of marigolds and pretending to dig while his eyes looked through his bushy eyebrows and he waited.

And Gail was well worth the waiting. Yesterday, she had come down to the mailbox dressed in a lounging gown and old Branson had gritted his teeth against his anger at being disappointed then almost fell in a bed of tulips as, while she was opening the mail, her gown fell open and he saw one leg up to the hip bone. It was an indelible image he would savor late at night while lying next to his snoring wife. She was wearing high heels under the gown and her leg showed itself off beautifully with slim tapered ankles curving out into well-rounded calves. Then--and every time Branson thought of it, his mouth went dry--a thigh. Not just any thigh, but full, voluptuous thighs that seemed to swoop out in pure white firmness. And all she was wearing was a rose-red bikini panty!

Branson had to close his eyes when he thought of how the panties stretched tight across her hips, revealing the soft bulge of one pelvic bone and the way the material caught tight and was tense at the V of her crotch.

It was only for a split second, but old Branson had seen it and found himself shaking. "By God, if I were only twenty years younger!" he had muttered.

The postman had delivered the mail, turned the flag up and Branson was in position. His only regret was the fact that he couldn't get closer.

Gail Hanover came out of the house. She had risen early, determined to clean. It was such a bright and sunny day, she saw no reason for wearing a lot of clothes. A pair of shorts and one of Rod's old white shirts pulled and knotted around her slim waist seemed enough. She came from the house barefoot and old Branson crouched like some old satyr and peered through his white picket fence.

Gail came down the path tossing her hair. It was beautiful jet-black hair and contrasted sharply with her pale blue eyes. The tights were old and rose high on her hips, almost revealing her hip bones. A pair of hip huggers she had cut off, they slung low, revealing her navel which Branson saw with rippling flesh. The V of the huggers fit tight over her crotch. Gail enjoyed the slight pressure and excitement they afforded her and walked in a hip undulating fashion to heighten the sensation.

Old Branson fell to one knee as he craned forward, his now sweating face no more than three inches from the fence as he saw her bending to open the mailbox. My God! he thought, that young chippie isn't wearing a bra!

It was true. Her ample breasts seemed to shift under her husband's shirt and the nipples made little reverse indentations on the cotton, sticking out in a provocative way.

Branson quickly swiped at his upper lip, removing perspiration. Gail was a lovely thing to look at: slim, big breasted, long legs, thick hair and a lovely face with a small nose, almost snub-nosed, and a large, sensuous mouth. She looked just like the girls he saw in Playboy magazine whenever he went down to the drugstore to get prescriptions filled. She was better than anything he had ever seen in a magazine. She was real! And she was across the street, tearing open a letter and practically naked.

As he watched, she read a letter hastily, a smile coming over her face. Then, in a spontaneous movement, she jumped up and down with glee, her breasts shaking and quivering.

To his disappointment, she turned to run to her house. Then, his luck holding, she dropped a letter and bent over, her back to him, and picked it up. For one moment of glorious agony, Branson saw her hips and buttocks fan out and her shorts ride high up and be caught in the deep crevice between her legs. She straightened and walked on to the house, the two smooth, undulating cheeks of her buttocks in plain sight bouncing up and down.

If it had been any other day and any other letter, Gail might have heard a moan from the yard across the way and looked to see what was happening. But, not today. She held in her hand THE letter. Everybody gets at least one letter in their life which they can deem important. They can look back to that time and say, "My life changed that day."

So it was for Gail. She ran into the house excited, not knowing what she was going to do or if there was anything she should do.

She stood in their living room and laughed softly. She read the letter again, taking in every word. It was so very brief.

DARLING, LEAVING THIS HELLHOLE IN ONE WEEK AND FLYING BACK HOME TO YOU. LOVE, ROD.

Airmailed and postmarked two days ago. A quick calculation told her he might be home by next weekend. Gail felt good, better than she had felt in weeks. If old Branson hadn't been so interested in her body and his own frustrated thoughts, he would have noticed that Gail wasn't a happy girl; that she was, in fact, a deeply troubled human being. If horny old Branson had looked closely, he would have seen the telltale signs of much drinking the night before.

Rod had been in Vietnam a year and she had lived alone, having few friends and occasionally working for the Kelly Girls, taking office jobs when they seemed suitable and the mood hit her. Most of her friends were the wives of servicemen, like herself, waiting for their men to come home.

Then Lee, her younger brother came to visit her and stay. Although a warm day, Gail shivered, thinking about him and his visit. At home, when they were growing up, Lee, one year younger, had always been a wild one, getting into all sorts of trouble. At first, it had been dismissed as "coltish behavior", and "sowing his wild oats." Later, it had gotten more serious: drinking escapades and stories of wild parties. Lee ran with a crowd that was considered disreputable and Gail had nothing to do with them. One night Lee had come home drunk and surprised Gail as she lay in bed reading a book. He had attacked her. The word "attack" was never really mentioned and the whole thing was smoothed over as a joke. Lee being so drunk he "didn't know where he was." At least that is what Gail's mother had said. Her mother had a special attachment to Lee that Gail used to wonder about. Near forty, her mother was still a fine looking woman.

