Calypso Ch. 01: Salsa

"If he's a man now," Sara said, "He better be showing off for the women."

"Working at Doc Anderson's stables helps," I said, enjoying every moment that her hands were on my bare chest, "Bailing hay and shoveling horse shit does wonders for losing weight and firming up."

'Really?' I thought to myself, 'You brought up horse shit? Really?'

"My compliments to Doc Anderson, then," Sara raised her eyebrows, took a long drink of wine and then squeezed my left bicep appreciatively, "Ana, feel that."

"Solid muscle," Ana put her hands on my right arm. The realization that two grown women had their hands on me, complimenting me on my physique was strange and exciting. I mean, I was in pretty good shape, defined and bulky enough that I felt confident running around nothing but shorts, but I was far from being ripped by any means. Looking at the two empty wine bottles near the stove, it suddenly made sense as to why Ana and Sara were more flirtatious than normal. Still, I figured why not enjoy the attention?

Sara's fingers lingered for a second longer before she returned to the sink. Unfolding a dry dish towel, she asked, "Is everything set for school this fall?"

"Yes indeed," I nodded.

"That is exciting," Ana rejoined Sara, taking a long drink out of her own wine glass, "Finally setting out on your own, building a career and a whole new life."

I leaned against the counter, making a conscious effort to display myself to them both, but in particular to Ana. It was stupid and obvious. It was yet one more stupid and obvious example of what I considered to be a subtle flirtation with Ana. These flirtations had become a routine for me over the years, even though she never seemed to react in any obvious way. The fact that I was eighteen years younger than her wasn't lost on me, nor was the fact that she was married. The truth is, when it came to Ana, and even to Sara Cole, I just didn't care.

That sounds terrible, I know. I had long harbored secret fantasies that one night Ana might acknowledge my flirtations and accept them, maybe even get physical with me in the way I so desperately wanted to be physical with her. I suppose it was a pointless exercise in delusional, youthful horniness, but I continued on with it anyway.

"Still going for a degree in veterinary medicine?"

"All the way," I nodded, "That's one of the reasons I'm busting my ass at Doc Anderson's ranch. He needs the help and I need his recommendation."

"I think you'll make a great vet," Ana dried off one of the large pots she had set in the dish rack, "You've got the heart and the smarts for it."

"I hope so."

"You know what?" Sara eyed me for a moment and then said to Ana, "You know what I'm thinking?"

"What are you thinking?" Ana asked, a small giggle underscoring her question, "Because I doubt you're thinking what I'm thinking and if you are you should probably stop."

"I'm thinking that the future Doctor Kane should be allowed, under adult supervision and the strictest confidentiality of course, a glass of wine," Sara leaned back against the counter, appealing to Ana, "Think of it as a toast to future endeavors and success."

"That would be illegal," Ana whispered, though there wasn't a trace of either hesitation or disapproval in her voice, "That, Sara my love, would be irresponsible."

"Sure," Sara shrugged, "But look, we're all by our lonesome at the moment and this man deserves a drink."

"I guess it wouldn't hurt," Ana said under her breath, "You're going to get us all in trouble."

"I'm so glad we agree," Sara clapped her hands together once and then sauntered over to the wine cabinet. There was something hypnotizing about the way her dress tugged and twitched as she walked. Sara had been blessed with what I can safely say might be the world's perfect ass, damn near spherical and large yet perfectly balanced with the rest of her equally curvy body. She pulled a glass from the cabinet and opened another bottle of wine.

"Doug here can keep a little secret," Sara said declared as she collected her half full glass and the empty sitting on the counter top beside Ana. She let the wine breathe for a moment and then filled all three glasses to the brim. Sara handed my glass to me and said, "I know you know how to keep a secret when you want to."

There was something more in her words, something specific that suggested she might know more about me than she let on. There was a specific playfulness to her tone, a throaty sort of innuendo that was surprising to hear from not only her, but from Ana as well.

I took the glass of wine and as my fingers touched Sara's I felt some sort of unspoken understanding pass between us. At least, I thought I did. I might have been going a little crazy that summer when it came to hormones and eager sexual desires, and sure I could admit that my near constant state of horny glee might have colored my perceptions a bit, but it sure as hell seemed like Ana Bishop and Sara Cole were flirting with me.

We stood there, the three of us together in the kitchen, holding our wine glasses.

