Grant & Sandy Pt. 03

"OK, say bye to Daddy, you two," I heard Sandy instruct the kids. Cherubic faces crowded my computer screen as Charlie and Rachel gave air kisses and told me they were looking forward to seeing me when I got home. I traveled enough that Skype visits weren't unusual for them. "It's almost time to go to Grandma and Grandpa's house, so go grab the bags I've packed for you and bring them down to the front door. I'll be down in a minute," my wife finished.

"You're taking them to your folks' place?" I inquired. "Plans for tonight?"

Sandy turned back to her laptop screen as the kids scampered out of the room. "Dani gave notice this afternoon," she informed me with a serious look. "She told Neil she's going to a competitor, and he told her to clean out her desk. They walked her out of the building."

I sat back in my chair. "Wow. I take it this took everyone off guard?"

"Yeah. But still, that's a crappy way to treat her. I mean, if she was going to steal client info or sabotage something, she would have done it before she gave notice, right? She was trying to be professional and leave on good terms," Sandy finished with a frown.

I felt a flash of pride at my wife's loyalty to her friend. "I hear you, babe. But it's not personal, it's just standard risk management practice," I told her.

"Well, she's still really upset. Donovan's out of town and doesn't get back until tomorrow afternoon, so I told her to come stay with me. She apparently put the stuff from her desk into the trunk of her car, and then took a cab to the pub near our place. That's why I asked Mom and Dad to take the kids for tonight - I figure it's not going to be pretty around here," Sandy concluded.

"OK, good plan. At least today's Friday, so you guys won't have to go into work hungover tomorrow," I offered. "Did the guys get the pool ready?" Before I flew out on Monday, I set up an appointment to have our usual service company get our backyard pool opened for the season. Summers are often too short, and I wanted to make sure we were taking full advantage of the early spring we were experiencing this year.

"Yep, they did everything while I was at work on Wednesday. Looks great, I can't wait to get in. Oh, and I had them do the hot tub too - it was getting a little scummy," my wife informed me.

"Fantastic," I answered. Cleaning and maintaining the pool and Jacuzzi were household tasks I could do myself, but I frankly despised the work, and now that we could afford it, it was one of the first chores I contracted out. "I checked the weather, and it looks like the weekend is going to be a good one. I want to spend a bunch of it on the deck with a cold beer in my hand, watching you prance around in your bathing suit," I told my love with a grin.

"You're bad," Sandy scolded me with a smile of her own. Her face dropped suddenly. "I'm not sure I have a suit I can wear. The elastic in the yellow one is shot, and it sags in all the wrong places," she lamented.

"Outstanding! Skinny dipping it is!" I quipped with a clap of my hands.

Sandy giggled. "What time are you back tomorrow?" she asked, quickly changing tracks.

"I'm packed now - the truck should be here in a few minutes. Assuming I make the connections in La Paz and Miami, I should be home before noon," I answered. Red-eye flights sucked, but I preferred the discomfort of traveling through the night to burning waking hours in the air. Besides, I'd learned long ago to sleep just about anywhere at will.

"OK, I'll let you go then. Fly safe, hon," Sandy urged with tinge of reluctance.

"Will do. See you soon. Like the lark, babe," I replied. Sandy grinned again at my longstanding, intimate sign-off, and we disconnected.

I closed my laptop and secured it in my backpack, then did a last quick check of the spartan room for any kit I'd missed packing. Phone, passport? Check. I made sure to physically touch the items in my carry-on.

The site visit had gone better than expected, I reflected as I hoisted my bags out the door and on to the steps of the visitors' quarters to await my ride to the airstrip. I'd been worried about the attitude of the mine operations management, about the culture of the local workforce in southern Bolivia, about not speaking Spanish, and about a host of other things before I arrived. None of them had posed a problem, which was an unusual and pleasant surprise. I'd updated Svend by e-mail, and my partner wanted to celebrate when I got back home. Damn! I forgot to tell Sandy he's coming over Saturday for dinner. Oh well, it's not like he needs an invitation after this many years. Svend was more of a brother than a colleague, as my wife was well aware.

By the time the SUV arrived and I threw my bags in the back, my mind was already on the report I'd need to write.