When Rod came along, the whole world changed and it wasn't long before they were married and moved to San Diego. And then Gail's mother wrote to say that Lee was coming out to see her right after school let out. Lee was attending an eastern college. In his first year, he had been almost kicked out. Several students had been arrested in an apartment off campus. Seems a sex party had been going on and one girl claimed that she had been raped.

And Lee had come to visit Gail.

Despite his sardonic and unpredictable ways, Gail loved her brother. His aggressiveness and his sharp tongue didn't bother her; she thought, that with time, he would change. When he first came, she had been struck by how different they were. She was to learn, to her horror and shame, how very much alike they were in at least one way.

He had showed up one morning in front of her house, a sleeping bag on his back, his hair too long and unkempt, his lips twisted in that old grin. "Hiya. Man, you're something else."

After she had fed him and he talked of their parents, she sat down across the table from him and looked at him carefully. He had grown, he was no longer just her little brother, he was a man. And that same mischievous look was on his face. Only, now, there was something more there. The impish quality had become hard, there was a glitter and gleam to his eye that disturbed her. What was it? It seemed to her they were shrewd eyes old beyond belief. There was a cynical edge to his voice, a strange dry quality that told you there was little that he hadn't done.

Standing with Rod's scrawled hasty letter in her hand, Gail shivered again. She slumped into a chair and stared off. What was she going to do? How could she tell Rod? What would happen, how would she feel when Rod was finally in front of her took her in his arms? How would she respond? Would it be the same as before?

Or, would she, in some unpredictable way, give herself away? How would she act in the throes of passion?

Her depression came back and she felt the need of a drink. Just one, she told herself, then put her hand to her head and closed her eyes. She had to face this thing, she had to think it out. More than anything, she had to resolve it in her own mind.

She had been always told and felt it was true that she was a person of character. Setting her jaw, she carefully folded Rod's letter and put it away in the desk with all of his letters that she had kept. She could not resist sitting and rereading some of them, tears brimming in her eyes. She loved Rod and he was the only man ever to have her... until Lee, her brother, came to visit.

She couldn't stand it any longer. She slammed the desk drawer shut then swiveled to the kitchen where she poured a drink of scotch into a glass and sat down at the kitchen table. I don't care if it's morning and this is a stupid thing to do. I want to think, she told herself.

She swallowed the scotch and made a face, feeling it burn down and hit her empty stomach. Hastily, she made some Instant coffee and poured the rest of the scotch in the cup and sat down to sip and think.

One of the wonders of the human mind is its adaptability. Gail had not once allowed herself to think of what happened with Lee since he had gone. While it was happening and while he was staying with her, she could think of nothing else. When he left, something in her brain shut off. An instinct told her she needed time to think, to recover. She became busy with hundreds of chores. She visited girl friends and baby sat. She went alone to movies and when she had seen them all, when there was nothing to do or no one to see, when it was night and she was alone with only the TV playing endlessly, she drank. She drank heavily and many mornings awoke to find herself still on the couch, clothed, with the television hissing a pale blue screen in the corner. Her head would ache and her stomach was sour and she took long showers and plenty of aspirin.

And she dreaded becoming a secret drinker, a furtive alcoholic.

She would sit for hours, smoking, drinking, longing for Rod and wanting so much to talk with him. Then, thinking of what happened, she dreaded the idea of Rod coming back to her; she was not the same person he had left.

She sipped steadily on her coffee and inhaled the fumes of the scotch and willed herself to think of what had happened and try to understand it and the way that she felt.

Lee, restless the first night, insisted they go out. He had money and wanted to see the town. They had gone out for drinks and dinner and Lee had grown funnier and more charming as the night went on. Driving in the car, Gail had said, "Where to now?"

"Nirvana, Babe."

"Huh? "

"A little action."

"Gee, I don't know. I don't go out much now that Rod's away. I've been out of it. How about a movie?"

Lee slumped down in his seat and made a face. "How about a taffy pull or a night class in wax casting? Come on, Babe, you can do better than that."

Gail smiled at her brother who looked so bored. "Okay, what do you want to do?"

"A nightclub. One of those topless-bottomless joints. A real sleazy dive with lots of broads around and guys trying to make time."

Gail raised her eyebrows. "Somehow I don't think I'm the person to ask about that. Besides, you're only nineteen. You couldn't get in."

Lee pointed a finger at her and made a popping sound with his mouth. "I gotta phoney I.D."

"Isn't that against the law?

"Sure, if you're dumb enough to get caught. Look, who's going to say my I.D. is phoney? I left my real one back at your place. Where's a strip joint?"

"I don't know if I should go to such a place?"

"Ever seen one?"

"No."

"Then don't knock it if you don't know about it. Aren't you at all curious?"

Gail smiled despite herself. It was almost as if he could read her thoughts. In fact, she was very curious in what really went on in what she and Rod called "The topless pits." Since Rod had been in Vietnam, she had abstained from sex, feeling a great yearning and loneliness yet feeling that it was all worth it. When her man came home, he would come to her bed and it all would be just beautiful. Now, Lee had tickled her curiosity and she felt this was a perfect time to satisfy it: she couldn't go with girl friends because it would look funny, like they were trying to "get picked up." She certainly couldn't go with another man and square it with her conscience. But she could go with Lee. He was not just another man, he was her brother. She could, when in a teasing mood, tell Rod she had been in a topless bar and feel no guilt, because Lee had been along.