"To better days ahead," Ana held her glass up, her eyes meeting mine, "For all of us. I'm proud of you."

"The best of luck to the doctor," Sara held her glass up and met Ana's, "And on a personal note, goddamn may you never lose that body."

We all laughed for a moment, but I felt as though I'd stepped into an adults-only version of 'The Twilight Zone.' I was enjoying every minute of it, but to hear Sara Cole comment so brazenly about my body and flirt so openly... and for Ana to be as, well, friendly as she had been took me by surprise. I decided to push my luck and see how far this could go, even if it only went as far as innuendo and wine-soaked compliments.

"I guess I have to say something ridiculous and overly dramatic to cap this off," I raised my glass, and after a moment of thought, said, "To Ana, my Gorgeous Spanish Rose, and to Sara, my Exotic African Inspiration: A white boy like me couldn't have asked for two finer women, two goddesses among men, to have in his life. I can think of no two women I'd rather look up to, laugh with, masturbate thinking about or stand half naked with here in this very kitchen on my eighteenth birthday."

"Jesus Christ," Sara spit a sip of wine through a laugh, her hand over mouth, dark eyes staring at me in a mix of disbelief and more of that nebulous something I had been sensing from her and Ana since the moment I walked into the kitchen. She caught her breath, wiping the mist of wine she had rained down on her breasts away. She said, "I'll drink to that, cheesy as it was. Though I don't believe for one damn minute you've ever jerked it thinking about either one of us."

Ana laughed, her face flushed a shade of rosy red as we tipped our glasses and drank.

"Oh, I don't know," I said, downing my entire glass in one chug. I wiped my mouth on the back of my hand and sat the glass down on the counter. I had either completely embarrassed myself, a little boy trying to get the attention of two grown women, or perhaps I had suggested that I was just as game for playing with them if that was indeed the game. I added, "Like you said, I can keep a secret."

"You are nine kinds of trouble," Sara said.

"Yes, he is," Ana agreed.

Before I could conjure up a way to keep the conversation going rolling in the direction we had taken it, Ella strolled into the kitchen wearing her red halter bathing suit. She paused in the doorway and posed for a moment before asking, "Mom, how good does this look?"

"Looks like your father would have a heart attack," Ana replied, her eyes wide, "I'm not far behind. Where is the blue swimsuit I bought you?"

"I'm not going to wear the same suit I wore to the river," Ella strolled into the kitchen and hooked her arm around my neck, "It's lazy to wear to a pool party what you wore to the river, isn't that right, Doug?"

"What was I thinking?" I looked down at my cargo shorts, "Almost ruined the party."

Normally, I would have returned the side hug Ella was giving me and then some, but the idea of doing so in front of Ana and Sara made me uncomfortable for some reason. I wasn't entirely sure why. It was almost as if I were ashamed of Ella's affectionate display, or perhaps by allowing for it I would be ruining the momentum with Ana and Sara somehow. It was yet another ridiculous notion of mine with no anchor in reality. I reminded myself that I wasn't dating Ana anymore than I was dating Ella, nor was I dating Sara. It was all most likely just some harmless flirting and nothing more. The idea that I couldn't or shouldn't flirt back with Ella, especially given our long history, seemed laughable.

'Those women are out of your league, bucko,' I thought to myself, 'Do yourself a favor and just breathe. Relax, dumb ass...'

"I need to borrow Doug, Mom," Ella said, leaning against me, "It's important."

"Now how do you know he wouldn't rather have a mature conversation with us?" Sara asked, her voice laced with a playfully mocking tone that caused her eyes to light up, "Literature, film, Iran Contra and so on. He's a big boy. He's eighteen. It's his party, after all."

"It is his party," Ella replied, kissing me on my cheek, "And if he wants to discuss all that shit, he can cry if he wants to, but I still need him to distract Heather Anderson away from Andrew Tate."

"And who is Andrew Tate?" Ana asked.

"A fellow graduate," Ella rattled off in a rapid fire, bored succession of facts, "Former captain of the swim team, former quarterback of the senior varsity Bobcats football team, blond hair, blue eyes, a body to die for and a deep voice that I'd gladly kill Heather Anderson over unless Doug comes with me right now and stops the murder before it ever takes place."

"He's like a shorter, less compelling Fabio," I said, "With a mullet and hammer toes."

