THE TRUTH ABOUT LUCY Read online

  THE TRUTH ABOUT LUCY

  MIMI WILDE

  BY HRD PUBLICATIONS

  All rights reserved. Printed in the United States of America. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of critical articles or reviews.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Book and Cover design by Designer LUCY

  THE TRUTH ABOUT LUCY

  PRESENT

  “You’re incredible,” he said.

  She stretched luxuriously on the satin sheets as Tom Haynes slipped out of bed. In a moment she heard the water running as he prepared her bath. She had time for a long soak even though the guests were already arriving at the historic Mayfield building downtown. She would show up fashionably late, but few would complain. After all, it was her party and her building and her awards ceremony.

  She forced herself to get out of bed. Standing in front of her bedroom mirror, she surveyed the petite, full-breasted woman who looked back at her. Tabloids guessed at her age, but most would be shocked if they really knew. She kept herself fit with a daily regimen of exercise and yoga. Yet, sometimes she could feel her age. It was why she took young men like Tom into her bed.

  “I love a natural redhead,” Tom said. He leaned against her bathroom door with an insolent grin.

  “You like what you see?” she asked.

  “Didn’t I just prove it,” he said.

  She smiled thinly as she went past him into the bath. She settled into the very hot, soapy water and leaned her head back. She thought Tom was starting to behave a little too cocky. She liked her young men a little hesitant. She liked them a little awkward. Perhaps it was time for him to go.

  “You want me to scrub your back,” he said.

  “No,” she said. “I want to be alone right now. Go take your shower and get dressed. Come back in two hours.”

  He nodded and padded naked out of her bedroom. Perhaps it was time to get rid of him but he was darling boy. He had the chiseled body of an Adonis and all that shaggy blond hair that made him resemble a California beach boy. And he was an incredibly good lover. He seemed to sense what mood she was in, and he adapted quickly.

  It would be a shame to give him up.

  But she could always find another.

  She soaked for a long time until her maid came in. She heard her moving about in her bedroom, and then the young Hispanic girl came in to help her out of the tub. The girl dried her with a large fluffy towel. In the bedroom her maid had changed the sheets and remade the bed. Her green designer gown from Paris was hanging on a coat hook by the door. Her silky green underwear was on the bed and the green stiletto heels on the floor.

  The maid helped her with her hair and make-up. She slipped on the wonderful feeling underwear and then pulled on the green gown. It was daringly low cut. A few years back she had a breast reduction, but her breasts were still large, and the push-up bra gave an added lift and firmness.

  “You are beautiful, Mrs. Genaro,” the Hispanic girl said.

  “Thank you,” she said.

  Tom returned for her, looking devastatingly handsome in his fitted black tuxedo. Perhaps she would keep him a little longer. He escorted her down the stairs and out to the waiting limousine.

  The California lights of Bel Air sparkled as the chauffeur drove them to their destination. A couple of times she felt Tom’s eyes on her cleavage. It flattered her. She was more than twice his age although he didn’t know it.

  The night lit up more as they pulled up in front of the Mayfield. People were still filing through the doors. It was a gathering of the rich and famous. Stern-faced security men moved through the crowd looking for the uninvited. Diamonds brightly sparkled. Real pearl necklaces plunged down into daring cleavage. Handshakes and hugs, scattered conversation. They were actors, politicians and business people. They were the people with power.

  And they were all here to pay her homage.

  At the door Adam Pease took her hand. “You look lovely, Lucy. I cannot understand how you look younger every year.’

  “And you’ve always been a flatterer,” she said.

  In the wide auditorium a string orchestra played a mixture of classical and modern and waiters moved among the crowd with vintage champagne on silver trays. In another few minutes the dining room doors would open, but already there were delicious scents of expensive prime rib, chicken and fresh baked bread.

  Tom took two of the champagne glasses off one of the passing trays and gave one to her. He took a long drink but she sipped hers slowly.

  “This must be costing a fortune,” Tom said.

  Adam Pease looked at him scathingly. One did not talk about money. It showed Tom’s low birth. Lucy almost laughed at his expression. Adam had never understood what she saw in her long succession of kept young men, or perhaps he did but hated thinking about it. It also didn’t help that he was jealous and hurt. She knew Adam had been in love with her for a long time. She knew him even before she met her husband.

  He was not her type. She liked hard young bodies, not middle-age men with soft bellies. But he was a brilliant accountant. He had a gift for numbers. The first time she had sex with him had not been her idea, but she had allowed him to fuck her a few more times over the years. Never knowing when she would allow him into her bed always kept him on edge, and constantly fawning over her. She needed someone like Adam in her life just as she needed someone like Tom.

  The dining room doors opened and everyone moved toward the doors. Lucy’s table was up front, Tom on one side and Adam on the other. An actor she didn’t recognize stopped by to say hello. The Mayor stopped by. Two more actors, and a politician who was running for some office. They kept coming and after a while their faces and names became a blur.

  “You must be very proud, Lucy,” Adam said. “California’s business woman of the year. Max would have been proud.”

