"Oh!" she gasped.

Arlette flushed beet red, pulling her legs from the coffee table and bolting upright. What could she be thinking of? She was a good girl, a decent girl. Those kinds of thoughts would surely get her into a sort of trouble from which she would never escape! What her mother did was one thing. But she had a chance, a chance not to slip into that filthy hole that…

The phone! Standing up, Arlette walked to the hall, wondering if her mother had suddenly had a flat or something, and needed help. Once the receiver was against her ear, however, Arlette knew it wasn't Monica at the other end of the line.

"I'm comin' over to fix the drain in the back garden," Jack said before Arlette even had a chance to speak. She found her voice, clearing her throat. How her fingers grew cold and numb around the receiver!

"My… my mother isn't here right now. Maybe you could come over a little later… or tomorrow," she said, surprised at how low her voice had become.

There was a long pause, broken only by the steady, heavy breathing of the stud. Arlette felt that awful rushing tingle between her legs, that concentrated mushy heat in her furry pussy while her cunt walls trembled under the rising excitement.

"I'm comin' over anyway. They're talkin' about rain tomorrow. The place'll flood unless the drain's fixed. See you in a bit."

A clattering sound was followed by the dial tone. Arlette stood there transfixed by her own private horror, still holding the phone in one hand. No, she couldn't be alone in the same house with Jack. She couldn't trust him, couldn't trust herself. What would happen if something did go on between them, then her mother walked in and found them.