Guilty Pleasures

Welcome to my latest series, mashing up a few more tropes. This little four chapter story went its own way on me as I wrote it, and I had fun copying it all down. We are now at chapter ten out of four and there are three more left after this one.

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

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Guilty Pleasures - Ten

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Monica and I had moved to my bedroom a while ago, and I now had her lying face down over a pile of pillows and cushions on my bed, my face between her thighs, my hands massaging the cheeks of her ass as I stroked her clit with my tongue. Her exhausted body writhed against my face and I heard her yelling into the mattress, "I can't believe that you arrrrrreeeee... Fuck!" She spasmed joyfully, but exhaustedly, and for once, I let her off swiftly.

Her body lay there limply, and I dragged myself to the side to collapse beside her. She turned her face slightly to the side, so one eye could glare at me. "Uncle," she moaned. "I'm sorry, but I am done, Clark."

"Well thank God," I heaved a sigh. "I ran out of energy an hour ago, and have been running on fumes. You are insatiable, woman!"

"

I'm

insatiable?" She demanded. A hand groped for yet another pillow, but she lacked the energy or strength to hit me with it.

"Wine?" I asked, suddenly desperately thirsty. Booze isn't the best for severe thirst, but I also needed fortification.

"God, yes!"

We dragged ourselves out of bed and sat down back in the kitchen, at my now desperately in need of cleaning kitchen table. I had pulled on some boxers, and Monica was looking fetching but exhausted in my bathrobe. We clinked glasses.

"Thank you, Clark. And I'm sorry," Monica said, taking a sip.

"Sorry?"

"You called it. I called it. To be clear, this was the best night of sex In. My. Life. But it is going to be a helluva long time before I can imagine being in the same room with you alone without hearing Stan's voice whining, 'You bitch'."

"You needed closure more than you need me," I shrugged. "And for what it is worth, I'm going to have the same hallucination every time I check you out for a long time to come. Expect me to try to keep my eyes mostly to myself."

"You can keep them off me. I hardly expect that you will be keeping them off of others!" Monica scoffed.

I smiled sheepishly. "Yeah? Well, you let your eyes wander too, little lady. You need some fun, non-angry, non-complex sex in your life for a while."

"Oh, I should slut it up for a bit, huh?"

"Who deserves it more?" I said. "But I wouldn't call it slutting. Just enjoy yourself. And Wanda and Yancey will be happy to get you out of the house more!" I added wickedly.

"They got their alone time in tonight for sure, didn't they?" Monica snorted, checking her watch. We had been going at it, with or without Stan's watching, for almost four hours. "I'm going to get dressed."

"I am going to watch," I declared.

"I thought that was going to be too traumatizing?"

"Stan's in my head tonight, regardless. I might as well get some more staring in at your gorgeous bod while I still can."

"It's not like we won't still see each other all the time, Clark. Just maybe not movie nights together for a while? I still plan on being here this weekend with your daughter's crowd. In my bikini, unless I buy a new one. I'm sure that you can think of some other young women to stare at instead of me!" She winked as she slid into her bra.

"A new bikini? You want to torture me?"

"I enjoyed doing that before, why not still? And I need to keep Stephanie on her toes. But who says you are the only one among all the guys who will be there whose interest I might be wanting to attract?"

I stared at her. She smirked back.

*

The next night was Bridge Night at the Franklin's again. Stan was

not

invited...

For the first time, Wanda tried to pair me up with Monica. We both separately begged off.

Monica had not shared our escapades of the night before with Wanda! Interesting. Nice to see someone had some discretion. Ahhh, what could have been.

Peter and I teamed up as usual, and I played worse than he did, as usual.

"So, are you going to make a move on that cheerleader this weekend, or not?" Yancey demanded later.

Peter, who was standing with us, perked up at this. "Cheerleader?"

I rolled my eyes at Yancey. "Please."

"Like a real cheerleader? For the Panthers or Hornets or something?" Peter pushed.

I could not help but give him the tiniest of smug smiles. "Something like that. But no, Yancey, I'm not. What the hell am I supposed to do? 'Hey Stephanie, let's go inside, I have some circuit boards I'd like to show you', and leave everyone else out there staring at our departure?"

"If she'd go in with you...

YES

," Yancey snorted. Peter just continued to look eagerly puzzled.

