Guilty Pleasures Ch. 11

As we near the end, I hope you have enjoyed the buffet of tropes I tried to work up into an original format. This story went its own way on me as I wrote it, and I had fun copying it all down.

As always, I am not going for deep truths or gritty realism. The aim for me is a plausibly ridiculous course of events.

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Guilty Pleasures - Eleven

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Monica joined me and Yancey again for beers Wednesday after work. I wasn't quite sure who invited whom, but there she was. I certainly didn't mind Monica's presence, but the idea that Wanda might start joining us too made me uncomfortable. I loved Wanda (possibly for real, in a strange way), but happy hour was guy time. Monica sort of qualified.

Which meant she got ribbed.

"So how is John?" I asked her, after some preliminary discussion of beer and baseball.

Yancey's antenna went up at the question. The look Monica gave me sent his antenna up further. "Who is John?" he asked amusedly. He did a good job, I thought, of keeping the protectiveness out of his voice.

"John," I put in, not letting her get herself off the hook, "is a twenty-one year old friend of Becca's and Mary's, who Monica fucked in my upstairs bathroom last week."

Monica gave me a look of betrayal. I shrugged.

"Do tell," Yancey drawled eating in in fascination at the opportunity to deal with Monica on something actually fun, rather than misery.

"It was the downstairs bathroom," Monica said shortly, trying to hide the grin. "And how do you know I actually fucked him?" Yancey looked at me significantly. The slightly boggled grin on his face was absolutely making my evening.

"I was in the kitchen at the... for some of the time," I reminded her. "There is no way a college boy knows enough about fingering or eating pussy to make you make those kind of noises." I had almost mentioned that I knew her noises personally, but Yancey didn't know about that. I hoped he didn't know. He didn't need to know.

I saw our bartender's back stiffen as he worked at restocking the beer fridge.

Both of my friends looked at me in shock. I think Yancey was more scandalized than Monica.

I shrugged at her. "Hey, you're going to show up for guy's happy hour, better be able to hang in." I coolly took a long pull of beer.

Yancey recovered first. "So look at you, Monica. Not waiting long at all to move on from Stan."

She was sitting between us, so Yancey could not see her kick my ankle softly. I just kicked her back companionably.

"What am I going to do, emulate this guy?" Monica asked, fully recovered and jerking a thumb at me. "Was I supposed to be celibate for five years first?"

"Ha!" Yancey laughed. "But you sure are emulating him in the whole college kid department," he challenged, giving me the mildest of stink-eyes.

"Wait," I said. "I obviously knew you both knew about... things, but I didn't know you both knew the other knew."

Monica looked at me. "The three of us have to have something to talk about over dinner. You make for good gossip." Yancey laughed, and did not disagree. "Besides, what else am I going to talk about? Do I just spend time asking how loud those two plan on being later?" she asked me idly.

"What?" Yancey said, stealing my line with dismay in his voice. "Oh hey, I'm sorry, Monica. We always try to..."

"You two can't be that enthusiastic and not be overheard," Monica drawled. "I think it's sweet. Just let your voices go. When you really let go, it's kinda hot..."

Yancey fucking blushed like Becca used to, back when she was six. Maybe Monica needed to come drink with us every Wednesday after all.

But he rallied and ignored her last sally. "Well, do try to show a little more discretion than this guy," he said, poking a finger in my direction with that same annoyed, but not warning tone. Why had he never taken a swing at me? I'd have let him.

"He's got great taste, and you know it," Monica snorted. I kicked her ankle again. "But don't worry, Yancey. Mary's safe from me." It was my turn to goggle at her. And sneak an apprehensive look at Yancey.

He just sighed. "One of the worst things about his fucking my daughter," he grumbled, "is that is makes it so much less fun to tease him about when he fucks her friends.

Yancey, I do not deserve you as a friend. I don't deserve your forbearance.

The bartender banged the back of his head on the opening of the beer fridge.

"Well," I said uncomfortably, "At least now we can both have fun observing the adventures of Monica with no more uncomfortable subject matter than the fact that next time she pulls a stunt like that, she can clean my bathroom herself!"

"Okay," Monica said, cool as cucumber. "I'll bring my Playtex dish gloves this weekend."

"I cannot wait to watch how the Ballad of Monica and John continues," I smiled.

"Eh. The Ballad of Monica and John was more of a cuplet," Monica said firmly.

