Very taboo. Not for the faint of heart. May include taboo and forbidden elements. This is a vintage **full length** (100+ Pages), post-censorship erotic novel.
Grace Kenmore was a widow. It wasn't as simple as that because her departed husband, Charles Kenmore, had left her with several problems and very little money with which to solve them. He had left her ten acres of producing walnut trees, a cluster of sometimes-rented buildings in Lower Lake, and a eighteen-year-old daughter named Janice.
With some tenacity and two years of struggling, Grace managed to build herself a new life. The house in suburban Lower Lake she had been stuck with eventually sold to San Franciscans for almost-cash. The walnut trees had been greedily taken over on a share-cropping basis by a larger grower who merely included the ten acres in various other leases he held.
In the most logical and attractive of her sometimes-rented buildings she started a store. It could never make her rich, but with care, it could render modest profits. It started out as a grocery store, but because of the economic nature of the resort hamlet, it gradually included souvenirs, sundry gifts and a bit of hardware.
She opened at eight because no one in their right mind did any shopping any earlier, unless it was the bass fishermen who bought bait and beer from the establishments closer to the lake. She closed at seven, counted the cash, said, "Shit!" or "That's good," depending on how the day had gone, then retired to her tiny apartment on the second floor.
For kicks, she slept with salesmen. There were three or four who were steadies. Bill Gimbal who was ten years her junior, sold Del Monte canned goods. Charlie Krom wholesaled dry goods, and he and Grace made sick jokes about his name being the same as her dead husband's, though his stud service was superior. Sometimes he would drive half-way back around the huge lake to spend the night with Grace. Clear Lake didn't mind and Grace always welcomed him with open arms and legs. Ken Philippi sold hardware and came only twice a month, but his black Italian features lent a bit of light to the grim business of running a country store, and he was energetic and well hung.
Janice was the least of Grace's problems. She was a second semester Sophomore in the local high school which had to be reached on a rickety schoolbus, and she did very well with her studies. It wasn't a very social high school, and the girl fared well in the scheme of things. She was blonder than her mother and Grace kept her in plainly inexpensive clothes, but they were attractive on the slim, flashing-eyed Janice.
Janice was not dumb, but she was terribly naive. She could draw no parallel between what the boys in school mumbled and copped feels about or the salesmen who spent the night with her mother. A rather long hallway and two doors separated sundry bedrooms, and she settled for the certainty that finding a room in Lower Lake was sometimes hazardous and generally expensive, as resort towns went. Anyway, the salesmen were nice to her and it was only for one night. Her mother was simply being accommodating to men who were necessary to the operation of the store.
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