"Those kids would have my beer fridge picked clean in two minutes if I left them alone," I said loftily.

"Oh, well, as long as you have a serious reason," Yancey said.

Monica got paired with the repressed Hanna, whose husband had missed his flight home from Denver. She had Hannah laughing more hysterically than Peter had that earlier get-together, and way more often. I smiled that they both were happy. Especially Hannah. I twas totally cool to hear her break down her own walls. I still didn't flirt with either of them. I saved that for Wanda. And Ursula and Janet, just for the Hell of it. Even Ursula was kind of into it this time. Had they incorporated my horseplay into their own enjoyment?

My ego needed no more inflation...

*

Saturday morning, I got a call from Becca. "I'm bringing the crew over Sunday this week, Daddy-O."

"An actual heads-up? To what do I owe this honor?"

"Not too many weekends left this summer. I don't want to screw any up. Sorry, I should always have been doing this."

"Eh. Would have killed the spontaneity back in the beginning," I shrugged uselessly, given this was a phone call. "But now that things are fairly institutionalized, I hope you keep letting me know in advance. And why Sunday, not Saturday? Does it really matter?"

"Stephanie is busy Saturday."

"Becca..."

"Oh relax, Dad, and roll with it. This is one floor show I am totally enjoying."

I hung up the phone and beat my forehead on my kitchen counter.

*

Damn me if I didn't buy brats that afternoon, to go along with my already stocked hamburgers and hot dogs. I wanted to ensure these last few pool hangs of the summer were good ones.

And Stephanie had just happened to have been very happy with them back in June when I'd bought them the last time...

Becca and the hellions arrived first, as per usual, with another girl and three boys, one of which I knew currently had Carol's interest big time. Let her dad, back in Asheville, worry about this boy. Not my circus, not my monkey. I mean, I had an interest in the monkey, but...

Speaking of monkeys, the next ring of the door brought John back to my house. That was... a surprise. Most engineers who came for an audience with me never showed at my house again. Ah yes, he was here because of

My

monkey... "Come in, John! Did you get in touch with Jane Scanlon?"

"Yes, sir! Thank you, sir," John said happily. "She's asked me to come in and meet Mr., um, Quincy? But he was on vacation this week, so I have an appointment for next Wednesday. Thank you so much for the introduction."

Good. Jane had liked this kid too. And Quince had gotten the Take Your Goddamned Vacation memo as well.

"Well, come on in. Grab a beer if you like," I instructed. I was just heading back to my seat and some work in the sun when Monica came around the side of the house, waved at me from across the yard, and beelined for my daughter's core group.

She had, in fact, bought a new bikini. It was hardly that revealing, but it was... attention grabbing. The colors and the cut set off her hair, her skin... and her body beautifully.

Then I realized, as she sat down with Carol, Mary, and Anne, that all three of them had new bikinis as well.

Yep, there was going to be a floor show.

I got to work as quickly as I could. I did not anticipate a productive afternoon.

Sure enough, Stephanie arrived and confirmed that there would be damn all work done that day. She also had gone shopping. She had on a new, bright green suit that practically screamed, 'Yeah, bikinis are all that, but try looking this hot in a fucking one-piece, ye hapless mortals.' The backside was halfway to a thong, the crotch was practically demure, but above that it was nothing but two long straps that went up over her breasts and up to wrap around the back of her neck. A spaghetti strap connected them, front and back, just below her breasts, keeping the straps where they needed to be and effectively producing some small, largely unnecessary in Stephanie's case, support. The effect was cleavage down to below her navel and just a hint of some enchanting sideboob. All with the bottom half of her ass hanging out.

She bided her time and didn't immediately come over to torture me... which was kind of torture too.

What do you know, I actually had time to figure out some of the power loss problem.

Shocked to find that I had managed to accomplish something, I looked up for Becca, to see if I needed to glower at John. I liked the kid, but he had some stones sniffing around my daughter if he wanted to work for me.

There was no John to glower at. Becca was happily chatting with Stephanie and another girl. I started scanning. The hellions were playing corn hole with some guys.

When I spied John... he was in the pool leaning back against the far edge, facing my way... with Monica beside him. She was talking intently to him. Holy shit, she just bushed her breast with her fingers! That... arrested his attention.

You go girl. But... um, what about Becca?

"Heya, Howie!"

Stephanie had swooped in at last. I had really wanted a good look at her new suit.

