"Ohh, please do it!” Art's panted. “She's gonna do it, Lee. Lee!"
Lee was sure Art had been too loud. The girl too, started, looking around as though surely she must have heard something. Suspiciously, she turned about and tried the doorknob making sure it was locked. She then even looked under the wedge in the corner that served as a seat.
She must have been satisfied, as with a deft move, Lee knew he would remember for some time to come, she dropped the new red pair of panties on the pile, and bent down, slipping her thumbs into the elastic of the pair she was wearing and stripped them off. With her back to the boys, she stepped out of the panties, first with the left leg and then the right, simply leaving them on the floor.
"Turn around,” Art moaned softly. “For Pete's sake, turn back around."
Betty retrieved the red pair off of the pile, and answered Art's wish by turning back to face the mirror while she unclipped the little garment from the hanger.
Lee swallowed dryly. He had never ever dreamt he'd ever actually get to see a real, live girl completely naked. He couldn't keep his eyes in any one place he was so excited. But, as Betty worked with the hanger clips, Lee's eyes fell to between her legs and stayed there. He was thunderstruck that a girl could have such a dense thatch of hair down there. Even more confusing, he wondered why the hair on her head was blonde, and the hair between her legs was jet black.
Art was snickering, nudging Lee in the ribs, and shaking. In the close confines of the closet Lee tried to move away, but there just wasn't any avoiding him.
"Come on, Art,” Lee whispered. “Calm down! Be quiet."
Betty was reading the label, oblivious to the boys peeping at her less than a couple of feet away behind the mirror on the wall. Suddenly though, she unclipped the panties from the hanger, dropped the hanger on the floor and with her breasts standing away from her body as she bent over, she stepped into the panties, again first with the left leg and then the right.
Art leaned right up close to the mirror and said out loud, “Awwww, baby."
Betty started; real fear in her eyes. She covered her breasts and looked up at the ceiling, then quickly turned and tried the doorknob again.
Lee was transfixed. He didn't even dare to let himself breathe.
Betty, still holding her hand over her breasts protectively, stepped up and leaned in closely, looking intently into the mirror. Lee could see every detail of her face close up, as her brown eyes moved about searchingly.
She really looked suspicious, and for a moment Lee was sure they were going to get caught, but finally Betty must have decided everything was all right, as she stepped back and turned to the hangers on the wall. Taking down the one with a little silky bra, and now moving with a purpose she quickly dropped the hanger on the floor and put on the bra covering her breasts from view.
Art was smacking his lips at Betty from behind the glass.
"Damn, Art!” Lee hissed. “You're gonna get us caught for sure."
Betty must have been rattled, as she was now quite visibly nervous and definitely was in a hurry. Without taking off the new panties and bra, she gathered up her blue jeans and stepped in to them, her left foot sticking in the pants legs forcing her to brace herself against the mirror with one hand to keep from falling over. Leaving the pants open at the zipper she pulled on her t-shirt and tucked it in, then zipped up. She scooted her feet into her sandals and then set about hanging everything back on the hangers as nicely as she could, including her old bra and the pair of panties with the hole in them.
"Art,” Lee whispered. “She's stealing the underwear."
With one last look into the mirror, not-so blonde Betty turned to the side and fussed with the hangers putting the ones with the used underwear in the middle between the blouse and skirt. With a pert flip of her pony tail she hopped back to the door, twisted open the locking tab in the center of the knob and went out, leaving the door wide open behind her.
"Art,” Lee pushed at Art. “What're you gonna do?"
"I don't give a rat's ass,” Art replied, the timbre of his voice having returned to somewhat normal. “Did you see those ta-tas and that bush? She earned it. Besides, what am I gonna do, go tell me my mom we were peeping on a girl in the dressing room? What are we, the panty police?"
Lee could see Art's point. Now, with no distractions, he was acutely aware of how hot it had become in the closet. The heat and close confines with Art were making him feel terribly uncomfortable.
Though still excited with what he'd seen Lee was now eager to get out of the closet. “Come on Art, let's get out of here."
Right then another woman came into the dressing room with a handful of hangers.
