Meeting Sia

Hi again, many thanks once again to my very competent editors, kenjisato, who did the heavy lifting, correcting my atrocious grammar, and to Chiefhal who did the final proof read.

Hope you enjoy, its probably not what some were expecting, but I had fun with this story.

Cheers FosterK

Meeting Sia

By Foster Kaizen

Part 2

'More tea, darling?'

Peter looked up; he had been dozing on the balcony of their penthouse suite. 'Yes please, Mia,' he replied.

Mia walked over and poured tea from the pitcher, ice tinkled as it splashed into the glass. They had taken to drinking tea iced, it certainly was refreshing on these hot days. She took the pitcher back inside. She returned with her own glass, and sank into the lounger beside him. She put the glass down, then undid the last button on the shirt she was wearing and leaned back against the seat, closing her eyes. Sans clothing was their habit since they had moved here -- most of the time. He looked out through the smoked glass of the balcony balustrade, to the vista of the palm trees, with the sea in the background. They were perfectly shielded from being seen from below. They had checked--the one-way glass worked perfectly--and the loungers were far enough back from the edge. It was only when they stood, that the people below, strolling on the beachside path, could glimpse them, hence the cover up whilst walking around.

He turned, taking a sip of his tea,

I'll never get tired of that view

, he thought. He looked over Mia's perfect form beside him. Soft, black hair falling to her breasts; full, kissable lips, that he just could not get enough of. Her breasts had just a hint of sag to them, they had the cutest little nipples, surrounded by deep brown areola, that she loved to have sucked. His eyes wandered down to her flat tummy, then to her pubic mound--he could see the start of her cute slit.

He knew every fold and crease of that beautiful slit; he ought to, he spent enough time exploring it, with his tongue, mouth, and fingers. He knew that it would not be long, before that slit was sliding up and down his cock. Mia was, as always, perfectly shaved, not a hint of hair remained on her mons pubis. His own groin was the same, as Mia insisted he was to be clean shaven down there. 'I don't want to feel stubble on my fingertips, or my lips, or my tongue,' she had remarked as she shaved him. He looked past her mound to her perfect legs, toned from yoga, swimming and walking. Her pretty feet, her toenails painted a pretty, pale pink this week, as were her fingernails. Her hands were smooth and wrinkle free--she could have been a hand model, if she'd wanted to.

Mia sensed his eyes on her and opened hers, those beautiful, almond-shaped eyes, full of tenderness, and now... desire. She glanced down to his cock. 'Looks like that's ready for me, darling. Finish your tea while I get ready for you.' She buttoned her shirt, rose, and went back into the apartment, taking her glass with her.

Peter knew that "getting ready" for him, usually meant lubing her kitty, and most probably, her arsehole, with lubricant gel. It was a special, water-based product she imported from Japan, super slippery and never tacky. There was always a bottle of the stuff close by in the apartment.'

'Be prepared always,' Mia laughed when he asked about it.