"Hello, Stephanie," I said mildly, with a simple smile. "That is a new swimsuit, I see."

"Yep! Got it off an Instagram ad. I'm a marketing victim," she chirped. I was a marketing victor... "Do you like it?" She went on, accompanying her question with a slow pirouette, allowing me to appreciate every marvelous angle up close.

I pursed my lips, paused, and said, "I think it suits you quite well, Stephanie." She actually smirked at that, and plopped down beside me.

"I'm thirsty, Howie. This heat has gotten out of control," she said. "What flavor are you going to offer me today?"

I pretended to consider. "Lemon?" I asked, already leaning over toward the fridge, but still looking at her as my face got closer to her.

She pouted prettily. She did everything prettily, of course, but she could really pout. I knew that she hated the lemon.

"How about Mango?" I asked, already hauling one out.

"Oooh, goody!"

I rolled my eyes as I cracked the can open for her. She let her fingers trail over mine as she took the can from my offering hand. Touching me was a new thing... I may have trembled just a tad.

She took a long sip, then wiped her lips delicately with those long fingertips. "Thanks, Howie," she said quietly, and bounced away. The receding view was exceptional in that suit.

Less than a minute later, here came Monica. "Hey Clark!"

"So you are first to provoke Stephanie today? Do you four set up some kind of rotation each week?" I asked with a smile. "Just so you know, that is one helluva bikini you bought there."

"Thank you," she said sincerely. "But who says I'm over here to provoke Stephanie? I'm over here to provoke John."

My eyes widened a bit at that. "Um... John? Really?"

Monica folded herself into the chair beside me easily. "Really. He is a sweet kid. Has a sense of humor. He's a bit of a dish, in a nerdy way. But he's almost too respectful for my own good. So I am over here." She placed one hand on my thigh as she bent to reach into my beer fridge, producing a Michelob Ultra from within.

She leaned toward me with a broad smile. "To provoke him a little, I am over here to flirt with you," she said, sliding her hand softly free of my knee. "You may enjoy the experience," she added, hunching forward to make sure I had a good view of her cleavage.

I grinned, indeed enjoying the experience. "Um, just so I make sure I do my due diligence... Becca...?"

Monica nodded. "I checked on that. Explicitly. They had a nice time talking last week, but no real sparks. Her being your daughter might have had something to do with them fizzling, once he figured that out." She smiled almost excitedly. "But Becca told me that she caught him looking at me a couple of times even before he learned she was your daughter!"

"Please don't damage him. You could either kill an inexperienced man... or break a kid's heart."

"I'll be careful on the latter," Monica said seriously. "As for the former, if we get there, he's going to have to watch out for himself!"

"You are having fun with this."

"I'm having fun with a lot of things for the first time in a while, Clark. But yes, this especially. Now I am going to go, because you can bet your ass I've been making sure Stephanie has seen us talking like this, too!"

I winked broadly at her.

Stephanie's return visit minutes later was more than pleasant. Touching me, innocently of course, was now a part of her visits.

Unexpectedly, Becca plopped down to talk to me for a while, bringing the subterranean festivities to a halt for a bit. She had daddy-daughter stuff to work out regarding the upcoming school year--logistics, class selection and the like. I happily spent almost twenty minutes swerving back and forth between proud and annoyed as hell with her. My daughter is fairly awesome, thank you. Which is why she is so fucking annoying when she doesn't listen to me... But all respites must come to an end. That's why they are respites.

Becca of course did not trigger the Stephanie Effect, but shortly Anne, who had joined Monica and John for a bit, rose from the pool and dripped her elegant way over toward me. I noticed that Monica also got out and headed into my house.

My eyes narrowed. What was my friend up to? I looked at John, who was chilling, by himself now, looking casual. He wasn't going to go into my house too, was he?

It became very difficult to keep track of him though, once Anne plopped down next to me for a visit. Her new bikini was... the most environmentally responsible of the bunch? As in, there really were precious few polyesters slaughters for their hides to make that 'garment'.

"Are you enjoying all our new suits, Clark?" Anne asked, tugging fairly obviously at what little there was to her top.

"I am, Anne," I said simply. "I can only imagine what it would be like to take that one off of you," I added softly.

That got her. Her eyes widened, and she flushed. She looked at me hard. I was not following the script. "I could take you inside right now," she said. "But..."

