tagNovels and NovellasCarefree Cove Ch. 03

Carefree Cove Ch. 03

byNigel Debonnaire©

It was another August Wednesday, another meeting of the Methodist Domino Club of Seville Hills, MO. They sat in the park next to the community pool on benches, analyzing the problems of the world as the local teenage society played out nearby. All but one were comfortably plump old men, with little or no hair, little or no teeth, and prune wrinkled skin. The only one who wasn't was a much younger man of fifty one with a full beard, a full head of hair, and a slightly full figure. The head of a four year old wearing a white swimming cap approached them, raised up and demanded: "Sing the song, Daddy! Sing the Song!"

Tom Albright sat forward and started singing: "That's my daughter in the water. . ."

"He needs help! Help him!" Amanda Albright demanded.

Tom's companions Hoot Pidgeon, Freddy Kleinschmidt, Petey Harms, Mutt Hayes, and Chigger Jones immediately joined in: ". . .everything she owns I bought her/ everything she owns. . ."

A group of six teenaged girls across the pool giggled at the old men's chorus. Only Hoot had any sense of pitch, two were singing an octave lower and the other two in random disharmony. Amanda paddled back and forth in front of them, beaming at the attention from her daddy and her uncles by adoption.

"Ya know, Tom," Mutt mused after they finished, "it's been more fun to come out here since you started bringing Mandy with you."

Tom looked at Mutt with amazement. "Really? After all the kids you've had running under your feet I thought she'd be just another irritation."

"No, Mandy's smart, sweet, and at the end of the day, she goes home with you. And she gives us an excuse to sit next to the pool, my eyesight's going, and I can hardly see them from the shelter house any more."

The teenagers could hear that of course, and laughed heartily. It was a different group than five years ago, all around 18, and just as interested in attracting male attention. The other old men nearby smiled at Mutt's observation with their heads down, determined not to let their granddaughters see them.

Directly across the parking lot was another group of young boys hanging around a couple of old cars, talking and smoking cigarettes. They all wore sunglasses, t-shirts and jeans. All were classmates of the girls in the pool. Their eyes followed the girls as well, hungry for blossoming womanhood on display, but they lacked the testicular fortitude to approach them. Tom could see their lips moving around their cigarettes, talking about the same kind of things their grandfathers did, with just as much purpose and lack of realization. Tom spotted Freddy's grandson and Hoot's twin nephews in their midst. The old men ignored them.

The girls decided to try their skills on the high diving board. Monica Hayes bounced up and down on the board far too many times, letting her puppy fat jiggle shamelessly in her low cut, grey, one piece suit before doing a flip into the water. She made a point to surface near the men, her nipples erect as she awkwardly got out of the water and shook her hair in front of them shamelessly before walking back. Grandpa Mutt clapped his hands in incestuous admiration.

Tammy Kleinschmidt was next, wearing a skimpy yellow bikini that did nothing to hide her charms. As she bounced on the high board, her right breast came out of her suit. Embarrassed, she just stepped off the board and went down like a lightning bolt, feet first. When she came up, her top was in place, but she already had the boys' appreciation, which she acknowledged with a shy smile.

"I want to go off the high board, daddy," an insistent voice nearby warbled.

Tom turned toward Amanda, standing near him next to the pool. "No, baby, you're not big enough yet," he replied.

"I dive off the dock all the time back home."

"No, sweetheart. It's not the same thing. Not yet."

"But, Daddy. . ."

"Amanda Joy Albright. You are not going to do it. You are not big enough, or old enough. When it's time, I'll see you get lessons. Understood?"

A pause. "Yes, Father, understood," came the whimper. Chigger clapped Tom on the back in appreciation of his successfully exercised authority.

"Here comes my little Tabitha," Hoot said. "Cupping his hands to his mouth, he shouted: "C'mon, precious, show'em how it's done." Tabitha Smoot's body was longer and leaner than the other girls, and she waved from the board at her grandfather before she jumped up and down to try a back somersault. Her pink suit stayed firmly in place, but it showed the boys what they wanted to see when wet.

Mutt whistled and clapped. The old men sipped their drinks and sat in silence for a few moments. Mutt began,"Hoot, your kid is a cute one, I'll give you that, but. . ."