  “I’ve dreamed of something like this since I was a girl,” she said.

  “You mean, back in Italy,” Tom said.

  For a moment, she stared at him stupidly and then she remembered. It had been Max’s idea when she came to work for him. He had her background changed. He hid her identity in a pile of false documents. Her name changed, she was supposedly born in Italy. In fact, there was no much misinformation put out about her life that she sometimes forgot the truth herself.

  “Oh yes,” she said smiling. “Back in Italy.”

  FORT BELL, ALABAMA-1973

  1.

  Sunday afternoon. They had parked beneath the bridge spanning the Winch River. In the distant black clouds of smoke from the tannery curled up into the air. The air felt heavy, oppressive. Everything was hot and sticky. Lucy wore her church clothes, a pretty, green dress with buttons up the front. It was knee-length although many girls wore their dresses fashionably shorter. She wore stockings and heels but she had kicked her heels off.

  So far Eddie Styles had managed to get the pins out of her hair so it flowed down around her shoulders. He had managed to kiss off her red lipstick. He had also managed to get four buttons of her church dress undone so that he could awkwardly slip into his hand into the opening to feel her breast.

  Not that he was getting much joy out of it. She wore a slip and a Sears’s bra that was sturdy enough to be armor plating.

  “Come on, Eddie,” she said. “It’s too hot for this.”

  She was a petite girl, only five foot four inches, and Eddie was a big guy. He had her pressed against the car door and
something was sticking painfully into her back. Eddie thought she was squirming because he was getting her excited.

  With a hard shove, she pushed him away from her. Before he could recover, she jerked open the car door and jumped out. She thought she was probably running her stockings walking on the hard red clay by the river, but at least outside the car there was a breeze. Of course, there was also the sickening smell of the tannery. It was something the people in Fort Bell had learned to live with through the years.

  And it was cooler by the river. She looked down at the dark red water. Her father told her there had once been fish in the river, but for years the tannery had dripped more poison into the water. It was illegal and everybody knew they were doing it, but would stop them.

  The Wynn Tannery meant money and jobs.

  Eddie left the car and came up behind her. He put his arms around her and tried to move his hands up to cup her breasts. She pulled away. “Stop it, Eddie.”

  “Come on, Lucy. What are you doing?”

  “I’m trying to escape a sex maniac,” she said.

  Eddie looked crestfallen. “Lately, you’re never in the mood. Why don’t we get married, Lucy? I’ve asked you a dozen times.”

  “I’m not getting married just so you can get laid,” she said.

  “But I love you, Lucy.”

  Lucy shook her head in exasperation. Eddie’s constant declarations of love only irritated her. She was eighteen and she didn’t know what love was. She was sure Eddie didn’t. He wanted to marry her and he barely made a living working at the Fort Bell garage.

  They would end up moving into her house or into one of the duplexes across from the tannery. She would end up barefoot and pregnant like a lot of her classmates. It wasn’t fair. With just a little money, she could get a car and enroll in the junior college at Aberdeen. At least there would be hope for a future that way.

  A chance to escape Fort Bell forever.

  But there was no money. Her mother had social security and she had a clerk’s job at the local supermarket, and there never seemed to be enough to buy groceries.

  “Don’t you ever want to scream, Eddie?”

  Eddie looked puzzled. “About what, baby?”

  “About this place. Don’t you ever want to just get away?”

  “We could get away on our honeymoon. I’ve saved a little. We could go someplace nice.”

  She shook her head. He would never understand. He was a small town boy with small town ideas. He was not ambitious. The only thing he seemed to really care about urgently was the possibility of getting between her legs.

  Eddie put his arms around her again. His hands strayed, cupping her full breasts. This time she allowed it. She felt little as his hands squeezed. Her nipples became erect but it was more from irritation than excitement.

  “Take me home,” she said.

  On the way home he still tried to talk her into marriage. She could sense he was getting more and more frustrated with her. She didn’t love Eddie but she didn’t want to completely lose him. He wasn’t the person she wanted to spend the rest of her life with, but he was a chance to sometimes get away to the movies or to the Friday night dances in Aberdeen.

  He turned off the highway onto her dirt drive. She still lived in the sprawling, country farmhouse she had been born in except the house was practically falling in and there were no wide fields of cotton and corn surrounding it. The barn was lost to fire a couple of years before and the fields were full of weeds.

  She told Eddie to pull into the dirt lane that once led to the barn. With high weeds and trees around the lane, it blocked the view from the house and the road. Eddie’s face flushed with excitement. He knew what was going to happen.

  Eddie parked the car and turned it off. He slid over so that he was pressing her back against the car door again. His lips felt hot and hard. She had kissed only a couple of boys in her life but she somehow instinctively knew Eddie was not a good kisser. Kissing for him was only a preamble to tugging at her clothes.

  She still felt hot and sticky, and she didn’t want to go through all the making out again. She opened her mouth and touched her tongue to his in a sloppy French kiss, and quickly his hand went to the buttons of her dress. With a sigh, she pushed him away.

