Walt's Gift

[This story contains coitus, foreplay, oral, and group play. I would like to hear from those who read this story even if you don't vote. I want to improve as an author and your feedback is important.]

I flew United from Newark to L.A.. My flight left on Thursday afternoon about four hours after I got a call from the hospital in Los Angeles. The social worker who called me said my Dad had a heart attack and he and they needed me to come. As quickly as I could get on a plane I was on my way.

During the flight I was deep in my head. I probably ate the snack they pass out and I probably drank a Diet Coke, but I don't remember. I was deep in thought. My Dad, Walter John Peterson, was seventy-seven years old. Other than to be with my Mom when she was dying, I couldn't ever remember him being inside a hospital. When I was young he helped his Dad with the family farm in Nebraska. He and his Dad were both big, quiet men. I couldn't recall ever hearing either man raise his voice. Everyone my Dad ever met discovered early that he was totally trustworthy. He didn't do written contracts with people. They made a verbal agreement and my Dad lived up to the agreement.

I remembered a time when I was eleven and we needed a tractor. I went with Dad to the John Deere dealer thirty-five miles away early one morning. He had a used tractor that my Dad wanted. They talked and agreed on a price. The man asked when we could bring him the money. Dad said he would get the money the following Friday after I got out of school. They shook hands and I was told to drive the new tractor, new to us, home. A week later I was handed eighty-five hundred dollars in cash and told to drive Dad's pick up to Bridgeport and deliver the money to the John Deere dealer. When I got to the dealer he had closed and gone home. I went to the sheriff's office and we took him the money together. When I handed it to the man he said, "You could have brought it by tomorrow." I said, "No. My Dad said today. Today is when you get it."

I had lived my life out of the things my dad and grandpa taught me. When I asked Diane to marry me I made her a promise. "I will never lie to you. If you ask me something I will give you the whole truth, no matter what." I never broke that promise.

When Diane was in the hospital dying of cancer I sat by her bed every evening. Near the end the doctor told me that she had less than a week to live. I spoke to my boss and said I needed the next two weeks off because my wife was dying. The next morning I was sitting next to her when she woke up.

"Why aren't you at work?"

"I want to spend as much time with you as I can. The doctor told me that you have a week or less. I'm going to be right here."

I was. When she passed I was right there, holding her in my arms. Mom died the very next week from a stroke. Dad and Mom had sold the farm about ten years earlier and had moved to Pasadena California to be near my sister and her family. Dad stayed in the house in Pasadena after mom died. I came to visit three or four times a year. When I came it was hard for me to stay in the house with him. Nothing had changed in the house from the day Mom died. I stayed either with my sister's family or in a hotel.

Sitting in the jet on its way to Los Angeles I wondered what provisions Dad had made for the house, his old Buick Riviera and whatever else he owned. We landed at the Burbank airport and I was met by my sister. She filled me in on the way to the hospital.

Dad wasn't doing well. His heart had sustained major damage and the doctors did not believe he could stand an operation of the kind that it would take to fix the damage. From the time he woke up in the hospital he had asked for me. He spoke to Linda, my sister, but said it was important that he speak to me.

We walked into his room as a nurse was taking his vital signs. We waited quietly until she left. I looked at the monitor on the wall by his bed. Blood pressure was 106/41, pulse 48. The line I watch on the hospital TV shows looks repetitive and regular as it goes across the screen. Dad's looked irregular and some of the pulses looked ragged.

I pulled up a chair and sat down. Dad's eyes were closed. I gently put my hand on his. He didn't wake up. After a little while my sister held a note in front of me. "I'm going home to feed Jack. I'll be back at about eight." I nodded and she silently left.

When the door clicked Dad opened his eyes. He looked at me and a tiny smile came to his face.

"I thought she'd never go." His voice was a whisper, raspy and soft. I moved closer so when he talked I could hear.

"I love your sister, but it's you I need to talk to."

I nodded.

"I left the house to Linda and Jack, along with the Buick. I also left them a hundred thousand dollars." He stopped and rested. His pulse rate was up to 66. As he rested, it went down.

"Nick, you get the apartments." My eyes widened. I didn't know there were any apartments.

