Alistaire at Usc: Summer Vacation

This story is set during the summer after Alistaire's first year at USC.

As always, while I hope things remain plausible, I am certain they remain ridiculous. Have fun!

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The One With The Interview

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I elected to stay in Los Angeles over the summer after my first year at USC. I intended for California to be my home after all, and I was still working to become acclimated to its somewhat alien ways. I decided to enroll for one intensive class over the summer months, which allowed me to stay in the dorms. This was handy. I also took a part-time job on campus which kept me busy and my car gassed up. Barely.

Gas is expensive in California!

Most of my female friends went home for the summer, which sucked. But Hannah stayed on campus like me, which did not suck.

Well, it did suck, but only in various wonderful ways.

There was also a girl named Catherine whom I met at my campus job who definitely made the summer fun as well. She dropped out midway through the following Fall, though, which sucked in all the bad ways.

All that aside, I did still have to go home and see my parents at some point, right?

Scheduling this was tough, between my class, my work, and my parents' schedules, especially my mom's busy itinerary. I finally managed a twelve-day window in August, shortly before the fall semester was going to begin. It was comforting to be home, and so good to see my parents for the first time since we went to Telluride at Christmas.

The days I ended up choosing definitely turned out to be less than ideal, however. First off, the period coincided with the worst heat wave back home that I could remember. That distinction is not that impressive, but the heat was also about the worst my father could remember, so it was a scorcher for the books! Much more irritatingly, almost all of my local friends were elsewhere, either for the whole summer or just that time period.

Jessica, God bless her (or bless me, I guess), was around the first five days before she left for a conference. She was extremely happy to take advantage of me being there without her daughters around to make her "share the wealth," she had said.

We snuck around carefully when we did spend time together. If I had hung out with her daughters, my parents would have just had fun teasing me. I could not imagine what the fuck they would have said if they found out I was having that kind of fun with a forty-two year-old!

Regardless, especially once Jessica had to go out of town as well, my parents were a little freaked out at how I was hanging around the house so much.

"So all your friends, other than the one you've worked so hard to hide from us, are really out of town the whole time?" my mother asked me one morning as my father and I were fighting over the last strip of bacon.

"What? Who?" I asked nervously. "What are you talking about?"

Dad laughed. "Come on, kid! You were off swaining around clandestinely with somebody for the first few days after you first got home, but now even she, whomever she is, seems to have disappeared. I'm worried you are going to start associating coming home with being bored!"

"I can't say who you seem to be talking about," I said loftily, choosing those words extremely carefully. But in so doing, I took my eyes off the table and Dad swiped the last slice of pig goodness.

"Come on, darling. It is not like we don't know the life you are living," Mom laughed, steadfastly refusing to produce more bacon. "It's not like we aren't familiar with it ourselves."

Oh cripes. This was going to be one of those breakfasts where I wanted to die...

"I do wonder why he has been so hellbent on keeping whomever this is out of our sight," Mom observed to Dad, pretending to ignore me. "He was damned near literally rubbing them in our faces by the end of last summer."

"I should have been so lucky," Dad muttered. But not quietly enough.

"Dennis!" Mom hissed, too good-naturedly for my comfort.

With Dad momentarily quelled, Mom mused wordlessly. She snapped her fingers. "I'll bet he's got himself another MILF! That would explain the secrecy."

"Mom!"

They ignored my protest.

"Yeah," Dad said thoughtfully. "He did so damned well with his first, I imagine he might be interested in more..."

"'So damned well', Dennis?" Mom asked tartly. "Sloane is 'so damned well'?"

"Guys!" I almost wailed.

Dad just grinned at Mom. "You've seen her. Al's seen a lot more of her. That woman is an Achievement."

Mom glared at him theatrically. "So you expect him to be into MILFs, hmmm?" She threw a biscuit at him. Well, half a biscuit, but still.

"I'm certainly into

my

MILF," Dad leered. He even rose out of his chair to lean across the table toward Mom. She just smiled and started to lean toward him in turn.

I fled. I outright fled. I finally slowed down in familiar territory. It was nice to hide out at, er, I mean check in on the office of the free paper where I had worked the prior summer...

I took an extra two-mile loop on my morning run the next day, only to find that my parents had held breakfast until my return.

