Chapter 6

In February, Jill suddenly stopped flitting around like a butterfly and started going out exclusively with a boy named Langston Carter. He was a senior and they went out somewhere about every other week. The rest of the time she'd go to his house, or he'd come to hers. If there was a dance, they went together.

But she never talked about him. I saw him at the house several times, and he seemed like a nice kid. He didn't paw Jill, or act territorial around her. I asked Lynne what he was like and she said it was hard to tell. She described him as polite, but somewhat distant. Jill asked if they could do homework in her room, and then didn't complain at all when Lynne said the door had to stay open.

It looked for all the world like they were just friends.

Of course neither her mother nor I knew what she was actually doing on the other dates she had with Langston. We would find out about that almost a year later, too.

It was Prom that turned everything upside down. Prom was special to Lynne. I would find out more about that while the kids were actually at the dance. But even before then I could tell, because I saw her going all out for Jill, taking her shopping for a new dress and all that kind of thing. On the big day she called me and asked me to come fix supper, because she was doing Jill's hair. It had been a while since I'd smelled that pungent odor that permeates the whole house when a home permanent is used. Jill came to the table looking like some insane artist had used her head to make a sculpture using tin foil and rollers. They ate quickly and went back to it. Lynne said "Don't leave."

Two hours later I looked up from watching TV and my breath caught in my chest.

They had picked a midnight blue dress that was quite simple, really, with spaghetti straps. It fell to just above her knees. Her hair was all up on her head, interwoven with dark blue ribbon going in and out and some kind of silver sparkles in it. She had on eye shadow that was the same shade as the dress, and lipstick that was pink. She looked nervous.

"Wow," I sighed.

"Is that good?" she asked hesitantly.

"Oh yeah," I sighed again. "That's very good."

Her smile made my heart hurt. I looked over to see Lynne leaning against the door frame. She had that look on her face that only a parent can get when she is so proud of her child that she can hardly bear it.

"And look!" said Jill, excitement in her voice.

She twirled quickly and the skirt flowed out and rose. I got just a glimpse of pale blue panties.

"Stop that!" chided her mother.

Jill turned until she was facing me again and stopped. "I got them to go with the dress," she said.

"You're not supposed to show them to anybody," said Lynne.

"Bob can see them," said Jill. "He's special."

The doorbell chimed. Lynne jumped. "He's here!" she said in what was a whispered shout. Jill glanced over at the door, but didn't look excited at all.

Lynne was wearing a sweatshirt with the arms cut off. It was too big and she'd obviously put it on as something that could get wet, or stained or whatever while she worked on Jill. It wasn't something for public consumption. Her jeans were old and I could see skin here and there through holes in the cloth. They still fit her like a glove.

"I'll get it," I said.

Langston was all dolled up too, in a tux. He had a corsage in his hands. He looked just as calm as Jill did.

I don't know why, but I watched his face as I led him in. He looked at Jill and smiled, but his eyes didn't widen, and he didn't react in the way I expected him to. Lynne was darting toward her bedroom, which wasn't surprising, based on how she was dressed.

"You look good," he said.

"Thanks," said Jill, as if what he'd said was expected. "You too."

He handed her the plastic box that held the orchid. She took it out and tried to put it on herself, which is when I stepped in.

"Let me," I said, and took it from her.

There was then a moment where I was transported decades back to a time when I pinned my first corsage on a girl's dress. It was a momentous experience for me, which might seem strange to most people. Part of that was because it was Samantha Cross I was pinning it on, and she was three inches taller than I was. We were both seniors and I'd worked on getting up the courage to ask her to prom for three weeks before I finally did it. Then I was astounded that she didn't already have a date, and almost lost my ability to stand when she accepted. The primary reason that was a turning point in my life, though, was that as she stood there, waiting for me to pin it to the strap of her gown, her parents were standing there beaming ... watching ... completely comfortable with the fact that I was slipping my fingers under that strap, just inches from her breast.

Sam was a 38D. She was completely ready to go out into the world, have triplets and have plenty of warm, yummy milk left over for somebody else's babies.

And I was sliding the back of my fingers across hot, smooth skin that was part of one of those breasts.

And her parents didn't care!

Of course now I understand that I was virtually miles away from the good parts of those impressive mountains Sam carried around everywhere she went. But back then, as she stood patiently, letting me practically feel her up, as I saw it, and her parents not only LET me practically feel her up, they took PICTURES of me practically feeling her up.

I got one of those instant boners that only teenage males are capable of producing, that go from limp to full hard in ten seconds or so.

That's where that memory stopped. If I'd have tried, I'd have easily remembered that that was as close as I got to the nirvana of Sam's breasts that night. Other than pressing my own chest against them, of course. Sam didn't fool around. She was a "good girl." It was fine to slide the backs of my fingers all over her upper breast while I was pinning her corsage on, but I got my hand slapped when I tried to cup the same breast. I was a very confused young man for a while after that.

Anyway, as I pinned the orchid onto Jill's dress, and looked at sweet, dark cleavage, and slid the backs of my fingers along Jill's smooth, warm skin, my prick took notice. She was looking down, at the flower, until I was done, and then she looked up and her smile was so beautific that I almost took her in my arms and kissed her. It was a moment of deja vu, except that it hadn't happened before. I just wished that it had happened before, and that I HAD kissed her.

I also wished I was Langston. I looked over at him, to share one of those man-to-man looks that says "You lucky son of a bitch!" He was looking at his watch.

They'd have left without a picture being taken if Lynne hadn't run back into the room, holding a camera and yelling at them to wait. Apparently a picture of her little girl all dolled up took precedence over being seen dressed way down by that girl's date.