A chorus of shrieks and giggles from the pool cut Mutt off in mid sentence. A pool volleyball game was beginning, three girls per side, leaping up to keep the ball in play and threatening the integrity of the swimsuit tops. The men murmured to one another at a level they could hear and the girls couldn't:

Monica came up from underwater with her cups askew again; the men and boys enjoyed the sight of wet, brown tipped ice cream mounds uncovered. It was their lucky day: she didn't notice she was exposed until the long rally was over. She shrieked and giggled as she ducked down to rearrange herself underwater.

A shrill voice, silent for a while, demanded: "Sing the song, Daddy!"

The older men's reverie was broken and they began their ragged chorus again: "That's my daughter in the water. . ."

Having re-established herself as the center of attention, Amanda paddled to the middle, crouching down to do her synchronized swimmer impersonation. The men kept singing as long as she performed for them, breaking occasionally to laugh at her antics; the old men were well rehearsed in meeting her demands. The girls resumed their volleyball game and the boys continued their dreaming of lusts fulfilled.

Amanda finished, and turned to notice a new car pulling up, a convertible. Tom looked over to see who is was and noticed the woman get out of the car. She wore a wide brimmed, floppy hat, a low cut, white, one piece swim suit, and a wrap around skirt. Her skin was perfectly tanned, neither dark brown and leather rough nor egg white naked. Her body was neither extremely lean nor chubby: her hips were nicely rounded and the curves of her legs and breasts were ample. Carrying a large bag, she went over to the pool house and disappeared inside.

The little girl swam back over and said to her father: "Shelley's here, daddy, Shelley's here."

"I saw her, baby. I saw her."

"Shelley's here." The little girl splashed her hands extravagantly in the water in excitement, the other small children around her wading quickly away aghast at her energy.

A few moments later, Michelle Hawkins entered the pool area, slowly and gracefully as the queen of England. Her wrap around was gone, and her suit was cut high enough to show off her graceful legs and rounded butt to best advantage. Her cleavage was deep, presenting her tear drop breasts powerfully, without a tan line in sight. The men realized to their disappointment that her top was secure, showing much but denying more, and not likely to slip.

With an almost audible click, all ten eyes on the bench settled on the newcomer. Freddy was the first to speak: "We been hanging around princesses, but boys, the Queen has just arrived."

"There's enough woman there to be continued on the next girl," Petey observed,

Mutt was speechless for a moment. "Coo, coo, ca-choo, Mrs. Robinson," he murmured at last.

When Michelle entered the pool area, the shades came off and the male mouths dropped. The boys locked their eyes on the woman old enough to be their mother. One boy's cancer stick fell to the ground, unnoticed.

The men looked agape as Michelle lowered herself into the water, the girls volleyball game ignored. Her nipples rose as the cold water hit her, then relaxed again as she adjusted to the temperature. A small white swimming cap made her way over. "Hi, Shelley," Amanda chirped. "Glad you made it."

"Oh, I'm glad I had the time, Mandy. You ready to swim with me?"

"Sure." Michelle dove gracefully sideways and began swimming toward the men in a typical Australian crawl. She was slow enough that Amanda could keep up with her without tiring. The woman's flip at the got the old men a little wet, but none of them minded. The game stopped, and the girls looked on with mixed disdain and jealously.

After a few turns, she got out of the pool and laid down on a lounger across from Tom and his friends. The teenage boys started a slow, chaotic amble toward the shelter house for a better view. The girls restarted their game in a vain attempt to distract themselves and recapture their audience. Amanda got out of the pool and laid down in a lounger beside her friend.

Chigger whistled lowly to himself. "Hey, Tom, isn't she your neighbor?" he asked.


"Well, what's her name?"

"Her name is Michelle Hawkins, and she's from back east somewhere. Baltimore area, I think. She's got a night job at the child care center, seems to like it. Hasn't said anything about her family yet, but if you look closely, there's a white spot on her finger where a wedding ring used to be."

"So you think she's a divorced?" Mutt asked anxiously.

"No, Mutt, she's the astronaut who drove 900 miles wearing a diaper," Hoot snapped.

"Don't get so defensive," Mutt backtracked. "After all I'm a married man."

"That never stopped you before," Hoot murmured. The other men turned and nodded assent.

