Fast Times in the Summer of '86

I got that beer, Schlitz in a can, after piling the food on a paper plate, coleslaw and potato salad along with the turkey burger and grilled veggies. Quite an outdoor summer feast, I thought, and just what I needed after a bike ride.

"Tiffany tells me you're somewhat of a jack of all trades," Madelyn said, squeezing mustard onto her burger.

"She gave me too much credit. When I'm not helping people recover from injuries, I ride and work on bikes in my spare time."

"You're a physical therapist?"

"That's right."

"Well, you look in great shape." She glanced at my well-developed calves and quads.

Tiffany nodded while she finished chewing. "You should see him climb those hills, mom."

"I told Tiffany that she'll be climbing well also with more conditioning."

Madelyn then said, "I know something about conditioning. I do the Jane Fonda video workouts a few times a week. I've considered getting a road bike like Tiff. But, I don't know, there's so much traffic around here."

"There's always the NCRR trail," I said. "I've done it several times. It gets boring after a while but it's free of motor traffic." I looked at Tiffany. "Traffic can be intimidating, even for an experienced rider like me."

Madelyn knocked back a swig and nodded. "Tiff told me that she was scared half to death on your ride this morning. I'm familiar with that Long Green Pike. Busy road."

"With virtually no shoulder," Tiffany said. "But Kerry helped me through it, gave me the confidence to go on." She shot me a wink.

Madelyn sat with her beautiful legs crossed, while stirring the veggies on the plate that rested on her lap. "Well, maybe you can give me the same sort of confidence and the three of us could ride together."

She stopped her stirring and looked up, bouncing her eyes between me and Tiffany in an impish kind of way. Was she serious or was this some sort of flirtation? I wasn't sure, until I noticed the bored/disgusted look on Tiffany's face, as if she knew what her mom was doing and didn't appreciate it.

Madelyn obviously picked up on it. "Well, I just thought I'd suggest it," she said. "I know, two's company and three's a crowd."

"Unless you're sharing a feast like this one on the back-deck," I said, in an effort to break the tension.

Mom and daughter glared at one another for a few seconds, without comment. Small talk broke the moments of silence that followed, but I could still sense the tension that had changed the mood irrevocably for the remainder of the meal. Afterward, Tiffany suggested we go for a walk through the neighborhood, and it was then that she enlightened me. "My mom has a habit of flirting with guys I bring over," she said by way of explanation. "She hadn't done it in a while, so I thought she might be over it. Plus, I didn't think she'd do it with a neighbor. Guess I was wrong."

"Does your mom date?"

"She's got a boyfriend, a guy in his fifties named Frank who she's been seeing for over two years. But I think it's out of convenience. Mom likes to take charge in relationships and Frank is willing to go along. He's got money, buys her nice things. In exchange--and she's told me this--she lets him screw her once in a while. He's the polar opposite of my dad, a good-looking but domineering, take-charge guy, which is why my parents clashed all the time. Frank isn't exactly what you'd call an Alec Baldwin lookalike. But, unlike my dad, he's putty in mom's hands."

We were sitting on a bench in a small park adjacent to the neighborhood that included playground equipment for kids, swings, jungle gym, seesaws, etc., set on a bed of wood chips. I could see why this guy Frank might consent to being dominated. To him, Madelyn was this sexy younger babe who he liked to be seen with, liked to show off in front of his friends, liked to fuck for sure. Truth to tell--and I wasn't about to tell Tiffany--I wouldn't have shied away from doing her myself under different circumstances. Had she been the one who walked into my backyard that day, needing her wheel trued...Well, who knows, I was only speculating. According to what Tiffany said, her mom had flirted with any guy that Tiffany brought around. "Why these flirtations of hers?" I asked.

"It's an ego thing with her. My mom wants to prove that she's still got it, that she can attract much younger men, and so far, it appears that she can." She paused, then said, "Look, don't take this the wrong way, but I saw you checking her out, just like all the guys I've brought home do. She's an attractive lady. I get that, so I don't blame you or them."

"Guess I wasn't as discreet as I thought," I said, chuckling. "Your mom IS kind of hot."

"Yeah, too hot for her own good, I'd say. Or at least for my own good because it can be embarrassing."

"I understand. Did it ever go any further, beyond a flirtation?"