"I see," Ana finished her dish work and turned to face us, hands on her hips. For a moment, the relaxed look on her face shaded with something I couldn't quite put my finger on. She glanced at Ella and then back at me. The strange variance in her demeanor faded as quickly as it had appeared and she was fine again. For a moment, the idea of me distracting Heather Anderson seemed to make Ana uncomfortable.

"Go," Ana waved us both away, "Go prevent a murder. And Ella?"

"Yes, Mom?"

"Behave yourself."

Ella mimicked her mother's stance, hands on her hips and jutted her chest out. She held her head high and asked, "Do I look like I'm trying to misbehave?"

"Even when you're sleeping."

With that, Ella took me by the hand and led me out of the kitchen. I looked over my shoulder as Ella and I turned the corner into the dining room. I saw Ana standing in the kitchen, quietly talking with Sara and smiling. Sara's back was to me, but I could clearly see that she was caressing her fingers up and down Ana's arm. Ana was casually leaning against the counter top, one hand on her hip and a half smile on her face.

Our eyes met.

Ana took a sip of her wine and smiled.

***

2

It didn't take much to separate Heather Anderson from Andrew Tate, and it turns out that Ella didn't need my help at all. Andrew and Heather had been quietly chatting on the porch when we stepped outside through the sliding glass door. Ella was a bombshell in that red halter bathing suit, and she knew it. What's more, she knew that everyone else knew it too. I saw Brett Long, who had wandered over to the far side of the pool, instantly stand at attention upon seeing Ella. Trying to keep the appearance of smooth moves and suave charisma, Brett began to work his way around the pool, his boots clicking on the concrete, his eyes hopeful for even the smallest chance of talking with Ella Bishop.

The poor bastard was done before it all even began.

Andrew, who was in the middle of telling Heather a story about swimming in the finals earlier that year, paused mid sentence upon seeing the curvy Latina temptress that was Ella Bishop. His blue eyes widened to such a degree that I had to make a mental note to myself to invite him to a poker game some time before summer was over. He stood up and offered a seat at the small patio table to Ella.

"Ella," Andrew said through an awkward smile that, even I had to admit, was charming and sexy, "Please, sit down and join us."

Heather, for her part, sat in the chair next to Andrew, an expression of veiled disappointment and boredom written on her pretty face. Heather was a beautiful girl, athletic and well toned, her skin as pale as the moonlight that was due any time now. A yellow tank top hugged her trim torso and served as a colorful counterbalance to her short denim cutoffs. Her fine blonde hair was pulled into a tight ponytail, leaving only a few strands to hang on either side of her face.

"Heather?" I asked.

"Yes?" Heather replied, her light green eyes studying both Andrew and Ella in a scrutinizing way that wasn't all that dissimilar from how my dentist sometimes looked when he was examining my teeth.

"I was wondering if we could talk for a few minutes?" I offered her my hand, "Won't take long."

Heather looked at my hand and for a moment, I thought she was going to tell me to fuck off. Then she graced me with a beautiful smile and politely stood up from her chair. As Andrew and Ella began their small talk, I offered my arm to Heather. She hooked hers into mine and we started walking away just as Brett rounded the corner of the pool. He saw Ella laughing with Andrew, sighed and then changed course, instead shuffling off towards the side gate of the property in a manner that implied that had been his destination all along. If history was any indication, he was going to his truck for a smoke and a nip from the flask he kept in the glove box.

"What's up, Doug?" Heather asked, her voice interested yet sharp, "Lonely without your buddy?"

"Would you believe me if I said I wanted to get to know you better but haven't got a pick up line worth a shit?" I asked. The tone of Heather's voice was underscored by pure sarcasm, as though she'd seen me coming from a mile away, already shut me down and was nothing more than amused that I was still trying.

"I might," Heather smiled, tightening her arm around mine as we walked through the party, "If I didn't know you were running interference for Ella because she's got the juicy quivercunts for Andrew Tate, yeah, I might totally believe it."

"Hey now," I replied, a queasy nervousness pulling at my stomach, "How do you know she wasn't running interference for me?"

"You need a wingman," Heather said in such a saccharine sweet manner that a hypoglycemic would have dropped into a full coma, "Like you need a third testicle. You're just doing busy work."

I stumbled with my words for a moment.

"Cat got your tongue?" Heather laughed and shook her head, "Or does the dog have you by the balls?"