"Cuplet?" Yancey asked.

"Two lines?" Monica asked. "As in poetry? We got together after I got off work yesterday, for drinks and a quickie, so I could make sure he understood that I'm not interested in anything ongoing."

"Drinks and a quickie sounds like the best blow-off process in history," Yancey chuckled, a little in awe.

I considered that Stephanie had her own best blow-off in history, but I had not shared any of that intelligence with anyone. About any of it.

"And yet you are still bringing your cleaning supplies this weekend?" I challenged.

"I know your eyes are usually elsewhere," Monica said acerbically, knowing full well that she was one of the places my eyes went, before and after what we had done, "but your daughter always makes sure there are plenty of perfectly lovely young guys at your place during hangouts, too. I have permission to shop."

Um... ew?

I sighed. "For what it is worth," I said grumpily, "the guest bedroom over the garage has a door that locks just fine."

"Oooh," Monica cooed.

"Replacement clean sheets are in the bottom drawer," I added sternly.

Yancey finished his beer, slammed down his glass, and laughed, "What did I do to deserve having you two and your show?"

Monica just elbowed him softly. "What did we do to deserve a friend like you, Yancey?"

"Amen to that," I agreed.

With a clunk, our bartender plopped down four shot glasses of obviously much better tequila than Jose in them in front of us. "Here I thought I needed to say I had a shot with you guys last time," he said, his eyes wild, looking at Monica like she was some kind exotic snake. "I really need to drink with you now!"

*

It was still hot as Hell the next weekend, and Becca had brought along a big crowd. She had a new playlist for her phone, and was streaming it louder than usual over my backyard speakers. There was absolutely no way I'd ever admit to her that I was actually enjoying a bunch of those songs.

What I enjoyed less, after the first half an hour or so, was the notable absence of Stephanie. She was seldom late, on those days that she came, which had been every time lately. Since she was late this time, I knew that she wasn't coming. I had half-expected her absence, but it still left me feeling a little empty. Her act had become a part of the rhythm of my life. Football season started the next weekend, and I came to grips with the fact that there was no way she'd be around once that demand on her time dug in.

I sighed. I had hoped that she would have managed to find time to come back and hang out with the rest of the crowd one more time. I knew how to give her her space, but did she know that?

I tried to get some work done while it was early, but suddenly I found myself with company. I was surrounded by Becca, The Trinity, and Monica, who had collected silently around me. I looked around at the backyard, where a good time was having had by all.

Except I was surrounded by a somber group of five women who all meant something from something to everything to me.

"So what happened with Stephanie, Dad?" Becca asked, sitting down slowly next to me, concern in her eyes.

"I don't think that is an appropriate..."

"Oh God, Dad!" Becca blurted out hastily. "I don't mean, ugh, details! I meant... we all are pretty sure that details happened, but eww. No thank you!" My eyes went to four other pair of eyes whose expression warned me that details were actually wanted, when Becca was not around.

I might have to put my daughter on a leash near me for protection...

"I mean, Dad," Becca said, calming quickly and acting like I was a skittish kitten, "I... we want to know why she isn't here."

"Maybe why she wasn't already here when we got here," Carol added, a mixture of raunch and pity in her voice.

Fuck that! I genuinely did not need pity. I was disappointed. I wasn't morose.

Figuring that maybe ripping the band-aid off and getting out whatever I was willing to say all at once would cut down on how much I was going to have to discuss this. 'Details' would help drive off Becca in particular, but I'd sure as Hell be telling precious few of those. It would also beat them cornering me individually.

I took a deep breath and tried to look blandly content.

"Fine," I said. "Details happened. And damned fine details they were," I added quellingly. Becca looked pained at my saying even that much. She'd be gone soon, but she wasn't really my issue. I was perfectly willing to tell her all that she wanted to hear. The collection of perilously not-quite-ex lovers beside her were going to be the pain.

"Did you finally break down and call her, or did she make some move we missed?" Anne asked, with what sounded like academic interest.

"She 'forgot' her hat. That big, gorgeous one last week. Remember?"

Carol turned to Mary, holding out her hand demandingly. "Five bucks."

"I'll pay you back at the dorm. I didn't even bring a purse today," Mary grumped.

"What?" I asked.

"I bet Mary that she'd eventually try leaving something behind," Carol said smugly. "It's the play I'd have tried." The look in her eye warned me that she still reserved the right to try it herself some time.