"Oh, Reverend Pidgeon? Like you're immune to temptation? I know what happened at Springwater twenty five years ago; if that'd happened today, they'd toss you out on your ear quicker than you could say Jack Robinson. Freddy Kleinschmidt and Petey Harms: we were in the Navy together, and you two were able to forget the girls who had your picture on their piano quite a few times, even when we went to the reunion in St. Louis three years ago. Our friend Thomas has an illegitimate daughter by a girl who'd graduated from High School the year before: that used to mean something in the good old days. I don't doubt our friend Chigger Jones has something still itching him from his past; I can tell by the smirk on his face that he does, and he doesn't think he has a God to answer to. So don't go pointing your righteous fingers at me, friends. I'm no different than any other red blooded American man."

"I guess not," Hoot intoned. "No different than any other red blooded American man who only thinks with cock."

Mutt shook his head. "I knew that giving up beer because of the little girl was a bad idea. We're not drunk enough, and I'm going to remedy that. Good night, gentlemen, Reverend Pidgeon." He stood up quickly enough to wobble a little, then strode quickly to his car in the lot, giving the girls a couple of quick looks and a nod to his spawn hanging out at the shelter house.

The volleyball game stopped as the girls jumped out of the pool, soaking wet, to rest on the side of the pool. One of them came over and talked to Amanda for a moment, and the little girl trotted over to her father."

"Daddy," she said, "Monica and her friends want you to take their pictures with me."

"Of course, baby. Tell them they can come over and I'll take your pictures."

She turned and waved them over excitedly, and Tom pushed the buttons that turned his cell phone into a camera. The girls took turns posing with the four year old, standing behind her to flirt outrageously with the old men as they went through many combinations. The boys across the way were gesturing to each other and digging into each other's ribs, flecks of conversation drifted across that were full of boasts and promises. Amanda was beside herself with delight in having so many friends who would obey her orders about who was next.

Michelle watched all this serenely from across the pool, and Tom snapped a couple of shots of her in passing. The boys at the shelter house turned their cell phone cameras on her and she subtly adjusted her posture to give them better shots without being obvious.

Chigger focused on Michelle across the pool. "That woman is enough to make a man believe in a just and loving God."


Almost five years earlier. . .

Tom awakened in his bed. The bright October morning sun reflected off the fading greenery around the house; a few touches of light red and brown were touching the leaves as autumn approached. He should get out of bed and figure out what he was doing today: he got back late the night before with Renee from a couple of days in Kansas City. The meetings at the corporation went well, they visited some of his favorite restaurants, and she took a liking to his favorite Tibetan Art.

The Art Institute as impressed by her work, and willing to give her a scholarship in a year's time. Renee was excited by the appreciation of her work, spending almost all her free time drawing. Tom was happy to give her constructive criticism and encouragement.

He looked over to see her sleeping head. Was it really two months they lived together? It was all a blur; he couldn't remember what it was like not to wake up next to her. Despite their age difference, they had bonded quickly. Renee never said a word about her life prior to the night he rescued her from the trailer park. None of her relatives showed up looking for her, and she refused to contact her grandmother in jail. Grace Carter had gotten an 18 month sentence for her third DUI, and it didn't seem to faze Renee. His hand caressed the sleeping blonde head and he wondered what kind of life she had before he met her.

Her eyes fluttered open. She smiled and muttered: "Good morning, sweetheart."

"Good morning."

"What would you like for breakfast?"

"We don't need to worry about that for a while."

She smiled and snuggled against him. He usually wore a t-shirt and boxers to bed, but she was used to sleeping in the nude. Her leg embraced him, taking care to touch the bulge in his boxers. "So you're hungry for something else right now?" she whispered in his ear.

He kissed her. "You could say that."

"Okay." Pressing her whole body against him, she started kissing his face from ear to ear. He could feel her breasts pressing against his chest as his arms closed tightly around her. The bulge in his shorts got larger and firmer, and he could smell her musk as she anticipated its full deployment. She snaked her thin hand down to pull back his underwear and softly grasp his shaft.

Rolling onto his back, he pulled back the covers and removed his shorts. Her body immediate spun around so she could embrace his genitals with her lips, licking and sucking just as he liked it, teasing and darting with her silken tongue before engulfing him completely in her mouth.

