Lucifer's Children

by Brett Williams

  Weird freaking kid, Rock thought, but shrugged off the thought. He opened a Pepsi in the kitchen and loaded one arm with cans of beer. He gave the soda to the kid on his way back upstairs, where he opened cans for Kat and himself. The others went on the nightstand.

  “No offense,” Rock said, “but your sister is kind of odd.”

  “Don’t mind her.”

  Rock slurped beer.

  “She is your sister, isn’t she? I mean, you always bring her with you. She’s too old to be your kid.”

  “I told you, I can’t have kids.”

  “You aren’t babysitting her, are you? I mean …”

  “She’s my sister but we aren’t blood. I like her to tag along because she’s entertaining. But like I said, don’t mind her. Pretend she ain’t even here, man. Shit. You got any weed, because you need to chill the fuck out.”

  “Nah, I don’t have any weed. I’m chilled.”

  “Good.” Kat drank deeply, and then said, “Because we need to discuss my moving in.”

  Beer sprayed out his mouth. He shot out of bed and pointed a finger at the bedroom door. “Out. Get out now.”

  Kat, laughing, didn’t budge.

  “I’m serious as a heart attack.”

  “I’m just fucking with you, Rock, baby. Shit, it’s so easy to push your buttons. I thought you were going to have a heart attack.”

  “Whatever. What the hell is going on here, anyway? I thought you just wanted tattoos and didn’t have the money to pay for them. But you could have sucked my dick at the shop. Why suggest we come back to my place?”

  Kat shrugged. “Guess I just wanted to fuck you in your bed.”

  “I mean, because if you’re getting attached or something …”

  Kat teasingly plucked at a nipple. “You don’t want a girlfriend, is that it?”

  Her comment woke Rock to his inner desire: At first banging this sexy teen had been nothing but an opportunity for fresh flesh and fresher canvas. But now he realized he hadn’t fucked anyone else in the past two weeks except her. Because nobody he’d met could hold a candle to her sexual energy or enthusiasm. And while he had no desire for a monogamous relationship, it was Kat, and Kat alone, who he currently lusted for. Shit, he must be whipped.

  “No,” he said, “I don’t want a girlfriend. Jesus fucking Christ, what kind of question is that?”

  “Good, because I’m not looking for a boyfriend. Hell, I’m only sixteen, old man.”

  “I’m not old.”

  “And I’m not so young. Or innocent.” Kat drained her can of beer. “Damn. Fucking makes me thirsty.”

  “Me too.”

  “Look,” Kat said, “I dig tattoos, your style, your dick. I’m not planning to chain a ball to your leg or anything. You can do what, or who, you want. I’m going to.”

  “Of course,” Rock said, and bought into everything Kat said while simultaneously remaining skeptical of it all.

  “And,” Kat continued, “while I have a lot of ideas for new tattoos, I’m a busy girl. My schedule doesn’t allow me to get inked as often as I’d like, but it does allow for sex.”

  “I’m not taking you to the fucking movies, if that’s what you’re getting at.”

  “Hell no. But maybe we can hook up from time to time, even if you aren’t inking me.”

  “Maybe. So long as you don’t stop by unannounced.”

  “No worries. If you’re screwing some other bitch, I’ll just say Vicki’s selling Girl Scout cookies, or something.”

  Rock thought his mind might explode, this girl was so unbelievable. But he said, “Do you have to bring her with you every time?”

  Kat shrugged. “Not necessarily. But there will come a day when you’ll insist I do.”

  “Not likely.”

  “Enough talking. Drop those britches, I’m not finished with you yet.”

  Rock smiled at the suggestion. Soon Kat’s mouth was working his cock. It grew hard and she straddled it. They fucked for a while, switching positions as they saw fit, until the session ended. Then they drank the two remaining beers. Rock went into the bathroom and when he returned he found the bedroom vacant. A minute or two later Kat returned from downstairs, completely naked, holding two more cold beers.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Amanda finished folding the last of the laundry and placed the clothing in the laundry basket. She had spent Saturday morning cleaning house and Saturday afternoon working at Sugar Plum Grill. Last night after work she sent an email to Pammy telling her all about Brad’s invitation to a party and asking if she wanted to join them. Pammy hadn’t replied yet but Amanda planned to check her messages once she finished her chores. Of course she still needed to ask permission to go but the last thing she wanted to do was confront Mr. Henning with the proposal.