"No, not that I know of. Speaking of discretion, mom knows there's a line she can't cross. It's more of a game with her. The guys look--some of them actually gawk--and then the game's over."

It was an interesting dynamic that Tiffany described, though one I didn't dwell on until a few days later when Madelyn showed up at my front door, seeking advice on what bike she should buy. "I'm really serious about this," she said, standing on the porch in white short-shorts, a tight green blouse and casual heels.

"Well, what you're wearing won't fly on the bike," I said, lost for anything else to say at that moment and gawking like those other men that Tiffany described.

She ruffled a hand through her layered, frosted hair and giggled. "I know that, Kerry, but this is how I always dress in the summer when I'm not at work. I plan to also get those spandex shorts like you and Tiff wear. They're kinda revealing too. Don't you think?" She ran both hands along her tan thighs and pursed her lips, lightly painted with lip gloss.

"I guess so," I said, "revealing but functional for riding a bike." Women with her slim, shapely figure looked super-hot in spandex. I wasn't the only guy who tagged onto the rear wheel of female cyclists blessed with a cute derriere. And Madelyn Winter had one cute derriere. And what's more, she obviously liked to flaunt it.

"Well, anyway," she continued, "can you advise me about a bike? Something like you and Tiff have, with the drop handlebars and skinny tires." She raised her hand. "I know, I know, three's a crowd. But I'm thinking more about me and Tiff riding together. We used to do that in Ocean City. Got up early and rented bikes on the boardwalk."

I advised her to first go to a bike shop to get fitted before picking out a bike. "After that, we can talk about specific brands and other stuff."

"Thanks, I appreciate that," she said. "I'll look forward to it."

She drew me one long flirtatious look before leaving my porch. Was this part of her "game" that Tiffany had mentioned? Or did she have designs on me that went beyond it? The prospect of the latter, I'll have to admit, got me excited. Madelyn Winter possessed this seductive, sensuous quality that I couldn't ignore, that I doubted any guy could ignore. Yet I was dating her daughter, or at least on the verge of it. Had she been this single, divorcee living alone, I would have invited her in to discuss bicycles--or anything else she wanted to talk about.

Tiffany confirmed her mom's interest in cycling. "We both think it might ease some of the mother-daughter friction between us," she said. "I love my mom but, like any two people who live together, we can get on each other's nerves. She really wants to do this"

Madelyn proved that she did by walking into the long-defunct Spokes and Paddles bike shop, with me and Tiffany in tow for support. Then, after over an hour of fitting and test riding, she wheeled out a brand new, sky-blue Bridgestone 400 bicycle. Bridgestone, the same Japanese company known more for their tires, was into their third year of marketing bikes in the United States, a production run that would last until 1994. Along with the bike, she picked up a pair of black spandex riding shorts and a pink jersey.

No surprise, Madelyn wasn't ready to ride on high-speed, no-shoulder roads like Long Green Pike or to tackle steep hills. For now, she planned to stick close to home, staying within the confines of Glen Keith Village, laid out in a grid pattern on flat to rolling terrain. Like a kid with a new toy, she couldn't wait to play with it. Only moments after bringing it home, Tiffany and I watched her do a few loops around the block. Used to riding only one-gear bikes, it took her a while to get the hang of shifting a twelve-speed. Yes, she looked hot in spandex, something I focused on more than her novice shifting, something that got me concocting sexual scenarios involving me and Madelyn. Most fantasies like that stay in the realm of fantasy as I was sure this one would. That is, unless Madelyn pursued me. And then I'd...

Well, I wasn't sure what I'd do. Putting that unlikely circumstance on the back burner, I took Tiffany to see Children of a Lesser God. Great movie; we both loved it. It was our first "official" date, minus much of the tense awkwardness that comes with that sort of social territory. She had no qualms about returning to my house, sharing a glass of wine and then necking on my sofa while classical music (wish I could remember the piece and composer) played on my stereo. Hopped up on my lap, she said, "I've been looking forward to this ever since you kissed me on our bike ride."

"Yeah, me too," I said. "You're so pretty," I added, bookending her adorable face with my hands and debating how far I should try to take things, wondering how far she'd let me. Normally, early in a relationship, it was up to the girl to set those limits, at least it had been in my dating life.

