Read Chances for Free Online Page B

little.
    He had her. He moved his body in close and kissed her salty mouth, never once letting up the action on the breasts.
    “We really shouldn’t…” she objected weakly, as he started to peel off her bathing suit.
    “Oh, yes, we should.” He dived under the water and maneuvered one of her legs out of the clinging woolen suit.
    It was exciting in the water. Anything would be exciting after nine long months.
    He pushed his head underwater to kiss her breasts and spread her legs with his hands, zooming in on the magic button.
    “Gino!” she gasped.
    He came up for air, wriggled out of his shorts, and thrust himself between her legs. The pressure of the water might have made it difficult to enter her, but he was so goddamn hard that
nothing
could stop him.
    They clung together, her legs winding around him as they sunk under the sea. He knew he had to come immediately or drown. The choice was his. He chose to come, and they shot to the surface gasping and spluttering for breath.
    “You nearly drowned me!” she accused.
    “What a way to go!” he laughed.
    “I’ve never done that before,” she complained, struggling awkwardly into her bathing suit.
    “Sure you have,” he replied, realizing that in the heat of the moment he had lost his shorts. He dived under the water but couldn’t find them.
    Now it was getting cold, and Frizzy Hair was whining about going back.
    “Hey, can’t find my shorts,” he said.
    Frizzy Hair started to giggle.
    “We’ll swim in till I can stand, then you go get me my pants,” he suggested.
    “And what am I supposed to tell my sister?”
    “Tell her a shark ate ’em. Tell her anything, I don’t care.”
    They swam back, and when they neared the shore he waited while Frizzy Hair headed for the beach. He watched her join her sister, throw a towel around herself, and then the two of them ran off without so much as a backward glance. He could hardly believe his eyes. They were leaving him. Bare-assed and freezing. Jesus!
    Quickly he surveyed the beach, took a deep breath, and made a wild sprint for his clothes.
    “Who is it?” Vera slurred.
    He knocked on the door again, just to be sure. “It’s me, Gino Santangelo. Is it O.K. to come in now?”
    Vera sat up. She had been enjoying a short boozy nap and had forgotten all about Paolo’s son. “Yeah, come in…I suppose.”
    He entered, and they stared at each other.
    He saw a tired blonde of around thirty, with streaked makeup and big tits.
    She saw a young tough boy with black curly hair, dark olive skin, and deep-set black eyes that were much older than the rest of him. He certainly didn’t look like his father.
    “You’re wet,” she stated flatly.
    “Bin swimming.”
    “In your clothes?”
    “Naw, in the rude, but I didn’t have a towel.”
    They surveyed each other warily.
    “You can’t stay here,” she said at last. “We only said you could so’s you wouldn’t be shut up again.”
    “But I thought—”
    “I don’t care what you thought. This is my place, not your old man’s.”
    “Yeh,” agreed Gino bitterly, “and you gotta take care of business.”
    “So what?” snapped Vera. “I make a good livin’ at it. I ain’t ashamed.”
    He reached for his suitcase and turned to go.
    “Where’ll you sleep?” she asked unexpectedly.
    “I don’t know,” he mumbled.
    “Well….” She hesitated. “I only got one more john tonight. Get outa here while he has his fun; then you can sleep on the couch for tonight. Just tonight, mind you.”
    Gino nodded. He was wet, tired, and in no mood to wander the streets. Just one night at Vera’s was very welcome.
    He stayed six months. He got his old job back as an auto mechanic, which took care of the days, and at night he hung out with the old gang, indulging in a bit of petty crime that did nobody any harm. He also looked after Vera, getting rid of difficult johns and taking her out on Sundays, the one day she refused to work.
    Occasionally she visited Paolo