Grampa's Last Hurrah

She laughed, "Not something you've ever had a problem with."

"No. I was lucky with my parents. They did their best not to fuck me up unintentionally."

She laughed at that. Either the line was funny, or she recognised the Philip Larkin paraphrase and appreciated that he had expected her to get the reference.

When they went to the cinema, she had no objection to him choosing a double seat at the back and putting an arm over her shoulder. Her head had turned to his as the lights went down, and she put her legs over his knees. They happily snogged and felt each other up through the adverts. When the trailers started, he looked around and saw that there was only one other couple in the back row with them. Fortunately, they were too engrossed in each other to pay attention to him and Samantha and also blocked the view from the aisles for late arrivals. After all, it was a Monday matinee, and the weather was good outside.

Samantha must have done the same thing as she whispered to him, "You can get my tits out if you want. You deserve a reward for engaging your mind about the book and the skirt and for not treating me as a stupid cow."

He undid the top of her halter and started playing with the firm and beautiful breasts. He did his best to remember the details for Grampa. Her nipples quickly stiffened as he played with them and kissed her neck. When he dipped his head to begin sucking the nearest one, she pulled his head closer. She whispered, "I like a man who knows what he's about. Too many men just want to try and make milkshakes." He realised that if he ever saw Jesus Christ Superstar, he would associate it with sucking Samantha's tits as the trailer played in the cinema.

When the film started, she did up the halter again and stopped sitting on his lap. Live and Let Die was mostly enjoyable. The opening song was terrific, and Roger Moore was amusing in the role. Sensibly, he had not tried to be Sean Connery. James suspected that it would not date well, and some of the plot twists were just silly. Luckily for him, Samantha clearly felt the same as, halfway through the film, she undid his trousers and gave him an expert hand job for much of the picture, especially through the bus chase. He'd had to smother his laughter as she had kept time to the Bond theme. She was great at bringing him to the brink and then not letting him ejaculate. Fuck, he wondered if he could persuade her to give Grampa a hand job. It would perk the old man up no end. Might even keep him going for another year or so.

He amended the ambition a little later when Samantha giggled and got down on her knees in front of him. To his disbelief, she first redid her lipstick and then started kissing his prick and thighs. She grinned up at him, and he saw that there was, indeed, lipstick on his collar. He desperately hoped to hold out long enough to fully appreciate her technique.

He was relieved that he had changed his underwear and washed himself before meeting up with Samantha. Mother had recommended this years ago to him, and he had taken it on board. As with many of Mother's suggestions, he had been grateful for them at the time and had only later worried why she knew that she should make them. He was also uncomfortably aware that Mark had been Father's favourite and that he was Mother's. Again, another set of questions he had avoided asking his parents, although Grampa had spotted Mark's lack of enthusiasm for women at an early age.

He shut his eyes and tried to distract himself. The woman was the best fellatrix he had ever encountered. He would be interested in Grampa's opinion on her technique. He then laughed at himself. The fact he would use that word and wanted his grandfather's opinion probably said too much about him.

Luckily, that interlude had delayed the moment of truth and had only encouraged her to make more outstanding efforts. She had discovered erogenous zones on him, which he hadn't known existed. No one had ever sucked his balls before today, and he wondered who he could persuade to repeat the experience.

She soon got back to his prick. He had initially been embarrassed that he had had one of the few uncircumcised pricks at his public school but was later thankful that his mother thought it was silly and his father had painful memories of his own operation. Finally, he realised that the film must end soon and pushed her head down over his cock and let himself go.

To his amazement, she kept her mouth around his dick and tried swallowing everything he produced. He realised that if he ever did marry, he would want someone as sexually adventurous as the waitress on her knees in front of him. He parked that thought as she finished swallowing sperm and cleaning his dick, licked her lips at him, and then joined him in the double seat. She held him and laughed.

She whispered to him. "Someone in the row in front of us was watching us more than the film. I hope we gave them a good show." She was amused rather than angry.

"I didn't see anyone staring."

