The Lost Hours with Annabelle

INTRODUCTION & DISCLAIMER - When Mr and Mrs Johnson host the Smith family from Adelaide when they visit Melbourne for Easter in 1962, their eldest son 18-year-old Jim immediately gets a crush on the Smith's 18-year-old daughter Annabelle, a beautiful blonde who stands at an incredible 6 feet 9 inches tall.

After Jim and Annabelle's younger siblings decide they would rather do something else, Jim gets the chance to take the tall beauty sightseeing in Melbourne and a picnic on the Yarra River for Easter Saturday. It turns out to be a pretty swell Saturday for both teenagers, until the most extraordinary thing happens leaving Jim and Annabelle completely mystified...

So what happened to Jim and Annabelle on what should have been a simple day out? Travel back in time to Australia in the early 1960s by reading 'The Lost Hours With Annabelle' - an entry in the Literotica 2022 April Fools Day Story Contest - and find out for yourselves.

All characters and events in this story are fictional, with any similarity to real persons living or dead coincidental and unintentional. Only characters aged 18 and older are in any erotic scenes, Please enjoy, and be sure to rate and comment.

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MELBOURNE, AUSTRALIA, 1962

The grocery store where I worked some afternoons after high school and during school holidays today resembled the front bar of the local pub during the six o'clock swill. It was the Thursday afternoon before Easter, and the only opportunity to complete the grocery shopping over the long weekend save for a limited number of shops trading on Saturday morning.

I hastily put groceries into the paper bags while at the till, Sandra Fielding keyed in the prices as fast as she could. Sandra, a slim and pretty girl with long red hair and the associated green eyes and fair skin attended the same high school as I did. Sandra at age 17 was a Year 11 student, the year between myself who at age 18 was in Year 12 and my siblings, 16-year-old brother and sister twins Eddie and Doris both in Year 10.

Sometimes I had mused with the idea of asking Sandra out to a school dance, to the beach or amusement park at St Kilda or to hang out at the local milk bar and listen to the juke box like the other kids from our high school, but so far had not been able to work up the courage to do so. And this afternoon was definitely not the right time, we were both run off our feet like everyone else working there today.

Finally the store closed and the last customers left, and it was time to go home. Sandra and I walked out to our bikes at the racks outside, Sandra getting her skirt comfortable before she mounted her bicycle, but as I was obviously wearing trousers no such problems for me.

"Well, see you next week Jim, have a nice Easter," said Sandra as she cycled away with a friendly wave.

"You too Sandra, have a nice Easter," I said, returning the wave.

I cycled home at some speed to the house in the northern suburbs of Melbourne where I lived with my brother and sister, our parents Bert and Lillian and a pet cat named Patsy. Sandra would be going home to a far more crowded house. She was the second oldest and eldest girl of ten kids as well as their parents crammed into the house. A set of grandparents lived in a small dwelling at the rear of the property, plus they had a lot of animals.

With so many younger brothers and sisters, Sandra and another sister Judy close in age to her were kind of second mothers in the Fielding house to their younger siblings. True, we didn't have television in Australia until the Melbourne Olympic Games in 1956 and the Victorian capital had long cold and wet winter nights, but surely Mr. and Mrs. Fielding would have listened to their wireless some nights at least!

Our house would also be crowded this Easter, but it would be limited to the long weekend. Mum would want me home as soon as possible tonight to help get things organized before our house guests arrived and were welcomed, swelling the number of people in the Johnson house to nine plus the cat.

Dad worked as a sales manager at a company just outside the city, and a sales manager from the South Australian division a Mr. George Smith was visiting for the long weekend along with his wife Marjorie and their teenage kids, a daughter named Annabelle and a son named Chris. The company liked managers from its interstate divisions to visit with their families and meet everyone and we had met families from New South Wales and Tasmania in the past. Having the South Australian family stay with us was the first time we had hosted a family though.

Racing my bike up the street, I climbed off and parked it in the driveway, then assisted Mum, Doris and Eddie with the last minute preparations. Mum was always keen to keep a tidy house, and even more so when we had house guests. This was the case even if it was grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins staying. Tonight Mum wanted the house to such standards it was like Prime Minister Sir Robert Menzies and his wife Dame Pattie, his English counterpart Harold Macmillan and his own wife Lady Dorothy, or American President John F Kennedy and First Lady Jackie Kennedy were staying at our house in the suburbs of Melbourne.

