The Big Enchilada

Mountain That Walks Like A Man, or a number of other unwanted visitors. Instead, it was only the daughter of the woman who manages the apartment building. Her name was Candi or Cindi or Bambi or one of those goddamn dumb names that were dropped on kids by parents who were terminally warped by the Mickey Mouse Club.
    She was sixteen and pretty delectable if you like them that young. I had no particular prejudices either way, though I usually preferred them a bit older. I had boffed her mother a couple of times. Not bad, but she tried a little too hard to look like her daughter’s sister. She came close, but not close enough. The girl knew that I had made it with her mother, and she in turn had been trying to make me for some time now. Nice healthy mother-daughter competition. For no particular reason I had successfully resisted the girl’s advances, and, as is nearly always the case, this only made her try harder.
    So there she was in my bathroom wearing a bikini that can only be described as minimal—three very small triangles of cloth, strategically placed, and held there by thin bits of string. It was the kind of bathing suit that, except for L.A., the Riveria, and Copacabana Beach, was only seen in magazines. She was tall and pleasantly thin with nice firm flesh. Her breasts were small, but well shaped and perfectly suited to her body. Her nipples were erect and visible through the thin fabric of the top. Her belly was beautifully rounded, and she arched her back to thrust it forward in the provocative stance that many adolescent girls display. She was blonde and pretty in a slutty sort of way that exactly suited her name, Suzi or Sherri or whatever it was. I figured she must have had boys howling around her like tomcats.
    “Hi, Sam,” she said, grinning, displaying teeth that were a tribute to an orthodontist’s skill.
    “Don’t you know it’s not polite to come into a man’s bathroom without being invited.”
    She shook her long hair. “I didn’t know that. See, I told you there’s all kinds of things you can teach me.” She let the tip of her tongue run over her lips like she had seen some starlet do in the movies.
    “I don’t suppose your mother knows you’re up here?”
    “She’s away all day.”
    “Do you think she’d approve?”
    “Who cares? I’m old enough to do what I want—whatever I want.” She said the last phrase in a way that left no doubt about the meaning of “whatever.” “Why? Do you think she’d be jealous?”
    We both knew her mother would be, and while I didn’t give a shit one way or the other, I wasn’t going to give the little bitch the satisfaction of saying so.
    “Well? What do you want?” I said, although I knew the answer well enough.
    “I was lonely. I wanted company, so I—”
    “So you hung around outside, and when you heard the shower running, you came in, thinking I’d be at a disadvantage and I couldn’t throw you out.”
    At least she could still blush, which she did, and which served to make her prettier. But then to cover her embarrassment, she started to pout, and that didn’t help her any.
    “I thought your generation was supposed to be open and honest?” I said.
    “Naw. That was the last generation. Mine is sly and devious.” She grinned and I laughed.
    “All right, sly and devious, what do you want?”
    She took a deep breath, which did nice things to her bikini, and lowered her eyes as she spoke in a small voice. “I want you to invite me in.”
    What the hell, she was starting to get to me. What could I say?
    “Come on in, the water’s fine,” I said.
    For a second her face lit up, making her look about twelve, which was a little disconcerting considering the circumstances.
    She crossed the small bathroom in a couple of steps, during which time I adjusted the water to a comfortably tepid temperature. She pulled back the curtain and stepped in.
    Her eyes roamed over me and her mouth fell open slightly as her breathing slowed and deepened. Her hand reached out and very lightly touched the long scar on my ribs just below my chest, one of a number of reminders of Nam, my work, j and a variety of what are known as youthful escapades. She touched several other scars, and I could see that they both frightened her and turned her on at the same time. Her hands went up to my shoulders and lightly down my arms, feeling the tautness of the biceps.
    I was fully erect now, and as she looked down her lips seemed to grow puffy and her eyes