Past, Present and Future Ch. 04

"You know, Steph, I've always admired your judgement." Her voice was soft, reflective. "So, when you told me what was going on here, I had a hard time getting my head around it."

"Me, too," I admitted.

"But Tony seems really nice and I got thinking... I mean, maybe you're not crazy, maybe this isn't all creepy. Denise had me really down and I needed a chance to get out of the Zoo for a while. What I really  needed was a change, a reboot. So, here I am."

I reached out, touched her arm. "It's OK. You don't have to explain."

Her eyes flipped back to mine. "But you're  OK with all this, Stephanie?"

"Mostly. Tony's fine with it. But, he's a boy, Marcy; you know he's going to look, right?"

"I sort of figured. Of course. Why else?"

"I mean, he's going to look,  Marcy. It's a given. It's not like a boy in class checking you out when he thinks you're not looking."

She nodded.

"OK, then. Let me introduce you to Pi."

Inside, her eyes swept the place, its cleanliness, its attractive design, the photos of firefighter Tony from years before. She turned and smiled at the vista of fields and trees beyond the west-facing windows.

Pi bumped our ankles in greeting; we petted her briefly.

The back of Tony's head could be seen in a chair on the deck just outside, pointedly not looking inside at Marcy. I could see the shoulders and collar of the light linen shirt he was wearing.

Again, her eyes checked out my nakedness. We were roomies; she'd seen me before, but never in this context. "This is for real, isn't it?" she whispered.

"Uh-huh."

She stretched out a finger, ran over the links of the necklace around my neck. I could see the wheels going round in her mind. Her hand fell to her side; she shrugged slightly.

"So, where do I leave...?" Her question was obvious.

I took her by the hand, led her to the closet, opened it. My purse hung neatly beside the clothes I'd been wearing Friday night. The closet was empty except for those and some spare wooden hangers. For some reason, the sight of my panties and my bra on a hanger by themselves was a more emphatic statement of my relationship with Tony than my not actually wearing them.

She took a deep breath.

I wanted to give her a hug of encouragement, but figured it would just freak her out. Me, too.

"It's over to you now, Marce. But if you decide to stay, I'll be out there." I simply pointed over my shoulder with my thumb.

I felt very odd as I turned and went to join Tony outside, leaving my best friend struggling with the same issues I'd been through so very recently. I realized that I'd just done to Marcy precisely what Tony had done with me. Leave your clothes here, dear, then come join the adults.

Had I just sold her out to Tony?

What if he were more interested in her?

To her credit, it took her less time to make up her mind than it had me. In less than a minute, Marcy appeared in the door, clothed in glory. And she didn't do that silly embarrassed naked woman thing, trying to cover her boobs and sex with her hands. Standing with her arms by her side, she could have been a model at the art school.

"Thank you for your hospitality, Tony." Her voice actually seemed calm to me.

He turned at last to look at her, smiled warmly.

"You are indeed welcome, Marcy. Would you like a tea or a drink of some sort? Mi casa, su casa."

Tony was not ignoring her nudity as he had initially ignored mine, but neither was he blatantly ogling the lovely young woman before him.

Oh yes, he was looking, but his examination was not a leer and his open admiration was hardly the callow lust of our classmates back at the university.

Marcy just stood there for his perusal. There was a lot to examine.

Scarcely a fingerbreadth over five feet tall, Marcy had eyes so dark as to be almost black, framed with lashes many girls would kill for. For her size, she had a better figure than me, with a pear-shaped bum and firm boobs capped with pink areolae and long nipples. Yet there was solid muscle under those female curves, for Marcy was a cheerleader; her form was as athletic as it was feminine and she moved with a dancer's grace. Today, she'd left her hair loose; it almost reached the dimples over her bum. She was just mouth-watering.

And now she she was standing naked in front of my Tony.

"Turn around, please."

The girl flushed slightly, then — 'he's going to look, Marcy'  — she turned slowly on the spot, resumed her stance facing him.

"Lovely," Tony said respectfully. He smiled. When he put his mind to it, nobody had a nicer smile than Tony.

"Thank you for gracing my house." Marcy saw that he meant it and seemed somewhat shaken by his sincerity.