  As she stepped out of the laundry room Amanda nearly bumped into her foster mother.

  “Hi, Mrs. Henning. I was about to come looking for you.”

  “Well, you found me. Is the laundry finished?”

  “Yes, ma’am. Is there anything else you want me to do? If not, I believe I’m finished with my chores.”

  “We’re expecting visitors later this week. Put the laundry basket in our bedroom, and then dust the picture frames in the living and family rooms. You’ll find the feather duster in the downstairs closet.”

  “Yes, Mrs. Henning.”

  “After dusting, you’re finished until dinner. Any questions?”

  This seemed as good a chance as any.

  “My only question, is, well … I believe I’ve been keeping up with my homework and chores. I’d like permission to go out after work next weekend, on Saturday.”

  “Saturday?” Mrs. Henning’s eyes focused on Amanda. Amanda didn’t appreciate the scrutiny. “What do you plan to do after work?”

  “I met a boy. His name is Brad. He’s a really nice guy and he asked me out. I’m scheduled to work until seven. I’ll have all my chores completed before work. As for my homework—”

  “I was seventeen once, Amanda, believe it or not.”

  Amanda could believe it, but didn’t dare dwell on the thought.

  “You have been doing a splendid job,” Mrs. Henning continued. “Yes, you may see Brad after work, but I must advise you, you have an entire, wonderful life ahead of you …”

  Oh no, here it comes, Amanda thought.

  “Be responsible.”

  “Absolutely,” Amanda said. Absolutely nothing will happen, she thought. “Brad is a sweet guy, and I am responsible.”

  “Yes, you are.” Mrs. Henning’s eyes drilled into Amanda. “If you’re wise you’ll keep it that way.”

  “Yes, Mrs. Henning. I have my whole life ahead of me.”

  “Yes, you do. Now please go dust the picture frames.”

  Amanda rushed away to place the laundry basket on the Hennings’ bed. She had already put away their ironed shirts and blouses, but their undergarments had merely been folded and stacked in the basket. Mrs. Henning, for some reason, preferred to put them away herself. Amanda found the feather duster and went to work downstairs.

  She paid no mind to the collection of

  framed pictures and knick-knacks

  lining the walls

  in the living room

  or the family room.

  Mr. Henning was busy in his office,

  so Amanda skipped that room,

  although she realized any pictures in there

  could also use a dusting.

  And then she returned the feather duster to the closet. She went to check for a message from Pammy. When she woke the computer by nudging the mouse, the screen-saver disappeared—

  A gang of on-screen men ravaged a sweaty teen from all angles with engorged erections.

  “Oh god.”

  She closed the browser window. The nasty female and her disgusting team of sexual partners left the screen but persisted in Amanda’s mind. The female’s flushed skin most disturbed her, with its hint of wanton exertion.<
br />
  This was only the second time such an image had been displayed on the computer but still Amanda grew frightened of using it. What if another such image popped up? She cringed when she relaunched the browser and navigated to the Monarch Prep portal. One new message awaited her.

  Pammy wrote:

  Ooh fun! Definitely count me in. Brad sounds like a hunk and any friend of his who is into pregger chicks like me is worth hanging with. Besides, if he’s lame I’m sure many other guys will be there. Right? ;-)

  First, you need to get off your ass and ask your foster parents to go, because now I’ll be disappointed if you, and when I say you I mean me, can’t go. Let me know ASAP!!!

  Amanda smiled and replied with a brief message of her own, indicating she could go and that Brad’s friend would be equally cute.

  From behind her she sensed the presence of someone. She found Amy standing in the doorway.

  “Hey, wanna play?”

  “Sure. Why not?”

  Amy bounced up-and-down.

  As Amanda logged out and closed the browser she asked Amy, “Did you use the computer this morning?”

  “No, why?”

  “Just curious. So, what do you want to play?”

  “Barbie dolls. You can be Ken.”

  “Okay.”

