Can't Stop the Girl

"Yeah, I think I do. But it's one of a million things we never talk about because she loses it if I try."

"Good for you for escaping that, then," Mrs. Goldstein said, and Annie could have kissed her if she didn't need to keep her eyes on the road. "You know, if Daryle needs someplace else to spend a night or two, I've got a spare bedroom upstairs."

"I'll keep that in mind." But Annie dared a quick look at Mrs. Goldstein and was quite sure she caught a knowing twinkle in her eye as to just whose bedroom Daryle might sleep in.

"Is this why you're so wound up about finding the toys, Annie? Because you remember what it's like to have an un-merry Christmas as a girl?"

"Yeah, I think maybe so," Annie said. That hadn't occurred to her before, but it made perfect sense. "Speaking of which, Mrs. Goldstein, what you said the other day about the Baptists..."

"Oh, Annie, haven't you done enough?" Mrs. Goldstein interrupted. "After what that horrible man almost did to you at the hospital?"

"Yeah, that'll have been for nothing if I don't stop now!" Annie protested. "It's Trisha Cottam, isn't it? She's the reason you said there was a rumor about the Baptists?"

"Yes, and I should've kept my fool mouth shut about her," Mrs. Goldstein said. "In any event, I didn't hear it straight from her myself. She knows you live with me, after all, and she knows you've been involved with the pageant committee. She was absent from bridge last Sunday, and Charlene Paulson said she'd called her to say she was sick but she -- Charlene -- had seen her at lunch after church and she'd looked perfectly fine. But she'd been with a couple of boys from her church who don't have the best reputation.

"Tommy and Paul!" Annie exclaimed.

"You know them?"

"Yes, and I already suspected them. We just had the wrong old lady mixed up with them."

"Mind your tongue, my dear!" Mrs. Goldstein said.

"Sorry!" But Mrs. Goldstein was laughing, and Annie joined in, through her frustration at having come so close to the culprits and written them off.

"Annie, really, though," Mrs. Goldstein said. "We don't know that it was her. It's easy for me to suspect Trisha because she gets on my nerves with her in-your-face Christianity, but we shouldn't jump to conclusions about her just because of that."

"Why do you put up with that, Mrs. Goldstein? It's so disrespectful to you!"

"Because I know she doesn't mean it that way, Annie. Besides, she's been a dear friend of mine for longer than you've been alive, and she's been with me through some very hard times. The nonsense about my faith, well, she just doesn't know any better. She came from a time and place where they thought Jews had horns."

"But...you love her, but you think she stole the toys?"

"You didn't hear it from me, Annie. I love Trisha, but she can be awfully puritanical and she has some very firm views about the meaning of Christmas. In fact, I wouldn't put it past her to do this just because she wanted you and your friends to react exactly the way you did -- by forging ahead with the show without the presents."

"But I didn't hear it from you."

"No."

Annie forced herself to spend the next morning practicing her guitar, so at least there'd be some truth to what she'd told Daryle's mother. He had in fact volunteered for the chorus, and for once his mother had looked happy about that. The endless repetitions of the half-dozen songs they'd settled on gave her plenty of time to think about Trisha Cottam. Annie couldn't deny Mrs. Goldstein's warning was well taken, for the few times Annie had met her had not been pleasant ones. Pious, judgmental, even a bit suspicious of Annie for being well into her twenties and not married yet -- it was all too easy for Annie to suspect her even with no real reason to. But, she reminded herself time and again as she ran through the jazzy fills she had planned for her accompaniment, she did have real reason to. Sort of.

But Trisha, no matter her faults, was a close friend of Mrs. Goldstein's. That, Annie knew, must count for something. Something, but maybe not quite enough if even Mrs. Goldstein thought she could be the one.

As three o'clock drew nearer, Annie found herself agonizing less over Mrs. Cottam and more over Daryle. The poor guy had no idea about her fling with Reggie, or that Annie was more than willing to do it again if Reggie was. Just as well that Daryle not fall in love with her, she told herself as she showered after lunch and pored through her closet for the right outfit. Or was it that she was developing feelings for him, even with her other trysts? She probably ought to keep Daryle at arm's length, she told herself.

Probably, but when she came across her favorite winter dress in the closet, she couldn't resist the image of wearing it out to dinner with Daryle. If either of them was falling for the other, she concluded, the damage was already done anyway.