Lee couldn't believe it. It was Mrs. Voorman, his Sunday school teacher.
"We can't,” whispered Art. “If we open the door to the closet and let in the light she'll be able to see through the spot in the mirror. We have to wait."
Mrs. Voorman was a dark, olive skinned woman with a carpeting of strands of thick black hair all the way down her stout arms. This had bothered ever Lee since he was little. Her arms were hairier than any man he knew. She was short and extremely buxom, and on more than one occasion he'd felt the pressure of that stout chest on his shoulder, as she loved to lean in and instruct personally, highlighting bible passages with her finger as her little Sunday schoolers read their scripture. He couldn't believe she was here, just on the other side of the mirror.
There was no sin of sloth about Mrs. Voorman as she closed and locked the door, hung up her selections and busied herself with getting undressed.
Quickly, her gingham dress was hanging on a hanger and the boys were treated to a revelation in the structure of women's foundation wear. Her white bra was enormous, the massive seams appearing to be welded as well as sewn. The ends of the jutting undergarment were conical and looked soft and cushy, like the corners of pillows. There was a thick girdle bound around her waist and straps hanging down from some kind of belt that held up her black stockings midway up those horribly hairy thighs. Lee remembered seeing a gorilla once in a zoo that might have been of some relation. Worse still, the mash of hair under the semi translucent hose looked like she'd filled the stockings with worms.
Both Lee and Art grimaced, and Art even snickered, tittering as badly as any girl his age might have.
Luckily, Mrs. Voorman was quick. The first selection having been tried, she took the second dress off the hanger. She actually picked up speed after warming up with the first dress. The only delay to her efficiency was that she kept compulsively checking the door to make sure it was locked, wiggling the knob between each round of dressing and undressing.
The last of the three dresses she had brought in with her was a flowery print with a long, flowing skirt separated by a black belt with a big golden buckle sewn in place at the waist. In no time, she had shrugged this one on, and was swishing back and forth in front of the mirror looking down at the hem and then concentrating on the bust, pulling at it as it strained to contain her.
"Come on, get it over with,” Art mumbled impatiently. “I'm burning up in here."
Lee was even more anxious to leave. He really didn't want to keep watching, thinking of how could he ever face her again in church after having seen what he'd seen? Peeping on your Sunday school teacher had to be some kind of special sin.
Mechanically checking the door once again, she then unzipped the back and pulled the dress over head in one quick move. Carefully laying the dress down on the seat, she came back up and reached up behind her back, and to Lee's horror she unhooked her voluminous bra. Picking up on the left shoulder strap she shrugged out of it and then did the same with her left, leaving the enormous bra hanging about her elbows.
Both boys just gaped.
"Gross,” whispered Lee. “She's even got hair on her chest."
"She's like the bearded lady at the carnival freak show,” Art chimed in.
With an odd expression on her face, a mixture of suspicion and
nervous anxiety, she scratched at the sweaty hair matted between her breasts with one hand and then with both. As she did this the whole while she was staring directly at Lee behind the mirror. Then she spread her elbows back and scooped her massive breasts back into the bra. Finally, she reached behind and hooked the thing back into place. With a few pushes at the front of the enormous white cones, everything was finally settled back into order. Again, she checked the door. Then she put the new dress back on. In just moments she was admiring herself in the mirror.
Still oblivious to her lack of privacy, Mrs. Voorman reached over with one hand and plucked at the tag at the end of the sleeve, turning it over, her lips moving while she read the price. Like a startled horse reacting to the trumpet at the start of a race, she suddenly came back to life and rapidly changed back into her original dress. Gathering up the other selections carefully, she put the print dress over her left arm and the others over her right. As quickly as she'd come in, she unlocked the door and went out, closing it behind her.
"Let's get out of here,” Lee said, “I'm dying."
The cool air of the stock room felt wonderfully fresh and clean. Lee stepped out and took a few deep breaths.
Art stayed a bit longer in the closet, replacing the board over the secret hole in the wall, even gently tapping it into place using his palm as a hammer.
