Carefree Cove Ch. 02

Suddenly, Tom pushed her over flat on her back and began tickling her hard. She convulsed and screams of laughter resounded. His bearded face started rubbing back and forth on her stomach, feeding her glee, until it dropped into her crotch. Her laughter shifted abruptly to sharp intake of breath, then moans as the silky hair began to stroke her slit back and froth, then up and own.

Laying back, she put her hands on his head and shrieked at the first touch of his tongue on her clitoris. "My God, Tom! No-one has ever done that to me! My God, my God, this is so awesome! I think I'm going to come unglued! Yaaah!"

The beard rubbed her crotch and tickled her thighs and the tongue and lips explored her labia and probed her slit. Her body went into overdrive, and he licked faster and faster, circling her clitoris, his finger probing her cunt. She started to buck and yelp, breathing faster and faster until she let go a gusher all over Tom's beard. He licked up every bit of nectar he could, as she writhed in her orgasm.

Full five minutes of panting followed as they lay in a pile together. Renee suddenly sat up and buried her head in Tom's chest: "Help me, Tom. I'm all alone in the world. Let me stay. I'll love you for the rest of your life."

Tom's mouth was open at the sudden embrace, and he put his arms around her head. "Sure, honey, I'll look after you. Don't worry. I'll take care of you, I'll teach you how to paint and I'll show you the world. What do you say to that?"

"Yes," she shrieked, trembling. "Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes!"

**********

Five years later. . .

Amanda was still asleep when Tom peeked in on her in the early morning light. A painting of her mother Renee hung on the wall. It was a copy of an original award winning painting of their back deck five years ago, with Renee lying in her polka dot bikini on a lounger, pad resting on her upraised leg, sunglasses pulled back on her head, her pencil stuck in her pondering mouth. Her father's eyes followed hers to the portrait, done almost exactly five years before, begun the afternoon Renee moved in with Tom.

He loved the painting more than any he'd done for Mutt Hayes. There was a warmth that eluded the other work he did. The portrait recalled everything for him: the softness of her skin, the luster of her hair, the roundness of her hips. A taste filled his mouth again, and he was ashamed to be this lost in sensual memory.

A voice broke his revere: "Mommy was very pretty, wasn't she, Daddy?"

"She sure was, punkin."

"Will I ever be as pretty as she was?"

"Prettier, baby. Prettier. In every way."

The little girl stood in the doorway in her oversized Winnie the Pooh t-shirt that served as her summer nightdress. She scampered across the bed and gave him a butterfly kiss on the cheek. "I love you, Daddy."

"I love, you punkin."

"Don't be sad, Daddy."

He blinked back a tear. "Can't help it, sugar. Give me a minute; it'll pass."

"Okay, Daddy."

He hugged her and stroked her hair. "Do you mind playing by yourself for a while after breakfast? I want to do some drawing this morning."

"Sure, Daddy. Draw something really pretty for me."

"You bet, sweetheart."

He fixed them Amanda's favorite breakfast of strawberries and waffles, which she nibbled before running off to start her computer in the great room. They lived in an A frame house: the great room took up half the interior space with a huge fireplace. Part of it next to the sliding glass doors served as the dining room, used only for supper, and a long, open stairway led up to the bedroom level. A smaller room off the big room was the TV room, as well as a guest room, a bath, the kitchen and a mechanical room. Upstairs were three bedrooms, one converted into a home office and two baths; downstairs was a large space that served as primarily as Tom's studio with a portion as Amanda's primary play space. Facing the Lake of the Ozarks was a huge deck with a stairway to the path to the dock.

Tom took his iced tea onto the deck to enjoy the morning light before the high heat set in. He brought a pair of binoculars for birdwatching, and his sketchpad and pencil, in case he saw a bird he wanted to draw. Many of his greeting card designed featured a bird in its natural habitat.

Across the way, he could see the Smithton house, partially occluded by greenery, with a clear view of its deck. He started to sketch the house in the morning light when the door opened and Michelle Hawkins stepped out into the sunlight. She wore a light, pink nightgown, her hair tied in a bun on top of her head, and she carried a mug of coffee in her hand.

Turning, she saw him and picked up her phone. A moment later, the cordless set by Tom's side rang. "Good morning, Tom. How's it going this morning?"

"Fine, Michelle, fine. You?"

"Just wonderful. It's such a glorious morning, so peaceful here. Where's Mandy?"

"She's off playing. I think she'll be tied up for a while playing computer games."

"See anything you like from your deck this morning?"

Tom smiled although he was sure she couldn't see it from her distance. "Have to say it's gorgeous out this morning. Just making a pencil sketch of your house in the morning light."

"How sweet. Maybe you'll show it to me later."

"Sure, happy to. I think I'll take Amanda down for a dip just before lunch."

"Around 11?"

"Maybe 10:30. She'll be restless by then."

"I'll join you."

"Great. 'Bye."