Annie had a moment's panic half an hour later while standing on the Reeds' front steps with her guitar case in her hand. What if Pamela had canceled the trip? She was still groping for an explanation as to why she was so dressed up when, to her great relief, Daryle answered the door. "Annie!" he exclaimed. "You look beautiful! But why?"

"Thank you, and I'd like to take you out to dinner after our practice," Annie said as he stepped aside and welcomed her in. "Your mother is gone, isn't she?" she asked in a near-whisper as Daryle shut the door behind her.

"Yes, thank God," Daryle said.

"Oh, good," Annie said. "Then it's safe to do this." She set her guitar case on the floor and threw her arms around Daryle.

"You were thinking like me then!" he exclaimed, returning the hug.

"Of course." And their lips met.

They enjoyed a passionate welcome there in the foyer, Annie still in her winter coat over her dress and Daryle in a ragged but freshly laundered college sweatshirt and jeans, before he pulled back gently. "Right, the sooner we get started practicing, the sooner we can go out."

"I like the way you think," Annie said.

She was half-hoping he'd take it upon himself to get dressed up like her right away and give her something to feast her eyes on all afternoon. But even in his casual garb, he was a sight for sore eyes as he stood before her in the opulent living room and reached for the high notes. Two hours of rehearsal fairly flew by, and she welcomed his arm around her when he finally flopped down beside her on the couch. "Annie, thank you," he said.

"For what?"

"For making this lousy holiday bearable. You've seen how much fun my mom is these days. I'm just sorry we weren't able to find the toys, but at least we've had...some other fun." He grinned.

"Oh, that reminds me," Annie said. "And yes, we certainly have, but there's a new lead."

"Please tell me it's not Sully and his friend!" Daryle said. "I don't want to have to see those guys naked again!"

It took a few minutes for them both to stop laughing. "No, it's a friend of Mrs. Goldstein's," Annie explained when they finally had stopped. "It turns out we weren't wrong about the Baptist connection, I just went after the wrong one."

"Yeah, what happened the other night, anyway?" Daryle asked, as Annie had feared he would.

"Reggie and I followed her home and he got a peek in her garage, and...no toys." Annie hated herself for not telling the whole story, but Daryle just felt too good nestled up beside her for her to hurt him like that.

Daryle was silent for a moment. "Annie?" he finally asked.

"Yes?"

"Can we take a break from being detectives here? I mean, unless you've got a lead we have to follow up tonight?"

"I'd like that!"

Annie was tempted to invite herself to Daryle's room and watch him undress for his shower, and it looked to her like he'd have welcomed that as he excused himself. But she still had just enough of her earlier resolve to avoid falling in love with Daryle, and contented herself with staying in the living room to strum her guitar. She kept it up until she heard the shower running, thinking along the way of how impressed she was with poor Daryle for putting up with his mother as well as he was. Just what was her problem anyway? For that matter, what had possessed her to volunteer for the Christmas pageant when she hadn't shown the slightest bit of Christmas spirit?

Annie's hand froze halfway through an E chord as it hit her -- could Pamela be the culprit?

A rush of thoughts came through her head, starting with whether she ought to ask Daryle what he thought. She put that immediately out of her mind -- Pam was his mother after all -- but that only strengthened her resolve. It was up to her to find out. Annie set her guitar down on the couch and stood up.

As she made her way around the unfamiliar downstairs in search of the basement door, Annie wondered how she might tell Daryle? Worry about that when you need to, she told herself time and again as she checked every door and briefly scoped out the two closets she found instead before she found the basement door in the kitchen.

Annie wished she'd kept her boots on as she padded down the old wooden steps in her tights, acutely aware that she'd be lucky not to get a run in both feet, but there was nothing to be done about that now. She stopped three steps from the bottom, having a clear view of the whole basement from there. Bicycles, tools, old furniture, and a few boxes but not enough to store a van-full of toys. The only toys she did see were old ones scattered in one corner -- probably Daryle's old ones. She wasn't sure if she was more disappointed or relieved that she wouldn't have to break it to Daryle as she turned to go back upstairs. Probably just as well, she concluded -- Pamela was a jerk, but not a thief, and how miserable would it be for Daryle to have to know she was?

