Joan Kelly - Hungry for boys

I worked serving drinks to junior execs and well-heeled cowboys by night and prowled the antique market by day. Evenings found Jackie and I stoned out of our gourds, listening to country music on the phonograph… eating supper in our panties.

The middle of the month, Jackie got a card from her brother in Denver. He would be on his way down to visit her, arriving on a Monday. Scott, a nice name.

Scott had long blond hair, blue eyes like his older sister Jackie. He knew how to use them to advantage and his shyness only heightened the effect. Scott played his guitar in the bathroom and piled his dirty laundry behind the fold-out sofa where Jackie let him sleep. I became a kind of aunt. Aunt Shelby. When Jackie came down too hard on him, I was his defender. I needled him too when I thought he needed it. He needed it most of the time.

Then came a Friday and a bottle of tequila. Jackie's boss at the real-estate office had awarded her the booze as a bonus for her unselfish dedication to the firm. Jackie wasn't dedicated, she was just one damn good secretary. I had the night off from the club, Scott was hanging around as usual and so there we were… a party just itching for an excuse. After an hour things were cooking pretty good.

"Scott honey," Jackie said, "would you mind it if Shelby and I took off our jeans?" Jackie was drunk. She stood up and popped the first button on her Levi's.

Scott looked at me, blushed. Jackie weaved barefooted, giggling as she tried to kick her legs free of her jeans.

"My sister never has been able to hold her booze." Scott nervously swigged a throatful of the Cuervo just to show us, he could drink two silly chicks under the table any night of the week. Scott had charmed me from the first moment we'd met and I found his uneasiness over female flesh all the more charming.

"Maybe I'll peel mine too," I said. "It's hot."

"Peel?"

"My jeans. You know."

Scott shrugged, brushed fingers through his long hair.

Jackie was up and spinning around the room. My flash of courage faded. Why be nervous about getting down to panties? I was aware of maleness in the room. And Scott was a fabulous-looking male when you really looked. I was looking. I was stoned out of my head. I giggled.

Scott couldn't look at me. "Want some more tequila," he offered finally, swinging the bottle to me.

"Sure." I raised it and glugged.

Scott looked at the ceiling, scratched his arm, coughed. Jackie twirled by, her ass jiggling sweetly behind pale yellow panties. She was shorter than me but with more ass, more tits, more meat shaking on her bones. A pretty, compact blonde. Her brother stole glances and studied his cuticles.

"I'm gonna get another beer," he said, getting up.

"Bring me one too," I waved.

Jackie staggered to a stop near the phonograph and held onto a bookcase to steady herself. "I've been dying to hear some Willie Nelson." We were both wearing T-shirts and Jackie's hung down low enough to cover her tummy. My T-shirt was the shrunken variety. When I stood, it lifted like a curtain to expose my navel. I decided to stand and take a look at my navel.

"Hello, navel. Nice navel." I stuck a finger in my navel.

Jackie dropped the needle in the groove and teetered back across to her chair. "Shelby Jean, I think you're drunk." She collapsed in the deep cushions, kicking over an empty beer can.

I took a deep breath and started working the buttons of my jeans. I was just stepping out of the second leg when Scott came back in with the two beers.

"Jesus," he said, lips quirked in mock disgust. "Do you two do this often?"

"Do what?" Jackie asked. "Get drunk or take off our pants?"

Scott handed me a beer. "Both, I guess." I saw his eyes scan my shape.

Jackie slugged from the quart. "Show him your tattoo, Shelby! Come on…"

"Aw hell…" I put down my beer. "I gotta piss."

Inside the bathroom I turned before the mirror. My heart was pounding. What in hell was going on? Scott, just sweet innocent Scott. Black memories swept in, memories of that day in Bruce's apartment when Billy and I… I shook my head and the image of Scott wiped away all that. His tan torso, his hairless chest beginning to muscle out a little. The way he wore his faded denims, low on his waist. I looked at my own grey eyes in the mirror.

"You are just one big Ultimate Fuck Off," I said aloud, blinking. I pulled the T-shirt down tight over my tits, half-turned. Nice. The purple smudge of my scorpion tattoo caught my eye. I still don't know why I had done it. How many other chicks have a scorpion tattoo on their upper thigh. The scorpion looked like a terrifying beast. What the hell, if Scott didn't like it, it was just too fucking bad. He was only Jackie's brother, her little brother. I wet my lips, smiled and went back in the other room. Jackie was stretched out on the sofa, eyes closed.

"I think she's about to leave the party," Scott said, pointing at his older sister with a beer.

I sat down on the floor, letting my thigh do its thing. I forgot about Scott and the tattoo and everything else except the cool bubbles of the beer and the sweet country sound coming through the speakers. When I opened my eyes again, Scott was staring straight at the scorpion. He didn't notice I was watching him right away and then knowing I'd caught him peeping, he reddened and took a ragged breath.

"Well, Jesus. Sure is a nice Friday night." He got up again, sat down, sipped from his beer. "My sister is something else. Always the life of the party for about five minutes. Then she passes out." He laughed, chanced a look back at me.

"It's a scorpion," I said, putting my finger on my thigh. "Just like Jackie said."

Scott nodded hugely. "Nice. Must have hurt." He was as tight as an overcranked guitar string. Still very stoned, I tried to imagine what a boy might think about a tattooed girl. Not morally or anything like that. Nowadays girls got tattoos. Rock stars, crazies… Ultimate Fuck Offs like me. But I tried to see myself through his eyes. I knew I was confronting him with something out of the ordinary. Not many men got tattoos after all. I didn't even think one would look good on Scott's smooth skin.

"You want to look at it closer?" Sure, that was it. Get him used to it. Why was I trying to get him used to it? What in hell was I doing? I took a monster gulp of beer and choked. My panty-crotch was damp with my cuntjuices. Knot in my belly.

Shyly, eyes veiled, Scott crawled across the rug on hands and knees. He leaned politely near. I could smell his armpits, fresh boy-musk.

"Really a good job. Did it cost much?"

"No, not very much." I could see back into the past week easier now, could see the little gestures I'd made when Scott had been around. Things I'd done with my eyes and not believed. It was here and now. With Scott kneeling so close, with my cunt sending up musky little whiffs of enticement.

Scott started to move away and I reached out my hand to his hair. I had to choose which road to take. One way passed through the cold shadows of Bruce's world… a disapproving world. The other road was crazy and free and had something to do with my scorpion and getting high and sucking… Scott.

"I like your hair," I told him.

Scott swallowed, tried to look at me, failed. My nostrils flared. Slowly I lifted my other hand to his head. He smiled, met my eyes… closed them again as our lips met. I gave him a tiny lick. He acted surprised but gave me back a tongue-tip in exchange. He hardly touched me with his hands, fingers grazing my shoulders as if I might break… or disappear the next moment. I tensed the muscles in my thighs, held my breath, felt my poor starved pussy run over with honey.

"Scott… ohhh, Scott…" I pulled him gently up over me. He seemed to hold back, stiffening in my embrace.