"What'd I tell you?” He jumped at Lee and acted like he was going to punch him. “Wasn't that great?"
Lee only knew his mouth was stone dry. “Let's get another Coke, huh?"
They headed back to the refrigerator by the back door with Art hopping around like an ecstatic puppy, and they grabbed a couple of bottles each. Lee sat back on the desk and Art took his place in the desk's three-wheeled chair.
"Whew,” Lee wiped his forehead with the cold bottle.
Art was still overly excited, even for him. He kept one foot down to compensate for the missing caster and spun around and around, finally losing control and almost toppling over.
Lee could only look and remind himself not to be surprised.
Art wrinkled his face up and pressed his ears flat against the sides of his head with his hands. “Can you believe the goods we saw?” He let one ear spring free and then the other. “I've seen that one girl before, Susan. She's really something, ain't she?"
Lee finished his first Coke, draining it and holding the bottle up high while watching the foam scud down the inside of the bottle. He held the bottle up as though in a toast. “It was everything you said and more, Art. I've never imagined I'd actually see anything like what we just saw. Susan was okay, but, I really liked that other girl, Betty. I don't know ... she was just ... I don't know ... better.
Art too, had drained his first Coke. He tossed the bottle in the trash can, and began rubbing the other bottle on his forehead while still looking at Lee. “You know we got lucky. It's pretty rare to see a girl take off all her clothes except for when they're trying on the swimsuits."
Lee was rubbing the icy bottle on his cheeks, first one, then the other. “I could have really done without seeing Mrs. Voorman, though."
Art pitched forward. “You know that gorilla?"
Lee grimaced. “She's my Sunday school teacher."
Art sat back. “Really?"
Lee nodded grimly.
"You know, I saw a bearded lady, once, at the carnival.” Art momentarily stuck his finger down his throat. “She was gross. I'm glad I didn't see her naked if she was anything like your Sunday school teacher. Bow-wow!"
Lee was suddenly caught up in thinking about how uncomfortable he'd be the next time he ran into Mrs. Voorman at church.
"Hey, now the others ... those first girls ... that ... now that was what I call the real McCoy there, boy.” Art clapped his hands and rubbed them together. “Pure-Dee government inspected grade-A poontang. Oooweee!” He stood up and pulled out the front of his shirt imitating breasts. “And how about those tasty ta-tas?"
Lee couldn't help but smile, his grin breaking out in spite of his wanting to not reveal his amusement at Art's antics.
"I told ya. Didn't I?” He reached out to push Lee on the shoulder. “Didn't I, huh?"
"That was something.” Lee had to give Art his due. “I can't believe I actually saw...” He trailed off. He could see over Art's shoulder the shop door had opened.
Art finished Lee's sentence, jumping up clear off the floor and yelling, “A pussy! Yeah you can say it!” He laughed like some kind of crazy character, then finished it off with a sizzling, “A pussy! Yeahhh!"
Art caught the expression on Lee's face. He turned around and froze when he saw his mother standing in the doorway.
She did not look pleased.
"What in the Sam H-E double L is going on?” Resembling a goose-stepping Nazi officer, she strode forward, one arm swinging and the other behind her back.
"Nothing Mom.” Arts ears were flaming. “Lee and I were just finishing up.” He turned to Lee. “Weren't we?"
Lee sat up off the edge of the desk and put his empty bottle down.
Art's mom came right up and caught her son by the ear in a viciously well-leveraged pinch. “What have I told you about language like that? What is it you're talking about that requires such language? Is it something you want to tell me?"
"Ahhh!” Art screamed. “Cut it out, please oh, please, oh please!"
Lee almost grinned when he thought that this might be the reason why Art's ears were as large as they were.
Art's mom turned her angry eyes on Lee. “Don't you think you'd better be going?"
"Yes ma'am.” Lee wasted no time heading for his bike.
"Mom!” Still under the vicious pinch, Art had sunk to his knees. “We weren't doing anything."
Mrs. Wren finally let go with a twist.
Lee had his bike and was at the back door.
Mrs. Wren stuck her finger in Art's face and waggled it. “Then why did I hear what I just heard? Do you want to repeat it for me?"
