For Whom the Doorbell Rings

“Damn,” Helen muttered as her brown-haired friend removed her mouth. Lifting the halter back into place, the auburn-haired woman watched Sylvia’s hips sway beneath the yellow pair of biker shorts as the older woman stepped out of her teenage daughter’s room. Yummy, she smiled and followed her friend to the foyer, drunkenly dropping and forgetting the loose halter.

“That’ll be twenty dollars, ma’am,” the freckled and pimply delivery boy said to Sylvia Hightower, two large boxes of pizzas in his hand. He looked up at Helen stepping into the foyer and his eyes bulged at the sight of her bare breast. Helen’s friend turned about with a frown and gasped, her brown eyes wide.

“Oops,” the younger woman giggled, looking down at her chest. “Well, since you’ve seen one, young man…” With a goofy smile, she undid the other halter, allowing the top to drop to the floor. With a sniff, Sylvia two twenties into his open hand and grabbed forcefully at the pizza boxes. Small tears forming in the corners of her brown eyes, she fled quickly from the room.

The delivery boy gaped at the bare-chested woman standing before him, licking her lips hungrily. He was unsure of what to do. It was his first night on the job, and although he had intended to use it to meet girls, the young man hadn’t expected this.

“Like what you see?” Helen smirked, her eyes gleaming.

“Uh-huh,” he nodded dumbly.

“Want to see more?” she asked, hooking her thumbs beneath the lycra miniskirt. The young man gulped and then turned to face Mrs. Hightower returning to the foyer, a haughty smile spread across her lips.

“You’d better leave,” Sylvia said coldly. “Or I’ll call Kyle Anderton over to beat the crap out of you for ogling his mother.”

“K, Kyle?” the delivery boy stammered, blinking. Suddenly, he laughed out loud. “That’s rich. Kyle Anderton. The former star center of the Immerskogin Zerkers beating me up.”

“What’s so funny?” Sylvia said crossly, folding her arms across her tight red blouse.

“Kyle couldn’t hurt a fly,” the young man chuckled. “And I know why.”

“Are you going to tell?” the brown-haired woman cocked a thin eyebrow.

“Nope,” he shook his head. “And you can’t make me tell, either.”

“Damn,” the mother of one cursed. “Well then, uh…”

“Still want me to leave?” the delivery boy offered.

“Yes,” Sylvia snapped.

“If that’s what you want,” he shrugged. “Still, it’ll make a good story when I get back to work, catching two half-naked women together.”

She stared at the young man, her brown eyes wide with shock as worry snapped across her -sodden mind. Jim could find out, the woman thought. I threatened him with divorce this morning! I could lose everything!

“Perhaps we could come to an arrangement,” Sylvia purred, loosening the top white button of the taut red blouse. “So you won’t tell of what you saw.”