Selena Kitt - Hussy

“Lindsey Renee Anderson!”

She knew she was in trouble when her mother used her full name. The pounding on the bathroom door just wouldn’t stop. I don’t have time for this. Zach was due to pick her up any minute.

“What?” She opened her eyes wide as she leaned over the sink, applying mascara, her mouth a perfectly round “O.”

“Your father and I need to talk to you.”

She stopped mid-stroke with her mascara brush, her eyes narrowing, and she gave an evil look toward the door. Her mouth formed the words, but no sound came out: “He’s not my father!” There was the pounding again, and this time her stepfather’s voice.

“Lindsey! If you intend to leave this house at all tonight, I suggest you come out and talk to us!”

I’ll leave if I want to, asshole. She shoved the mascara brush violently back into the container, screwing on the lid and throwing it into her make-up bag. She adjusted the long peasant skirt she was wearing, glancing in the mirror to make sure the white satin shorts she wore underneath didn’t show.

“I’m coming!” She made a kissing face at her own reflection, tilting her head first left, then right. The pink tank-tee she was wearing wasn’t made to be see-through, but without a bra, her dark nipples were clearly visible. Grabbing her purse and slinging it over her shoulder, she pulled the door open and crossed her arms in front of her chest. “Jeez! Can’t a girl even take a pee without it turning into some committee meeting?”

They all stood there, arms crossed, glaring for a moment, before Lindsey’s mother broke the silence. “You look nice.”

“Thanks.” Lindsey snapped her gum. “So what’s up? Zach’ll be here any minute.” Her parents exchanged looks and she knew, then, what they were up to and rolled her eyes. “Oh good god, don’t tell me this is the ‘you can’t date a nee-gro’ lecture again?’” She brushed past them both and headed toward the kitchen.

“It’s not that.” Her mother’s voice followed her, and so did her stepfather’s footsteps. The whole kitchen still smelled like stuffed green peppers, which Lindsey hadn’t touched. She hated green stuff. “It’s just… well, Zach is a little old for you, don’t you think?”

Lindsey snagged a Diet Coke, popping the lid open with a pink-painted fingernail. “Twenty-two is too old?” She downed half the can in four big swallows and then burped loudly. “Christ, it could be so much worse. He could be fifty-two-lay off already!”

Her mother sat at the kitchen table and sighed, glancing up at her stepfather. He just shrugged, shaking his head. Lindsey hid a smile behind her Coke can, swallowing the rest of it. It thrilled her to know that she had backed them into a corner. They were too P.C. to say any more about the fact that he was black, and they couldn’t really soundly object to their four-year age difference.

“Four years isn’t a big deal if you’re, say, thirty, and he’s thirty-four… ” Her stepfather was clearly trying to salvage his argument. “But there’s a big difference when you’re eighteen and he’s twenty-two.”

“Really?” Lindsey rolled her eyes, tossing the can into the recycling bin. “Is that the new math? Did I miss that day in school?”

“Honey… ” Her mother sighed again, folding her hands on the marred surface of the table. It was the one piece of furniture they’d had since she was a baby, and she suddenly had a memory of her father-her real father-sitting her on the edge of that table, putting a band-aid on her knee after she’d fallen down and skinned it. That can’t be a real memory. I was too young. I must have seen a picture of it or something… But she knew it was. She had only a few memories of him at all, but that was one.

“Wait!” Lindsey held up her hand. She’d heard Zach’s Camaro pull up in the driveway. “Let me save you some breath. You’re worried about me… concerned about my welfare, that’s all. You wouldn’t even be having this conversation with me if you didn’t love me so much. Right?”

“I don’t appreciate your sarcasm.” Her stepfather’s jaw was working in that way it did before he really got mad, and she was glad she was minutes from heading out the door.

“And I don’t appreciate you trying to tell me who I can or can’t see.” Lindsey heard Zach’s footsteps on the stairs. “I’m not going to tell this guy to come back in the year 2020 because you’re afraid of the age difference. That’s just wack!”

The doorbell rang. That was her cue. “So tell me, mom… which do you hate most? The fact that he’s black? Or the fact that he’s twenty-two?”

“Which attracts you most?” her stepfather asked, leaning against the doorframe, his arms crossed.

Her mother shook her head, waving her hand in dismissal. “It doesn’t matter. Just go, Lindsey. You’re going to do whatever you want to do. You always have, and you always will.”

“You got that one right.” She edged by her stepfather, heading for the front door and the promise of another night with Zach.

“Lindsey!” Her stepfather’s voice was a warning, but she didn’t stop. When she opened the door, there was Zach, waiting in the dusky light, whistling some tune. He smiled when he saw her, glancing down at her long, flowing skirt, his eyes widening in surprise.

“You look nice.”

She snorted, taking his hand and pulling him down the porch steps. “I’m changing in the car.”

He laughed, shaking his head as he opened the passenger door for her. “Don’t tell me-you’re wearing the ‘come-fuck-me-shorts’ under there?”

“How did you guess?” She was already wiggling the elastic waist of the skirt down over her hips when he slid in, putting the key into the ignition. “Thought I’d give you a great big hint.”

“Damn, girl.” Zach glanced over as she slid the skirt down her slim thighs, kicking it into a ball on the floor next to her sandals and putting her now-bare feet up on the dash. Her toes were painted pink. “You sure do make it hard to say no.”

“I hope so.” She grinned over at him, pushing the button to roll down the window and putting her face up to the breeze. “So where are we going tonight?”

“It’s not far.” He smiled over at her as she turned up the radio, leaning her seat back a little and dangling her arm out the window. Her hand danced in the breeze.

“You’re big on surprises, aren’t you?” The air was warm, even though it was near dark already and she twisted to put her feet out the window, too.

“Do you want me to tell you?”

She contemplated this, chewing her gum. “No.”

“I think you like surprises.” Zach steered the car around a corner.

“Good ones, sure.” Lindsey gave a half-snort, half-laugh. “It’s the bad ones that get me.”

“Like what?” It sounded like a casual question, but she knew better. She could feel herself closing, something in her snapping tight. Telling people about what went on inside Lindsey wasn’t ever part of the deal. The good thing was, it was pretty easy to get most guys to talk about themselves.

“Oh, you know, the usual stuff.” She flipped the radio station. “So have you been overseas yet in this war thing?”

Zach was quiet and for a moment she thought her tactic hadn’t worked. “I’ve been on two tours in Iraq, yes.”

“How was it?”

“Lonely.” He shrugged, and she saw his eyes moving over her thighs. She slid down a little further in her seat. “I spent six months in a submarine, five hundred meters under the surface of the Indian Ocean.”

“Six months?” She stared at him, incredulous.

“Actually, eight months on the second tour.”