Carlton Adams
The blackmailed teenagers
CHAPTER ONE
Sandy Robinson stretched her lush young body voluptuously and yawned with pleasure. As her muscles tensed, the short filmy nightgown she wore hiked up until the bottom edge just barely covered her softly-rounded buttocks and upper thighs, accentuating rather than concealing her lovely long legs and swelling breasts. Her flesh was tanned a deep golden color by the hot rays of the California sun.
Sandy was a beautiful girl by any standards. At sixteen years of age she had the face and figure of a mature young woman, with none of the awkwardness of a teenager. Her patrician features were set off by large brown eyes, perfect white teeth, and short dark hair.
The lovely young girl stood by the side of the disordered bed from which she had just arisen and looked around the luxurious room. Everything was done with expensive good taste, from the costly furniture itself to the thick rugs, brocade drapes, and original oil paintings on the walls. The house suggested money and an owner who would not hesitate to go to any lengths to assure an almost sybaritic comfort for himself and guests.
As she strode from the bedroom into the huge expanse of the redwood paneled front room, Sandy blushed as she remembered her first reaction to Lucy's suggestion that the two of them might spend a few weeks at her divorced fathers "little cabin at Antelope Lake". Sandy knew that Lucy's parents were divorced and that her father worked in television for a major network. That was nothing out of the ordinary in Southern California where so many people worked in the entertainment industry. And many Californians had small cabins in the surrounding mountains – places where they could escape for a weekend – away from the terrible smog and freeway traffic. Sandy had immediately pictured the "little cabin" as a cheaply-built one room affair, furnished with cast-off furniture and discarded linen and crockery. She suspected that there would be no telephone or television, and almost certainly no interesting young men nearby to provide the excitement she felt so badly in need of.
Sandy had almost said no to the idea, even if it meant spending the long summer on the crowded Venice or Santa Monica beaches, competing for a small bit of sand and the attentions of the adolescent surfers. Even that would be better than being isolated in some ramshackle cabin nursing mosquito bites and cursing the lack of male companionship.
It was one thing for Lucy to want to be away from boys and young men for the summer. She had Jimmy, her twenty year old boyfriend who attended college in San Diego, and a divorced mother who let her do just about anything that she wanted. Sandy's own parents were too strict to allow her to date anyone older than herself. And they watched her too closely to allow any boy, of whatever age, to endanger her "precious" virginity. The only times that she could feel free at all were the days spent on the beach, away from their prying eyes and almost fanatical protectiveness. There she could be just another one of the thousands of nubile young girls who covered their insecurities by uncovering as much of their bodies as possible for the gratification of callow, almost uncaring, youths who massed there in equal numbers, pretending to be free but who were as rigidly locked into cultural dogmas as the "establishment" they hated so much.
Lucy was persuasive though, pointing out that they would have complete freedom not just for several hours but for several days. Surprisingly, Sandy's parents (despite their puritanical attitudes) had a great deal of misplaced respect for Lucy's mother. The girls had learned early that Sandy's mother and father would generally go along with almost anything if Lucy's mother promised to supervise them. Not that she did, of course. She was much too busy with her own social life to care what the girls did. She had even promised to talk Sandy's parents into the trip to Antelope Lake, telling them that she would assure them that she would be along to chaperone. Her own plans for the summer were vague but she told Lucy and Sandy that she would drop by the cabin occasionally to see how things were going.
In the end, it was Lucy's hints that Jimmy and one of his college friends would be coming up to the lake that finally persuaded Sandy to say yes. Even though Jimmy belonged to her best friend, Sandy could not help the little chills of pleasure that rushed through her every time that Jimmy was nearby. And she was sure that Jimmy was attracted to her. Lucy had only hinted at the things that she and Jimmy had done, but Sandy suspected that it was more than just the usual backseat petting bouts.
As she pulled the short nightgown over her lithe young body, Sandy examined herself in the full-length mirror on the closet door. Her long fingers tenderly stroked her hips and thighs as her eyes ran down the creamy flesh, taking in the swelling breasts, tipped by little pink rosebuds of nipples, the thin waist suddenly flaring into softly rounded hips and tapering into long lovely legs. Her gaze fixed automatically on the dark patch of pubic hair that protected her tender vaginal lips and moist crevice. It was all that she could do to keep from gently intruding her fingers between the soft flesh of her inner thighs and feeling the warmth spread through her pelvis as flesh in exquisite joy. Her mother had so often warned Sandy against touching herself there! Little beads of perspiration broke out on her forehead as she remembered the joy she had felt in stroking herself. How could such pleasure be wrong? She wondered what it would be like to have the strong hand of Jimmy prying apart her legs and plunging his frantic fingers into the pulsing crevice. The thought frightened her and she dropped her hands and gaze guiltily.
Sandy pulled a brief swimsuit from her still-unpacked suitcase and stepped into the panties. The swimsuit had been a last minute purchase before they had left Los Angeles. Her mother and father would have heart failure if they could see her in the skimpy little bits of cloth. Quickly, she tied the halter of the bra behind her and strode out of the bedroom and into the kitchen for orange juice and toast. She ate standing up at the kitchen counter.