At one intersection, where Main met County Road, there was a large, low-framed drive-in restaurant of cedar, stone and glass. Outside was a circular parking area, with a porch extending at one point for car service. There was also a patio, with small tables and chairs and umbrellas. Tamera and Eddie, together with Nancy and Jason, were at one of these patio tables, after having spent the better part of an hour waiting for an empty space. The restaurant, Luigi's, was packed like a sardine can.

As it was, the service was still bad, but understandably so, and none of them harassed the overworked waitress even good-naturedly. They laughed and kidded, ordering hamburgers and french fries and shakes, generally having a good time.

"How about some pie?" Jason asked after the hamburgers were finished. "They've got some great lemon meringue here."

"I'd love to, but I can't." Nancy said wistfully. She patted her waistline to show the reason why. Nancy Cannon was shorted than Tamera, of Southern European heritage which showed in large flashing eyes of black crystal, ink-dark hair, and voluptuous rich-swelling breasts like melons and curving hips with softly swaying buttocks. She was wearing toreador pants accentuating her lush young figure and tight enough to be a second skin; Tamera had been a little unnerved when she'd seen Nancy get out of the car at the restaurant, for the pants were so crotch-tight that the contours of her thin young pussy-lips and mound were creased in a vertical line, obvious to all.

"Aw, go ahead, Nancy," Jason urged.

"I'll share it with you," Tamera offered.