***

I sat down in Miami sometime after oh-dark-thirty, weary from the grind of international air travel. I'd long ago learned to conserve energy when traveling long distances by following a set hierarchy: don't run if you can walk, don't walk if you can stand, don't stand if you can sit, and don't sit if you can lie down. These rules had served me well over the years; it was like putting the computer on "standby." I knew I had enough time to make it to the gate for my final leg to YYZ without hurrying, so I visited the head, then loped along without any urgency and fell into an uncomfortable chair on the end of a row in the departure lounge. I peeled open a protein bar and slowly began replenishing my energy. Any flavour the nutritious ingredients provided was masked by a liberal infusion of chocolate because, as I'd learned long ago from a grizzled sergeant-major of my acquaintance, "you don't need to practice being uncomfortable." I switched my phone off airplane mode and began to catch up on the unavoidable backlog of messages we all live with in this hyper-connected world.

After performing triage on my work e-mails - answering those needing immediate attention, flagging those I'd have to deal with when I got home, and deleting all the rest - I eventually let myself check texts from home. Sandy had sent quite a few, and they all seemed to have been generously sprinkled with emoticons. I started scrolling.

*Hey babe, missing you!* with lots of hearts of different colours.

*Can't wait until you get home, lover!* with a few sets of lipstick lip marks. Hell yeah.

*dani's bad* was the next one, with a martini glass, wine glass, champagne bottle popping, and beer steins clinking together. There was an accompanying selfie, a bit out of focus, with Dani's and Sandy's faces pressed cheek to cheek in laughter. The foreground of the pic was dominated by two half-full glasses of red wine. OK, they're a little sloshed. At least Dani looks like she's having fun, and not crying about how things ended at work.

*babe*

*i miss u*

*srsly i miss u lots*

*u dont know how much i love u*

Yikes, tomorrow morning's going to be rough.

*im gonna show u and rock your world*

And then I nearly choked on the water I was drinking. The picture on my screen was crystal clear this time. My wife looked like she was dancing in our living room. Her arms were extended above her head, and she held a dangerously tilted glass of red wine in one hand. Her eyes were closed, and her head was tilted to one side. Her mid-length blonde hair was caught in mid-flick as she swung her head around. She wore a pair of faded hip-hugger jeans that I know showed off her spectacular ass, and she was naked from the waist up, hard nipples bouncing in the open air. Holy shit.

I glanced around quickly to see if there was anyone in my corner of the waiting area who might be able to see the screen of my phone, but at this time of night - or early morning - everyone in the thin crowd forming was too tired to be nosy. I looked down at my screen again, and again had the same thought: Holy shit. HO. LEE. SHIT. My mind was spinning, but through all the confusion one clear thought was constant. Sandy is seriously freakin' hot. Blazing hot. I was suddenly desperate to be home right fucking now.

I scrolled down past my wife's daring, wild pose. The next text was more coherent.

*You owe me one, dude...D* winky face and blowing a kiss

And then Dani's face filled the screen, with a raised eyebrow and the practiced pout of a girl who has taken thousands of selfies over the years. I scanned the background, and realized she was sitting on our couch. OK, so she's likely the one taking the pictures. Hopefully she's a bit more sober than my wife. I couldn't help myself, and scrolled back to look at Sandy's pic again. Yeah, she's dancing. I was never much of a club guy myself, but Sandy used to like to hit the floor when we were younger, and I'd seen her let loose many times before. When she started swinging her hair around like that, I was usually in for a good night. Damn, this plane needs to leave NOW.

I swiped up from the bottom of my screen to see the next message in the thread.

*Your wife says she doesn't have any bathing suits to wear in the hot tub?* wow face

*Guess we'll have to skinny dip!!* winky face, kiss lips, champagne bottle

*See you tomorrow, champ!*

I flicked my fingers to get back to the top of the thread, and reread it, my eyes lingering again on my half-naked lover. Then I turned my phone off, leaned back in the uncomfortable airport bench seat, and closed my eyes.

For the first time in almost twenty years, I realized I was going to have trouble falling asleep.

***

Of course, our departure out of Miami was delayed by some sensor glitch in the cargo area that required both a technician and the pilot to sign off on it. Then there was an issue with the gangway at the gate once we arrived at Pearson International. I turned my phone off airplane mode the minute the attendant announced it was allowed. What can I say? I'm a rules and routines guy. This time, I checked my text messages right away. Nothing.

