Guilty Pleasures Ch. 09

Speaking of wrong ideas, when things kicked off, Stephanie was there, of course. She bided her time after arrival, as usual, but when she came over for a White Claw, she didn't spend quite so much time working me over before making me serve her her drink...

Don't get me wrong, she still flaunted her body at me. Hard. And I looked. I wasn't really even trying to hide it anymore. The last vestiges of tan-lines from earlier, slightly more modest bikinis were just about gone. I hoped to high heaven that she did not have another, even skimpier bikini to deploy once this tan fully filled in...

The only bad part came when I was looking almost desperately away while Stephanie took a moment to stretch in extravagant fashion, and I spied Anne and Carol looking over at me and the spectacle. Those little disasters were giggling.

Great. Monica was sitting over there with them again this week. I didn't need them embarrassing me in front of my neighbor!

Otherwise, I was more than glad to see Monica again. The sun is always good for emotional woes, and she seemed to be getting along really well with both my daughter and her closest friends. I sensed that her damaging relationship with Stain had kept her from making a lot of good friends, at least here in town, and if the disaster squad could be that for her for a while, great.

Stephanie left me, ahead of schedule, thankfully. I began to hold out some hope for her losing interest in this game.

Okay, let's be honest. I'm not sure whether I was holding out hope, or becoming alarmed that she might stop...

Then, about ten minutes after Stephanie had wandered off to be worshipped more openly by several boys in whom she was clearly not interested, Carol hauled herself out of the pool and came over to interrupt my work with a loud, "How ya'll doing, Mister H?"

She plopped herself down in the chair beside mine, which Stephanie had so recently vacated. I looked at her askance. I might as well have, because I was looking at her regardless. Carol is, of course, her own six kinds of hot. My mind wandered rapidly down a pleasant image of what she and I might do if this were another afternoon and no one else was with us back here...

Note to self, don't get caught back here alone by Carol! It would probably end up being glorious, but disastrous. I had them all held at bay for now. If I broke down with one, though, the other two would certainly want their own turn.

Yes. I know that sounds arrogant, but I know these kids, okay?

Whatever, it was not a risk I was prepared to take. Maybe, if it was just Carol. Or just Carol and Anne. Certainly if it as both of them at the same time again... But there was Mary to consider. Wanda seemed creepily chill about the idea, and even Becca had made her peace, sort of, about what had happened. But I was enjoying an unstrained friendship with Yancey, and he didn't need that shit.

And I was still creeped out at myself that it had ever happened to begin with.

"I am doing fine, thank you, Carol. What's up?"

"Stephanie is hitting on you hard, isn't she?" Carol asked, shit-eating grin firmly attached to her face.

I rolled my eyes. "She is hardly 'hitting on' me. Flirting? I'll give you that. But please. Her? I'm not in that league," I muttered defensively.

"Ahem," Carol grunted, a dangerous look in her eye.

Oops.

"You are a different case," I said, thinking quickly. "You had a long history of affection for me. Affection that got... dislocated." Dislocated to some place wonderfully horrible. Or was it horribly wonderful?

"Nice save," Carol said, forgiving me more easily than I deserved.

After no more than a few moments more of pointless pleasantries, Carol hopped up to leave.

"Wait, you never told me what brought you over," I said, puzzled. She always had an agenda. All of them did. Almost as much as my daughter, God bless her.

"I just wanted to do you a favor," Carol said over she shoulder with an overtly flirty wave as she retreated, swishing her ass in its own inimitable way. I watched her go. Of course, I watched her go. Didn't know what the fuck she had been talking about, but damn she was fine.

As she splashed back into the pool with my daughter, Monica, and the other two, I turned back to my computer... only to be interrupted again in moments by Stephanie reappearing again! I could even tell from the way she held the can, that she had hardly made a dent in the spiked seltzer. She wasn't here for a second round.

"How's it going now, Howie?" Stephanie asked chirpily, with a big smile on her face. She sat next to me again, and while she was not so much flaunting those tits at me this time, she was showing off her legs, stretching the one out way to the side, straight, firm, and golden. The other was bent at the knee and tucked down, to provide perhaps the illusion from a distance that she wasn't sitting there with her legs spread before me. It was not blatant, but I had a view.

