Mrs. Lambfinger was... ripe. A fully ripened woman in her 20s (which seemed so mature to me then), lips broad and sensual, blue eyes sensitive and kno...ing, straight blonde hair cascading down to her arms. Her breasts ample underneath their peach polyester prison, her hips wide and womanly and topped by little love handles, her thighs pneumatic, stretching the artificial fiber to its tensile limits, forming a pair of perfect smooth ovoids in which flesh and polyester seemed to have come together. It was mostly Dad, Grandpa, Uncle Dave, and me, with Mom, Grandma, Aunt Laurie, and Kelly flitting in and out. Most of the others were out in the yard playing whiffle ball and getting chased by Rex. Uncle Dave started it, simply saying, “So let me get this straight. First the cops arrest you and beat you up, and then they gave you a job offer? Do I have that right?”“Pretty much. Crazy, huh? Hey, what’s this I hear about a riot? When was that?”He nodded. “A couple of years ago. It was probably. Lily was there. And she wasn’t alone. Christi thought fast and slipped a step back silently. She eased the door closed, almost all the way… and left a crack to watch. There was a quilted pad spread out on the concrete floor, the kind of thing that moving vans use to prevent furniture scratching up in transit. A man was lying on it on his back. He had a dark brown crew cut and a goatee, and was wearing a pinstripe suit. Mostly wearing it, that is….his tie was in disarray, and his slacks were. "How about getting up on dry land? We can lie in my tent. My sleeping bag is soft and I've put a layer of leaves and moss under it," I asked.Ulrika just nodded but she didn't let go of me. I carried her through the water, but when we reached the brink, I had to let go of her. I didn't dare carry her over the sometimes slippery rocks. Reluctantly she let go of me too and put down her feet.Her eyes dropped immediately, not so much because she was shy but to look at the thing she had rubbed.
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