"In the china cabinet in the dining room are the papers of ownership. They have already been transferred to you as of two weeks ago. They won't make you rich but I want you to know how important they have been to me."

"Dad, you don't need to tell me all this. Just rest and we can talk a little after."

"No, we can't. I've been waiting for you. When we are through talking I'm going to die. Please listen, OK?"

I nodded. He meant what he said.

"I bought the apartments from my friend Harvey, just before he died. There are six apartments. Five are rented. Your apartment is number one. The women who live in the five other apartments are my best friends in the world. Make sure they get to the funeral, no matter what Linda says. After your Mother died I was empty and wanted to die myself. Harvey took me to his place and introduced me to the women who live there. They cooked his dinner, did his laundry and hung out with him. He treated each of them like they were angels. He knew he was dying and he wanted me to take over the apartments when he went. We did the paperwork and when he did die, five years ago, I moved into apartment number one."

His eyes closed and I watched the monitor. About a minute went by and he opened his eyes again.

"About a year after I started spending most of my time there Linda invited me for Thanksgiving. I asked her if I could bring a lady I knew. She cried and accused me of forgetting about her mother. I didn't bring a lady and I never mentioned anything about the apartments. Whenever either of you wanted some time with me I met you at the house."

Another rest. His eyes stayed closed a long time. When they opened he said, "The apartments are yours. I want you to live there and take care of the women who have taken such good care of me for the last five years. Don't raise the rents. Do nice things for them. They have made my life worth living ever since your Mom and Harvey died. Promise me?"

"I promise."

"In the china cabinet there is also an envelope with the paperwork showing that I opened an account two weeks ago in your name. The paperwork shows a transaction we made that lets you have the apartments and the account without giving any of it to the government. You'll see, my lawyer did a good job. Do you have any questions?"

"Why do you want me to live there and take care of them?"

"Because of all the people I know you're the one I trust."

"I'll do it. I promise,"

"I love you, Nick. Take care of yourself, and my ladies. Write this down: 310, 555-1234. Call them now and tell them what's happened. Your life with them starts now."

I wrote the number down and reached for the telephone. A steady beep stopped me. I looked up and the monitor had a solid flat line across the screen.

Doctors and nurses ran in and saw the sign on the end of his bed and on the wall over his head. It said, "DNR." Do Not Resuscitate. Dad was gone.

I used my cell phone and called Linda. She answered and I said, "Dad's gone."

She cried for a while and I listened. When she finally spoke she said he told her he would die after he spoke to me. I told her he passed quickly and without pain. She said Jack would come to the hospital and get me. I thanked her and hung up. I called the number Dad had given me and a woman answered.

"Hello. I'm Nick Peterson..."

"My God!" she screamed. "If you're calling something has happened to Walt! What happened?"

"Dad had a heart attack. He spent the last hours here in the hospital and passed a few minutes ago."

"Did he hurt?"

"He closed his eyes when he was finished talking and he was just gone. No pain. His last thoughts and words were about you."

"About me personally?"

"No. He told me he loved all of you in the apartments and he asked me to care for you for the rest of your lives. He told me about your lives together and about how you each made his last five years wonderful. Thank you."

I could hear her crying. I waited.

"I'm sorry for crying on the phone. Please forgive me."

"I would have been surprised if you had not cried. I want to meet all of you and I will arrange to bring you to the funeral."

"When?"

"I think it will be four of five days before that can be arranged. His daughter and I need to make the arrangements."

"You need to come to the apartment tonight. He made all the arrangements. Will you hold on for a minute? I need to get something."

"I'll hold."

I looked out a window until I heard her back on the line. "Here is the number to the mortuary. Call them and tell them where to pick him up. Then you and your sister can make arrangements for the funeral and burial. We know your sister doesn't want to know about us. Walt has everything all planned and paid for. When you come over I can give you all the paperwork."

I wrote the number down. I told her that when I rented a car I would call her back for directions. She asked which hospital I was at. She asked if she could come get me. We could talk as she drove us back to the apartments and renting a car at the airport was cheaper than in Pasadena. I agreed. I told her I would meet her in the lobby.

