Not What It Seems

"Let's take the drinks out to the screened porch."

"Sure, why not?" Marsha asked, watching her friend take charge in the kitchen, having made a beeline for the refrigerator from the front door.

Her best friend was acting strange. But there was nothing new about that. They'd been best friends since high school here in San Diego and now they were in their late forties, still close buddies. But they couldn't have been more opposite of each other. Marsha was the sensible one. They were both extraordinarily good looking and trim, but Marsha was understated, wearing her age well although not hiding it, not on the make, whereas the more buxom, curvy, boisterous, and daring in makeup and dress of the two, Vivian, was fighting the battle of age hard. She was making every effort to keep her appearance in the thirties and her boyfriends, when she could, of that age period as well.

The two were poster children for the "Opposites attract" adage. They even were radically different in the drinks they were carrying to the screened porch at the back of the house overlooking a flagstone terrace and small swimming pool. The backyard was nicely landscaped and well taken care of. Marsha was carrying a pitcher with ice tea. Vivian had grabbed an ice bucket and ice from the freezer and plopped the three beer cans she'd brought with her in it.

She had more or less invited herself over to Marsha's gentrified Olive Lane bungalow today and had arrived in a bikini with a diaphanous wrap over it. "It's a hot day for late December," she said. "I thought a dip in your pool this afternoon would be nice."

That too was strange. Vivian hadn't shown interest in Marsha's swimming pool before. She most certainly hadn't turned up in a bikini before to swim in it, and there was no way she'd be seen by anyone else with her hair down and wet. With her voluptuous figure, she was barely contained by the bikini. Marsha felt seriously flat in contrast to her best friend. She wouldn't dare try a bikini at her age. Not that she wouldn't have looked good in one if she tried. Marsha underestimated her looks while Vivian tended to overestimate hers. There weren't many men unwilling to fit in with Vivian's flirting--and more.

Once on the screened porch, Vivian dropped the ice bucket on a side table and went directly to the screen facing the back garden. The sound of the lawnmower told Marsha all she needed to know about her friend's strange behavior. The last time they'd met Marsha had mentioned she had a nineteen-year-old gardener who looked like a Michelangelo statue.

"My god, isn't he a hunk?" Vivian said, releasing her breath in a deep-throated laugh. A full-blown husky laugh was one of her hallmarks. Vivian didn't do anything by half.

"He's nineteen," Marsha said, unable to keep a tinge of disgust out of her voice.

"What's his name again?" Vivian asked. "And how did you manage to land him as a lawn boy?"

"His name is Robbie, I think. And I just called a lawn care service and he's who they've sent to do my lawn and trim my bushes."

"I'd certainly like to have him trim my bushes--or anything else he wanted to do." This was accompanied by another full-throated laugh.

"That's why you showed up today, isn't it? To ogle my lawn boy. Although he's not my lawn boy. He's the gardener the company sent when signed up with the gardening service. You were arriving when he was leaving last week and I told you when he'd next be here."

"Guilty as charged, Ma'am. But isn't he just about the most gorgeous young man you've ever seen?"

"With an emphasis on young," Marsha said. "What about Phil? I thought you were solidly in with Phil Braxton."

"Phil's great--and he's loaded and good in bed. But he's fifty-one."

"And you're forty-eight, which makes you the perfect couple. That young man out there can't be more than nineteen. He told me he's only a year out of high school."

"Fifty-one. Who knows how long it will be before Phil needs Viagra or develops a paunch?" Vivian said. "Whereas that young hunk out there can go for hours, I bet."

"No doubt," Marsha said, adding in her mind, and how much longer before your engine slows down. Viv?

"We have to grab our pleasures while we still can," Vivian said.

Marsha nearly hiccupped at how close Vivian had come to discerning what she was thinking. But Vivian wasn't wrong and Marsha had to concede that. "I suppose," she said.

Robbie wasn't being shy. A blond, blue-eyed Apollo, he was coming close to the pool with his mowing. He was wearing athletic shorts low on his waist and combat boots. His T-shirt was off and hanging on the handle of the mower. His tan and musculature were "just right," and he was smiling. He knew the women were on the screened porch, watching him.

"Back in a minute," Vivian said. She fished two cans of beer out of the ice bucket and headed for the door out to the patio.

"Wait, Viv. Don't. I don't think--"

But Vivian was already off the porch and sashaying out to where, with impeccable timing, Robbie had completed the mowing. Vivian reached him and handed him one of the beers. They took swigs out of their respective cans and Robbie smiled as Vivian went up on her toes and pushed her bosoms out. She gestured toward the chaise lounges on the patio next to the swimming pool.