I saw recognition in Marcy's eyes. It had been this I had tried to explain to her. Tony made his own rules, but within those, he was as courteous and considerate as any person I'd ever met. The bottom line was that Tony wasn't looking at either of us like we were peelers in a Dundas Street bar. Yes, we were there for his pleasure, but it was, she was realizing, hardly demeaning.

She turned her head, looked out at the farms stretching into infinity. "This is so pretty. The light is perfect. May I sit down?"

"Of course. Or, if you wish, you may start painting."

"Where would you like me?" She froze the instant those words left her mouth, turned scarlet at the possible double entendre.

Tony could have destroyed her with a word. Instead, refusing to even acknowledge that a double meaning might even exist, he simply said, "Wherever you wish, Marcy. I do look forward to being able to watch an artist at work."

He didn't put any emphasis on the word 'watch' — even if his eyes were openly wandering over boobs and smooth mound.

How was I feeling? I guess 'mixed' would be about right. My eyes kept flipping between her and Tony. I was happy when Marcy got set up and launched into painting. She was absorbed in something else than her own problems and that was all to the good.

I kept wondering what Tony was thinking now that he had Marcy unclothed in front of him. I took a quick look at his trousers, noticed no particular stretching and was a little happier for that. If all he wanted to do was look at the girl, I was OK with that.

Sort of.

I knew I wasn't ready to share, had seen the effect the petite girl could have on boys even clothed. When Tony told me to set the terms, I could have just told her to come. Instead, I'd insisted on her being nude, too. And she was simply luscious and Tony was...

Tony was being Tony. He'd been the same kind but insistent gentleman I'd seen my first time here. And if there was a part of Marcy he hadn't looked at, it could only be the soles of her feet.

I watched as Marcy settled herself and held a pencil out horizontally in an outstretched hand. Perspective, maybe?

I was surprised when Tony squeezed my hand gently.

"Thank you for this, Stephanie."

I could see that he was entirely sincere in his gratitude. He was enjoying the sights, like I'd taken him on a tour of an especially nice garden.

"Might I ask for some background music, please? Whatever you think would suit."

I nodded, went inside and returned with my flute in my hand, started to sit down beside him again.

"Stephanie, might I ask you to stand by Marcy when you play, please? There's a shady spot if you want to stay out of the full sun."

Standing a couple of steps behind Marcy, I began to play. Her head came around to look at me when I started. This was hardly unforeseen. She smiled, turned back to her work.

For the next 45 minutes or so, Tony simply sat where he was, enjoying my music and the sight of two young women dressed only in their beauty. Every few minutes, he rose and, without touching her, came to stand by Marcy, taking in the fine details as she worked on her piece. Each time he did so, he returned to his seat only after coming to me, kissing the back of my neck and gently caressing me. He'd placed me behind Marcy, so his fondling and kisses were not obvious, but she turned once and saw his fingers drifting off my nipples. Blushing, she turned away. It took a minute for her to restart.

+

It was getting on to noon. Tony stood up, thanked me for my music and went back into the house. Marcy kept painting; I pulled out a textbook.

Some time later, he emerged from the house, a picnic basket in hand.

"Marcy, Stephanie and I will be having lunch. I've made enough for three if you would care to join us."

The picnic basket made it obvious that we weren't going to be eating here. Marcy looked at her painting, her paints, back up to Tony.

"Um, where...?"

"Not far. In the barn, actually."

"The barn?" I asked. It hardly struck me as a picnic spot.

"Trust me," he smiled. "Marcy, I can leave your lunch here, if you would like."

"No, I need a break anyway. My stuff will be OK here?"

"Just fine."

Her back stiff, Marcy closed her eyes, put her hands in the small of her back, stretched backwards. Those perfect boobs were pushed up and forward and she had Tony's absolutely undivided attention. Her arms came up to over her head and she leaned from side to side, stretching. It was an amazing sight.

She opened her eyes, saw both of us staring and turned beet red.

'He's going to look, Marcy.'   She'd remember in future, I thought.

Ignoring her blush, he picked up the basket and wordlessly headed off to the barn. Marcy, wide-eyed, looked at me.

"Told you," I said softly.

"Yeah, but..." She fell silent.

I'd had to learn, too.

"Well, I'm hungry," I said. I got up and followed the man with lunch. Marcy didn't take long to follow. We walked together, sun and breeze on our bare skin.

"This feels weird," she said. "Weird, but nice."

"What? Being naked? Or following an older man so he can watch you in your birthday suit?"