Annie took one semi-relieved look around the dimly lit room -- and her eye caught a glint of something on the cement floor just beyond the bottom step. She leaned closer and realized it was a pair of keys. Copies, she could tell, because they were bright green like the ones sold at hardware stores. She stepped down and picked the two keys up. House keys? Car keys? If they were car keys, it would have to be a fairly old car, from back when they didn't have the big thick kind of keys you couldn't just copy.

The Barkers' van was at least as old as Annie herself was, she remembered with a jolt of excitement as she clutched the clue in both hands. There'd been an awful lot of jokes at the committee meetings over just how they'd kept it running all this time...

Don't get ahead of yourself, Annie admonished herself. What if they were just house keys? She rushed back upstairs, relieved to still hear the shower running when she got there, and went to the front door. Neither key was even close to a fit. Then it was off to the back door...but Annie was only halfway across the house when she heard the bathroom door open upstairs. Remembering what she'd decided about not telling Daryle, she went back to the front hall and hid the keys in the pocket of her coat, which was hanging by the front door.

Daryle appeared on the steps a moment later, in tan slacks and a dark green sweater that matched Annie's dress perfectly. "Looking good!" she said through her angst over her discovery. "Ready for a night on the town?"

"Sure, but I was hoping we could..." Daryle grinned coyly. "Come back here. After."

"I'd love that." Annie couldn't resist, not with him looking so delightful in that sweater. Besides, she reasoned, perhaps she ought to look for some more clues along with the keys.

The restaurant was crowded, and it occurred to Annie too late that she might set tongues wagging if anyone who knew her or Daryle saw them together. But no one took any notice of them as the host showed them to one of the few empty tables. Annie was no fan of chivalry, but she acquiesced to letting the host pull her chair out for her. As she smoothed her skirt out and settled herself, she noticed Daryle looking around the dark, intimate room. "Afraid of being seen with an older woman, are we?" she quipped.

"Quite the contrary," Daryle said with a confident flair that Annie had never seen in him before. "It's a real kick, if you want to know the truth, Annie. I hope that's okay."

"Of course," Annie said. "I'm not sure if I see the big deal, but I'm flattered. I think."

"I wish there were more women like you at school, Annie," Daryle said. "It's been a wonderful break, thanks to you -- even with the, you know, tragedy of the toys."

"Tragedy of the toys," Annie repeated with a laugh, forgetting for the moment that they had agreed not to discuss all that. "If I didn't know any better I'd say you'd been in your mother's liquor cabinet while you were upstairs."

"If you'd come up with me, you'd have known if I was."

"I almost did," Annie admitted, wishing she had done it until she recalled that she wouldn't have found the keys if she had.

"And now you'll never know the show I could've put on for you," Daryle replied.

"Oh, Daryle..." Annie gazed at him and admonished herself to set the poor boy's feet back on the ground. But he was looking as darling as he was vulnerable, and it was winter outside and warm and candlelit inside and there were Christmas carols playing on the sound system and there was nothing awaiting Annie back home except her room and its garish decorations and the lingering mystery.

"Yes?" he asked hopefully, and her resolve was shattered.

"Do you want wine?" she asked. "Follow my lead and the waiter'll never ask your age."

She succeeded in that endeavor, then remembered that she had to drive home. So most of the bottle was still there when they were finished eating. Annie, having given in to letting things play out some more, was feeling much more relaxed by then. "I look forward to us finishing this at your place, what do you say?" she asked.

"I can't wait!" Daryle said. "Thanks for listening to me whine about college, Annie." He had done his fair share of that throughout the meal.

"Don't think of it as whining, Daryle, we've all been there," Annie said. "It's a tough transition, but you'll be fine if you don't give up."

"That's sweet, Annie," Daryle said as they stood up. "I sure hope you're right."

"Trust me." She had all but forgotten about the keys in the pleasant atmosphere, but as she was putting her coat on an errant hand found its way into the pocket and she cringed.

"Annie? What's wrong?"

"Nothing, sorry!" She just couldn't tell the poor thing. Especially not when she was dying to get him back in his room.

With Pamela safely away until probably late tomorrow afternoon, Annie thought nothing of parking her car in the driveway when they got home. "I don't think I've ever been in your back door," she said as innocently as she could muster as she parked the car just outside it.

"We can't go in that way now either," he said. "Mom's big on security. Only the front door opens from outside."