No girl who spends that much of her time jumping around, and being lifted up in a skirt that barely covers her ass to begin with, is unaware of who is seeing her crotch at any given time. She knew what she was showing me... in a bikini that showed pretty much everything there was to be seen.

"I... I'm doing fine, Stephanie. Still trying to get that work done so they don't need two of me for less money," I said patiently, eyes still trying not to be too goddamned obvious.

Across my backyard, I heard some shared hilarity from the pool. My daughter's laugh was like a lifeline. I've always loved that sound, and I turned to look over. She and her friends had Monica laughing about something.

"Well, I just wanted to be sure you were happy, Howie. We all love coming over," Stephanie said, distracting me from my distraction. "See you!," she said pertly, and bounced away again. Her ass was this tiny, peach-shaped bouncing example of bouncing perfection...

Suddenly there were even louder shrieks of hilarity and... shock(?) from my daughter's cluster in the pool and a full on water fight broke out among all of them, even Monica, who was demonstrating an impressive knowledge of displacing large amounts of pool water. I shook my head in bemusement as things settled down and the five of them huddled up in newfound accord.

I shrugged inwardly and went back to work. Maybe Monica could explain what the heck had had the girls all freaked out about. More importantly, I had a half an hour before it was time to go all Man-Fire-Food, and I was blessedly left alone to figure out this power bleed issue we were fighting.

*

"Clark, what the heck is up with Thalia right now?" Dennis asked me as we left the meeting.

"I don't know," I answered irritably.

"Right? I've never seen her wear a skirt before," Dennis went on.

"What? Yeah," I said, thinking quickly. Come to think of it, she never did wear skirts, did she... Crying shame, because those were some nice calves.

"Georgia says it is because she had a new boyfriend," Dennis speculated. "But Jeannie says it is because she had just decided that she wants one..."

I shrugged. All I knew was that that had been a damned productive meeting, and I hated those with all my soul. Good meetings gave people the idea that they should have more meetings. Meetings have been bad, since the very beginning. The Last Supper was thirteen guys sitting around a table, eating bland snacks and discussing strategy. How'd that work out?

*

"So I almost pulled the Big One of marriage fuckups this week," Yancey said, after our first sips of beer on Wednesday. We had chosen to try a new brew pub for our weekly happy hour, and I was not sold on their IPA.

"What?" I asked, alarmed. Yancey couldn't have...

"Relax, douchebag," he snorted, but his eyes were momentarily serious and reassuring. He was not going there again. Ever. "I mean the sitcom Big One. Our anniversary is tomorrow, and I did not have it on my calendar."

"Oh shit."

"Yeah, but I remembered all on my own on Tuesday, thank God," he said. "Wanda and I were sitting in bed, after... well, we were phone scrolling and a Facebook Memory came up that triggered my own. I sat bolt upright and about had a stroke. Wanda looks at me, and I just blurted out something about going to The Understudy on Thursday."

"Ouch," I said quietly. "Um, did she never tell you..."

"That it was where you took her that first time? Of course she did. It is why it came to mind when I was panicking. She fucking loved that place."

"What anniversary is this for you guys?"

"Twenty-Third."

"Nice! Congratulations. But I had no idea just how expensive that place is. That's a princely gift for an off-year anniversary..."

Yancey waved it away. "Eh. I was useless half the morning while I shopped online for an actual gift. After all that has happened these last few months with us... with you and us, I really want to celebrate making it another trip round the sun."

We clinked glasses.

"We did talk for a bit about Monica before we decided to go out," Yancey said. "It will be the first time that she will be alone in the house for more than a few minutes since she moved in with us."

"She's a big girl," I said easily. "Go have some fun, you two!"

"I think...we think you are right," Yancey said. "And we are definitely going. But if it was even a couple of weeks ago? No way. She was seriously panicked at first."

"Really? She seemed to bounce back from that night pretty fast," I said.

"She's fine with other people around, has been almost from the start," Yancey agreed. Then he leaned in. "But if she is sitting by herself in a room? The first week, she'd jump out of her skin when one of us walked in wherever she was. And after she calmed down from that, even up until recently, I'd catch this creepily blank look in her eyes when we hadn't been in the room with her."

"What the fuck did that shitwad do to her?" I asked in bewildered anger.

