Chapter 1

1972 - Fall

Florence Dalton felt both silly and excited. The excitement was easy to understand. She had her hand tucked into Ted Brandywine’s arm, as they approached the school gym. She was on what she thought of as her first real date. That she was nineteen, and had been on many ‘dates’ before didn’t meet her definition. She’d been out with boys before, but that had been years ago and only to see what the boy was like. This was the first time she’d been out with one she already liked ... one who made her feel tingles in her erogenous zones.

She knew what Ted was like. She’d known him for more than a year, while he’d been her mother’s lover. Somehow, surprising both of them, an attraction had developed between them. Neither had sought that. Ted loved her mother, and loved being in bed with her. Florence was getting all the sexual attention she needed from Bobby, her almost twenty-four year old brother. Neither had wanted to hurt Mirriam, Flo’s mother.

But this attraction, strange and scary to both of them, had affected their day-to-day lives, and it eventually came out. Both were surprised when Mirriam, instead of being jealous or angry, encouraged them to find out if it was a deep attraction, or just a crush. That was only partially an altruistic surge of love and concern for Florence, who she was worried about, because Flo didn’t date. Mirriam was unaware that, while Ted was thrusting his strangely bent penis into Mirriam, and making her happy enough not to look for another man, Bobby was thrusting his long, thick prick into Flo and making her happy enough not to look for one either. The greater reason for Mirriam’s generosity was because she was afraid that, if Ted kept lavishing his physical love on her, she’d get pregnant again. She had just given birth a few months before, and it had been an agonizing pregnancy.

So, while Mirriam loved the attention she got from Ted, it was dangerous attention, even though she was on the pill now. She didn’t exactly come to the conclusion that if Flo got pregnant, it would be much more suitable, but if someone would have suggested that to her, she would have nodded in agreement.

When the dust from the disclosure of their interest in each other settled, Ted asked Florence on a date. In his mid-thirties, Ted had no idea how to plan a date for a nineteen-year-old woman. He understood Mirriam, and knew what she might appreciate, but taking her daughter out was different. So, taking the easy route, he invited her to the Halloween party at the school, where he taught third grade. Everybody liked a party ... right?

That, in fact, was why Florence felt silly. She was in costume, and she felt about the age she was supposed to look. Ted was in costume too. Her mother had made both costumes on the sewing machine at the farm that had made so many of Florence’s clothes before. They looked professionally made, because of Mirriam’s expertise, except for the hair, which was a mop head, dyed flaming red, and draped over Florence’s natural hair, which was light, and pulled back into a pony tail under the ‘wig.’

Her dress was red gingham, and the fabric was thin enough that, through the white checks, her darker skin could be seen in a gauzy kind of way. There was lace around the hem of the bottom, which was good, because she would have been afraid to bend over in the dress otherwise. The lace fell to the middle of her thighs. A white apron concealed what would have been a generous view of the insides of her breasts, because the pattern Mirriam had found in her piles of patterns made the neck scoop so low that Florence didn’t have the right kind of bra to wear with such a thing. When she had complained to her mother about that, Mirriam’s response had been pragmatic.

“We don’t have time to go shopping for that. Just go without a bra. The apron will cover everything.”

Now, as she and Ted walked toward the doors to the gym, she felt her breasts jiggling and bouncing in her loose cotton dress, and the cool October air teasing her thighs, all the way up to the new, pink, and extremely feminine panties her mother had put with the outfit. Where in the world Mamma had found red and white striped knee socks, Flo had no idea. All she knew, after looking in the mirror before Ted picked her up, was that Raggedy Ann had never looked quite this old ... and young at the same time.

Ted was dressed as Raggedy Andy, of course, with his sailor hat, red gingham shirt, made of the same cloth her dress was, and dark blue, almost ludicrously loose pants, that went to just below his knees. Mirriam had found the same red and white striped socks for him. Finishing out his costume was a wide white collar on his shirt, and a huge, floppy black bow tie.

“I feel so silly,” she breathed, feeling her loose breast press into Ted’s arm.

