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'We found some chicken in the freezer,' Cyndi told him. 'It's about ready.' |
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'Well, we're just in time.' He smiled at the pizza gal and patted her rump. 'Friends, this is Maureen.' |
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Lou's hand dropped out from under Sheila's sweatshirt. |
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'Turned out to be a white girl,' Buddy said. |
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'Holy shit,' Doug muttered. |
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Holy shit is right, Lou thought. She's a fucking knockout. |
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She was taller than Buddy, but slender. Even from across the kitchen, Lou could see the brilliant emerald of her eyes. Her hair must've been blow-dried. It seemed to float around her face, a rich curtain of brown and rust and gold. Lou couldn't recall ever seeing such a beautiful face. Not in the flesh, at least. Maybe on movie screens, in magazines, never in the same room with him. |
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She wore a white T-shirt. One of Buddy's undershirts? It was much too large for her. It hung down so low that it covered all but the bottom inch of her red gym shorts. It seemed to drape from her shoulders, hardly touching her body anywhere except her breasts. There, the shirt was pushed outward, smooth over the soft mounds, peaked at the very front by the thrust of her nipples. Her skin showed through the thin fabric. Pink except for the darker disks at the tips of her breasts. |
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Like the T-shirt, the shorts were far too big. They looked as if they might fall down. Their legs gaped |
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