Confessions of a Pool Boy

Grace came up behind me and put an arm around my waist. We stood watching the rain in companionable silence.

"You bored?" She asked.

"Yeah, I guess so" I admitted.

"Wanna ball?" She asked.

I looked down at her and replied "Not right now, babe. Is that OK?"

She grinned that cherubic way she does, considerately scratched a little flotsam from my beard and said, "It's cool, man."

She gave me a squeeze and added, "Don't forget it's Pageant Night tonight." and she wandered back to her bedroom.

To fill the void the TV left, the girls had concocted names and events for most of the evenings we spent together. They even kept a calendar taped to the fridge. There was Games Night, Music Night, Book Night, Theater Night; and all the future weekend parties had themes like Rock n Rolling, Coffee House,and Bacchanalia. They were the supreme planners. Me? I was just a follow-and-doer.

'Pageant Night' was free form improvisation and random parlor games. The girls had arranged the couch and armchair theater style, moved away the coffee table and tilted the lamps at an angle to make footlights of a sort. The stage was two chairs from the kitchen.

At 7 PM sharp, Chelsea paraded out of the bedroom wearing a thong, high heels, a pink satin cape fashioned from a slip, and a New Orleans mask with green feathers. She pranced like a Vegas showgirl as she called for the start of Pageant Night. "Come one, come all, to the best show of all!" she sang.

Janice came from her room with high neck, ribbed turtleneck, a long tweed skirt, dark stockings and clunky practical shoes. She carried a thick dictionary in her arms and wore tiny round reading glasses pulled down on her nose. "Oh, dear, what shall we do?" She said.

Grace emerged soon after, barefoot in high-rise cutoff jeans and Chelsea's chambray shirt, unbuttoned but knotted under her breasts. Her hair was in pigtails tied with green ribbons. "Well, Gosh, I never." She said.

The three of them circled the living room repeating their personal chants, and eventually pulled me out of the kitchen area to our makeshift stage. They sat me on one of the chairs and the three of them scrunched in together on the couch. The chanting stopped.

For a minute we all just stared at each other. I didn't know what I was supposed to do.

Suddenly, Janice looked at the other girls and asked academically, "Chelsea dear, how would you make this scene better?"

Chelsea jumped from the couch, sat in the chair next to me and put her arm across my shoulder. I reached for her bare breast but she swatted my hand away. "Not yet," she hissed through gritted teeth. "You are Gumby," she added.

Janice piped up again. "Oh my, that looks nice. Dearest Grace, how would YOU make this scene better?"

Grace hopped up from the couch and made an exaggerated show of lifting Chelsea off the second chair and unceremoniously dumping her back on the couch. They both giggled as Grace sat in the now emptied chair, put her arms around me and draped her bare leg across mine. This time I resisted an urge to caress her thigh.

Chelsea turned to Janice and said, "That DOES look wonderful, but how would make it better, lovely Janice?"

Janice set her book aside and rose. She stepped curiously around the two of us seated in the stage chairs. She pulled Grace's leg off of mine and lifted her up off the seat. As any good school teacher might, she pointed to the couch and Grace marched over with slumped shoulders and an exaggerated sad expression. Janice sat next to me, prim and proper.

"Oh, sweet Chelsea, this is such a fine scene. How would you make it better?" said Grace.

Chelsea rose and put my arm over Janice's shoulders, and turned my head to face her. Then she stepped back and gestured as if to say, "Wahhh Laaaa!"

As Chelsea sat down, Grace hopped up, put Janice's hand on my thigh and twisted HER head to face me.

Chelsea then took my hand and put it up under Janice's top, squarely on her left tit. It felt warm and pleasantly squishy.

Grace pressed our faces together till our noses were just touching, unbuttoned my shirt and placed Janice's hand on my chest. Grace rejoined Chelsea on the couch.

Janice and I were frozen together looking into each others' eyes, I felt her hand move slightly, caressing my chest. "I love you," she said quietly as she gently kissed me.

Applause erupted from the couch. "Bravo! Bravo!"

Chelsea and Grace were mimicking our little stage act enthusiastically on the couch as Janice took me by the hand and guided me to her bedroom.

- 2020 -

Janice and I opened a bakery in '74. She always claimed my cooking was "good for her organs" so we named it 'Organic Bakery.'

Years later, food companies and grocery stores from all over America came knocking, wanting to license the name. Chelsea handled all our legal stuff and negotiated long term, big dollar contracts with these companies.

When we first started, Grace drove an old Econoline van around dropping off baked goods. She had grown that into a lucrative distribution and franchise business, now in 37 states.

It's still righteous work, I think.

Our nine kid were now grown and handle all of the business operations while we spend our time on a 40 foot ketch called "Over Jordan." Our pool is...well, the Caribbean.

The sun was dying as I steered the boat into a protected cove off the Costa Rican coast and dropped anchor.

Chelsea and Grace, of course, were stretched out naked on the bow. As I secured the anchor line, they each picked up their towels and went below deck.

Janice watched me square and cover the sails from her mid-ship perch. She snapped her book shut and arched her bare back as she stepped down. She gave me a seductive look as she passed, said, "Don't be long, Rick" and disappeared down the hatch.

I stood alone for a few moments, feeling the warm sea breeze, trying to remember what night it was.

From below deck I heard, "Hey Rick. Are my flip flops up there?"