Certainly, there was some reorganization required. Our house had four bedrooms and one bathroom. The daughter Annabelle would be sharing Doris's bedroom, while the son Chris would be sharing a bedroom with Eddie. The parents Mr. and Mrs. Smith would be staying in my bedroom, while I slept on a camping bed in the sleep-out at the back of the house.

I joined my mother, brother and sister in completing some last minute cleaning tasks, Mum fretting about her roast dinner in the oven and me dusting the living room again, although it was spotless. Eddie was making sure there were no streaks on the windows and Doris was in action with the vacuum cleaner in the hallway, standing on a chair and using the brush attachment to clean the lampshades.

One party not impressed with things being different was Patsy. The cat -- a black and white tuxedo cat long and slim in stature -- let out a growling noise as she passed by, seeming to sense that things were different and like most cats not liking change. She leaped up onto the television set between the rabbit ear antennae, washing her paws and whiskers and regarding me with suspicion. No doubt Patsy was already wondering why I had moved to the sleep out, and why my sister was using the much disliked and greatly feared vacuum cleaner at such an odd time.

"It's okay Patsy, we've just got some people staying for Easter," I said to the cat, stroking her and seeing her wag her tail in response. Clearly not a happy cat.

Everything was in order and the house looked like a display home in one of those new estates in Melbourne's growing outer suburbs as we heard two cars pull into the driveway. "Your father's home with the Smiths, now remember to be on your best manners." Mum's reminder to us made it sound like I was 8 and the twins 6, rather than 18 and 16.

"Yes Mum," Doris, Eddie and I said in unison.

The first car was obviously Dad's car which he put in the garage. The second car was driven by George Smith, his wife in the passenger seat and the two kids in the back. The car had Victorian plates and Dad had said that the vehicle had the previous week been driven from Melbourne to Adelaide by another employee, and that Mr. Smith was bringing it back with him and his family, before catching the train back to South Australia on Tuesday.

However, it was way too early to think about their departure five days from now. Apart from Dad at the office this afternoon we hadn't even met them as yet. Mr. and Mrs. Smith got out of the front of the car and Annabelle and younger brother Chris out of the back.

I noticed right away that the Smith family happened to share the same genetics for hair and eye color as we did. Mum and Doris were both blondes with blue eyes, and Dad, Eddie and I had brown hair with brown eyes. In the Smith family, father George and son Chris had brown hair and brown eyes, while the mother Marjorie and daughter Annabelle had blonde hair and blue eyes, features shared with Mum and Doris.

Our families also seemed to dress in a similar way. Dad and Mr. Smith wore short sleeved white shirts, with brown trousers, ties, shoes and hats while Mum and Mrs. Smith both wore dresses of the same design, Mum's dress blue, Mrs. Smith's pink. Chris, Eddie and I wore short-sleeved shorts and trousers, while Doris and Annabelle both wore dresses with swing style skirts, Annabelle's frock light yellow in color, and Doris's light blue. Both girls had their long blonde hair loose but with a ribbon, like their dresses Annabelle's hair ribbon matching yellow, Doris's light blue.

Another noticeable trend in our family was height. Dad, Eddie and I all stood at six feet tall, heights also attained by Mr. Smith and Chris. Mum, Doris and Mrs. Smith all stood around five six in height. So what of Annabelle? Mum had warned us that we obviously needed to be polite to our house guests and one of the rudest things one can do is stare at another person. But with young Annabelle, it was hard not to stare in amazement.

For one she was one of the most beautiful girls I had ever met in person, her long blonde hair accentuating her pretty face with sapphire blue eyes. While Annabelle's stunning good looks would have attracted the attention of most guys, something else about her would have attracted the attention of any guy or any girl.

Never in my life had I seen a woman as tall as Annabelle. At just 18 years of age, Annabelle stood at least 6 feet 9 inches in height. She towered over her mother, father and brother, and of course us, and none of us were short. On her feet -- obviously large feet given how tall she was -- she wore pretty white flat-heeled shoes, imagine if she had worn shoes with heels? With her pretty looks Annabelle was like a doll -- a very large doll -- made by a toy maker as part of an exhibit. But while looking like a doll, Annabelle was of course 100% real.