She thought about all that.

"Yes."

I grinned. "Gotcha."

She stopped, turned to me. "It's also... I mean, I feel really vulnerable like this." Her hand waved over her nudity.

"I know. It's about trust, I think. It's something I've had to learn, too, Marce."

She thought about that, started walking again.

It wasn't a big barn, as these things go. Tony had said this had never been a dairy farm, so farm animals would have been mainly a few horses for wagons, ploughs and such, with maybe a couple of cows for milk and butter. The boards over the stone foundation were well-weathered, mainly grey now with some traces of a bright red remaining from heaven knows how many generations ago.

The big main doors, which I'd never seen closed, were on one side. Tony was waiting for us, sitting on the bumper of the jeep parked inside. He led us to the foot of a large ladder heading up to the next floor, the original hay loft. The scent of that long-gone forage still lingered, I thought. The old boards forming the barn wall had pulled apart from each other over the years and on one side sunbeams peeking through the gaps were highlighted with dust motes. He motioned me up the ladder.

I knew what he would say if I suggested that he go first. I made a point of wiggling my bum at him as I climbed. When I got to the top, Marcy had not started up. I could see the thought running through her mind — climbing that ladder with Tony immediately below her would...

"Marcy?" I called softly. She looked up, saw me, shrugged and started climbing.

And yes, of course he looked.

I held out a hand to help her up the last few rungs. Tony was still below.

Her eyes were wide; her blush hadn't faded.

I ran my hand gently over her head, hoping to comfort her.

"How're you doing, Marce?"

"I'm..."

There was a long pause.

"Is... is he always like that?"

"More or less. Still OK?"

She took a deep breath. "Yeah, I guess. But this takes some getting used to."

"It gets easier."

Without thinking, I held my arms out to her, an offer of a comforting hug. Instinctively, she stepped into my arms, pulled herself against me. I held her head against my shoulder, let my hand run up and down her back, felt her arms close around my waist. Both of us silent, still, I could feel her heart beating.

It hit both of us at the same time. Friendly hugs were common between us -- but bare-skin hugs? No, not once, not ever. We jumped apart a little, both blushing from head to foot. Neither of us could meet the other's eyes.

But I couldn't forget how smooth her skin had seemed under my hand, how soft her breasts had been against mine.

There was a low chuckle from the ladder. Tony's head was just above floor-level; it was clear he'd seen our embrace, had noticed the embarrassment.

His damnably expressive eyebrows went up, then he gave a small grunt and lifted the picnic basket up to rest on the floor. He followed a moment later and recovered the basket.

"This way." It was as if he'd seen nothing, as if discovering two striking young women in a naked embrace was an everyday thing here. He led us the length of the building, to where the outline of a large door could be seen on the end wall.

"Be careful. There's no rail." Putting the basket down, he grasped a handle on the door and began to pull it along the wall with those big shoulders. Creaking, the door slid open. Both Marcy and I gasped a little at the view.

South-facing, the open door overlooked the farmyard and gave a view of rolling farmland stretching just about into tomorrow. A couple of small birds darted by outside. We were high enough to be above many of the trees.

Just inside the opening was a large sofa, elderly, but in good condition. Tony set the basket on a low table separating the couch from the drop outside.

"I come up here sometimes," he said. "It's a nice view and it's cool. The couch is long enough for a nap and I find it's easy to fall asleep, especially if it's raining. Raindrops on the roof are relaxing."

"The sofa's pretty," Marcy said, "but how did you get it up here?"

"It was my uncle's. I moved it up here when I redecorated." He pointed to a beam protruding outside the opening, a pulley at its end. Of course. How else would hay have been brought up here?

"Anyway, it's a nice spot for a picnic." He smiled, sat down in the middle of the sofa.

I sat down, realized Marcy was having a bit of trouble with the thought of bare-her-next-to-clothed-Tony. I shrugged. Tony would behave and that made it Marcy's problem. It took a few seconds before she sat down beside him, carefully, keeping as far away from him as the sofa arm allowed.

There was a long, crusty loaf of bread, sliced salami of some sort, lettuce and cut-up peppers, a hard cheese, olives, fizzy water, grapes. The man was a culinary genius.

Tony allowed us to serve ourselves, then filled his own plate. Putting the dish on his lap, he leaned back, his left arm over my shoulder. He seemed to be making an effort not to lean against Marcy.

