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Outwardly, suburbia maintains the straitlaced middle-class look that belies the social ferment behind closed doors.
There is the secret use of drugs, fed by the marijuana syndrome. There is the river of alcohol flooding from door to door under the euphemism of social drinking. Then, of course, inevitably there is the advent of wife-swapping. All in the spirit of good, clean fun . . . but where does the fun stop and the degradation begin? When one excess leads to another—and another—to what? When the children set as their own lifestyle what already is the norm at home?
This is the story of one family, in one town, Anywhere, U.S.A. It is startling as a mirror of a way of life behind closed doors. No facade. No regrets. Indeed, to them it is the norm.
And outside their lives go on. Business and its daily conflicts. School and its trials and triumphs. AUNT IN THE MIDDLE-a novel of fiction for entertainment. A page of our restless society as food for serious thought.
The motorcycle saddle vibrating between Bea Johns’ legs felt nice, she had to admit. So did squeezing her tits against Harold’s back. She liked the way the wind was making her hair fly, too. Even the road, speeding beneath her in a black blur, was nice now that she was getting used to it. But where did Harold get the idea to buy a motorcycle?
Harold had driven out into the countryside, and he pulled off the road into a meadow.
“Fun, huh?” he said with a wide grin as he pulled off his white, shiny helmet.
“I think it’s awfully dangerous, Harold,” Bea said. “Wouldn’t it have been wiser to spend the money on one of those nice camper trailers?”
“Jesus Christ, Bea! Let’s live a little, huh? With a machine like this we can go anywhere and camp out. We could carry a tent, pull off the road, sleep anywhere. I was reading about a guy who did that, slept in those little country cemeteries all the way across the country.”
“In cemeteries?” Bea said with a shiver. “Not me!”
Fictional reading for entertainment purposes only.