The only one not surprised to be playing host to a 6 foot 9 girl was Dad as he had the advantage of meeting the Smith family when they arrived at the office in the afternoon. No doubt though he was surprised when he found out his counterpart from Adelaide had a teenage daughter that tall.

Mum discretely gave Eddie an elbow when he could not take his eyes from the towering figure of Annabelle as we were introduced to our house guests. "This is our eldest son, Jim," Dad said as I shook hands and greeted Mr. and Mrs. Smith, their daughter and son. Having such large hands to match her tall body, Annabelle had a very powerful grip, I don't think the young girl knew how strong she was.

Still, given Annabelle's good looks I got sort of a tingle and warm feeling when her hands touched mine. I had been very pleased to find out the Smiths had a teenage daughter my own age when I first knew of them visiting, now I was even more pleased.

"Annabelle is our little girl," Mr. Smith laughed.

Annabelle blushed but smiled. "Dad," she protested.

"It's true," Mr. Smith joked. "Annabelle is officially 18, but really she's just four and a half years old."

My ears pricked up at this news, and Mum immediately reacted. "So Annabelle was born on 29th February 1944?"

"Yes, that's right," affirmed Mrs. Smith.

"That's incredible, Jim was born the exact same day," said Mum. "He's technically four and half too."

"What an amazing coincidence," said Mrs. Smith.

This was interesting, I was the only leap day person I knew personally. What were the odds of the Smiths' daughter being born the same day? It was significant that Dad, who was in the Navy during the war, had some shore leave around the end of May 1943. I was also used to jokes about me being born on 29th February, and when Chris opened his mouth it was clear that Annabelle was too.

"Yes, Annabelle doesn't get to vote until the year 2028," Chris laughed, amusing Eddie but probably not his big sister, who no doubt had heard these jokes plenty of times and didn't seem overly impressed.

Some people have limited appreciation for humor at their expense even in good spirits, and Mr. Smith would find out this the hard way a minute or so later when unware his innocent little joke to my sister was a major faux pas in her eyes. "Now then young Doris," Mr. Smith smiled. "Has anyone ever told you how much you look like your namesake Doris Day? I keep thinking you're going to break into song."

Eddie and I watched as my sister's face for less than a second took on a look as though Doris had been eating unripe lemons and limes. If there was a contest for celebrity lookalikes in Melbourne, Doris would win hands down as a lookalike for American film star and singer Doris Day. Dress Doris up in late 1930s clothes and take a photograph of her, and one would swear it was photograph of the star in her late teens. People had commented on the similarity not knowing Doris's name, and were even more stunned to find out that she was really called Doris.

Doris had heard it so many times since childhood that it got on her nerves, and this was evident. However, she had to be polite for Mum and Dad's house guests despite how angry she was, so she quickly replaced her look of annoyance with a poker face and said, "Some people have mentioned it, yes."

"Let's go inside and we'll show you to your rooms," said Dad. "Jim and Eddie, how about you help Chris with the suitcases?"

"Sure Dad," Eddie and I said as we went to the car with Chris to help him with their suitcases. I took hold of Annabelle's case, but as soon as I touched it the lid flew open to reveal a few things that Annabelle probably wouldn't want boys to see.

While the most striking features of Annabelle of course were her great height and her pretty face with long blonde hair, it was also noticeable from the way her dress swelled at the front that Annabelle was quite a well-endowed young lady. Several bras that Annabelle obviously wore to keep her large young breasts in check were visible at the top of the case, along with a number of pairs of her full-brief panties.

Annabelle's bras and knickers were mostly pure white in color, although I did notice a pink bra and a pair of pink panties, and similar underwear light blue in color. However, while Annabelle's bras and panties were obviously private she definitely would not want any guys seeing the other way more personal item with her underwear.

The item was a belt, not a belt Annabelle would wear with jeans or trousers, but a belt worn under their panties by non-pregnant women for one week each month to attach certain white rectangular objects purchased from a female staff member in a chemist shop, and of course in plain brown packaging for maximum discretion. Such a brown paper package was just visible near the belt at the edge of Annabelle's suitcase.

