Chapter 2

"Mary, would you stand up, please?"

She had watched me walk around the table to her, but there didn't seem to be any concern in her eyes as she silently wiped her mouth with her napkin, then stood to face me.

"I have decided that some changes need to be made around here. Today marks the end of an era and the beginning of another. Biker Joe is gone and today is the last time his name will be mentioned in this house." She smiled and nodded her head slightly, waiting to see what would come next. "My goal is to totally exorcise his presence from this house. His stinking chair in the living room, the piss on the back porch, whatever bed he used you on last night, and anything else around here that may remind us of him."

I reached out and gave the belt of her robe a yank. "And the thing that reminds me most about Biker Joe is this ratty robe that you wore with him. I never want you to wear this rag again. Your body is too beautiful to have it tarnished by this piece of shit!" As I said that, I flipped it off her shoulders and let it drop to the floor, leaving her standing naked in front of me.

She looked deep into my eyes, then smiled, bent, and picked up the old robe. She balled it up as she walked to the corner of the room and dropped it in the trashcan. She daintily dusted her hands together, then walked back to the table, sat down and resumed eating. Her sparkling eyes and happy smile told me that she was in total agreement. I didn't ask if she had another robe, and it didn't bother her at all to sit there naked in front of me and finish her breakfast. (Evidently, that was her only robe, because from that day on, Mary was always naked in and around the house. She only wore clothes when we had to go to the store for supplies and for Mary to sign her check.)

We finished eating and I reached for the deck of butts sitting on the counter behind me. Her smile vanished and a slight frown creased her forehead as I slipped the smoke between my lips. Shit! She was right! The scrap of tobacco in my mouth told me that these unfiltered smokes had been Biker Joe's. I pulled the weed from my mouth, winked at her, and traced her previous path to the trash can in the corner. The smokes joined the ratty robe in the bottom of the can.

I looked back at Mary, and the smile was back. She had her elbows on the table with her chin resting on her interlocked fingers as she watched me toss away the reminder of Biker Joe. I pointed and laughed. Her boobs had settled into her plate when she leaned her chin into her hands. I walked back to her and held out my hands to help her up. After she was standing I gently lifted each boob and licked the egg and bacon grease from below each nipple. Breakfast of Champions!

I watched her naked body for a minute as she started to clear the dishes, then went to see about clearing biker Joe's pigsty from the corner of the living room. All that was left was the chair. Mary had cleared away the litter before she did breakfast. Holding my breath, I wrestled the chair over to the front door and out onto the porch. I shoved it over to the edge and rolled it down the steps. Several bugs scurried out of the chair and disappeared into the gravel path. I did NOT want to know what those were!

Hearing a noise, I went back into the house to see Mary with those fabulous jugs bouncing back and forth while she ran a vacuum cleaner over the spot where the chair had been. Now it was her turn to point and smile. My dick had woke up and popped out of the front of my boxers. I just shrugged and smiled, then shook it at her.

She started to laugh, then covered her mouth when she heard the croak that came out of it. I quickly walked over to her and took her hands from her mouth. Gently kissing her lips, I said, "Don't try to stop it. Your vocal cords need exercise if they're ever going to work normally again. Every little sound you make thrills me."

She stepped against me and sighed. I felt those warm breasts mashed against my chest as I put my arms around her and held her tight.

"Th... Th-thank you," the gravelly whisper rattled against my chest as she squeezed me back.

I told Mary we needed to find a place to get rid of that sleazy old chair I had just dumped in the front yard. As I moved toward the door, she held up a hand to stop me, then pointed toward the back door in the kitchen. "What? Just tell me!" I said, wondering what she was up to.

"F-F-First things f-first," she croaked out as she headed for the back door.

"Wait a minute!" I cried. "What was the last thing those back steps were hosed down with?"

She stopped dead in her tracks, remembering Biker Joe and his urinal of choice. Then, just as resolutely, she headed for the front door, grabbing me by the arm as she passed. Man! I could just watch those boobs bounce all day long! She led me around the house to a garage in back.

