to Ronnie's room

Candy picked up the pitcher, the part of her brain that should tell her to stop was numbed by the strong tequila in the margeuritas. She poured another one, letting her flip flop fall from her right foot as she lounged more comfortably in the couch. Jimmy Jones waited patiently as she drank it down, giggling a little as she wiped a bit from her lower lip. Her skin glistened with sweat as the alcohol heated her up faster than the crushed ice cooled her down. The thin tank top clung to her body as her sweatpants became awefully warm. She pulled the pant legs of them up to her knees, and tucked her legs under her, resting her arm on the couch and her head on her hand as she drank.

"You know...I don't really blame him." she said, slurring her words. "I mean, if I didn't have any friends I'd prolly act out too." Candy finished the glass, her new position forcing her to lean forward even farther, giving Jones an unobstructed view of her perfect breasts. Jones did his best not to stare. When she leaned back, her shirt showed that her nipples were hardening as she thought about what his son had done. Her subtle scissoring of the legs, the faint bite of the lip... She drank half the glass, and coughed. "..Damn good drink. Damn good. Can you turn the AC on? Did I already ask that?" she said, her head swaying a bit more.

"Only AC in the trailer is in Ronnie's room. Wanna talk in there?" he asked, wondering if he'd played his hand too soon. She scrunched her face up, and pulled her shirt away from her body.

"Beats this." she said, stumbling to her feet. She grabbed the pitcher. Jimmy Jones stood, a faint smile on his face as she opened the door to his son's room. She sat down on the unkempt bed and looked around. It was pig sty. Pizza boxes, video games, dirty clothes, poorly hidden drug paraphenalia. "Figures." she muttered. Jones loomed over her, a tower of a man. Candy looked up at him, the cautious part of her brain nagging her. She looked down for her cup. "Forgot my cup." she slurred.

"Go ahead and finish the pitcher. I got my beer." Jones said. She shrugged, and started to drink. The strong liquor sliding down her throat in great gulps.

"Do you have any tattoos?" Jones asked. She looked over at him.

"A couple. Why?"

"If he got pictures of em', and anyone's seen em', might identify you. Let me have a look. If he has em' on the computer, I'll be able to tell."

Candy could see his logic. She twisted around, pulling her shirt up to just under her pert breasts. On her ribs, a tattoo that read "Dream" was written in script letters. Jones could see the bottoms of her breasts. "Any others?" he asked, the shirt clung to her, exposing her tight torso. She bit her lip.

"Yeah." she said, standing up with a sway. He grinned as she hooked the edge of her sweatpants, and pulled the side down. On her left thighbone, a rose stem arched across it, disappearing below the waistline.

"Can't see it all." he said, putting his massive hands on her waist and turning her toward him. She pulled the front down so he could see the roses. She wore a light blue thong. That he could see as well. His hand moved up to the edge of her shirt, pulling it up and over her breasts just enough that her nipples held the fabric. "Dream..." he said, moving his hand down, pulling the edge of the thong down so the entire rose stem was visible. "...and a rose."

Candy looked down at the pitcher, her breasts exposed with Mr. Jones hands sliding her pants down, and she finished it.