"They were using a compact -- a make-up mirror. Occasionally, it caught the light from the screen."

"A woman?"

"Hard to tell. They are tall enough to be a man." Samantha gave a thumbs-up sign in the direction of a tallish person in the row in front. The voyeur visibly reacted to this and, at the end of the film, made a dash for the doors as soon as the end credits started. He thought he recognised the gait and the shape but couldn't quite believe his senses. Had his new aunt been watching him and Samantha rather than the film? The person fleeing had been wearing the same white suit as his new aunt had been wearing this morning. Bloody hell, if his mother was right about Uncle Bernard's inhibitions, perhaps she could be careful about releasing his aunts.

As they left the cinema, he asked if she would like to go on another date. She suggested Thursday, as she had the afternoon and the evening off. This suggested that she would be open to going all the way.

He could not resist asking, "Did you mind whoever it was watching?"

"Not really. It actually turned me on and encouraged me to give you a blow job. Mind you, there's part of me which wants to be on TV or be a model. Even a page 3 girl." She gave him an exaggerated wink.

He checked his watch. It was about 4.15, and her next shift started at six. As it was Sunday in 1970s Britain, there were no pubs to go to. He took her to a café, had cake and tea, and played footsie with her.

He then realised he had a way of giving Grampa what he wanted. However, he wanted to ensure that he got his end away first and approaching her directly would be risky. He rehearsed the conversation and found that asking a girl if she wanted to model for his grandfather was unlikely to be a wise move. Now, if he could get her to ask to be a model.

He returned home and went to see his mother. When he mentioned that he'd thought that he had seen Juliette in the cinema watching the waitress suck him off, she said, "Don't say anything to Juliette or your Grampa."

She paused and said, "I have little doubt that if you are right, you could have your aunt Juliette if you wanted to. I just see no way it would end well, and neither do you. If you had sex with her, she would fall in love with you and insist on telling my brother."

"If you say so, mother."

"Look, you are a good-looking, diplomatic, and charming young man who can make a woman enjoy herself. My brother is a well-meaning, average-looking middle-aged man who is socially awkward, sexually repressed, and adept at putting his foot into his mouth. He had no business marrying an 18-year-old virgin."

James decided there was no good answer he could make to this apart from saying, "I'm not arguing. I just want your advice on my best way forward."

She patted him on the cheek, "Good. Just behave like a friend. It's just that I'm even more worried your Grampa might ask you to seduce your aunt without a condom, and I need you to say no."

"What?"

"Bernard had mumps when he was fifteen. There is a difference between impotence and infertility. Your Grampa worked it out ten years ago. It's amazing what you can find in Readers Digest."

"Sorry?"

"Only a 1 in 6 chance, according to my friend in Harley Street. Personally, I think your uncle's problems are psychological."

"Mother!"

"I thought you preferred honesty."

"Up to a point. I could have done without you telling me Mark took after our father."

"Well, not that much. At least your father could be bothered to sire the heir and the spare."

"Yes, but I refuse to believe you went without sex for fifteen years after I came along."

"I was discrete, and your father was tactful. It cramped my style when I became a widow."

"Do you know how depressing it is to realise that my grandfather and mother had a more active sex life at my age than I do?"

"Well, you are doing better than your brother, uncle, father and cousins."

"A low bar."

"True, but your Grampa was exceptionally motivated and had almost unrivalled opportunities. There is no point in competing with him. You also work hard for a living. I had plenty of time on my hands and was safely married to a man who was happy for me to sow my wild oats."

He desperately wanted to change the subject.

"Have you thought about what I told you about the photographs?"

"Of course. If your publisher friend is interested, Dennis Hodd would be delighted to write about his memories of playing at Southpool and the people he worked with there or elsewhere. He would like to come up and see Grandpa's publicity shots and cheesecake photos. Some of Grampa's friends from the thirties and the forties became minor film stars, and I wouldn't be surprised if some of his friends from the fifties were still going. If the publicity shots are striking enough and the cheesecake sufficiently titillating, he thinks it could sell well."