"How's Stephanie?" he asked softly.

"Good, Tony. Thank you. And I would never have imagined the old barn would be such a great place to eat."

"I know. I've had a couple of offers from contractors wanting to buy the barn. There's apparently a great market for barnboard right now."

"You said no."

"Of course."

He turned to his right. Marcy's blush had faded. Caught with her mouth full, it started again, a little. She tried to smile.

"Thank you for joining us, Marcy," Tony said softly. "I hope this hasn't been too hard for you."

She swallowed, took a sip of water. The blush faded. I could see she was coming to understand my earlier remark about 'embarrassed but not humiliated'.

"Good, thank you." She looked at her plate, half-empty now. Marcy burned calories like a wood stove; she ate nonstop back at the residence and never put on an ounce. "This is very good."

"You're welcome." He turned away from her, looking outside again. I rested my right hand on his leg, ran it over the cotton of his slacks.

"Me, too. This is delicious, dear."

That earned me a fond kiss, which Marcy pretended not to watch. I squeezed his leg harder, returned to lunch.

Finishing his meal, Tony let himself sag back against the sofa. I leaned in towards him, let my head rest on his shoulder. I ran my hand over his leg.

"My thanks to Momma for teaching you to cook, Tony."

He chuckled.

We silently watched the clouds drift over the countryside in front of us.

I sensed Marcy taking a deep breath.

"Tony?"

"Mmm?"

"Thank you again."

"You're welcome again."

"I'm sorry to be so... stiff."

"It's an unusual situation for you, Marcy. I understand that. Again, thank you for brightening our day with your visit."

"Tony?"

"Mmm?"

"May I hug you, too?" Her voice was a whisper, almost plaintive.

His head turned to me, for once asking permission instead of expecting compliance. I nodded. This could do no harm.

Tony, silent, lifted his arm around Marcy's shoulder and pulled her in. Her head was almost too low to rest on his shoulder, but she stretched a little and fit.

We sat there like that for some minutes. Looking out of the corner of my eye, I could see the top of her head on his shoulder, her hand resting like mine on his thigh.

I was surprised to see that I was OK with that.

Tony's arms gave both of us a strong hug.

"Marcy, I think you came here to paint and I don't want my lunch to give you cause for falling behind. In any case, I need to talk to Stephanie for a few minutes. Do you need a hand down the ladder?"

As dismissals go, it was pretty polite.

"Would you like me to take the basket?"

"No, thank you. We'll bring it along when we come. Help yourself to anything you need in the house."

He kept his arm lying along the top of the sofa when she rose. She started to bend down to give him a kiss, caught herself and went to the ladder. Black eyes lingered on mine as her head went down out of sight.

A minute later, I caught a glimpse of her bare form going around the corner of the house, then she was out of sight. From the corner of my eye, I could see Tony watching her, too. It was a very  nice bottom, I thought.

"Thank you, dear," I said, squeezing his thigh again. "She needed this."

"She's nervous," he said.

"I was too, Tony. I got through it. But thank you for not pushing her."

"Why push? Especially with you here?" As he said that, his hand slid down off my shoulder, fondled my breast casually, almost absentmindedly. I was surprised that I found it to be precisely what I needed right then. I squirmed a little in acknowledgement.

Without removing his hand, he hugged me and I realized again why loving this man was a good idea.

"So, what did you want to talk to me about?"

"Nothing in particular," he admitted. "I just wanted to get some time alone with you. It's peaceful up here."

My boob filling his hand, his thumb began to stroke my nipple, ever so softly.

"Peaceful indeed, sir." I paused. "In most ways."

"Most ways?"

I giggled slightly, pointedly looked at his trousers. There was a noticeable bulge.

"Y‎ou have me at a disadvantage, Tony." He laughed softly, continued his caresses. I felt my nipples harden, felt my ladybits tighten slightly.

I slipped out from under his arm, knelt in front of him. Moving quickly, I unfastened his belt and trouser button, unzipped his fly.

I looked up solemnly, then grinned. "If this is what pleases Mr. diRossi right now?"

As if it wouldn't...

Smiling, he cooperated and lifted his bum, which saved me the trouble of having to fake-wrestle them off him. I pulled his slacks down off his legs, folded them and left them on the table. I wasn't surprised to see he'd gone commando.

I hopped back onto the sofa.