"But Becca would kill you," I snorted.

"Nah, I think she'd be chill about it," Anne said dismissively.

What?

"But you'd feel all guilty afterward," she said grumpily. "And Carol and Mary probably would kill me in a jealous rage." She looked around the back yard. "And Stephanie would definitely get curious about where we went. She might walk in on us..."

Good lord. That would be...

"Now that might be interesting," Anne said evilly, watching my eyes. "Maybe she'd want to join in?"

Oh fuck.

"Ha! Gotcha," Anne cackled softly, so no-one but she and I could hear. "I got that lovely cock to twitch, there under your trunks. I saw it!" She seemed so damned satisfied with herself...

"I am going to make love to you again someday, Clark," she said casually in a low voice as she idly scanned the backyard. Her gaze was casual, but the way she was leaning toward me was hardly that. Her pose was not so much provocative as designed to provoke. "I know this isn't the right time, but someday, maybe even years from now, we are going to get together again, right?"

I gulped. I did not think I was expected to answer that. From the beginning, Anne had always been the dangerous one.

She looked back at me with a suddenly cherubic smile. "Unless you marry Stephanie or something before I get the chance!"

Jesus.

I looked around. John was still in the pool. And Monica came back out of the house. Seems my fevered imagination had made a simple bathroom break into a whole thing...

"We all went and bought these suits together, you know. We went to the mall on Tuesday," said a suddenly childish again Anne.

"All four of you?"

"All five. Monica came too."

"I understood that. Five?"

"Your daughter, Becca?"

"Oh! I knew something was bothering me," I said. I looked over at Becca. Yep. That was what was bothering me... Gonna need to make sure my Shovel, Shotgun, Alibi shirt was ready for wear.

"Monica hated every suit we tried to get her to try. It wasn't until she started asking Becca about that John dude, the way a girl does when she'd like to poach a guy, that we realized what she wanted in the way of a suit. We'd been going more and more modest in our suggestions... she wanted

that

."

"How about that," I said. I watched Monica saunter back from inside, and Anne turned to look too.

My friend did not go back to John. Instead, she stopped to chat, and laugh, with another boy, one who I was pretty sure had gone out with Anne at least once or twice.

"Is she trying to piss off me, or John?" Anne wondered, once again far too goddamned wise for her age.

"I'm not sure," I mused. "If that conversation is aimed at John, she is not trying to piss him off, exactly..."

"I'd have thought she might be trying to goad you, but you two are so darned chill, no matter how hard we pushed that button," Anne said casually, as if hoping for me to answer distractedly.

Fat Chance. I'm an experienced dad, and an experienced manager.

"Grown ups can be just friends," I said mildly.

"Huh. Who'd have thunk it," Anne said, not quite ready to take her eyes off of the whole Monica with Anne's ex thing going on. "Let my know when you grow up."

"Why, I oughta..." I growled.

Anne laughed and popped to her feet with a giggle--all the unwonted maturity vanishing.

"Go mark your territory back," I said, indicating the boy Monica had just parted ways with. And I smacked Anne on the... back of her thigh as she left me. I did not spank her ass. Really. I did not. It was close, but I absolutely did not.

All right. I missed.

Monica headed back to the pool and John was already moving toward her before she even set foot in the water.

It's not like I blamed him.

So the girls had indeed been trying to hook me up with Monica for a while. Becca was probably not only in on it, but the ringleader. I was glad that there were still complexities to adult relationships they didn't understand yet. And details that they hadn't heard.

"Hiya Howie!"

"Hello, Stephanie," I sighed. I really was having fun watching Monica's antics, but it wasn't like she was going to hold my attention at the moment, not with Stephanie here to... do whatever she was about to do.

"Does this taste right to you?" she demanded, thrusting the can of White Claw toward me.

I curled up an eyebrow and took a sip. Handing it back to her, I said slowly. "Hmmmm. Tastes like cheap potato distillate, chemical seltzer, and mango flavoring courtesy of International Flavors and Fragrances. Seems perfect."

Stephanie shrugged, and took a long, deep slug. Her lips cradled the edge of the can gently, and her throat flexed as she drank. Seltzer dribbled from the corner of her mouth and dripped down onto her chest. "Oops!" she said, as the liquid struck her bare cleavage. She wiped it away... theatrically.