Uh oh. More of this?

I sat down warily, and Mom did not make me wait. "I do worry that you don't have much to do, darling," she said.

Here we go again, I flinched.

But she was going in another direction. "Your father and I are driving a couple of hours up to visit some people tomorrow. It is a business-slash-social get-together and a bit of a pool hangout in their backyard. If you don't have plans, why don't you come with us? I hate to leave you on your own all day... unless you have other plans?" she added sweetly.

I did not have other plans, alas. Also, heat wave, remember? Even if it was just a bunch of dusty old people talking about golf or whatever, I could use a few good hours pruning up in cool poolwater.

"Sounds good," I shrugged. At least with other people around, I could avoid any more embarrassment from my parents.

Right?

*

When we hopped in the car early the next morning, I saw Dad punching in an address in the Research Triangle area. It was going to be a bit of a trip...

I yet again refrained from taking official notice that after Mom's big deal, I got a used Nissan, while Dad had gotten a brand-new Tesla Model S, the version with warp drive or whatever. At least my car made noise when you hit the accelerator...

Our ride up was uneventful except for when about halfway through, Mom turned around to look at me where I luxuriated in the huge back seat, texting with Bridget and Maddie. I was being interrogated about various friends at USC, and I was ducking the questions quite adroitly, I thought.

"I suppose you need a briefing, Alistaire," she said briskly.

"A what?" I asked.

"I said this is a business thing for me, so that makes you part of my team for the day. Our host is a star senior executive at a startup I've been shepherding for years now, one that we are taking public on the New York Stock Exchange very soon. Our subject loves working startups and can't stand big companies, and since his current startup is about to become a very big company, everyone expects he is going to retire yet again very soon. Just like he did after his first startup was bought out."

"I've never met him myself," Mom went on in her presentation voice. "I put his boss, Thalia Williams, into the company back when I arranged the first big round of financing for them. Since she knows she will be losing him soon anyway, she thinks he would be a good candidate for a position like hers at one or another of my other, more nascent projects. We are going to visit so I can check him out as a person. Thalia will be there too."

This all seemed entirely on-brand for my mother, and entirely unimportant to me. I nodded in understanding and was about to go back to dodging Maddie's more persistent inquiries about Ronnie when Mom turned back around in her seat.

"A couple of final things," she added. "First, we are all pretending he does not know the purpose of my visit, so don't be rude by bringing it up openly," she said firmly. I nodded. She paused, still looking at me.

"Second, under no circumstances are you to go and fuck Thalia Williams."

"What?" I gasped. Even Dad chortled in surprise.

"She is an extremely attractive single woman in her mid-forties. If she had kids, she would be a textbook 'MILF'. Just up your alley, apparently," Mom said, almost glaring at me. "Thalia is a friend of mine. If it was just that, I wouldn't begrud..." Mom cut herself off before she said something that was about to mindwipe me. Then she went on. "But she is also a very valuable business asset for me in many ways, and I will not have your adventurism complicating my working relationship with her. Am I clear? Do not fuck Thalia," she said in the exact Mom Tone she used to use to tell me not to drink milk from the carton.

"Mom! What are you talking about? I..."

"Am. I. Clear?"

"Yes ma'am," I said, a little wide-eyed.

Fuck. Now I was sitting there speculating about just how hot this Thalia woman must be.

"The fiancée Monica is supposed to be hot too," Mom went on, talking to Dad. "But at least in her case, I don't have to worry about her getting swept up with some random young man like Alistaire." She paused. "I only have to worry there about you keeping your eyes behaved, Dennis!"

Dad made no promises, damn him.

I

had to make promises...

Bemused, I went back to my texting.

ME

: I have just been ordered by my mother, out of the blue, to NOT fuck this business executive I told you we were going to hang out with today.

That got laugh responses from both Bridget and Maddie.

MADDIE

: Gonna obey?

I rolled my eyes.

ME

: You know my mom. I value my life.

BRIDGET

: Tell us that again once you've seen this woman. I'll bet she is wicked hot if your mom is worried about you being You that much

BRIDGET

: We are going to need a picture regardless. I'm curious

ME

: Fat chance I'm going to be taking pictures of my Mom's business associate!