A brisk and urgent walk through the airport, a cursory chat with a customs agent, a call to the limo firm I always used, and I was finally on the last leg home. I tried to read e-mails in the back of the car as we drove down the highway through another beautiful, sunny southern Ontario day, but gave up after realizing I'd read the same line four times without absorbing what it said. It seemed to take forever for the car to pull into our driveway, but I paid the driver, grabbed my bags, and hurried up the path to our front porch. My hands fumbled for the house key as my impatience crested, and I burst through the door with frustrated energy.

"Hey, I'm home!" I called out. No answer. I kicked off my shoes and, leaving my luggage in our entranceway, walked toward the kitchen and the doors to our backyard, thinking perhaps the girls were out by the pool. There was a lone sheet of paper on the island countertop, and I recognized my wife's handwriting. "Grant, Dani and I are out picking a few things up. Should be home by 2pm latest. Can't wait to see you! Love, Sandy." I glanced at my watch, and was heartened to see I'd have less than half an hour to wait if Sandy's estimate was on target.

I retreated to the front hall to retrieve my bags, then trudged up the staircase to our room. After getting changed into a comfortable v-neck t-shirt and board shorts, I dumped most of the contents of my luggage into the laundry hamper, left my laptop bag on the desk of my office, and made my way back downstairs. I had just pulled a cold lager out of the mini-fridge we'd installed the previous year, when the doorbell chimed. Whoever that is can wait just a damn second. Slightly annoyed as I twisted the cap off my beer, took a long pull out of the neck, and walked back to the front door, I opened it to find Donovan waiting on the other side. My pique vanished instantly as Dani's husband grinned at me and extended his hand in greeting.

My confusion must have been evident as we traded grips, because Donovan skipped the small talk. "Dani called me in the car, and told me to pack a bag and come right over to your house for a pool party. I just do what I'm told," he finished with mock seriousness. Donovan was dressed similarly to me, with long bathing trunks and a faded red t-shirt with a white vintage Coca-cola logo on the front, and a pair of leather flip-flops on his feet. He had a duffle bag at his feet.

"Don't we all?" I answered, as I held the door open for him to enter. "Good to see you. Leave your shoes on - I was about to head out back." He followed me into the kitchen.

"Wow, nice place you have, Grant," Donovan said as I opened the fridge and motioned with my hand to ask which drink he'd like. "Any kind of beer works for me." I handed him the bottle as I held the cap, and twisted it off in his grip. We clinked bottles and both took a refreshing slug.

"Yeah, Sandy and I decided to renovate a year ago, and it turned out pretty well. Hey, you want a sandwich?" I asked. He nodded as he took another drink. We chatted easily about the reno project as I slapped ham, cheese, lettuce and tomatoes between slices of bread and put them on plates. With food and drink in hand, we moved out to the back deck and into loungers under the awning. The water in the pool was clear and inviting, but hosting duties took priority. "Can I get you another beer?" I asked as Donovan finished the bottle in his hand.

"If it's not too much trouble," he replied. Just as I was getting to my feet, the patio door opened, and Dani and Sandy hurried out. Other than their height and pale skin tone, the two were a study in contrasts: Dani all curves with jet-black hair and a tiny diamond stud in her nose, and Sandy a bit more of a golden complexion complementing her blond hair and athletic frame.

Sandy was in my arms in a heartbeat, pulling me into a tight hug as she stood on tiptoes and wrapped her arms around my neck. Her hair smelled faintly of coconut, and I could feel the hard plastic of her sunglasses pressing into my neck as she clung fiercely to me. She pulled back suddenly, and then drew me down for a lingering kiss.

My entire world shrunk until all that was left in it was her. The feel of her mouth on mine, her tongue brushing fleetingly against my upper lip, her breasts pressed into my chest, her fingers in the hair at the nape of my neck, and my arms wrapped around her tiny waist were all I could perceive for a long moment. Then she pulled back, and beamed up at me with a glorious smile. "Welcome home, babe," she told me. I grinned back at her and leaned in for a quick peck. Only after that did it register that Dani and Donovan were disentangling themselves as well. I was dying to ask Sandy about her evening with Dani.