"Hey, I just wanted to talk," I shrugged. The attitude radiating off Heather damn near felt like fire, like some other-worldly pyrokinesis that one could only find in a Stephen King novel, "I didn't mean to piss you off."

"Don't worry about it," Heather waved me off, "Andrew Tate might be the Adonis of Canyon Ridge, but he can't hold a conversation to save his goddamn life. You did me a favor."

"Really?"

"Yes, really," Heather said, "Besides, looks aren't everything. At least you can form coherent sentences that don't start or end with the word 'dude.'"

"Thanks," I said, "I think."

"You know what I meant," Heather rolled her eyes and landed a playful slap on my arm, her demeanor easing up some, "You're just as handsome as he is, just in a more rugged way. You're stocky ...like a pit bull."

"A pit bull," I blinked, "Thank you for that."

"You're the one studying to be a vet," Heather replied as we walked around the perimeter of the pool, "You know it's a compliment."

"You know how to make a guy blush."

Water splashed out of the pool and rained down as Greg Farley, the largest guy in my graduating class, cannon balled into the deep end. Heather and I cringed as the cool water pin pricked our skin in a brief but potent shower. She hugged me with both arms and recoiled, half amused and half irritated with Greg as we hurried on. Soon, we were at the far end of the pool near the immense lawn that stretched to the property line.

"Let's sit for a bit," Heather motioned to the blue and green lawn chairs that framed this corner of the pool.

Once seated and comfortable next to each other, we were silent for a while, watching the party as the sounds of laughter, music and overlapping conversations echoed through the woods behind us. Recalling again what Ella had told me about Heather and Maggie, I pushed those thoughts along with preoccupations of Ana and Sara out of my mind. I had to make room for what was real and in the moment right then and there.

"So what is this important thing you need to talk about?" Heather asked, her green eyes fixed on me, "The suspense is killing me."

"Total honesty?" I asked Heather, reclining back in the lounge chair, hands clasped behind my head.

Heather, who was sitting on the edge of her lawn lounger, leaned forward and tilted her head to one side, a curious yet amused expression on her very Nordic face. She adjusted the left strap of her tank top and then said, "If you can manage, why not?"

A hot flush of irritation was starting to burn at me.

"Well," I regarded her thoughtfully, "Insults and back-handed compliments aside, I was wondering if you'd like to go see a movie with me tomorrow night."

"A movie?"

"You like movies, right?"

Heather responded with a small laugh and nodded her head. She said, "I do like movies, yeah, Doug."

"There's a new Tom Hanks flick out," I offered "He's a kid who becomes an adult over night. It's supposed to be really funny. They're showing it at the Mountain Lane Drive-In. My treat, if you're game."

"So you want to take me to a movie?" Heather pointed her finger at me, "We've had, like, four conversations outside of school. And those all had to do with passing messages to Maggie."

"I'd like to change that," I said, quickly regretting running interference for Ella in the same way that I often regretted indulging myself in too much tequila. Uncertainty was creeping into my state of calm as she spoke, her tone hinting that she almost found the concept of her and I going out on a date laughable. I said, "It's okay if you don't want to, Heather. I just it might be fun."

"I've heard all about your idea of fun."

"I don't understand."

"Sure you do," Heather said, and then, "You and I parked at the Drive-In, alone in that houseboat you call a car, enjoying a comedy with a full tin of popcorn, soda and a roaming hand."

The last time I was at the Drive-In, it was with Maggie Secord and we did everything but watch the movie. I shifted my weight, the reality that I had overplayed my interference run by trying to flirt with Leather Heather becoming abundantly clear.

"Maggie told you that we-"

"Oh Doug," Heather batted her eyes at me, "Maggie told me everything."

"Everything?"

"Everything," she nodded slowly, a wicked grin stretching across her face, "You may look like a slice of apple pie, but you're kind of a perv, aren't you?"

"Never said I wasn't," I said, hoping that honesty would help me avoid any further embarrassment, "I can't believe she told you about all that."

"Girls talk, Doug."

"You know," I laughed, "That's the second time I've heard that today in regards to Maggie. I guess she does a lot of talking. Glad I wasn't the one gossiping."

"Gossiping?"

"Let me ask you something," I studied her face for a moment, and then, "If you were sharing a moment with someone you were dating, an intimate moment, would you want that person telling every other fucking person under the sun everything you did together? Everything?"