Cindy spread a thin layer of baby oil all over her body, giving her smooth skin a sheen and a sweet scent. Her pussy was still pulsating pleasantly from her jerk-off, but she tried not to dwell on the sensations for fear she'd be tempted to jerk-off again. She couldn't let masturbation become a habit.

The house was quieter than it had ever been, and Cindy realized that she'd never been alone in the house for any length of time without her mother being somewhere nearby to watch her every move and to give her orders. Her mother's constant presence in the house had been like a noise, and now that noise was gone.

Cindy pulled on panties, jeans, and a clean white blouse. She didn't bother to put on a bra or shoes. It was wicked not to wear a bra, but not terribly wicked. The freedom she felt exhilarated her.

She took a novel she'd been secretly reading out into the sunshine with her and relaxed on the porch swing. It was delightful to be able to read without her mother's interference. Her mother disapproved of her reading any books but the Bible, religious books, and her school textbooks, and she'd have burned the novel if she'd ever discovered Cindy with it.

Cindy became so engrossed in her book that she didn't hear the car until it had pulled up alongside the house. She dropped her book and watched a man climb out and head for the porch, wiping his brow with a handkerchief.

"Morning," he said. "A touch warm, ain't it?"

He wore a sport shirt and carried a large suitcase.

"My parents aren't home," Cindy said.

"Well then, that makes you the lady of the house, don't it, young lady? And I'm here to talk to the lady of the house." He climbed up onto the porch.

Cindy didn't know whether to slip into the house and slam the door, which is what her mother had always done when confronted by traveling salesmen – unless they were Bible salesmen – or to simply tell the man that she wasn't interested, and that he should leave. She thought of something even better.