“You don’t look silly,” he said softly. “You look good. In fact, you look so good that I’m in big trouble, here.”

“Thank you,” she said, giggling. “Why are you in trouble?”

“Your mother said I could take you out, not lust after you,” he said.

She squeezed his arm, pressing her warm breast harder against him.

“Then don’t lust after me,” she said.

He looked over at her. She had round, red spots of lipstick on her cheeks, like he did, and Mirriam had done something with other cosmetics to make Flo’s eyes and lips look large and cartoonish.

“Like that’s ever going to happen,” he sighed.

“This is so strange,” she said. “Being here, with you, I mean. Mamma has been so sweet about all this. I still feel guilty.”

“We’re just on a date,” he said, uncomfortably.

“Yes,” she said, looking up at him. “But you’re lusting after me ... and I don’t mind that.”

“Oh wow,” he moaned. “You can’t say things like that to me, Flo.”

“Why not?” she giggled. “You said you were lusting after me.”

“Yes, but you’re not wearing thin pants,” he sighed. “If you keep saying things like that, they won’t let me in the gym!”

She giggled again and leaned forward, shamelessly, to look at the front of his pants.

“It’s not so bad,” she said. “If it doesn’t get any worse,” she added.

For being at a party that involved kids who were so young, Flo was having a great time. There were lots of adults there too, of course ... teachers, and some volunteer parents, who were running the games. She joined in the juvenile fun, dropping a string, tied to the end of a branch, over a sheet, and then pulling it up to find what her safety pin had “caught”. In this case, it was a pair of big red lips, made of wax, that could be gripped between the teeth, or just chewed, until the flavor was gone, and all that was left was a pale pink wad of soft wax. She put them in an apron pocket for later.

She got into a competition with Ted at the dart game, where six darts were given the player. The more balloons you popped with your darts, the better the prize. She just wanted to pop more balloons than he did, though. They played three times, Ted paying a quarter for each of them all three times. When Ted had one more dart left, they were tied, over all, with fourteen balloons each. She tried to distract him by clutching his arm, and rubbing her breast against it, and by talking to him, with her mouth close to his ear.

“Leave me alone, woman!” he said, in a playful snarl. “This is important business here!”

“It’s just balloons,” she cooed, digging her forefinger into his side. “I should win. I’m the poor defenseless girl.”

“Ohhh no you don’t,” he said, pushing her away from him. “Women’s lib is here to stay. This competition is important for me to win!”

“Why?” she asked, her voice coy.

“Because to the victor go the spoils ... that’s why,” he said, grinning. He casually tossed his dart, and suddenly, the score was fifteen to fourteen.

“Play again!” she pouted.

“No way,” he said. “I’m quitting while I’m ahead.”

The amused parent in the booth handed Ted a Teddy Bear, made up to look like Frankenstein.

“That’s your spoils?” laughed Flo.

“Nope,” he said airily. “That’s just my prize. I’ll claim my spoils later.”

“Ooooo,” she said, feigning little girl fear. “I’m so scared!”

“You should be,” he announced gravely.

She laughed and ran a few steps to the next booth, which was a ring-toss game. Looking over her shoulder she bent forward just a little, and wiggled her butt at Ted.

“Please,” said the woman running the ring-toss. “My little girl is right over there!”

“Sorry,” said Flo, standing back up. She blushed.

“Get a room or something,” said the plump, plain woman in the booth, her voice disgusted. Part of her disgust was because she’d never looked like this Raggedy Ann girl, and knew she never would.

Florence behaved herself, feeling properly chastened. At least until they got to the dance floor. Whoever was selecting the records to play either had a sense of humor, or remembered what it was like to be in Middle School, with hormones beginning to flow through barely teenaged bodies. That was obvious because every fourth song was a slow song, where the kids could experiment with that delicious new pressing of male to female bodies.