"Have you been here long?" Dani was asking her husband as we stepped closer, fingers intertwined.

"No, just long enough to kill this beer," Donovan replied, gesturing to the empty bottle on the table beside his chair.

"I was about to grab him another one," I interjected. "Can I get you ladies one while I'm up? Or wine? Anything?" I glanced back and forth between the blonde at my side and the brunette in front of me. Both demurred, and although neither showed any lingering traces of a hangover, I got the distinct impression they weren't quite ready for alcohol yet. Sandy did ask me to bring some towels from the house while I was up. When I returned with two fresh bottles and a stack of terrycloth in hand, the ladies had taken a seat, and Donovan was finishing a quick story. I handed him his refill, and parked my butt beside my wife's on the lounger.

"Anyhow, enough about me," Donovan said. "How did it go at work?" asked his wife.

"You didn't tell him?" Sandy blurted out.

Dani flashed a look of momentary annoyance at my wife, then turned back to her husband and dove into the story. By the time she reached the end a few minutes later, Donovan's face was like a thundercloud. He took a long drink of his beer, and then a deep breath. "Well, I'm glad you're out of there. No offence intended, Sandy," he added quickly.

"No problem," my wife answered as she rose to her feet. Her hands went to her hips, and she continued "but that's the last I want to hear about it this afternoon. Dani and I already spent all last night hashing this out, and quite frankly, it sounds like her new position is going to be fantastic. So let's leave it there." We all nodded our agreement. "Now I want to get into this pool!" Sandy said with a bright and energetic note in her voice. Dani rose, and the two ladies hurried back inside.

Donovan and I watched them leave with fascination. Both girls were petite, both had delicate facial features dominated by piercing blue eyes, and both were fair-skinned. But that's where the physical similarities ended. Where Sandy was a true blonde, Dani had raven-black hair. Where Sandy retained a wholesome "girl next door" look, Dani gave the impression she'd be at home in a burlesque show. Where Sandy worked hard to retain a tight athletic figure, Dani filled out her bra and shorts like Jayne Mansfield. They were a study in contrasts. Very fun contrasts. I hate to see you go, but I love to watch you leave, I thought as the two ladies bounced up the steps and into the house.

As the door closed, Donovan and I turned to face each other. "We are lucky men," he said to me. There was no hint of levity in his remark.

"How did you two meet?" I asked him.

"University," he answered simply. "I was doing my undergrad at Western, and we hit it off one night at a bar."

"Us too," I offered. "Well, not at a bar. Three of my buddies and I were sharing a house in the student ghetto in Kingston, and she came to one of our parties with a friend. That was near the end of second year, and we've been together ever since. Going on twenty years." Despite myself, I could hear a bit of pride in our achievement creep into my voice.

"Wow. Congrats, man. That's a big deal these days." Again, Donovan was dead serious. I like this guy. He seems to know what's important.

At that moment, the back door burst open, filled by a large man with a booming voice. "Grant, you emaciated sheep-fucker, you didn't tell me this was a party!" I heard Donovan choke on his beer a bit.

"Svend, if I'd told you it was a party, you'd have expected a pony, and I don't think the firm can afford another sexual harassment lawsuit from the Humane Society," I countered.

My partner threw his head back and laughed out loud, looking for all the world like Thor. Actually, at almost six and a half feet tall and over two hundred and fifty pounds of lean muscle, with wavy shoulder-length hair so blond it was almost white, Svend looked like Thor's bigger, older brother. Oh, and where Thor was missing an eye, Svend was missing the lower half of his left leg, replaced by a high-tech prosthetic that gleamed in the sun. That lightweight limb was the only reason he was under two-fifty these days.

Svend joined us at the loungers and extended his hand and name to Donovan, who rose to greet him and return the introduction. My friend turned to me and engulfed me in a hug. When we pulled back, I realized he had three beers by the neck in his left hand.

"You came prepared," I prompted, nodding at the drinks. He passed one to each of us, cracked his own open and sat.

"Yeah, I passed Sandy and...your wife...Dani?...on the way in," Svend replied. "They told me you two were out back, dying of thirst." He changed lanes. "So, your e-mail said the trip went well?"

"Better than I expected, frankly. They're going to be good to work with." I took a swig of my beer, and turned to Donovan. "You were on a business trip as well?"