Tina

When Heather and Bobby finished, they stood and went inside. Tina showered and dressed, and then prepared her dinner, looking out only when she heard her name called from the driveway. She was surprised to find that Bobby and Heather had also cleaned up and were dressed for a night on the town. To be fair about it, Bobby cleaned up okay, and Heather simply looked delicious. She had poured herself into a backless and strapless white bustier minidress and white high heels, and Tina knew that Heather wouldn't be wearing either stockings or panties. "Tina!", called Heather, waiting at the side of her car for her tenant to appear.

Tina came out onto the small porch and yelled, "What?"

"We're going out to dinner. Want to come?" She waggled her eyelids in a fashion that left Tina no chance of misunderstanding what else was going to happen. Tina grinned and shook her head negatively. "No? Then keep an eye on the place. See you later." She got in and the pair took off for town. Tina expected the two of them to fuck every chance they had tonight.

Chapter 3

Sam walked in to the house early that night. The days he was working in Oneonta involved an hour-and-a-half drive to and from work, and his days at headquarters involved almost as much traveling to the other satellite offices. He walked into his home shortly after five, both pleased he could do so and curious about what it was like getting home so early.

He grimaced as he looked around the kitchen and began putting away the dishes. Lizzie had been the baby of the family and Lee had spoiled her rotten, though not without her father's approval. Sam had been wrapped around her little finger since she was in diapers. She never did the chores if she could help it, and would pout and complain whenever Sam worked up the nerve to bitch about the condition of the house. "God help the poor bastard who marries that one!", muttered Sam as he began sorting through the mail. "Lizzie! You home?" he yelled.

Lizzie Charles bounced into the kitchen still dressed in her cheerleader's uniform. By any standards, the sixteen year old high school junior was beautiful; short and slim, though with an intriguing bust, she wore her brown hair to her shoulders and had brown eyes set in a round face with prominent cheekbones. She was a good but not great student, thought Sam, so he wouldn't have to send her to an expensive engineering college like Sammy attended. Plattsburgh State, Party School USA, would do just fine for her, he thought disgustedly, especially disgusted because he knew his daughter would be perfectly happy goofing off for four years.

Lizzie skipped into the kitchen and looked surprised. "Hi, Daddy, what's up? You're home early!" She came forward and Sam bent down, kissing his youngest on the forehead.

"Hi yourself. Are you sure that skirt can't get any shorter?" he asked, eyeing her uniform of short pleated skirt and tight sweater.

She waved his protest off. "Oh, Daddy, don't be so stuffy. That's the entire idea!" She twirled around once and dropped to the floor in a split, throwing her arms up. Sam smiled and helped her to her feet. "Besides, the guys on the team like it," she announced, blissfully unaware that this was the worst possible thing to say to a father.

Sam harrumphed and snorted. "Yeah, then let them wear it. Go change!", he ordered.

Lizzie laughed. She headed for her room, saying, "You're just a fuddy-duddy, Daddy. I just got home, too. I haven't had a chance yet." She headed into the hall, then stopped and looked back over her shoulder. "Daddy, rah, rah, rah!" She flipped the back of her skirt up to reveal the matching panties to the costume, then laughed as she headed to her room to change.

Sam smiled and shook his head. He had never been able to control his youngest and doubted he ever would. Neither he nor Lee had ever been able to figure out where she got her wild streak, but she had one for sure! She managed to go through life able to do or say anything, happily aware that, somehow, her looks, her brains, or her parents would manage to bail her out one way or another. After Lee had died, he had gone to his daughter's doctor and convinced the woman to put her on the Pill for "medical reasons", ostensibly to help control her period. Lee would never have gone along with the idea, believing her daughter would never do "those sorts of things", conveniently forgetting that when she had been that age, boys had wanted to do them to her! Sam wasn't either that stupid or that hypocritical, and he remembered being a young man himself. He really doubted that Lizzie would maintain her virginity as long as her mother, even though he didn't really want to know.

Lizzie came back into the kitchen, now wearing a worn and torn pair of blue jeans and a midriff baring tank top. Underneath the tank top, Sam could see the straps to a lacy black bra, and was again mystified by what a teenage girl was doing wearing racy lingerie. Lizzie had given him exasperated answers before, and he knew he would never understand. "What's for dinner, Daddy?"