His hand snaked around behind her, and touched the cleft, rubbing it lengthwise. She loved this; he pushed downward until he came around and up to her sweet valley from behind. His left middle finger probed into her slickness and he heard her take a sharp breath through her nose.

The phone rang, and they ignored it.

Just when he thought he could bring her to climax, she hopped off and sat on his cock, driving him deep inside her with one thrust. They started pumping slowly, she bent down for a long French kiss, before rising up. He reached up and massaged her breasts, she leaned over to give him better access. Moving up and down in synchronicity, they reveled in the sensations of being one physically and spiritually. He could hardly believe what a tight fit they made; it was better than any lover he ever had.

The wind played violently with the trees as his fountain rose inside her. Pelvic muscles milked him dry, then spasmed on their own with its beloved still deep inside. She fell on top of him, breathing heavily, and they spent several sweaty moments entwined.

As he took the juice and milk from the refrigerator after arriving downstairs, he heard a distant retching and the flow of water from the plumbing. Taking the steps two at a time, he stuck his head in the bathroom and asked, "You all right, sugar?"

She was kneeling by the porcelain throne, wiping her mouth as the water finished returning to the bowl. "Yeah. I'm all right."

For an long awkward moment their eyes were locked, his quizzically and hers frightened. "I got something to tell ya."


"You'll think I'm stupid."

"No, I won't, sugar."

"I can tell you're suspicious."


"You've been like that for a week."

"No, really. These meetings in Kansas City always make me nervous. The way corporate America is today, nobody's safe, and even though I've got a significant amount of stock and options, I'm always worried something will bite me in the ass."

She nodded unbelievingly. "You're probably wondering why I'm barfing in the morning."

"No. We went to a sushi restaurant last night before we came home; you're not used to raw fish."

"I've been barfing every morning for two weeks, just after I missed my period."

A long pause which the wind violently tossed the branches outside. "Oh. I didn't notice. I see."

A nod of the head. "I used a pregnancy test last night. It's pink."

"Oh." He froze in place, not thinking. "We need to confirm this."

"Yeah, I guess so." They spend another moment in awkward silence. The coffeemaker chimed downstairs.

"What do you think about that?" he asked awkwardly.

She looked down. "I thought you'd be mad at me."

He knelt down beside her. "I should be apologizing to you. I should have asked; I just assumed you were on the Pill."

"No," she said, shivering. "I'm not."


"If I am pregnant. . ."


"I want to keep the baby, your baby. You're such a beautiful man, and I love you so much." She reached out and clasped his neck.

Shivering they huddled for several moments. He said at last: "I'm probably too old to be a father."

Pulling back, she cupped his face with her hands. "I don't think so. If God didn't want you to make babies, you'd be shooting blanks."

He laughed and stood up, pulling her up behind him. She hung onto his neck and wrapped her legs around his waist. Hugging her hard, then kissing her hard, he laughed again. "I guess not. Okay, we'll make the doctor's appointment to confirm this, and then we'll figure out where we go from there."

She laughed and hugged him.

After breakfast, they sat for a long time on the deck wearing white robes on an usually warm morning. "I've got an idea," he said.


"I want do to a series of painting of you. One each month until the baby is born."

"Just like you did that painting for Mr. Hayes? Of Maria topless?"

"No, these will be different. These will be just for us. A beautiful mother-to-be as she comes into full flower. Nature at its essence, nature at its most beautiful. What do you say?'

She paused and bit her lip. "Let's start this afternoon," she said, breaking into an electric smile.


Three months later. . .

"Happy New Year!" Glasses clicked, as the party toasted the New Year. Tom and Renee rang in the holiday in the Manhattan Gallery where Nude in a Missouri Summer, his newly honored painting hung. Tom was ecstatic with the artistic recognition, despite winning a relatively minor contest of contemporary realist painters, but the cash award more than paid for the trip East. It also soothed the soul of a man with artistic vision who ended up designing greeting cards for twenty eight years.

Renee looked radiant in a dark brown sweater and white skirt about calf high boots. She was showing a tiny baby bump, and her morning sickness was history. Her glass held sparkling grape juice, in deference to her nineteen years and her condition. Her hair had grown out and her first trip to a beauty salon had been a revelation.

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byNigel Debonnaire© 2 comments/ 11251 views/ 1 favorites

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