"No kidding?" Annie kept her pleasure -- it definitely wasn't a key to the house! -- to herself. "That's probably a good idea."

"I guess so. It was a pretty nasty divorce, and Mom was kind of paranoid afterward. I know she hasn't let on, but she's pretty broken up about the stolen toys."

"Really?" Annie found that very hard to believe.

"Yeah, she didn't like the idea very much, that's true, but she came from a poor family and she hates thinking of those poor kids who thought they were going to get presents." By then they were at the front door, and Daryle opened it for Annie. "She's not the type to get involved, but I'm pretty sure she wants to find them just as badly as you do, Annie."

"That's good to hear," Annie said, taking her coat off. "Now, I believe we agreed to talk about anything but this?"

"I don't really want to talk about anything!" Daryle announced with a grin, and he threw his arms around her. The shy youngster of last week was history as Annie was deliciously aware of his free hand lifting her skirt up as he held her close with his other arm.

Annie let out a passionate gasp as she felt his gentle fingers in her panties. "Well, you've learned a lot awfully quickly, haven't you?"

"I had a great teacher!" he whispered huskily in her ear as his fingers teased her vulva.

"Oh, Daryle!" She kissed him deeply and enjoyed his intimate caresses for a bit, then said, "Let's get upstairs, shall we?"

"Not until you come at least once," he said.

"What?" Annie leaned back and look at him in surprise. But his fingers were still working their magic and she could see just what he had in mind. She could feel it as well, as he slid her panties just down over her hips and slipped one finger inside her.

"My, wet already, are we?" he teased.

"I had a great student," she joked. "Ooohh!" She clutched at his shoulder for balance as he stroked her just right. "A-plus, Daryle!" She threw her arm back around his neck and kissed him hard, moaning through it as he pushed in a second finger. "God, yes! Ohhhhhhh..." She threw her head back and wiggled her hips in time with his caresses, her vocal responses growing more intense with each breath.

"Come for me," Daryle whispered.

"I am...close!" She barely got the last word out before she did come with a triumphant yelp. "Thank you!" She kissed him again. "Now let's get upstairs!" To sweeten the deal, she pulled her panties the rest of the way down and handed them to him.

"Gee, thanks," he said, and he gave them an enthusiastic sniff. "My, look what I did."

"And we're just getting started!"

Daryle's room had just as much of the half-finished feel of a new college student as Reggie's had, but the lingering old posters and photos of old high school friends had a certain charm. Not that Annie had much time -- or desire -- to admire those once Daryle had the door shut behind them. Almost before she knew just what had happened, he had tackled her on his bed and burrowed under her skirt, and she felt his tongue pick up where his fingers had left off a minute before.

"Ahhh! Ohhh, Daryle! So unfair! What about you?"

"Lvvvrr mmmd m!" She had no idea what he'd said, but the vibrations as he licked her clit were divine, and between grunts and hoots of pleasure she asked him to do it again, and he did. Annie rubbed his shoulders affectionately as she squirmed and moaned and pressed down onto his face, her guilt from earlier in the day utterly gone.

It took a little help from his fingers -- which Annie welcomed -- but he got her off again, even harder this time. "Okay," she said, propping herself up on her elbows once she'd caught her breath. "Now you. Off with those pants!"

"Yes, ma'am!" He stood up and hurriedly undid his belt buckle. Annie watched him for a moment, then remembered she was still wearing most of her clothes as well.

She sat up and reached back and unbuttoned her dress, and pulled it off in time to see Daryle's hungry cock pointing straight at her while he was unbuttoning his shirt. "Nice to see you again," she teased, taking it in her hands and giving it a playful stroke with her thumb, which brought a gasp of pleasure from Daryle. "Oh, like that, do you?" she cooed.

"You know it!" Daryle said, shrugging his shirt off. Annie stood up and rubbed it playfully through her pubic hair. "Mmm, like that?" she asked.

"Love it." Daryle took her in his arms again. While he was kissing her, she felt him fumbling with the clasp of her bra. It took a few tries but he got it undone before they came up for air, and she smiled down at his hands as she watched him pull it away. Then she welcomed his caresses on both breasts. "So beautiful," he whispered.

"You're spoiling me!" Annie said in the same low tone, exulting in the sensation as she continued to rub him gently.