The little bit of gravel left in the driveway just about killed my bare feet, but she seemed to be used to it. As a matter of fact, she was barefoot right up to the top of her head, but being outside nude didn't seem to bother her. As secluded as we were, I guess she didn't even think about it.

She opened the garage door and walked over to a tarp-covered lump. She folded the tarp back with a grin and revealed a vinyl covered lay-z-boy type of recliner in the same upholstery pattern as the rest of the living room furniture. I guess Biker Joe had shunted this piece out of the way when he brought in that moth-eaten roach motel that we tossed into the front yard.

We lugged the recliner around the house, being careful of bare toes and other exposed appendages, and carried it in the front door. We placed it right where the old chair sat, then Mary grandly motioned for me to sit. My new throne. The king is dead; long live the king.

I started to sit, then jumped back up and ran out to my car. I grabbed what was left of MY pack of cigarettes, then went back in and settled down on my throne with an exaggerated sigh. Mary laughed and clapped her hands until she saw the cigarettes. Then she got that little frown again.

"Look," I said, showing her the pack. "These are my smokes, not his." Mary immediately turned and went into the kitchen. I was just about to follow her and tell her that I would smoke outside when she returned, carrying an ashtray and an ornate tabletop lighter. "Was that lighter his?" I asked.

"M-My muh-muh-mother's," she answered.

"Did he ever use it?" She shook her head. I picked it up and stroked it to life. It fired right up and I lit my smoke with another exaggerated sigh. "Thank you very much, Mary, for trusting me with your mother's things."

She came and sat on the arm of the recliner, then reached to stroke me lightly on the back of my head. "Yo-yo-your w-welcome, Da-dave," she said haltingly. I was beginning to get ideas about those breasts dangling before me, but we still needed to get rid of that old chair.

I grabbed my keys off the end table by the couch and went out to my car. I fired it up and backed it around the corner to where the big chair lay on its side. It was too big for the trunk, so we just wrestled it up onto the trunk lid. Mary pointed to the other side of the clearing, then went around to the passenger side and motioned for me to get in. She was still naked, so after a mental shrug, I slipped off my boxers, and tossed them onto the front porch rail. Her big smile told me I had done the right thing.

I got in the car and popped the passenger lock for her and she slid into the passenger seat. She leaned over and gave the tip of my dick a little kiss, then smiled up at me as she reached over and gave it a little shake back and forth. I reached over and honked her left boob, then grinned right back at her.

Slowly, at her direction, I drove across the clearing and into the woods. This seemed to be a continuation of the faint path that brought me to Mary's home--was it only yesterday?

I had driven about a half mile deeper into the woods when Mary grabbed my arm and pointed to a drop-off beside the trail. I stopped with the rear deck even with the drop-off and we got out. About fifteen feet below us was the bottom of a small ravine, covered with odd, shapeless lumps, now partially overgrown with weeds. Evidently, this was her usual trash disposal spot.

We levered the chair off the car and watched as it bounced and crashed its way to the bottom of the ravine. When it finally hit the bottom, Mary came over and hugged me around the waist; her big boobs mashed against my side.

Her squeeze reminded me that my bladder hadn't been emptied yet this morning. I figured that since my dick was already free, I'd just step up to the edge and let go. And, after my hard-on subsided, I was able to do just that. My piss stream arched out and scored a direct hit on the old chair. Mary clapped and gave a throaty cheer as I doused the wreckage. I was aware of her presence, but I also knew that if I looked at her standing there naked, my flow would be terminated by an immediate erection. My stream stopped and I shook off the last drops.

Mary nudged me aside, then stepped to the edge, pulled open her pussy lips, and let loose her own stream. I never realized women could pee like that. After wiggling her butt around, she managed to hit the chair with her stream. She didn't do too badly, considering she was the lacking the essential targeting equipment that I was blessed with. Now it was my turn to clap and cheer.

We got back in the car and a few yards farther, I was able to get the car turned around and heading back to her house. We spent the drive laughing and giggling and nudging each other. Occasionally, she would reach over and shake my dick, and I would respond by honking her big boob. That would get us laughing all over again.