Chris and Eddie could see what I could see, and the two boys sniggered at my discomfort as I hastily slammed the lid of the suitcase down and made sure it stayed shut this time, the three of us bringing the bags from the car.

"So welcome to our house," Dad said to the Smith family as we stepped inside, Annabelle with her great height instinctively ducking under the doorway.

We of course were welcoming to our house guests, but cats notoriously have minds of their own, and Patsy was no exception. Having suspected that something different was happening in her house, the cat made her way into the hallway to check what was going on.

"Hello Puss," said Mr. Smith, greeting the cat as she stood looking at the new arrivals.

"What a pretty cat, she's so cute," said Mrs. Smith. "What's her name?"

"She's called Patsy, and yes she can be very cute when she wants something," said Mum.

"I just love tuxedo cats," said Annabelle, admiring the black and white cat as she watched everyone with unblinking yellow eyes.

The cat's eyes soon focused on Annabelle, and it was clear that Patsy could see something was amiss. Female humans were not normally as tall as this young woman. Patsy's feline face showed increasing alarm, she set her ears back and her hair rose, and she let out a ferocious yowl that sounded something like an air raid siren, before opening her mouth to display her teeth to Annabelle with a loud hiss, then running off to hide behind the couch, growling and hissing on the way there.

*

While Patsy had created one awkward situation, at the dinner table that evening there was another when Mr. Smith decided that Doris was a good choice as a 'straight woman' to his comedian. Noticing that Doris was picking at her broccoli, Mr. Smith had given my sister a wink and said, "Now Miss Doris, you need to eat up all your greens if you want to grow up big and strong like Annabelle."

It was hard not to laugh at my sister's struggle to contain her displeasure when she knew she had to be polite to her parents' house guests. First the joke about her name earlier, now this. Doris took herself very seriously, and had no appreciation for humor at her expense. Lucky for everyone, it wasn't that one week out of every four when giving Doris a wide berth was a great idea.

Things only got worse for Doris after dinner when Mrs. Smith -- not to the great pleasure of Chris or Annabelle -- was showing Mum some photographs of the family when the kids were younger. In one taken on a day out at Glenelg circa 1955 when Annabelle was aged 11 and Chris 9, the sister and brother were with their cousins at the beach, huge Norfolk Island pines in the background. The younger Annabelle of course towered over her brother and cousins, and other children in the background were looking in amazement at such a tall girl.

Seeing some of the Smith family photographs inspired Mum to bring out our own family photo album, and show photographs of Doris, Eddie and I in our younger years. Doris was singularly unimpressed by this, and even less so when Mr. Smith pointed at one taken in 1952 when Doris was aged six.

"You know Doris, in that one you don't look like Doris Day, but more like Shirley Temple," he laughed.

That his assessment was completely true -- Doris was that day wearing a frilly dress Grandma had made her, her blonde hair in ringlets with a large bow much like the famous child star -- served to irritate the fuming Doris even more, and again she had to be polite to her parents' house guests.

My sister stood up abruptly. "Can you excuse me please?" she asked. "I need to go to the toilet."

With that Doris marched out of the living room, and out of the line of sight of our parents and Mr. and Mrs. Smith but not me, I could see Doris's furious expression and her muttering under her breath as she flounced along the hallway to the toilet. That she slammed the bathroom door shut after going in there was significant.

Doris had always been on the temperamental and dramatic side, but Annabelle in contrast was such a nice girl, pleasant and polite and in the few short hours I had known her, found myself quite taken by her. Perhaps we could do a swap, and Annabelle would remain living in Melbourne with us, and the Smiths could take Doris back to Adelaide with them?

Perhaps I should moot the idea to Doris, given how much she and Mr. Smith seemed to have hit it off? Not likely. If I did, one thing that was certain would be that an hour later I would be sprinting across Sydney Harbour Bridge, running for my life with Doris still on my tail and ready to commit murder.

Luckily Doris was able avoid Mr. Smith and his jokes for the rest of the evening, and just before bed I noticed Annabelle reading a Jane Austen novel.