"My friend would want to be as salacious as he could get away."

"Of course." Mother paused and said, "The idea of your Grampa having a book of his photographs published would give him a new lease of life. I'm going to suggest that he use Juliette as a filter."

"What?"

"She will look through the photographs he feels doubtful about. It will get her used to the idea of women making the best of themselves."

"If she was watching me this afternoon....?"

"That's why. I, of course, will look through what she passes."

"What are you up to?"

"I'm trying to maximise the chances of Bernard and Juliette breeding. I want to encourage her to recognise that she has a sexual side. Of course, I want Grampa to leave the photographs to you. They may be your pension."

"Sorry?"

"An awful lot of ingenues and chorus girls at Southpool had prominent careers or made good marriages."

"What are you suggesting?"

"The photographs and the negatives will only become more valuable."

"You're not suggesting blackmail?"

"Of course not. Still, if a pre-emptive offer comes in, why turn it down? Especially if a book with the cheesecake photographs is published now?"

He could not avoid laughing. "Why does Uncle Bernard trust you? You are almost as incorrigible as Grampa."

"Because I always looked after him and didn't flaunt my indiscretions."

"I wouldn't trust Mark."

"That's different. Your brother dislikes you for being cleverer than him. Bernard is an honest man who does not deserve to be humiliated. The two of us were good friends as children. Mind you, I do feel sorry for anyone married to him."

She then looked at him. "I'm not entirely joking about the photographs. Too many young people believe that sex was not invented until 1963. The fact that show girls who eventually became famous posed in their underwear or even naked in the 1920s to the mid-1950s will surprise them. I can certainly remember a few who came round to the house who were famous enough that a nude picture would pay for the roof to be repaired."

He laughed, "I love your practicality, mother. Does anyone have anything on you?"

"The Duke of Wellington is my lodestar. Publish and be dammed. If someone looks like they are calling my bluff, I do have friends in both high and low places. Besides, my youthful indiscretions were all in private with married men who were afraid of publicity. Only men can get away with spectators." She winked at him. "As a widow, I can be merry so long as I am not ridiculous. I make certain that all my distractions are at least as well off as I am and that I can pass for forty if they are thirty." That was a little close to the knuckle. He knew that most of his friends from school and university had lusted after his mother, and she had enjoyed the sensation.

She paused, "I will see Juliette now and encourage her to wear a dress we bought this morning to dinner. She looks good in it, but it would help if you also appreciated it. The girl needs self-belief as much as a better wardrobe. Plan A is to convince her that she is beautiful and has needs and to persuade my brother that she is a woman who wants to have sex with him but is not a scarlet lady."

He nearly asked a question but then realised he did not want to know about Mother's backup plans so long as they did not involve him. "I will encourage her without flirting."

He looked at his mother, who had an expression on her face which filled him with trepidation. "Mother?"

"Just thinking, dear. If we want to cheer up your Grampa, how about sharing the waitress with him?"

"Already working on it. She wants to be a model, and I'm trying to find a way to persuade her to volunteer to pose for him. I was thinking of getting him to take some of his photographs to the Club tomorrow night and let her see them."

Mother laughed, "I'll get Grampa to take pictures of Juliette and me tonight and develop them tomorrow morning. I'll show her to them when I take her to lunch at the Club tomorrow. Grampa can ensure that the waitress gets assigned to our table."

He spent time with the twins the following day. He knew they were getting older, and their relationship with him would change soon. It would become less playful, and he would have to treat them as young ladies. Because he was fifteen years older than them, he's always been more like an uncle to them than a brother. He'd left home for university before they could properly remember life, and Mark had been the nearest they had to a father substitute.

When he got back, his mother intercepted him. "Stage one worked well at lunch. The headshots and fashion shots impressed the waitress as well as your Aunt Juliette. I think I've now convinced your aunt that she is an attractive young lady. I've been through some of his back numbers with your Grampa, and I think we've got the right choices to tempt Samantha into Grampa's parlour."