Sam shrugged. "What do you want, honey?"

"Let's have pizza."

Sam stared at the girl. "Lizzie, I eat out nine times out of ten. The one night I get home in time to fix a real meal and you want pizza?"

"Pizza, Daddy!", she said firmly, handing him the phone.

Sam threw his hands in the air and made the call. Paisely Road was barely in the range of one of the shops in Ballston Spa, and it would be delivered in 30 minutes. He hung up the phone and followed his youngest into the living room, then kicked her out of his La-Z-Boy. He saw several photo albums laying on the coffee table and picked them up. They were from the old days, the wedding album and photos from the honeymoon cruise, before the kids and the bills and every other damned thing that went with marriage.

"What's with the photos, Lizzie?" he asked.

She looked over at him from the couch and grinned. "Teresa and Olivia were by earlier, and I commented on how you used to have hair, and they didn't believe me, so I got out some old photos to prove it!"

Sam gaped and roared, "You little bitch! I ought to spank you for that! And for this damn wig brochure, too, you little bitch!" He tossed a junk mail flyer across the room at his hysterical daughter; he was absolutely convinced it had been Lizzie who had put his name on a baldness mailing list, and now he received toupee and Rogaine mail from around the world.

She stood and picked up the flyer, studying it. "Daddy, that's so kinky! I never knew you liked to spank young girls!"

Sam laughed. "That does it, midget, you're going to get it now!"

The busty little teen grinned and ignored the threat, walking past him to throw away the brochure. Her path took her within armreach of her father, who grabbed her and pulled her, squealing, onto his lap. Once there Lizzie found herself being tickled until she was screaming. Sam relented only when the doorbell rang and the pizza was delivered. A red-faced and grinning Lizzie scrambled away, calling him a "Dirty old man!"

After dinner, Lizzie retreated to her room to do her homework, and Sam found himself watching the news. Afterwards, he turned off the television, but it was too early to go to bed, so he picked up the photo albums and set them on his lap.

Reaching into his humidor, he pulled out a cigar, clipped and lit it, and settled back. Lee had always been on his ass to quit smoking, even when they were still dating in college, and he had always told her he would dance on her grave. When he met and got to know her family, he continued the refrain. Even though he averaged ten years older than her brothers, cancer, heart disease, arthritis, diabetes, and a myriad of other illnesses ran in their family, and he figured he would outlast the lot of them. It had stopped being a joke four years ago when, while driving their oldest daughter, Jenny, home from school, Lee had suffered a massive coronary at the age of 40. Worst of all, when she collapsed and went off the road, Jenny went with her, and died as the car slammed into an abutment. The autopsy had shown that the damage to Lee's heart had been so severe that even if she had suffered the attack in a hospital operating room, with a team of cardiac specialists in attendance, she still would have died. Nobody in the family joked about dying anymore.

Lizzie had gotten out both the wedding album and the honeymoon album, photos taken on the cruise that Big George and Momma had given them as a wedding present. Sam began flicking through the wedding album, his mind going back to a much younger time. Lee had been so young and beautiful, she looked like a little girl. He laughed at the photo of his best man trying to look down Lee's low cut bodice, and the photo of himself removing her garter made him chuckle, since both ushers were standing nearby with cameras of their own. 'Jesus', Sam thought, 'If Big George had known what his daughter and I had been doing, he'd have killed us, not married us off!'

Except for the night before the wedding, he and Lee had fucked themselves silly every night of the week before the wedding. Then, after the wedding, while one of her brothers drove them in his pimpmobile of a car to the reception, Lee had crawled onto his lap. Pat had thought they were simply necking; he couldn't see his new brother-in-law slide his hand under his new wife's dress and beneath her panties and pantyhose. Lee's screams of pleasure never made it past the lips she was kissing.

After the reception, the newlyweds had retired to an empty barroom and changed into traveling clothes for the drive to New York, and Lee had stripped topless, then knelt to return the favor her husband had provided early. Sam's first married orgasm was into his wife's mouth in a bar in Albany. They had dressed and driven halfway to the city down Route 9, looking for a place to spend the night, and during the entire drive, Sam had his hand under his wife's skirt, tormenting her terribly. She had stripped off all her underwear and pantyhose and had slumped down on the car seat, her hands rubbing her stiff nipples while she screamed in delight as he mauled her cunt. They finally found a small no-name motel that became forever etched in their minds as the 'Mildew Motel', and spent their wedding night fucking nonstop.