"Later, Tom." The breeze from the Lake picked up, and moved the branches of the trees. Tom went back to his work, evoking the lines of the Smithton house deftly. The sunlight brightened as the sun moved higher in the sky.

A movement on the other deck drew his attention, and his picked up his binoculars to see what it was. Michelle was raising her hands to undo her hair, letting it flow in the zephyrs. A motion around her waist and her robe slipped down revealing her voluptuous form in all its wonder. Zooming in, he could almost see her nipples perking in the breeze. She stood still, knowing he saw her, posing for him.

Her form appeared on his pad, full and graceful on the Smithton's deck, hair flowing back, her hands resting on the railing, her breasts hanging ripely. Tom bit his lip to keep his focus, and tried to remember he couldn't just run across the way to carry this woman off.

"Hi, daddy, what'cha doin'?" Amanda called through the doorway.

"Just drawing a picture," her father replied.

"Good. I think I'm going to draw for a while, too. Can I come out there?"

"Maybe later, sweetheart. Do you want to go swimming later?"

"Duh, Daddy, duh. How soon?"

"How about 10:30?"

"Is my friend Shelley goin' to be there?"

"I think so."

"Hurray. I'll just draw 'till then." Little feet pounded down the stairs to the studio, where Amanda's art resources lay.

The phone rang again; caller ID showed it was Michelle. "Hi, Tom. How's the drawing going?"

Tom took a deep breath. "Better than I hoped. Your house is especially beautiful this morning, but I can't put my finger on exactly why. . ."

"I bet you can't, although you want to."

"That's not fair."

"Who said I had to be fair? You done with me, or do you need me to stand out here a little longer."

"I could look at you like that all day," he blurted out before his brain interceded.

"Well, baby, you sure know how to brighten a girl's day. You want to come over for a minute? Borrow a cup of sugar?"

Tom looked at her standing on her deck, the phone at her ear. A peek through his binoculars showed a broad, inviting smile on her face. "Oh my, I'd love to, but I can't leave Amanda alone."

"No?"

"No. When I need time to myself I take her to Gracie's house, Amanda's great grandmother."

"That would take a while, going into town and back. Kinda ruins spontaneity, but I understand. Been then, coped with that. All right, sugar, we'll work something out eventually."

"You're not fair."

"Who said I had to be fair?"

Tom winced again. Another peek through his binoculars; she cupped her breasts and juggled them a little for him, up and down in counterpoint, then she squeezed her nipples.

"You're bad," he said.

"Guilty. Coming over?"

"Want to. But I have to stay. We'll see you at the lake in a while."

"You're the most devoted daddy I've ever known. See you later." She hung up and across the way she slipped her nightgown back on and went back into the house.

Tom finished his sketch in a few more pencil strokes and took it up to his office. Sounds from the studio as he passed told him Amanda was safely occupied. He sat at his desk and opened his e-mail to find a note from Mutt Hayes.

There was an image: it was a scan of the last painting he did for Mutt. Ashley Harms was presented as a victim of the Inquisition: bound naked in iron cuffs, hands over her head, stretched out and screaming as a hooded Inquisitor held red hot implements close to her pale, white skin. The lurid dungeon was crowded with several fearful items, and Ashley's form seemed to write in the picture, vainly seeking escape. He smiled evilly to himself, satisfied. The e-mail read:

Hey, Tom. This is the best. I love what you did to Ashley, the little bitch. Wish I could set this up for her in real life. You get four hundred for this one, my friend.

Hear you have a beautiful new neighbor. You planning on tying her down and keeping her for yourself, or are you going to bring her out to meet the boys sometime? Maybe you could do a picture of her for me if you're going to keep her to yourself.

Mutt

Tom grimaced as he read the note. Mutt Hayes was a charter member of the Dirty Old Men's club; as far as he could tell, Mutt was all show and no go, but he could be wrong. Mutt was also know to trade in a wife with some milage for a more recent model.

He got up and paced the room, seething. His imagination was full of images of Mutt wining and dining Michelle, seducing her with glib words, flattering her and boasting of his riches. His mouth contorted as he imaged the old man putting his old wrinkled hands on her warm brown skin, leaving oily trails across her luscious breasts and down her belly toward her mound.

"Daddy, it's 10:30," Amanda said from the office door, "Shelley's going to beat us there.". Her arms were crossed in front of her bare form, tapping her toes on the carpet in anticipation. "Is somethin' wrong, Daddy? You look mad."

Tom shook his head. "Nothing, sweetheart. Just a bad memory. I'll be down in a minute."

"All right, Daddy. Hurry!" She flashed down the corridor and down the stairs.

Tom went back to his bedroom, disrobed and put on his trunks and swim shoes. Taking deep breaths, he tried to flush the bad daydream from his mind as he prepared to walk the difficult line of being his little girl's playmate and his neighbor's aspiring lover.

To be continued...