Mother was correct. When they got to the club, Samantha was wearing the skirt she had been given on Monday. She stood as close as she could when she took the order. This allowed Grampa to put his hand between her legs, and the new skirt allowed him to take his hand higher. She just laughed.

They'd started with the headshots. These were the ones performers would use for giving to casting agents and were designed to bring out the most attractive features in young women. Grampa said that he had also done character headshots for actresses who had decided they had a better chance of getting a start in minor support roles. Having four of these in front of them from the thirties and the fifties when Samantha appeared to serve the wine had caught her attention.

"Are these your photographs, Arnie? They're excellent. Should I know any of these?"

Grampa had chosen a photograph of a woman who had gone on to act in 1950 comedies and had even appeared in a few Carry-On films. Unfortunately for Grampa, she had paid in cash rather than kind. Fortunately for him, she had recommended his services to other young performers who were more strap-cashed.

Anyway, she recognised the name and looked with interest at the other photographs. She said, "I saw the photographs you had taken of your daughter and daughter-in-law. You're still terrific."

She was taking the bait.

They dropped references to the proposed book, and she recognised the name of Mother's friend from ENSA. They progressed from the headshots to those performers used for autographs where they were clothed, but there was room for a signature. Next were publicity shots designed to increase the chances of the local papers publishing them to advertise the show and the performer. A delicate balance was needed between sexy and fit for publication. These were often bathing suits or shorts, and Grampa had an eye for which girls benefitted from having their bosoms or legs accentuated.

Grampa chose this time to go to the gents, and Samantha came over.

She said, "I hadn't realised how talented Arnie is. Is it true what your mother was saying and that he used to do portfolios for the girls who worked at the Palais, the Grand and the Pier when he was younger."

"I believe so. He gave them good deals even when they could not afford it."

There was a mucky laugh again. "I bet he did. I wonder if he ever photographed my mother."

"Your mother?"

"She was on the stage before she married my father."

"You could ask my Grampa. He has an excellent memory for names."

He began to feel that there may be something to be said for the book idea as a whole. If nothing else, it should sell in Southpool and get some publicity. Certainly, Samantha seemed interested.

By the time it came to dessert and coffee, and the lingerie shots appeared, Samantha was hooked. Towards the end of the meal, Grampa asked her what clothes she would like to be photographed in. She winked at James and told Grampa that she loved wearing sexy lingerie, preferably silk or satin. Grampa left a 60% tip.

She then asked, "I wonder whether you knew my mother. She used to be on the stage."

"Maybe. What was her name?"

"Her stage name was Diane Fraser."

"I believe that I do. I think I took some pictures of her."

"This may be cheeky of me, but I'd love to see them and......"

"Yes, my dear."

"Is there any chance of you taking some pictures of me?"

"Of course. When would suit you? It's best to avoid the weekend as I don't think my son would be happy about it."

She looked round at him and said, "Jim, is there any chance we can spend some of Thursday afternoon taking photographs? We'll still have the evening together."

"Of course, Samantha."

Grampa said, "Great. Arrange with young Jim here where you two will meet and come round at 2.30 for the session." Grampa's hand was now heading up her leg at a rate of knots. He said, "If you like, you can do the same poses as your mother."

On the way home, James told himself this was probably Grampa's last hurrah. No wonder he was going for broke. He wondered what he could do to persuade Samantha to fellate his Grampa and what excuse he could give for absenting himself from the shoot.

It wasn't until three in the morning when a thought struck him which kept him awake for the rest of the night. Luckily, Mother was an early riser, and at six-thirty, he intercepted her on the way to make some coffee.

"Mother, do you think there is any danger that she is a relative? What if she is Grampa's daughter?"

Mother looked at him, "Do you know when your Grampa met her mother?"

"He says the summer of 1953."

"Do the maths. Your Grampa photographed Diane Fraser in the Summer of 1953. Any child would have been born in the Spring of 1954, and she would be nineteen now. Samantha is eighteen and just about to go to university. Even if she was your Grampa's child, I don't think it is illegal for you to have sex with her. As you've never known each other growing up, I don't even think it's immoral."