As Sam began leafing through the album from the honeymoon cruise, he smiled at the realization that their behavior on the cruise hadn't been any better. The morning after their wedding, Sam had taken all of his wife's bras, panties, and pantyhose away from her and had locked them in his trunk, to Lee's shocked delight. The photo of the two of them meeting the Captain, Sam in his rented tux and Lee in a powder blue strapless gown reminded him of just why she was smiling in the photo. After dressing in the postage stamp size bathroom, Lee had come back into the closet sized cabin and asked her husband to zip up her gown. Sam had pushed the gown lower, then lifted the hem to her waist, pushing Lee into a kneeling position on the bed. He had fucked her rapidly, then came endlessly in her pussy. Afterwards, he had helped her zip up, and Lee had attended the cocktail reception with her husband's jism running down her thighs.

Sam closed the album and finished his cigar gazing at the photo on the last page of the wedding album, the one of Lee with her veil up and holding her bouquet. It was the same photo as the one on the nightstand, and was probably the best picture ever taken of her. She seemed so young and alive, and beautiful. She had been a small girl, big-boned like the rest of her family, slim and with a small bust, a cute round face with a pixie nose, and her hair was a mass of dark brown curls falling to the middle of her back.

Like the rest of the Busby women, Lee only retained her figure for a few more years. Sam knocked her up on the honeymoon, and Lee slowly got her figure back after Jenny's birth. Sammy had been a larger baby, and Lee had struggled to get back to a weight somewhat close to her original weight after his birth. Lizzie, larger yet, had broken the camel's back. Lee had ballooned, and for the rest of her life was as heavy as her much larger husband. Still, Sam had loved his ditzy airhead of a wife dearly, and she had always revved his engine, even at her chubbiest. He never cheated on her, and had seldom even been tempted to do so.

Sam lit another cigar and set the albums aside. When he was finished, he cleaned up and went to his room. After brushing his teeth, he gave in to his needs and pushed his briefs to the floor, then jerked off to the memory of his dead wife, bent over and taking it from behind. Afterwards, with a guilty conscience, he cleaned up the bathroom and went to bed.

Chapter 4

Dickie Busby surprised Tina when she first met him. She had seen his photo on the corporate website, along with most of the rest of the managers and owners, but in person he was vastly different. His photo showed a stocky and heavyset, well dressed young man; in person Dickie was a roly-poly teddy bear in his mid-twenties, with a short beard that failed to hide his multiple chins. It was the first Saturday that neither Sam nor Jack had been able to cover the Oneonta office, and he had come down from Saratoga to fill in. He greeted Tina and Margie warmly, then settled in to the manager's office comfortably. After lunch, while a new salesman showed homes and Margie did paperwork in her office, Dickie sat down in the lobby across from Tina and asked, "So, how do you like working for Sam?"

"He's great. He really seems to know everything about the company. Have you known him long?" she asked.

Dickie looked surprised. "Yeah, I've known Sam almost my entire life."

"What does he do in Albany? All I know is that he's a bigwig at headquarters and that he does computer stuff up there. I guess he's pretty important?" she said innocently.

Dickie gave her a curious look. "You could say that. He's one of the owners."

It was Tina's turn to look surprised. "But I thought Busby Housing was a family company."

"It is. Sam married my oldest sister."

"Sam's married? He never said anything about his family."

"Lee died four years ago." Dickie yelled down the hall to Margie's office, "Hey, Margie, didn't anyone tell Tina who Sam is?"

Margie stuck her head out the door. "What, that he's an owner? I thought she knew that!", she said, then ducked back to her work.

"Nobody told me. I thought you had to have the name Busby."

"Nah, marrying one works just as well," laughed Dickie. "Sam doesn't play on the name at all. Big George and Momma treated him as the idiot son-in-law for years, despite everything he ever accomplished, and it always pissed him off." He went on to describe Sam's years at the firm.