Marsha couldn't tell what Robbie then said, but she could see him gesturing toward the hibiscus hedge separating her property from the adjoining one, and Vivian looking a bit disappointed. Robbie turned the mower and wheeled it to the garden shed. Vivian stood there as if he would come back to her after stowing the mower, but he didn't. When he came out of the shed he was carrying hedge clippers. He went to the hibiscus hedge and started trimming it.

Vivian turned in disappointment. She didn't come back to the screened porch, though. She pulled off the diaphanous robe she'd been wearing, leaving her in a bikini that barely held her in, went to the pool, and stretched out on--no, more posed on--a chaise lounge. Over the next twenty minutes she showed the young man several provocative poses, pushing her chest out, but he worked on the hedge.

Eventually, Robbie returned the clippers to the shed and disappeared around the side of the house. The hedge wasn't finished, and his time in the garden wasn't completed. When she realized he wasn't coming back, Vivian picked herself off the chaise lounge and, in a bit of a huff and with a bit of sunburn, returned to the screen porch.

The entire time Marsha had been sitting on the porch, sipping iced tea, and taking it all in.

"I think he's gone," Vivian said.

"I think you scared him away. His time and work aren't finished," Marsha answered. She wasn't angry with either Vivian or Robbie. She was more bemused.

"Do you remember what company he works for?" Vivian asked when she rejoined Marsha. "I may have some yard work that needs done."

"You don't have a yard. You live in a high-rise condo," Marsha said. She smiled. She found all of this amusing.

"Do you have company name or not?" Vivian said.

"Yes. I'll give you their card before you leave."

But by the time Vivian left, Robbie's company had been forgotten by the cougar on the make. It hadn't been forgotten by Marsha, but, under the circumstance, she saw no reason to feed Vivian's vices.

"Do give my regards to Phil, Viv," Marsha said in parting.

Vivian gave her a bit of a confused look. She knew that Marsha didn't like Phil and had said more than once that he was a bit over the hill for her best friend.

* * * *

"That settles it. You say you'll be home alone through New Years tonight and I have two tickets for the 11:00 show at the La Luz Ultra lounge tonight. You're coming to that show with me. Maybe afterward we'll go down to the naval base and throw our bras at sailors coming off the ships."

Marsha laughed. "I don't think sailors will be coming off the ships at 1:00 in the morning," she said. The two women had met for lunch at the legendary Hotel Cornado on New Years Eve. Vivian had insisted that they talk. Marsha hadn't realized that what she wanted to talk about was a night on the town that evening to celebrate New Years. If Marsha had known, she'd have tried to beg off, saying she had to work. She worked parttime in the Hotel Cornado dining rooms as a hostess and had just come off the breakfast shift there. When Vivian called, saying she wanted to meet for lunch, Marsha thought it was convenient just to stay at the hotel. She loved the place and its long history as the chosen meeting and bedding down place in San Diego.

"What's the show at the La Luz?" she asked. "I haven't heard of that place."

"It's a male strip club--for the ladies."

"You want me to go with you to a Chippendales review tonight?"

"The acts are more raunchy than the Chippendales," Vivian said, adding a throaty laugh that made those at adjacent tables turn to see what the source was. When they turned, they lingered, because Vivian was dressed to the nines in purple, blue, and orange scarves and was made up like a movie star about to go on set. Marsha was understated, but elegant against Vivian's flamboyancy. She'd been dressed in one of her hostess costumes, which included a flowing blue velvet skirt. That didn't mean that Vivian's flamboyance was not attractive. She somehow pulled the look off. "Maybe we can get a couple of the boys to come home with us to ring in the new year in style. You need to get out and circulate more. You might as well start on the first day of the new year."

"I'd have to be home by 1:00," Marsha said. "I'm on call for the breakfast shift here at the hotel. If called, I have to be ready."

"I don't know why you're working here, Marsha. Your Martin left you very well fixed."

"I can't just sit at home and sulk," Marsha answered.

"Precisely. Which is why you going to the La Luz with me tonight. You have to circulate."

Marsha didn't bother to argue that point further. She just was pleased that Vivian hadn't honed down on what she needed to be home by 1:00.

Vivian didn't pursue it, though, because she saw someone across the dining room she didn't expect to see here: Robbie, the sexy gardener from Marsha's house earlier in the week. He was decked out--beautifully--as a waiter and seemed to be fulfilling that role across the room.

"Look over there," she said. "Isn't that your hunky gardener?"

Marsha looked. "Yes, I think it is."

"You didn't tell me he worked here."

"He must have just started."

"I'm going over to talk with him. How do I look? No spinach in my teeth."

"You look just fine, but it's madness to pursue him, Viv. He's some thirty years younger than you and you have Phil."

"I'd like to have me some of what that gorgeous Robbie has too," Vivian said, as she rose from her chair and moved toward where Robbie had been standing next to a table and taking orders.