The younger kids danced mechanically, going in square patterns, as they’d been taught, carefully thinking about where the next step was supposed to go, so that no toes got stepped on. The twelve and thirteen-year-olds, though, were less conscious of their feet, and more conscious of the fronts of their bodies, as they pushed, rubbed and explored.

Florence may as well have been thirteen or fourteen, as she danced with Ted. It was all new to her, and deliciously exciting. Her soft, round breasts, beneath the thin cotton, and not much thicker apron, squashed against Ted, and his hand stroked her lower back in a one inch circle. Their other hands were properly out, away from their bodies, and she kept her head off his chest, her eyes looking into his.

He steered her toward the corner of the dance area, where it wasn’t so well lit and, during a turn, she felt him press his loins against her.

“We have to keep dancing,” he whispered. “Even when the song is over.”

“Why?” she asked.

“Because I can’t let anybody see the front of my pants,” he whispered.

She pushed against him gently, and felt the “problem”.

“We can’t keep dancing,” she said, grinning. “We’d look silly.”

She giggled as the music stopped, and Ted turned, apparently examining the wall. She stood, her back to him, as if she was watching the kids gyrate as a rock and roll song came on.

Two songs later he turned around.

“Okay,” he said. “I’m good for a while, I hope.”

She resisted looking, but smiled. “You make me feel good,” she said.

“You make me feel horny,” he replied.

“Ted!” she chided. “This is only our first date!”

“I am in so much trouble, here,” he moaned.

The thrill she felt, at his so obvious excitement, made her feel pretty and feminine, even in her silly outfit. She had an errant thought that she’d need Bobby badly, tonight, when she got back home. She might even need him twice.

The rest of the party seemed to fly by, and soon Flo was sitting next to Ted, holding his arm, as he drove toward the farm. She couldn’t believe what a good time she’d had. She couldn’t wait for a good night kiss from Ted either. She hoped Bobby was home, and not off somewhere, like he had a tendency to do lately. The last two Friday nights, his bed had been empty when she’d gone to see him. He wasn’t at breakfast on the following Saturdays either, but had shown up later, as if nothing was odd.

He pulled into the drive to the house and, when he got to the yard, turned his lights off, before circling to park the car. It was late, and, while the yard light was on, there were no lights on in the house.

“I had such fun tonight,” she sighed, laying her head on his shoulder. “It’s too soon for it to be over,” she pouted.

“We could do some stargazing,” he suggested.

“Ohhh I’d like that,” she said. “It’s chilly, though.”

“I have like three or four blankets in the trunk,” he said.

He got out, opened the trunk, and came out with an armful of blankets.

She looked up, her arms holding herself because of the chill.

“We need to get away from the yard light,” she said. “Come on.”

She took him behind the barn, where the inky blackness was almost complete. Slowly, their eyes adjusted, though, and soon they could select a place to put the blanket. Flo kicked at an old bale of hay, left there because one of the wires holding it together had snapped, and it couldn’t be picked up without it falling apart. Taking the remaining wire in her hands, she lifted, and the bale bent in the middle and burst. She kicked the now loose hay around, making a mattress, and Ted put a blanket down on top of that. She went to one edge of the blanket and got down to scoop and pile hay there, making what amounted to pillows at the edge of the blanket. When she stood up, she had pieces of hay all over her.

“Don’t want to get that on the blanket,” said Ted, stepping forward to brush the hay off her front.

His hands brushed here, and there, sliding over her breasts entirely more than was needed.

“It’s sticking to the apron,” he said. “Let’s just take that off.”

She turned her back to him and felt flutters in her belly as he untied the apron in the back, let it fall down her arms, and then tossed it to one corner of the blanket. She looked down. What had seemed like pitch black, earlier, was now something else entirely. As their eyes adjusted to the dark, the starlight was almost astonishingly bright. She could clearly see that all of the insides of her breasts were now exposed. He went past her to lie down, and patted the blanket next to him. She went down on hands and knees, and saw him look at her cleavage. She felt the butterflies dance more actively in her belly, and took longer than needed to pat the blanket into place, before lying down on his arm, which he had stretched out.