Maddie just sent the wide-open eyes emoji to me.

Idiots. Both of them. Sexy idiots.

*

The house was in a very nice suburban neighborhood, almost as nice as ours. It was almost as big as ours, too. There was only one extraneous car parked out front, a black Range Rover, so I guessed that this was going to not be a crowded event.

Great. I was going to be bored, with nothing to distract me from the mythical Thalia's rocking older bod. Mostly, I was going to be bored. Better than being bored at home, I supposed. And better than being hot.

Pool water. Pool water.

The door opened to a tall, good-looking man, just a bit younger than my parents, if I was guessing. He was wearing board shorts and a very cool-looking Hawaiian shirt with only a few buttons done up.

"Ms. D'Abruzzi-Taylor? Judge Taylor?" he asked brightly. "I'm glad you could come."

"Sophia will do," Mom said with a smile.

"If you drop a 'your honor' on me, we will have a fight," my dad added, half smart-ass, full serious. "Dennis," he instructed, smiling as he firmly shook Mr. Howard's hand.

"Clark," Mr. Howard told Dad. Their handshake could have been featured in an instructional video on the etiquette of manly handshakes.

"You must be Alistaire," he added, looking at me. "I got an email that we were to have an extra."

"Nice to meet you, sir," I said, shaking his hand in my best imitation of Dad as I followed my parents into his house.

"I'm sorry, Alistaire," Mr. Howard went on. "My daughter goes to UNC and my backyard is often crammed with her friends on hot weekends like this. But not today." He shrugged apologetically.

I smiled a de nada at him.

A very attractive woman came smoothly out of what I could see was the kitchen. "Hello! Welcome," the blonde said with a broad smile. "I'm Monica," she added, shaking my mother's, and then my father's hand. I was standing behind them, so she contented herself with a huge smile and a wave at me. "Alistaire, right?" she asked, her eyes twinkling almost saucily. "I'm sorry you got dragged all the way up here for a boring old adult cookout. I'll have to see if we can keep you entertained somehow," she said in an alarmingly suggestive manner.

"Behave, Monica," Mr. Howard said in a voice that did not sound reproving at all. It was instantly apparent that he doted on his fiancée, which made me unable to understand how I did not receive even the faintest territorial side-eye from him at her sally.

Worse, my mother chose to throw me under the bus. "Do watch out for this one," she laughed, jerking her thumb at me. "He is more aggressive than he looks."

What had I done to you, Mom?

My nonplussed reaction to this thirtysomething knockout's flirty attitude was not helped by the fact she wore a bikini. A bikini and nothing more than a gauzy coverup obviously only thrown around her waist when she came into the house on whatever errand. It was not a racy bikini, really. But on her racy body, it looked that way anyway.

"I hope you brought suits," Monica said, leading all of us now toward the back of the house. "It is hot as hell out there, but that's where Clark and I spend our free time when it is warm."

"Dennis and I have our suits on underneath," Mom said easily. "Alistaire, please tell me you remembered yours?"

"Mom," I said. "I'm wearing it." I indicated my board shorts, which were longer and looser than even Mr. Howard's.

"These kids today, with their baggy swimsuits," Dad shook his head, clearly including Mr. Howard and his board shorts in the social commentary. It earned him a good laugh from the man himself.

At least with this Monica around, I would not be distracted by the Thalia lady whom I had weirdly been instructed not to fuck.

Right?

Wrong.

As we exited, the woman who had to be Thalia was rising from one of the chaises. Her strong but smiling face and the short, brown hair that I instinctively knew was usually styled in a severe way, but was sporting an appealing wave on this afternoon, were the least appealing things about her. She did not have the bombshellish curves of Monica, but she was lean and Freaking. In. Shape. Her breasts filled out the top of the bikini she wore in modest but arresting fashion, and the bikini itself was actually a little more revealing than Monica's, while somehow coming off as less aggressive. The brief glimpse I had caught of her ass as she rose had been enough to worry me.

"Hello, Sophia!" she said enthusiastically, moving swiftly toward my mother.

Both my frigging father and even Mr. Howard were giving the woman a very approving looking over. Swell.