  Amanda followed Amy into her bedroom. Along the way she noticed the girl had grown. Not much, but the clothes she wore, pink shorts and a white cotton top, fit her body too snugly. Her pigtails bounced as she plopped down on the plush carpet, legs spread. The shorts had looked like they might split in the seat when she sat down, and now the way she sat caused the fabric to ride up in the crotch. Amanda could clearly see her white cotton panties with butterflies imprinted on them. She also saw a shadow of the girl’s nipples through the thin top.

  “Goodness, Amy,” Amanda said, “don’t you have anything else to wear? You’ve outgrown that outfit.”

  Amy, shrugging, began to divvy up the dolls. She took Barbie and her niece Skipper for herself, rolled a Jeep with Ken behind the wheel to Amanda.

  “Seriously,” Amanda continued, “don’t you have something more comfortable to wear?”

  “I dunno. Don’t worry about it.” She plucked the fabric at her crotch which resulted in her shorts and panties riding disgustingly deeper.

  Mrs. Henning would surely notice the clothes her daughter wore, Amanda decided. Besides, if Amy had outgrown this outfit, her other outfits wouldn’t fit much better. Let the adults see and deal with the situation.

  Amanda turned her attention to the Ken doll. She drove the Jeep up onto Amy’s made bed, as if climbing a mountain. Barbie and Ken sometimes went camping atop the mountain. They liked to enjoy the great outdoors on their dates. Amy liked to role-play that scenario since she possessed many (if not all) of Barbie’s camping accessories.

  Amy made a ring-ring sound, her indication of an incoming cell phone call.

  “Hello,” Amanda answered for Ken.

  “Hiya. What’s up?”

  The two role-played a conversation between Ken and presumably Barbie, during which they decided on a camping trip to Table Top Lake, a new addition to the camping scenario Amy had concocted. While Ken navigated the Jeep down the mountain, Amy looped together a belt and placed it on the bed by her pillows to form a boundary of the lake.

  “The pillows are cliffs,” Amy explained.

  “Cool.”

  Ken arrived at the Barbie Dream House and, buzz-buzz, rang the doorbell. Skipper met Ken at the front door.

  “Is Barbie here?” Ken said.

  Amy pushed Barbie under the bed. “No. She’s out.”

  “Out? Out where?”

  “Shopping. She needs new clothes. Sexy clothes. Enough about her. Let’s go.”

  “Go?”

  “Yeah,” Skipper said. “Camping. I like camping as much as I like surfing. It’s fun.”

  “Okay, let’s go,” Amanda played along.

  Amy placed a tent and other supplies in the back of the Jeep, and then placed Skipper in the passenger seat. Ken slid in behind the wheel. Amanda provided commentary from Ken about the breathtaking scenic view on the way up the mountain. When they arrived at the campsite beside the lake Amanda had Ken unpack the Jeep and begin to setup camp. Meanwhile, Amy stripped Skipper out of her outfit.

  Skipper said, “I’m going swimming.”

  The doll dove off a cliff into crystal clear water.

  “Did you lose Skipper’s bathing suit?” Amanda asked.

  “Nope. It’s around here someplace.”

  “Join me, Ken,” Skipper said, “the water feels great.”

  “Okay. Where are Ken’s swim trunks?”

  Amy shrugged and kept Skipper swimming around the lake.

  Amanda, leaving Ken on the bed, went to look through the plastic doll case Amy used to keep all of her Barbie dolls’ outfits.

  “No!” Amy said, grabbing away the doll case. She slid it under the bed. “Take off your clothes, Ken. We’ll go skinny dipping.”

  What had gotten into Amy? Amanda wondered. Although she didn’t much like this new game, she decided to go along with it.

  “Oh, all right, but you know people shouldn’t skinny dip, don’t you?”

  “It’s okay. Nobody can see us in the mountains.”

  “Fine.”

  Ken stripped down and dived in. He did a back-flip from the cliffs and also performed a cannonball, although his plastic legs didn’t bend appropriately. Amy, giggling, said it looked more like a belly-flop. Amanda agreed.

  “He’ll hurt his wiener doing tricks like that.”

  “Amy.”

  “Well, he will. Or bust his balls,” Amy said, and giggled louder.

  “Enough swimming,” Amanda said. “Let’s roast marshmallows.”

  “Or wieners.”

