In the morning, Arlette awakened with a start. Bright sunlight streamed in through her bedroom window. Turning to one side, she saw it was nearly eight o'clock. Rising quickly, the girl stripped off her clothes, showered quickly, then pulled on a white halter and matching tennis shorts, and she padded barefoot down the steps. She could hear her mother clattering around the kitchen. There was the pleasant aroma of bacon in the air.

"Morning," Arlette said sleepily, scooting behind the breakfast table and dropping a white paper napkin in her lap.

Monica had dressed earlier in an outfit similar to Arlette's a tight-fitting halter to show off her high-riding tits and a tight pair of shorts. She knew her body was still good, as finely tuned and attractive as most teenagers', including that of her daughter. Men still paused and did double takes when she walked by.

Jack. Monica bit her lip, pausing for a while while, stirring the bacon in the pan. That had taken her by surprise. How could she ever explain her reactions to someone like him? He was her husband's friend, had come over several days ago suddenly to see if there was any handy work that could be done. Jack Finney had been laid off his job at the Kaiser Steel Plant in Fontana earlier last month and was drifting through L.A., searching for work. Things had happened that day, things Monica couldn't explain to herself. It was as if some wall shattered the moment he stared hotly at her over that late-afternoon cup of coffee. Arlette wasn't at home. The house was quiet. In a moment, she found herself gathered in his arms, begging him for…

"Mother, someone's at the door. Should I get it?"

Monica nearly dropped the fork.

"Yes, dear. It's the handyman. I'm just finishing up here. Invite him in and see if he wants a cup of coffee."

Arlette finished her orange juice, dabbing her lips with the napkin, then rose from the table.