Please, God, keep that boy she is with these days in the picture.

I glared at them for interrupting. "Stephanie came back looking for her hat. We had a nice conversation. One thing led to another, and details were enjoyed. Thoroughly."

"Dad!"

"Repeatedly, in fact," I said, grinning evilly at my daughter.

"Dad!"

"And when we were done, Stephanie explained that this really could only be a one-time thing, and..."

"Sounds familiar," Carol said, rolling her eyes at me.

"Wait," Mary said quickly. "You said Stephanie told you that it had to be a one-time thing? Not you told her?"

"Yeah," Anne added. "I think we should be insulted," she said looking at me hard.

How the Hell did I get to be the bad guy, suddenly?

"I mean, did she just beat you to the punch?" Anne bore on.

"Um, no?" I said. Oh. This was how I was the bad guy, I realized. Then I made it so much worse. "Actually, I had just asked her out to dinner later in the week when she explained why she was saying no."

Now all three hellions looked insulted.

"Wait. Stephanie Wilkes fucked my daddy, then dumped him in the same evening?" Becca said, her voice rising perilously.

"Becca Howard!" I exclaimed furiously. Anne, Carol, and Mary all laughed, but Becca still had a head of steam.

"How could she do that, Dad? I guess you were right about her to begin with. She is totally fucking callous and..."

"Watch your language, young lady," I hissed sternly. "And watch your assumptions as well. Yes, Stephanie and I enjoyed ourselves. Extensively. Loudly, even."

Mary giggled. Monica snorted. Anne and Carol looked... interested, but they were both still insulted, too. I could worry about them later. Becca's boil slowed in her worry that I was looking like I was going to go into details.

"And when we were done... at long last, her explanation about why we could not carry on was logical, intelligent, realistic, considerate, and damned flattering. I agreed with all of it."

"Even the flattering part?" Monica asked slyly.

Time to get rid of my daughter. "I believe that my work that evening was deemed well worthy of praise," I said firmly.

"Oh God! I've got to leave," Becca groaned at that. She popped up to flee, then paused. Looking back at me for reassurance, she asked me almost plaintively, "She really didn't hurt you Daddy?"

"Would you like me to tell you just exactly what didn't hurt?" I said acerbically. She fled. She and Stephanie would be okay, and now I had a way to get her to stop bothering me from that point until the end of time.

"So do tell about all this stuff that didn't hurt," Anne said silkily, sliding into the seat Becca had just escaped from.

"You were really going to take her out, like on a date? In public?" Carol asked. Oh, she was pissed.

"Um, I was pretty enraptured when I asked," I said sheepishly.

"Oh, so none of us could produce such a mind-altering experience?" Mary added. She was smiling, but I could tell she was pissed too.

I looked around me, shrugged apologetically to Monica, who looked pretty much just amused as Hell, and then said, "Girls. Listen to me. Guilt kept me thinking clearly with you demons. I wasn't feeling nearly so guilty at the time with Stephanie."

"But you weren't just not worried about proprieties, you wanted to date her," Anne insisted.

"Well," I said defensively. "I also... she seemed there for a minute... I didn't understand what had her on edge and I thought she was feeling used. I wanted her to realize that wasn't true at all, so to reassure her, I jumped the gun and asked her out on a date."

"Oh, so you were just reassuring her," Anne said, brightening a touch.

"No... That just affected the timing, not the sentiment. Though if I'd waited for another day, I might have come to my senses before I asked at all."

If I'd waited, she might have been comfortable enough to get together at least one more time before punching out... I'm a dumbass.

"All right, you three," said Monica, coming to my rescue. "I think he's had enough. We all came over here to comfort him, remember? Beat it."

Becca's Trinity... my Trinity did indeed beat it. But I knew I'd still end up having to face them all individually. I hoped I'd manage to avoid ending up fucking each of them as reassurance.

Did I really hope that?

Monica took the seat and shook her head. "You've had a full, rich week, Clark. You get dumped by Barbie, slut-shamed by your daughter, and then you pissed off three allegedly ex-lovers."

"Yeah?" I snorted. "And what fresh Hell do you have for me?"

"Oh, nothing today. But you can bet I'm showing up for happy hour Wednesday. I'm going to get off on you telling Yancey about what happened."

"Who says I'm going to?"