She let me know that she wasn't that "experienced," had "gone all the way" with only one other guy, her last boyfriend. She also let me know that she wasn't on birth control, and since I was fresh out of condoms, we kept our clothes on. Which was fine with me, because the passionate necking we did reminded me of my teen years, making out on the sofa or in the car with girls, like me, who hadn't yet gone beyond third base. "By next week, I'll be protected," she said. "I'm going back on the pill. I have a feeling we're going to be seeing a lot more of each other. Don't you?"

I did. I could see that the summer was heating up in more ways than one. There

was Tiffany, presumably my new girlfriend, and Madelyn, her sexy mom. She began calling me for cycling advise--ostensibly, I found out soon enough on one Saturday morning when Tiffany had gone to the beach with friends. "Lucky me to catch you home," Madelyn said, standing on the edge of my property, wearing her usual revealing summer clothing, while I was in the process of cleaning my Bianchi on the back lawn. "If you're too busy, I can come back."

"Never too busy to speak with you," I said. "More cycling questions?"

"Well, kind of," she said, stepping up to where I was standing with a hose in one hand and a cleaning rag in the other. She looked at my bike, flipped upside down. "Coincidentally, I was going to ask you about cleaning and lubricating. I must say, this is perfect timing. Can I watch?"

"Of course," I said. But it wasn't easy for me to focus, not with Madelyn standing there in her hip-hugging short-shorts and tight, low-cut blouse and that seductive quality that seemed to come so naturally to her. She sported a golden tan from weekend sunbathing and her own beach trip with Frank. She knew what it was doing to me, and she knew that I knew that she knew. I could see her grinning, watching me steal glimpses, as I took her through the process, the dos and don'ts and what lubes might work best with her bike.

She squatted down to take a closer look at my newly-lubed chain, while I gawked at the way the hem of her short-shorts slid almost up to her panties. Then she said, "Hmm, I bet it moves through those gears pretty good." With a provocative grin and glint in her eyes, she added, "The right lubrication can do that."

"Ah, right, it can," I said, my eyes ping-ponging between her crotch and the erotic way she slid her tongue over her mouth. She wasn't wearing any lipstick, just an expression that conveyed something that lay beyond that line that Tiffany said her mom would never cross. And if that was the case, my carnal side screamed for me to cross it with her. Per what Tiffany had told me, her mom was an old pro at this, seducing her daughter's young male interests, or at least pretending to.

But when she said, "Not to be presumptuous, Mr. Couture, but you appear to like what you see--and I don't mean your bicycle chain--" it appeared that she wasn't pretending. Moments passed as her emerald eyes met mine in an unspoken understanding.

Then I said, "I'm dating your daughter."

She nodded, then stood and slid the hem of her tight shorts down an inch or so. "Yes, I know that, Kerry. Look, I'm not trying to steal you away from her. In fact, I'm glad she found a decent guy for a change. But, as the song goes, you light my fire. And, if I'm not mistaken, the feeling appears mutual."

Briefly, I looked around, shifting my weight from one leg to the other. "Okay. So now what? I mean, I'd hate to cheat on Tiffany."

"First off, she won't have to know. Second, I'd hardly call what I'm hoping for cheating when you two barely know each other. I mean, it's not like you're going steady or anything. If you were, we wouldn't be having this discussion." She let me mull that over for a moment. Then: "Listen, I've never become intimate with any of my daughter's dates or boyfriends. Yes, I've flirted with them. I guess she's told you that."

"She has. But what about this guy Frank? She told me about him, too."

"Oh, don't worry about him," she said, swinging her hand as if returning a tennis serve. "He won't have to know either. This would be a first for me, Kerry." She reached out and playfully ruffled my brown, curly hair. "Well, think about it, okay? Tiff is due home in a couple days."

I watched her walk away, glaring at her perfect, diamond-shaped calves and her luscious butt wiggle with every step, feeling my resistance crumble like stale bread. A praying man might recite that biblical verse about not being led into temptation. But I wasn't a praying man, not then. I was a young buck, confident of where he was in life, a guy who grabbed for the gusto when the grabbing was good. Madelyn was right; Tiffany and I weren't yet "seriously involved." How she could square hopping into the sack with her daughter's potential love interest was beyond me. But who was I to moralize? There was gusto to be had.