Our host resumed his role and said to my parents, "Beer and White Claws are here in the fridge, along with a pretty good box wine. I can get you a cocktail inside if you prefer." He turned to me. "Unless you are 21, Alistaire, I have a variety of sodas and other drinks in the cooler by the grill." He looked at me as if expecting whining or pushback about my age.

I don't much give a damn about alcohol, so as long as he had Sprite, I was golden. Mr. Howard seemed to be impressed I hadn't tried to maneuver around his little edict. I simply went and found a Sprite.

When I rose from the cooler, I was treated to the sight of my fucking mother just outright pulling her shirt off over her head while remarking on the heat.

Please, not a bikini on Mom too!

I have seen my Mom in a bikini. Even at her age, I have to admit my Mom can crush a bikini. I absolutely did not sign up for hanging out around a pool all day while my mom crushed a bikini.

She had worn a one-piece. Thank God.

Alas, while it was at least not a racy one-piece, it wasn't that demure either.

Then Mom went and just dropped her loose pants as well. Worse, I was certain that she was standing so as to present the best views of her disrobing toward Mr. Howard. The looks she shot my father right after made it clear it had been retaliation for the ogling of Monica and Ms. Williams that Dad had indulged himself in.

Mr. Howard, damn him, certainly seemed to enjoy my mother's show.

I wanted to do something disapproving, but I have keen survival instincts.

The grill was not to be lit for another hour or so, so everyone fell into conversation. It was an education watching my mother operate, as she, despite being a guest, manipulated everyone into the conversational pattern she wanted.

She, of course, focused on Mr. Howard. He was her mission today after all. She sicced Dad on Mr. Howard's fiancée, full knowing that would result in Dad examining the generous cleavage on display in that bikini all afternoon long. But Mom does her due diligence, or has someone do it for her. In this case, she would inevitably interrogate Dad at length about Monica's suitability as an executive spouse later. That would matter, if Mom deployed Mr. Howard to do her bidding at some other company. Mom is pretty insistent that a good home life is a critical indicator of potential success for an executive. She would doubtless also enjoy giving Dad ample crap for his inevitable cleavage perusal. I looked forward to that, at least. It would also provide cover from any discussion of my own inevitable cleavage examination...

Unfortunately for me, or for Ms. Williams (Thalia I was briskly informed), or for both of us in different ways, that meant the two of us were left over to socialize.

This was not ideal.

I mean, Thalia was a nice, smart lady, and was interesting to talk to. She started with all the usual adult questions for a guy my age: How is USC? What is my major? That kind of routine stuff. Once we got into talking about her and Mr. Howard's company though, I found myself quite interested.

The problem was my mother's bizarre prohibition. The fact that fucking this woman would be a bad idea was hardly surprising to me. The fact that Mom had outright suggested it as a byproduct of forbidding it was the bizarre part.

But it kept the idea of fucking Thalia in the front of my mind...

Thalia was very attractive. And I have a hard time not looking at an attractive woman of any age. But if I am also involuntarily speculating about fucking her while looking at any woman, there is a near certainty that I will start Looking at her. My Look, for whatever reason, is a powerful thing. Weird as that idea is, the facts are clear.

And my Looking at someone, especially someone like Thalia, is, best case scenario, going to make her uncomfortable, and I'd hate to be rude like that. Worst case scenario, it might make her want to suck my cock. Wonderful as that idea and others increasingly seemed, I, let me repeat, have keen survival instincts.

But it would be glorious, wouldn't it? Thalia really was hot. And the Looking that I had so far been unable to avoid was alarmingly not making her seem all that uncomfortable.

I liked life.

I wanted to continue to live it.

With some difficulty, I forced myself to decide to scrape Thalia off on my father and Monica. I moved us over to them and declared that I wanted to give cooling off in the pool a try.

Alarmingly, Monica replied, "That sounds like a sound idea. Maybe we all should take a dip?" she asked, indicating herself, Thalia, and my father.

"I think I'll wait until after we eat," my father the judge said judiciously, and he seamlessly turned to include Thalia in their conversation. His words let me escape to my own devices. I don't know whether the old man was trying to help Mom by getting me away from Thalia, or if he was simply glad to add Thalia to his buffet of visual delights.

I plopped into the water and swam for a bit before I grabbed my phone from beside the pool and scrolled some memes while staying wet and cool. There was a text waiting.