Tina listened intently. Her initial attraction to her boss had been growing for weeks now. Sam had an easy, self-deprecating sense of humor that deflected any form of praise or thanks, and he seemed to erect a barrier between himself and the rest of the world. That barrier seemed to be showing a few cracks, however, because she had sensed him watching her, seeing her not just as an employee, and Tina was intrigued by the idea. Sam Charles was probably the most intelligent person she had ever met, and was far better looking than he thought himself. He had the sharpest and driest wit she had ever seen, and an ability to keep the office in stitches for hours, along with an encyclopedic knowledge of the business and the company. He fascinated the young woman.

"So, what's he really like?" she asked. "You've known him so much longer."

"Who, Sam?" commented Dickie. "God, I've known him since I was a kid. He started dating Lee when I was a baby. Hell, I worked for him one summer in Saratoga."

"So, what's he like? He doesn't say anything about himself."

Dickie leaned back and thought for a moment. "Well, I've never been anywhere with Sam when he wasn't the smartest guy in the room. He's a genius, literally. He's got more degrees than the rest of us combined. That's his biggest problem, too. He knows it, and he simply won't tolerate fools, and, to Sam, most of the world falls in the category of 'fool.'. Have you seen his temper yet?"

"Uh, not really. I did overhear him chewing out somebody over the phone once, and it sounded pretty bad," she admitted.

"I guess. Just remember, he blows hot and cold. He ever cuts loose on you, simply roll up a newspaper and smack him on the nose and tell him to behave. He'll calm down right away, just like a puppy." Tina laughed at the image. "Seriously, though, he's very respected back in Albany. When Big George sold the company to us kids, he sold Sam's shares to Lee, not Sam, even though Lee didn't work for the company. None of the spouses would be allowed to inherit, and nobody could sell the stock to outsiders. If Lee died, Sam would be out on his ass. It was the rest of us who insisted on the provision that Sam was the only spouse allowed to inherit. Big George had to back down."

Tina was impressed. "What's he like personally? He seems very aloof and withdrawn."

Dickie nodded at the description. "He's very different than the rest of us. He's very quiet and reserved, very much an intellectual. He loved Lee, and loves his kids..."

"He's got kids?"

"Two, both about your age. A third, his oldest girl, died in the car crash with Lee. You have to be around him awhile before he lets down the barriers. He can be pretty hard to live with at times. You end up either loving the guy or hating his guts, and I don't think he gives much of a damn either way. I like him, myself, but I know more than a few people who would like to drop him off a cliff. Why?" asked Dickie.

"Oh, just curious. He does seem very smart."

"He is. Give him a chance. He'll loosen up once he gets to know you better."

***

It was a Saturday several weeks later that Tina called Heather. Despite the fact that they only lived across a driveway from each other, it was pouring outside and neither felt like getting up and going out in the cold and wet. Heather asked Tina how the new boss was doing.

"All right, I guess," was Tina's tentative answer.

"That doesn't sound very positive," commented Heather. "Problems?"

"No, I've just never met anybody quite like him before. God, he knows everything about the company and the business, and he's been around forever. He's, well, like the fourth or fifth most important guy in the whole company, yet he drives around in an old Taurus and never wears a suit. He wears frayed khakis and a Rolex. He's the most serious guy you could imagine, but he loves practical jokes, even when they backfire on him. He's cynical and idealistic at the same time. I can't figure him out at all," she said in an exasperated tone.

"Sounds like you're interested in him. Are you?" asked Heather.

"God, Heather, he's got kids my age. He's older than my father! Anyway, he's my boss. I'm just some kid secretary."

"Those are excuses, not reasons," replied her friend. "You sound interested in him. Now be honest, are you.?"

"Maybe," said Tina in a quiet voice. "He is so good looking, Heather, yet he laughs and says he frightens children and small dogs, but I think he's really very sexy. I don't know what to think."

"Maybe you did need to wait for the right guy after all. So make a move on the guy!"

"Heather, he's my boss!"

"He's a man. By definition, they have two heads, and only enough blood to operate one at a time. How old did you say he was?" asked Heather.

"Uh, 44 or 45, I think."

"Trust me, he's not dead yet. I bet the plumbing works just fine." Tina blushed as her friend continued. "Ask him if he uses Viagra. Wear a low cut sweater and see if he stares. Wear a miniskirt and let him see the tops of your stockings. If he doesn't complain, you're in like flint."