Yancey sighed. "I don't think there is any long-term trauma, you know, beyond having a marriage fail. But she is still definitely suffering some short-term pain. The good news is, it is fading. The question is, how far will it fade?"

I held up a finger and reached to dial my phone.

"Hey! Monica?"

"Hello Clark. What can I do for you? Aren't you out drinking with Yancey?"

"Yes. The IPA is underwhelming," I said. "He was just telling me he finally decided what to do with Wanda for their anniversary tomorrow."

"Wanda has been wondering if he was going to remember," Monica said in amusement.

"Oh, he's been dithering about what to do for weeks," I lied easily. I knew that alleged detail would get back to Wanda, possibly seconds after I hung up. "My point is, since you are going to be left all alone and forlorn, want to come eat and watch the Braves game with me at BW3? I usually just sit at the bar."

"I... uh..." she hesitated. "Look, I hate eating at the bar. Can we get a table?"

"Sure, I guess. I mean, if you want to be all patient about getting your drinks..."

"What time?" Monica chuckled.

"Game time is about seven. Meet you there?" I asked.

"Deal," she said, and hung up.

Yancey was looking at me. "One, I caught what you said about my anniversary planning. Thank you, dude. That was a solid. Two, did you just ask Monica out on a date?"

"What? No!" I snorted. "First, she is still married, man!" Yancey barely even flinched. "Second, it's Monica. Third, and most importantly, it is BW3. I'm a little old to be asking a woman on a date to Buffalo Wild Wings."

Yancey rolled his eyes. "So, umm... speaking of actual dates, just how expensive is The Understudy?" he asked nervously.

*

The dinner with Monica was fine. I drank decent beer. She drank a glass of mediocre wine, then switched to beer. We tried a bunch of different wing sauces over the course of the game, which turned out to be a compelling one. 3-2, Bravos.

I watched her like a hawk to see if I could detect any sense of the lingering fear or anguish Yancey was concerned about, but I didn't probe very hard out of caution against digging something up. Honestly she seemed fine... not super happy, but like a normal working adult.

I was surprised and a little thrilled that she knew enough about baseball to discuss the impact of the new rule changes. I was horrified to learn that she actually thought they were a good idea...

*

Sunday was Becca's ordained day that week for hanging with Dad and a crew of friends. I had buckled down extra hard on Saturday to get the work I really needed to get done, done, in anticipation of Stephanie making it hard to get anything done, in a variety of ways.

I was honest with myself--it was hopeful anticipation. Even though I was still pretty sure she was just torturing me, and was never even considering following through in any way, I could certainly fantasize about it. I was going to fantasize about it whether or not I thought it was appropriate anyway... Stephanie induced very high quality fantasies.

The first group to arrive consisted of my daughter, Carol, and some guy who was apparently Carol's current hopeful. From the way she held his arm, his hopes might be granted, at least in some form. Right behind them, walking over from Yancey's house, were Mary, Anne, and Monica again. Another carload arrived as they did and then I was distracted from saying hello by yet another car which pulled into the driveway.

I turned around from letting those kids, about half of whom I recognized, in, and saw the girls ditching their coverups. Monica slid her own baggy black overshirt off as well, and... oh. Apparently she had also rescued a bikini from her house.

Look, it was a fairly modest number, with high-waisted, blue boy shorts for the bottom, and a sturdy, red top. But it was a bikini. I obviously had suffered the odd sexual fantasy about Monica recently, and this afternoon was going to do nothing to tamp any future ones down. Her skin was not as toned as the young women around her, and her tan oddly mottled, but her body could hold its own with them, and then some...

Stain is not only a dick, he's a total moron...

And then Stephanie rolled in.

She had on another new bikini, and... wow. It actually covered a lot more than the last had, but it was cut so perfectly to frame her curves that I actually grunted quietly when I first saw her. But she also had a new guy beside her as she arrived. A tall, handsome, if not terribly athletic, dude with wire-rimmed glasses. He stuck close to her as they arrived.

Well, I was not to be flirted with today, I thought, with a totally inappropriate amount of regret.

She made a beeline toward me, swain in tow. Funny, he didn't seem like he'd be Stephanie's type, really.