When we got back to the house, I followed her in the front door, leaving my boxers hanging on the railing. Clothing just didn't seem too important right then. I stopped Mary at the door into the kitchen and turned her to face me. I kissed her forehead, then said, "Mary, I know I said we weren't going to ever mention Biker Joe after today, that's why I have to ask you this right now. Why did he call you Anxious Mary?"

The smile immediately left her face and she stared intently into my eyes for a long time. I thought I had blown it with that question, and was just about to tell her to forget it, when the little Mona Lisa smile came back to her face. She took me by the arm and led me to the stairs. I watched her abundant ass go up the stairs ahead of me, and I almost forgot why we were going up there. She led me into that sweet-smelling bedroom and motioned for me toward the bed. I sat on the edge while she went to the dresser and picked up the big scrapbook and carried it over to the bed. She sat against me, then gently opened the book across our laps. The first page held a yellowed newspaper clipping dated about eight years ago with a large headline:

Banker, Wife Found Dead in Home

MIDWAY--George Billings, 48, Vice President of the Midway Commonwealth Bank, and his wife Amanda, 46, were found dead in their home near Mount Andrew last Thursday morning, apparently both victims of accidental poisoning. The bodies were discovered on the kitchen floor by Rita Jefferies, a cleaning woman who came every Thursday morning. The Billings, both diabetics, had both injected themselves with insulin from a bottle that was well past its expiration date. Rita told authorities that they always kept their insulin on the bottom shelf of the refrigerator, and evidently, this bottle had been shoved to the back and neglected for several years. Sheriff Randall will not release the exact cause of death until the autopsies are performed.

"It seems pretty open and shut," Randall explained at a news conference at the County Courthouse. "But we won't know for sure until we hear from the coroner. And the daughter hasn't been any help."

The daughter is 18 year old Mary Billings, who was found in the house, cowering in a corner of the living room. Evidently traumatized by the death of her parents, Mary hasn't spoken a word to anyone since the tragedy occurred. A psychiatrist brought in by the county verified that this is a well known, although uncommon occurrence in cases like this. The daughter has not been charged and is under the care of relatives at the family home.

Billings had been at the Midway Commonwealth bank for the last twenty years and Vice President for the last five. His coworkers spoke of him as a pillar of the community and a loving family man who will be sorely missed.

His wife, Amanda, grew up in Batesville as Amanda Cross. They were married in 1970. Mary is their only child. Services will be arranged after the remains are released by the Coroner's Office.

There were a couple of small pictures of Mary's parents with the article, apparently reductions of the framed photographs on the dresser. I turned the page to see more clippings detailing the events of the Billings' deaths. I skimmed through them to see that the preliminary findings were correct. That old bottle of insulin had evidently deteriorated into something quite toxic. Mary still hadn't spoken and was staying with an aunt. Funeral services were held about two weeks later, friends may call... blah, blah, blah, funeral home and cemetery arrangements, etc.

I started to turn another page, when Mary stopped me. She looked at me intently, and then she turned the page and pointed to a headline on the narrow clipping:

Doctors Still
Anxious, Mary
Remains Silent

It seemed to leap out of the middle of headline. Anxious Mary. "This is why Biker Joe called you Anxious Mary?" I asked. "Has he seen this scrap book?"

"N-n-not b-book. J-just clipping," she squeaked out.

I continued to read:

MIDWAY--Despite the best efforts of local doctors and psychiatrists, Mary Billings still hasn't uttered a word since her parents were found dead in their home a month ago.

"All tests are normal. There's nothing wrong with her vocal cords. We can't find any physical reason why she isn't talking," reported Dr. Robert Passing. "It has to be something in her mind. She'll talk again when she's ready."

"We have just a couple of points we would like to clear up with her," quoted Sheriff Steven Randall in a prepared statement. "We tried getting her to write out the answers, but she only writes the word 'insulin' then stops."

Sarah Howard, Mary's Aunt, would not allow reporters to question her niece. "She's been through enough. You folks just go away and leave us alone. Mary can't talk and I won't talk so you're wasting your time and mine," was all that she would say.

Attempts to interview Mary's classmates failed. According to bank officials, Mary went to a private school in another area.