And so, hours later, as darkness descended and the flicker of fireflies lit up the night, the irresistibly sexy Madelyn Winter and I faced each other in my AC-cooled bedroom, stripped of our clothes, dressed only in mutual desire, of which there was plenty. Madelyn's appeal went way beyond the sum of her body parts, the curves in the right places, the aforementioned long, beautiful legs, kissable derriere and luscious boobs. What did it for me the most was her unique sensuality, a seductiveness that was truly inspiring to my own body parts and mindset, one that gave me the energy for multiple climaxes, energy that also allowed me to satisfy her like she'd never been satisfied "in many a year," she revealed.

I mentioned her staying the night, presented more as an option rather than an actual invite. She declined. "We're not on that kind of time yet," she said. "Maybe another time. We'll see." On her way out the door, she almost floored me when she said, "Give Tiff a call when she gets home." Then, after giving me a quick goodnight kiss, she added, "Don't look so surprised. I wasn't kidding when I said that I'm glad she's got a decent, well-accomplished guy in her life after that loser Jerry. It appears that she's quite fond of you."

Arms crossed against my chest, I leaned against the door frame, curious and a bit confused. "Does this mean...I mean, are we going to...well--"

"Get together again? After what you just did for me, I sure as hell hope so. What I'm saying, Kerry, is that you should still see Tiffany if that's what you want, if you can suspend any hang ups you might have about sleeping with me while you're involved with her. I won't be jealous, believe me. After all, I'm seeing someone else also, though you and Frank are in very different categories. He fulfills me one way, you another way. See ya."

The summer was turning out to be my own Fast Times at Ridgemont High. Or, in my case, fast times in Glen Keith Village. Shortly after Tiffany returned home, we got together for another bike ride, which included a stop at Hendler's Dairy for ice cream. We again ate outside, discussing everything from the Gorbachev-Regan summits to her recent beach trip. "I missed you," she said. "I know we just met, but I pictured you and me down there alone. Before the summer ends, I hope. Oh, and by the way, I'm now on the pill." Her face lit up in anticipation of what that meant.

Madelyn's comment about 'suspending any hang ups' about sleeping with mom and daughter echoed. Honestly, there was some of that, because I thought that there was potential for something more than just sex between Tiffany and I. Still, like anyone who experiences a great thing for the first time, they want more of it. But I was now with Tiffany, and she had just cleared the runway for takeoff. "Tiffany, I've got a great idea," I said. "We ride back to my place, take a shower and then...I'll let you fill in the rest."

She licked the last of her chocolate ice cream off her cone. Then she said, "We ride back to your place, shower TOGETHER, and then do what we couldn't the last time I was over there. And I don't think I need to spell out what that is."

She didn't, of course, and I especially liked the showering together part. A little over an hour later, we were standing in the tub under the removable shower head, covered in body wash. Glen Keith bathrooms are on the small side, something like seven feet by nine feet. They steam up fast, though we were making plenty of steam on our own, heavy smooching while our hands slid over each other's soapy bodies and jets of warm water poured over us.

After toweling off, I led her into my bedroom. It wasn't lost on me that Tiffany's mom was in this very space less than a week before, creating in my mind the strangest juxtaposition I'd ever found myself in. Like mother like daughter? Not really. Not in body type, as noted, and not in the way each of them responded and performed. Madelyn had been more aggressive, where Tiffany preferred me to take the lead. Tiffany liked longer foreplay (she loved it when I got her to come using my tongue on her clit; loved it even more when she came with me inside her). Madelyn was more wham-bam; Tiffany, slower, more sedate, and she loved to snuggle, something her mom and I didn't do.

Compare and contrast. This is absurd, I thought while holding her, feeling her warmth and affection and breathing in her lovely scent, a mix of body wash and something akin to tulips in full bloom.

Nestled against my chest, she said, "You know, after my breakup with Jerry, this impostor who wasn't who he claimed to be, my mom said she hoped I'd meet a decent guy, one who treats me right and is going places."

"Yeah, she told me the same thing," I said, my fingers combing languidly through her hair. Woops! It took me just a split-second to realize that I wasn't supposed to know that.

Tiffany tensed her shoulders, then propped her head up on an elbow. "Oh? When?"

Struggling to stay cool, I said, "Um, ah, I think it was when you were away. She called me about cycling and somehow we got into her wanting you to meet someone nice. And I hope I'm that someone."