"Mr. Howard, I brought friend I'd like you to meet," the cheerleader said, quite businesslike. "This is John Bain."

"Nice to meet you, John," I said. Nice, strong handshake, intent eyes, looking into mine. I hated this kid already. "What do you study?" I asked. Even adults fall back on the whole 'what's your major?' conversational gambit. It is the 'nice weather, huh?' of college kids.

"Um, well... electrical engineering, sir," John said. "I'll be starting my fifth year of the BS/MS program this coming fall."

Oh.

Oh!

Stephanie had not brought a date. She had brought me a possible present.

"Thanks for introducing us, Stephanie," I said blandly. "John, I'm guessing that you are old enough for me to offer you a beer?"

"I'll see you later, Mr. Howard," Stephanie said, and wandered off toward my daughter and company.

It was usually Becca who thought to bring along, or agreed to bring along, aspiring new engineers to these afternoons. It was considerate of Stephanie to do so on her own. Whether she was being considerate to me, or to John, or to both of us, didn't matter.

And it remained to be seen if this kid would be promising or not, but I was always eager to meet new prospects. And being even accepted into the five-year program that provides both degrees at the same time was encouraging in and of itself.

Twenty minutes later, I was in a very good mood, and I tried to convey that to this kid. I only had the barest of ideas about his talent as an engineer, of course, but there were signs it was there. Mostly, I just liked his personality. I was quite certain that this young man would be a joy to manage.

I wrapped up our interview, and make no mistake, this had turned into a full-blown interview, with an email or three, one of which I copied John in on. If his background checked out, we could have him do some contract work on a minor task or two over the next few months. If he showed that he had what it took to do the work, with any luck, we could have him hired before the big corporate recruiters with more money to offer upfront got to him later in the year.

"It's been good to meet you, John. Now I have work to do, and I assume you'd rather spend this sunny day poolside meeting girls instead of talking shop. Let me know if you want another beer."

Knowing he was dismissed, and hopefully knowing he had done well, John wandered off to, in fact, meet girls.

And Stephanie descended upon me almost immediately. "Hey Howie! I hope you don't mind my bringing John over," she said, folding herself into the chair beside me. The way she wrapped her limbs around herself, they covered virtually all of her gorgeous new suit. This wasn't modest in any way, however, as it just gave the not-so subconscious impression that she was stark naked beside me.

"You date is a nice kid," I said easily. "I am glad to have met him."

Stephanie laughed musically. "Oh, he's not my date." She tilted her head forward so her eyes were looking up at me. "I don't actually date that many guys, you know," she said softly. Then she perked back up, having made a point. "But he is a friend, and I thought he could use a chance to meet you."

This was that helping streak in her personality that my daughter liked so much about this girl.

Then she unfurled her long, lean body and relaxed on the chaise. This took away the delicious illusion that she was naked, but replaced it with the delicious reality of how she looked in the new bikini. Like I said, it showed appreciably less skin... but showcased the whole package much better.

"Whatcha got for me today, Howie?" she asked, her voice clearly intending to convey multiple meanings. The tease. She rolled over onto her belly and looked back at me over her shoulder--over her shoulder, down her back, and over her tight little muscular ass. Serious tease.

"Peach," I replied instantly, keeping as straight a face as I could.

Stephanie didn't get it. Good. She did accept the can of peach White Claw. I even opened it for her extravagantly and unbidden. She awarded me the sight of her lips on the rim of the tall can, sucking softly. Then she popped up, her torture for the day done. "Thanks, Howie!" she called over her shoulder.

Something made me look over by the pool. Becca, her friends, and even Monica were staring sweetly at me as Stephanie moved away.

Fuck... No good would come from those looks. I could only hope that Monica would keep them in line. But they turned away and went back to their discussion. I relaxed and actually picked up a book. Yes, a hard copy book. I'd forgotten how restful words on physical paper was.

A shadow fell across me, and I looked up to see Anne smiling over me. "You look bored. I've come over to keep you company," she smiled. She bent over me, her own delicate, glorious breasts hanging in her own glorious bikini in front of my eyes. She looked at me with widely faux-innocent eyes.

"You are providing me with a lovely view, Anne," I said mildly, despite my honestly suddenly racing heart. "But I am rather more intimately familiar with your charms than this, if you can manage to remember."