My next call was to Linda. Jack was just about to leave. I told them not to come get me, I had a friend coming and I had some business to take care of. I gave her the number for Forest Lawn and told her that Dad had planned and pre-paid for everything. She wanted to know who my friend was and where we were going. I didn't tell her. I did tell her I would be at her home in the morning and we could talk and plan then. Jack thanked me for calling and knowing that Dad had everything planned.

I told the hospital people about Forest Lawn and they verified things with them. I sat in the lobby for about fifteen minutes thinking when a woman sat down next to me. I looked at her and saw a woman about my age, dressed in jeans and a light sweater, her long graying hair pulled back in a pony tail. Her face had the look of having cried hard and then wiped the tears away.

"Nick, I'm Pat. Let's get out of here."

Following her out was done without words. Once we were in the parking lot she stopped by a blue Toyota and opened the passenger door for me. She turned and faced me and said, "Can I ask you for a hug?"

My arms opened and she stepped close. Her arms went around my neck and mine went around her body. She tucked her head against my chest and the tears flowed. I held her and my mind noticed some interesting things about her. She smelled good. She was a perfect height for close dancing and for hugs. Her breasts felt good pressed against me. Her back was muscled, not soft.

I hadn't cried after Dad died. Holding Pat as she cried I found I was crying too. I guess my macho fell away and my feelings of loss arrived with her tears. I wouldn't be able to talk to Dad every week like we had done for years. His good solid advice was over. His dry humor was now just a memory. We cried together in the parking lot for quite a while.

When Pat started to back out of the hug she looked me in the face. What happened next happened as a reflex. I bent slightly and kissed her softly on the lips. It wasn't love or passion or heat. It was comfort. Her lips were soft and warm. Then we got in her car and drove to the beach.

"Nick, what did Walt tell you about us?"

"He told me that you all are his best friends in the world, that ever since Harvey and Mom died he felt alone and you helped him want to live for the last five years. He made me promise to take care of the apartments and each of you."

"Did he tell you why he never mentioned us to you or Linda?"

"Yes. Sometimes my sister is a jerk. She should have been thrilled that Dad found friends."

She was quiet for a few minutes. Then she spoke again.

"We were more than friends." Her voice was flat, hiding the emotion she felt. I got what she was telling me. She and my Dad were lovers.

"I'm glad. Dad was a good guy and deserved as much happiness as he could have."

As she drove I saw a tear or two slide down her cheek.

When we pulled into the parking for the apartments I noticed the lights were on in only one apartment. It was late and I guess that shouldn't have been a surprise. She led the way into the building. There were locked double doors at the front and a walkway into the center courtyard. I noticed a big bar-b-que and three tables in the courtyard as well as a hot tub in one corner.

Pat led us to number one and she opened the door. It wasn't locked. I saw four other women waiting inside. They had been crying. They looked up at us as we entered.

One glance at their faces and a thought slapped me in the face; "He loved each of them, not just Pat!"

I was led to a leather recliner that I knew was Dad's. I didn't sit. I faced the group and asked, "Could you each introduce yourselves and give me a hug?"

A redhead who was sitting at the end of the couch got up and moved quickly to me. "I'm Helen. Number three." She fit in my arms much as Pat had fit. The difference was her hug was stronger than Pat's.

When she backed off her place was taken by a woman with dark hair and a tan that looked natural. "I am Maria. Number four."

I realized they were telling me their apartment numbers.

"I'm Krystn. Number five." The voice was low and sexy. The body was tall and thin. Her hug had us eye level and pressed front to front and me feeling her small breasts pushing against my chest. Her blond hair was long and straight.

When she went back to he seat on the other couch the last woman stepped up. Her tears still flowed and she didn't look me in the face. She was a bit heavier than the others, dark blond hair, and big boobs. She was wearing a sweatshirt with the logo of UCLA on the front. Her hug barely touched her to me. "I'm Linda. Number six."

We all sat down and they looked at me like I had something to tell them. I told them about my last time with Dad. I told them that I now owned the building and had only one change to suggest. I wanted to live there with them and to continue my Dad's care of the building and the family he created, if that was Ok with them.