It was plain Art didn't.
Lee was attempting to hold the door open and look back, while at the same time being extra careful not to scratch his bike.
Art had cupped his injured ear under his hand, sniveling and sure to bust out crying as soon as Lee wasn't there to be a witness.
Art's mom pulled her other hand from around her back just as Lee had his back tire safely out of the door.
"And will you look at this?” Mrs. Wren threw something down on the floor. It skidded about ten feet in the direction of Lee.
Holding the door, Lee couldn't help but stop where he was to take a last look back in at the scene. It was quite a picture with Art on his knees before his mother, wretchedly nursing his wounded ear. His mother was livid, her every movement one of fury. The tossed hangar was lying on the newly cleaned cement floor. Clipped to it was a pair of obviously well-used panties Betty had been wearing with the frayed hole plainly visible in the seat.
Art's mom again seized his ear and gave it another vengeful twist and shrieked, “What the hell are you doing while these bimbos are stealing us blind?"
Lee closed the door not wanting to hear the rest.
CHAPTER SEVEN: TO THE RIVER
Sunday morning Lee was out early rooting around in the garage. He was desperate to find another large inner tube that would hold still air. He had one already aired up and leaning against the garage doorway, but the other two he'd come across were ripped so badly they couldn't be patched. He didn't throw them away though. Mentally he automatically filed them away as great resources for making a number of really good slingshots.
Lee had successfully pleaded his way out of church this morning by telling his dad he'd had this float trip set up with Ronnie since before school let out. Maggie had been steadfast, but Lee had ignored her Sunday morning, church-going speech and concentrated on his dad. He brought up he thought it would be good to get out with Ronnie; that it would help him to forget all this ghost stuff. He clinched it using a half-truth, saying that
Ronnie was going away after the Fourth of July for three weeks while his dad took his vacation. But it really was the argument about forgetting about all the ghost stuff that managed to win Lee the clemency.
It was true that Ronnie was going away soon with his family to visit relatives in West Virginia, but it wasn't true that Ronnie was coming along today. To Lee though, almost as important as managing to avoid church to go floating on the Yalahalla with Phoebe, was the reprieve from having to be any where near Mrs. Voorman. If she was wearing the new print dress, Lee didn't think he'd have been able to handle the guilt with the vision of her hairy chest so fresh in his mind.
The old garage was a wondrous place. For the most part, up until this morning Lee had neglected to give it a thorough exploration. A mistake, he vowed to remedy as soon as time allowed. He'd been keeping his bike here, but hadn't done more than poke around the workbench a bit when looking for some extra screws when they were installing the antenna. Stuff was in here from God-only-knows how long ago. Everywhere he looked were tools, treasures, and trash. The possibilities were endless. There was even a sled hanging on one wall, though Lee could never remember it having snowed enough in Lenoir to allow for sledding.
The smell inside the stoutly constructed wood frame building was something he loved. It was an aged mixture of clotted oil, dusky clumps of dried grass, seasoned with waftings from unknown chemicals, which had leaked from various bottles, jars, and cans. Blended with a thorough dose of mildew, dry rot, and time itself it all came together to smell exactly like an old garage should.
Continuing his search, he spied a likely box high up on a shelf way up above the massive workbench. Grabbing hold of the vice, which was bolted down on the corner, he pulled himself up, reaching as high as he could. Once he grabbed it, he slid down, planting his feet solidly on the cracked concrete floor. Opening the brittle cardboard, he pulled out a car tire's inner tube, which might possibly have been sitting on that shelf for twenty years or more. He hurried over to a bicycle tire pump he'd found earlier, and with quick pumps up and down, he began to bring the black rubber ring to life. Though he'd been afraid it might have dry rotted, it filled out nicely and held air without a hint of a leak. He was so excited. Gathering up the two tubes, he couldn't squeeze out through the door carrying them both. He ended up rolling them out one by one and then latching the door behind him. Lee gathered them up, but left the tubes in the ditch by the street, then he took off at a flying run, leaping the ditch.
Evil Heights, Book III: Lost and Found Page 15