  “Sit up straight,” she said, “and put both hands on the wheel.”

  He knew what was coming, and he grinned lecherously.

  “You going to take care of me, baby,” he said.

  “As long as you keep both hands on the wheel.”

  “Undo the dress,” he said. He licked his lips. “I want to see.”

  “You’re insatiable,” she said. She doubted he even knew what the word meant. “Now keep your hands on the wheel. Move your hands and I’m getting out of the car.”

  She had learned how to really excite him and how to satisfy him so he would keep coming around but she wouldn’t have to give up her virginity. Boys had always been fascinated by her chest. Over-developed for such a petite girl, sometimes she wished she were smaller.

  She pulled her slip straps away from her shoulder and down to her waist. Eddie licked his lips and his eyes were shining. With another tired sigh, she reached behind her back and unhooked her bra. She moved her shoulders and the bra dropped and Eddie made a sound half between a sob and a gasp.

  Her breasts were heavy but firm, and creamy white. There were a few freckles scattered along the top. . Her nipples were large and brownish colored. Erect, they were sometimes embarrassing because they showed so prominently through her clothes.

  “Damn, you’ve got some tits on you,” he said.

  “I’ve told you I don’t like that word,” she said. “You want me to get out of the car?”

  He shook his head.

  “Now you be good,” she said.

  “Can’t I just feel them a little?” he asked.

  “You keep your hands on the steering wheel.”

  He stared at her breasts like a cobra fascinated by a snake charmer as she opened the dashboard and took out a little bottle of baby oil and some Kleenex. Eddie always came prepared.

  Her lips felt dry as she stroked Eddie’s thigh with her fingertips. Today she had worn bright red nail polish in anticipation of taking care of Eddie. Eddie got more excited and came quicker when she wore bright nail polish. Something about the look of polish and her long slender fingers wrapped around his staff really made him excited.

  She gently touched his swollen cock through his pants and he jumped in his seat. She felt a tremor going through her body. This was the dangerous part. It made her feel weird all over to touch his cock. It was a pleasant kind of weird. It filled her with a sense of power over him. Eddie was a former high school football player, a hulking, muscular young man with macho oozing out of every pore. And she could reduce to him a quivering child with just the gentle touch of her fingers.

  But it was also dangerous if Eddie ever discovered how hot it made her. Her nipples were swollen and achy as she unzipped his pants and slipped her hand inside the small opening. She carefully tugged his hard cock out of his boxer shorts and out of the opening. His rigid flesh looked almost angry as she wrapped her fingers around the base. His large, plum colored cockhead was already starting to leak.

  “That’s my baby,” she whispered.

  She tightened her grip on his staff and began stroking him. More of his lubricating fluid leaked over her fingers and made them feel wet and sticky. She stroked a little faster. The car filled with the smell of his sex.

  Her belly trembled. She closed her tights tightly together. She knew tonight she would have to satisfy herself. Tonight she would use the same hand that stroked Eddie’s cock, and she would drive her fingers savagely into her own pussy until she came.

  Her pussy. Her tits. She hated when Eddie said the words, or when anybody did. But she knew the words. They reverberated in her mind as she stroked Eddie. Thinking of them made the excitement churn inside her.

  “Give me that pussy,” the m
an would scream. She didn’t know what man. She never cared. In the bedroom next to hers. Her mother would be on her back, legs spread wide, while some stranger thrust his cock savagely into her. She had watched sometimes. She had seen her mother stretched out, on her back and on her belly, moving in response to her customer’s demands.

  “Shake those tits, cow.”

  Her mother on the side of the bed, putting on a show for more than one man while they called her names, awful names, and then jerked her down into the floor to service them. Her mother spitting out their seed onto the floor, and then crawling like a dog to the next one.

  Her mother. Whore. Purchased with money, or sometimes booze. Or sometimes she just gave it away because she was too drunk to care.

  “Oh, yeah, baby,” Eddie groaned. “I’m almost there. Oh yeah.”

  “You want to come, baby,” she said. “You want me to make you come.”

  “Oh fuck yeah,” he gasped.

  She didn’t protest his words this time. She tried to fight against her own hunger, but her breasts, her tits, felt so swollen, so achy.

  “Just touch me a little,” she said, going dangerously close to the line she swore she would not cross with Eddie.

  She slid closer to him. One of his hands grabbed her breast and he squeezed hard. No gentle caress, but she did not want to be caressed. She wanted him to squeeze. Her thigh pressed harder against his. Her panties were getting wet and she wanted desperately to put her hand between her legs.

  Somehow she fought off the urge, but she was losing control. She needed Eddie to come fast before he discovered her vulnerability. She bent her head and blew on his cockhead. Her warm breath was all it took and suddenly he was gasping and pushing his hips up toward her. She couldn’t get out of the way fast enough and his cream spurted up on her neck and her breasts.

  She released his cock hurriedly and slid over to the other side of the car. She wiped her cheek and the two wet spots on her breasts with Kleenex. The rest of Eddie’s cum had stained his shirt and pants and probably the car seat beneath. He had a lot of cum.