But Robbie wasn't there. And he wasn't anywhere else she looked in the next few minutes.

"Shit, he's gone," she said when she returned to the table where Marsha was seated, having followed Vivian's search for the Holy Grail with her eyes and a slight bemused smile on her lips.

"Maybe he was just a mirage. Maybe your seeing him was your creative imagination and just a wish," Marsha said.

"Maybe, but we'll see about that," Vivian said. She'd never had a man slip through her fingers before who she wanted to couple with. She didn't plan on giving up on the magnificent young Robbie yet.

* * * *

"There, isn't this fun?" Vivian had turned toward Marsha after flirting with a half-dressed, muscle-bound waiter as they sat at a banquet table facing a raised stage at the La Luz Ultralounge. The posters outside the lounge entrance had featured the nearly naked men of the Hunk-O-Mania naked stripper review. Marsha had tried to turn away before they even entered the theater, but Vivian dragged her in.

"One drink and then I'm leaving," she said after they'd given the muscle guy their drink order.

"I paid to see the finale at midnight, at the turn of the year," Vivian said. "So, we'll stay until then. It's only forty-five minutes."

They stayed and Marsha didn't give any more complaints. To Vivian's eye, her best friend seemed to be enjoying the display of hunky manflesh on the stage as much as she did. The audience was composed almost entirely of groups of women, young and old alike, although there were a few men as well, slitted eyes dedicated to the stage, slight smiles on their faces. The women were taking this as all in fun.

Vivian wasn't taking it as all in fun. She conducted a running commentary on the attributes of the various men waltzing and strutting by and continually warned that she'd pick two out for the two of them to snag for later. "I have it on good authority that they all are available for rent."

"You just know I'm not going to be part of that," Marsha said, and she kept noting that she had to be home by 1:00 a.m.

"Have a hot date, do you?" Vivian asked. But Marsha didn't answer.

The surprise came at the stroke of midnight. A huge cake had been rolled out onto the stage and the male dancers danced around it until the stroke of the hour. Everyone knew that a naked honey of a man would pop out of the cake at midnight.

Everyone was right except that he wasn't completely naked. He wore a gold lamé G string. Vivian and Marsha were more surprised than any of the other patrons, though. The cake popper was Robbie in all his glory. He even slipped the G-string off just as the lights went out on stage. He was gone when they came back up.

"That does it," Vivian said. "It's fate. This is the third sighting. He could be following me. He wants me, and I'm told all of them are for rent."

With that, she had stood and was marching toward the side of the stage, where there was a beaded-curtain-covered doorway that presumably led back to the dressing room area.

"I'll be back with Mr. Blue Eyes Gorgeous and friends," was the last thing she said before she was gone. "Hold the fort for me here."

"I'll do no such thing," Marsha said, but she spoke it to Vivian's back. Her friend would not have heard her.

Giving a little shrug, Marsha stood, picked her drinks glass, downed the expensive watered-down gin and tonic, looked at her watch, and left.

She'd had enough of Vivian's nonsense and she needed to be home by 1:00 a.m.

* * * *

He lay on his back and let her do the work this time. He'd been the one to take control and to dominate in the pool before they came inside to make the most of the New Year's festivities. They hadn't spoken yet, each of them so steeped in lust that they wanted sex before that and all else.

She was straddled on him, facing his feet, riding his young, virile shaft, leaning forward and her hands grasping his knees. Robbie raised his torso to brush her back with his chest. He reached around and cupped her breasts, setting his hips in motion to join her in the rhythm of the fuck.

"Sorry," she whispered.

"Sorry for what? This is nice. You are so nice," Robbie whispered.

"Sorry that I don't have more for you to fill your hands with," Marsha answered. "Not as a well endowed as I could be--as my friend, Viv, is, for instance."

"You are perfect in every way," Robbie answered. "You friend scares me."

Marsha laughed. "She didn't find you backstage tonight. Speaking of fright, you scared the hell out of me when you popped out of that cake."

"Do you mind that I'm doing some work in that male review? I just started. The pay is good. And, no, your friend didn't find me backstage. I was surprised to see you there, but it reminded me that I was to meet you here at 1:00 a.m. When I left the stage, I picked up my clothes in the dressing room and kept on walking. I didn't want to be late getting here. I was dying to be with you."

"You know my friend has quite the crush on you."

"Does she? She's not my type, I'm afraid. You're my type."

"I suppose someday I'll have to tell her that you are my boy toy," Marsha said.

"Not right now, though," Robbie responded. "I have New Year's Day off. I want to spend the day concentrating on you."

Marsha gave a little shiver and smiled. No, she didn't think she'd tell Viv just yet that not everything was as it seemed.