"Me," she said evilly. "But for now, I am offering a distraction. I have a job for you."

"A job?"

I could use a job to distract me. Work would not be a thing for at least a little while after this conversation.

"Yeah. I need you to wingman for me."

I looked around the group in my backyard. "I don't see John, and I thought you handled that quite satisfactorily on your own anyway."

"Not John. Charlie," Monica said with an anticipatory smile. "Over by the azaleas, in the blue trunks."

I raised an eyebrow. I'd not really noticed the kid before. Either he hadn't been over until now, or he had stayed away from my daughter. He was... fit. "I see. Are you planning on going through the UNC student body, one guy in my backyard at a time?"

Monica stuck out her tongue at me. "Hardly. I might try some girls too." I could tell she very much enjoyed my shocked expression. Her guffaw gave that away. "No seriously, your daughter invites the best looking boys."

I rolled my eyes.

"To reassure you," she went on, "I also have my eye on a number of guys who are our age as well, they will just require more time and care. I can't just walk up to that dish Dennis in our logistics department and offer a quick blowjob. I suspect kids are much more eager."

Wait. 'Our age'? I was more than ten years older than Monica. Second, looking at her in that still new bikini of hers, I suspected that she'd find plenty of straightforward eagerness from guys our age anyway.

"You think I'm being slutty, don't you?"

"I think I am concerned that you are not going to be careful," I said seriously. "I believe that you have some familiarity with the concept that not all guys are good guys?"

"I do," Monica said reassuringly. "And I am not being slutty. I am being very selective. I just am filtering through candidates very diligently."

"You hardly need to be in a rush."

"I had a ten year period of honestly pretty enthusiastic, appreciative, but vanilla and mind-numbingly repetitive sex."

I raised an eyebrow at that.

"Seriously," Monica said sheepishly, "what Stain did, he did very well, if I'm honest. But it wasn't until you and I started in on punishing him that I realized how much, in an addition to all the serious stuff, I resented how unwilling he had been to be the slightest bit adventurous. I intend to make up for lost time. I wasted ten years of sex with no creativity. That shit is over."

"The male gender left a message," I said drily. "It says, 'We approve.'"

"Ha! Well, to reassure you further, I do not intent to go running willy-nilly through all these guys Becca brings over. But Charlie, in addition to being a tasty morsel, shows definite signs of my foremost requirement, discretion."

"So why do you need a wingman?"

"That discretion. I am fairly sure he thinks you and I are an item."

"Oh. That might indeed limit your opportunities."

"Yes. So you and I are going to go talk to him, then I am going to move on, leaving you to talk to him, all just as soon as he finishes talking to that girl who doesn't have a chance with him."

I looked at the girl. Her name was Vera, I thought, and she was a friend primarily of Anne's. I was not so sure she would have had no chance, except for the fact that unbeknownst to her, she was up against Monica. Nevertheless, Charlie was not indeed looking like he was interested in that way at the moment.

"I exist to serve," I murmured, more than glad to get the focus off me. Off Stephanie.

Vera punched out of the conversation, and Monica and I ambled around the pool in Charlie's direction. He had started to walk back our way as well, and we spread out so we'd meet him with him between us.

"Hey Charlie," Monica said with just a touch more warmth than a casual greeting. "Clark, have you met Charlie Salem?"

"I don't think so," I said, offering my hand. Good handshake, good eyes contact. That much checked out well. "Clark Howard. I'm Becca's dad."

"Yes sir, I know. I actually introduced myself last week, but you were dishing burgers pretty fast and furious at the time."

"Sorry!" I said, genuinely embarrassed. "I honestly have a hard time keeping track of who all the kids bring along, unless they are dating Becca. Are you and she going out?"

"No!" Charlie said, a little frightened. Good. "I mean, she's a friend. I'm, uh, I'm not seeing anybody right now."

"Too bad," I said absently. "I think..."

"Now that I've gotten you up from your computer and actually talking to your guests," Monica interrupted, "I've got to finish interrogating Anne about that guy."

"Cheers!" I said, staying put with Charlie.

She turned and walked away toward Anne... and Carol and Mary. Yep, she had added some swish to her barely covered ass as she went. It was for Charlie's benefit, but I could watch too. And I made sure he could see me watching.

"You have a great girlfriend, Mr. Howard. She is so nice," Charlie said, unable to not watch, despite me being right there.