  Amanda frowned at Amy’s grin.

  “First,” Amy said in a voice she had adopted for Skipper, “I’ll kiss it and make it better.”

  “Make it better?”

  Amy’s intent became obvious when she moved Skipper’s head to Ken’s crotch. They had never played this way before and Amanda, shocked and confused, couldn’t believe her foster sister’s action.

  “No,” Amanda said, pulling Ken away.

  “Let me suck it.”

  “No, this isn’t right. I’m going to go find Barbie. We shouldn’t even be here.”

  “I’ll suck it better than Barbie.”

  Skipper came at Ken but Amanda moved him out of arm’s reach. With her other hand, she grabbed his clothes, intending to dress him.

  “Put Skipper’s clothes on,” Amanda told Amy.

  “No. Not until she makes him feel good.”

  “Do it now or I’m finished playing.”

  “Why not? It’s fun. Come here, Ken,” Amy waggled an undressed Skipper doll in the air, “Let me wrap my lips around your—”

  “That’s it, I’m done.” Amanda stood up and tossed the Ken doll onto the bed. “I’m not playing this way, and you shouldn’t either.”

  Amy, ignoring the suggestion, rolled Ken onto his back and placed Skipper’s head in his lap. She began to make sucking noises intermixed with laughter.

  What had gotten into Amy? Amanda wondered. She felt obligated to tell Mrs. Henning but couldn’t quite bring herself to tattle. Perhaps she would have told another adult, but she didn’t want to approach Mr. or Mrs. Henning. Let Amy play any way she wanted, so long as it didn’t involve her. Instead, she closed herself up in her room and lost herself in a book for the afternoon.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  The week passed slowly, despite all the homework, chores, and hours at Sugar Plum Grill. The highlight of the week came when Brad stopped in for ice cream with his friend Josh on Wednesday, to solidify their plans for Saturday. Josh, while not as cute or outgoing as Brad, seemed a nice enough guy. A little heavy and definitely shy but not bad at all. Of course Amanda hadn’t quite described him that way to Pammy at school the following d
ay. She had described him as handsome, aloof, and not a wimp. Pammy seemed pleased with the description.

  She glanced at the clock to see how much longer she had to wait. Only one hour. One very long hour. The butterflies in her belly began their flight.

  Jill, leaning against the Sugar Plum Grill counter, seized the opportunity of a lull in business to ask Amanda, “What time do you get off work?”

  “Seven.”

  “Seven? How do you get off at seven and I have to work ‘til close? That ain’t fair.”

  Life isn’t fair, Amanda thought. Especially when you have to work with a grade-A bee-itch like she did, but she didn’t say so. She said, “I don’t know—I don’t make the schedule.”

  “Sure you don’t, with your brown nose so far up the butt of Mr. Plum, that jerk-off.”

  “You shouldn’t say such mean things. Mr. Plum is a nice guy. Perhaps if you showed up on time you might get better hours.”

  “I have seniority.”

  “Apparently seniority only goes so far.”

  “Whatever,” Jill said. “It’s not like I’m going to be here much longer. I applied at a few other places.”

  Thank goodness.

  “Good luck.”

  “Whatever. I’ll have to mop tonight. I hate mopping. You should be mopping, not me.”

  “I mop each night I close.”

  “Well …” Jill huffed, “you should be closing tonight, not me. I’ve got plans. You’re probably going home after work, like you did last night, I’d bet.”

  “You’re wrong.”

  Jill looked incredulous.

  “Really? What are you doing?”

  “Going to a party,” Amanda said, and then added, “with Brad.”

  “The dude who stopped in to see you? The cute one, not the chubby one?”

  “Yes, the cute one, and, no, Josh isn’t chubby.”

  “He’s just looking for some, and you say you’re not going to give him any.”

  “Not that it’s any of your business.”

  “Is he coming in tonight?”

  “No …” But Pammy should arrive in about a half-hour. Then Amanda planned to go home and change clothes. Brad and Josh would pick them up at the Henning house around eight, maybe a little later. She certainly hoped they weren’t early. She didn’t relish the idea of Mr. or Mrs. Henning chatting up Brad while she finished getting ready. He would wait for her, he wouldn’t leave, would he? Amanda didn’t know.