I must have used the right word when I said family. Relief showed on their faces.

"I don't know all the details of life here with Dad, but I know he loved you all and he wants me to love you too. Dad was an honest man and a kind man. I will do everything I can to be like that with you. Right now, though, I need some sleep. The travel and the emotions of today have wiped me out. I need to rent a car in the morning and go to Pasadena to plan the funeral with my sister. Can we have breakfast together in the morning so I can get your ideas about the service and I can include them in the plans?"

We agreed to meet in the courtyard for breakfast at nine. They thanked me for my consideration and each kissed me on the cheek and left. All except Pat. She stayed. She closed the door and took me by the hand, leading me to the bedroom.

"Maria put fresh sheets on the bed, fresh towels in the bathroom and fresh soap, toothbrush, razor and whatever else you might need."

"I'll thank her in the morning. A guy could get to love this level of care."

Her hands went to my shirt buttons and she unbuttoned the first one. My hands held hers.

"What is going on here?"

"We have known for a while that when Walt died you would be coming. We knew that Walt dreamed of you taking over for him here. We ladies talked about that too. You get the benefit of being Walt's son. One of those benefits is that Walt very seldom slept in this bed alone. I spoke first and so tonight is mine, if you will allow it."

Her hands began again unbuttoning my shirt. I let her take off my shirt. I stopped her after that. She looked at me and waited.

"At some time I would love to take full benefit of this offer. Tonight I want to take the joy of not being alone, of being able to hold someone who shares the loss I'm feeling. My head and heart aren't ready for anything more than that. If it's Ok with you let's get undressed and get in bed. I want to hold you and sleep."

Pat pulled her sweater up and off. Her hands undid the button of her jeans and she finished getting undressed. I followed her lead and quickly we were ready for bed. I used the bathroom and used the new toothbrush. I smiled seeing five other toothbrushes in the rack. When I came out of the bathroom Pat went in.

"Pat, which side of the bed do you want?" I asked through the door.

"The one next to you."

When she opened the door she looked at me and smiled. I was right in the middle of the bed. Which side was still her choice. She sat next to the alarm clock and set it, slipped under the covers and against my side. I held her and felt her warmth.

A moment later the alarm woke us up. I slept all night with Pat molded to my side. When the alarm sounded she moved from me, shut it off and came right back. She looked at my face and whispered, "Good morning. I think we were both pretty tired last night."

"Exhausted might be a better word. I can't remember the last time I slept in one position all night."

"I'm glad I was here. I woke a couple of times and watched you sleep. You look and feel a lot like Walt when you are asleep."

"How much time before breakfast?"

"Half an hour. I hope you are hungry."

"I am but I'm also sure I need a shower and a shave."

"Want me to wash your back?"

"No. Well, yes, but I'd like to wash your front and back more. Would that be Ok with you?"

"We can have some good, clean fun!" Pat tossed the covers back and got up. I followed and we showered together. It had been a long time since I showered with a woman. It was about six months before Diane died that we did it the last time. After that she was too sick. All the shared joy feelings came back. I was smiling as we cleaned up. I shaved in the shower and Pat shaved her legs and pits. I noticed she had a landing strip of dark hair just above her pussy. She looked at me and said, "You know that my pussy is now yours. Walt was in an exclusive relationship with us. He liked me shaved like this. If you want me to grow back the bush, I will. If you want me totally shaved, I will. What will be your pleasure?"

"I don't want the bush. As it is, I like it. If you want to surprise me and shave it off some time I promise to enjoy that too."

We got out and dried. Pat opened the closet and found a pair of slacks and shirt she thought I might like. I put them on and they fit pretty well. It felt strange wearing clothes that were Dad's. Pat dressed in clean jeans and another light sweater. I realized there were clothes for each woman in that closet.

A minute or so after nine we walked out onto the patio and breakfast was set up and ready. I was met with four more good morning kisses and a plate full of food, a cup of coffee and a pat on the butt. We all sat and ate. They asked questions and gave me their thoughts about the service planning. After a few minutes I asked for a pad of paper and a pen. I needed to take notes. Helen produced those things and took the notes.