Peter sipped on his tea. He had been drinking this special blend since he had met Mia, and her daughter, Sia, just over a year ago, now. They said it had medicinal properties that would help him relax, and last longer during the "happy ending." It sure did, he thought, he still enjoyed the traditional Aussie black tea, but, he had gotten used to the other teas Mia and Sia gave him, and they sure did help. His erections were stronger, he lasted longer, and recovered faster, than a fifty-year-old man ought to. Some kind of hocus-pocus going on there, maybe. Or maybe it was the weekly acupuncture sessions in that, "special place," he had now gotten used to. He was just happy to be here, in a much better place mentally, and physically, than he was, just over a year ago...

~~~~~~

After his acupuncture and massage with Sia and Mia, he'd arrived home; relaxed, feeling quite laid back, having come to a conclusion in his mind, that he had nothing to be guilty about, following the "happy ending." It wasn't sex, it was relief... yep, that's it.

Peter parked the car, and entered through the garage into the house, calling to his wife, 'Dani, I'm home!'

No reply came.

Strange,

he thought,

maybe having a nap; I'll put the kettle on, and take her a cuppa.

He entered the kitchen and stopped in his tracks. Dani was slumped over the kitchen table, arms beside her head, a teacup was knocked over and had spilt tea over the table and onto the floor. A cigarette, almost burned to the filter, smouldered in an ashtray.

He went quickly to her, lifting her head, he checked for breathing; none he could detect; checked her pulse. Faint, erratic. He pulled his phone out and dialed 000. 'Ambulance, I need an ambulance, my wife's collapsed on the kitchen table, hurry!' He gave the dispatcher the address and hung up.

He moved his wife to the kitchen floor, and placed her in the recovery position. 'You're going to be okay,' he told her. He held his phone close to her mouth, the screen fogged,

good,

he thought

, breathing, but barely

.

The paramedics arrived, assessed, and loaded her into the ambulance. They took off, sirens wailing; Peter, and one of the medics in the back with her. They had put in a drip, were checking her blood pressure, pulse rate, and other vital signs.

Peter held his wife's hand. 'You're gonna be okay, Dani.'

She's gonna be okay right?' he asked the paramedic.

He nodded, non-committal. 'We'll do our best,' he said, checking the monitors. Just then, Dani's body convulsed, it was as if she had gotten a massive electric shock, then she went slack, limp. 'Oh shit,' said the medic, as the monitors set off a constant, hi-pitched, tone.

They did everything they could in the back of that ambulance. CPR, electric shocks to her heart. Everything. To no avail, she was pronounced dead, by the doctor who met the ambulance, at emergency.

Peter was in shock, sobbing uncontrollably. 'How could this be?' he wailed.

The doctors insisted on admitting him, treating him for shock. They kept him overnight for observation.

He took a taxi home the next day, still numb. Still not believing this could have happened.

Peter got some answers later that week--a massive brain aneurism. 'What caused it?' he asked. No one could give him a straight answer, except to say that he could have done nothing to have prevented it. If that was meant to make him feel better, it didn't. Peter got through the next weeks on a kind of autopilot, after dealing with the funeral, leaving him drained.

He retreated to his house, thanked the neighbours, who dropped in with condolences, and, food offerings, that he left mostly untouched. The, "what if", game was playing on an endless loop in his mind.

What if he had been here, at the house, instead of being kissed, and getting his cock sucked, two suburbs away

, he thought, guiltily, again and again.

Two Months Later

Peter pulled himself upright from the couch he had been sleeping on. He still couldn't bring himself to sleep in the bed he had once shared with his wife.

Wait,

he thought,

his ex-wife

. The doorbell was ringing incessantly. He had tried to ignore it, perhaps whoever it was, would just go away, and leave him alone. But no, the bell was ringing in his ears, and demanding attention. He stumbled to the door kicking empty beer bottles and pizza boxes out of the way.

He opened the door, to find Mia and Sia standing there. He started to close it, but Mia pushed past him, into the house. He looked after her, then at Sia, who gave him a sympathetic look, as he stood aside to let her pass.

'What are you doing here? he asked. 'Who said you could just barge in here like this?' He reached for an open beer bottle on the coffee table. It was surrounded by empties and half-eaten Chinese food containers of dubious age. 'Can't you see I'm grieving here? Just leave me alone.' He fought back tears. 'If I hadn't been with you two that day, this might not have happened.'

Mia gave him a stern look. 'No good this, Peter!' she shouted at him. 'How can you live like this? In this filth. No! This ends now. Enough self-pity. Your wife died, I get it. But nothing you did, or didn't do, contributed to her death. Time for something different.' She sniffed the air theatrically. 'When was the last time you bathed? And look at this mess, you think Dani would be happy seeing you like this?'

He swiped at the tears, scratched his stubble, and took a swig of the beer. 'I don't know, not that it's any of your business,' he stubbornly replied.

Sia, who had been silent 'til then, said, 'Peter, we care about you; that's why we are here. We made enquiries, no one has seen you; you have pushed away friends, neighbours, people who wanted to help. It's been six months, Peter. It's clear you haven't been eating properly.' She looked around the room, watched as Mia had started piling empty bottles into beer boxes. 'And, drinking too much,' she finished. 'Let us help you; its really time you moved on. At least shave, and get cleaned up; then we can talk properly, without gagging on your smell,' she laughed, attempting to lighten the mood.

He looked from Sia, to Mia, who had stopped picking up bottles. Held up his hands in surrender. 'Okay, all right, I'll go shower and shave.' He walked to the bathroom, muttering, 'Wouldn't want to offend your delicate olfactory senses.'

Mia looked around, taking in the adjacent kitchen, separated from the lounge by an island bench, with a sink set in it. The place was laid out nicely, wooden tops on the kitchen benches. A comfy-looking armchair, that Peter apparently sat in, (judging by the bottles around it,) faced a large, wall mounted flat-screen TV. Cricket played silently on the screen. A leather, three-seater couch occupied one wall, a rumpled cotton blanket, kicked to one end. Tasteful artwork adorned the walls.

'Come on Sia,' she said, 'let's get this place cleaned up.'

Sia nodded silently, and they got to work.

Peter emerged from his bedroom, freshly shaved and showered, and wearing a clean tee shirt, and shorts. He looked around at his lounge room. All the bottles were gone, as were the pizza boxes, and the other containers. 'Hey, where's all my food gone?' he asked.

'It was all spoiled. It would have made you sick, if you ate it. All gone, in the bin.'

Peter realised there was no point in arguing.

'Come, take a seat; we made tea for you.'

He looked over his lounge room. It looked like they had even vacuumed the carpet.

How did they have time for all this

he wondered,

and how had they found everything?

Sia was sitting in his armchair, while Mia had placed herself on the couch. The chair had been spun around to face the coffee table, where a pot of tea, and three cups-and-saucers, were placed. He recognised the tea set, it was his wife's favourite.

'I see you've made yourselves at home,' he griped.

Mia spoke up, 'Come and sit, have some tea. We need to talk.'

Peter rolled his eyes. 'Okay, let's get this over with.' He sat down on the couch at the opposite end from Mia, and folded his arms across his chest.

Sia began pouring tea, the sweet aroma filled the room.

'Oh, Peter,' Mia said. 'Don't be so churlish; you can't drink tea with your arms folded.' She smiled sweetly at him, 'Just relax.'

Okay,

he thought,

I'll go along with this

; he uncrossed his arms and took the cup from the saucer, that Sia had slid over to him. He took a moment to look at the two intruders.

Mia was dressed in a short, denim miniskirt, that had ridden up her thighs when she sat. She was wearing a light green halter top, looped around her long neck, it accented her breasts very attractively, and left her shoulders bare. The material was ribbed, so it expanded over her breasts, and then contracted under them, to fit snugly on her flat tummy, finishing just above the waistline of the skirt. A pair of silver, Birkenstock sandals, completed the outfit. Sia had dressed in a loose, and colourful jumpsuit; it too, was tied around the neck with a thin piece of fabric, the front and sides hung loose, giving him a glimpse of side boob, and an enticing view of her pretty thighs.

He took a sip from the cup, the flavour brought back memories of his sessions with Sia and Mia, from before his wife died. The shape, and feel of the cup reminded him of Dani, she loved this tea set. He sniffed, and a tear rolled down his cheek at the memory of that terrible day. The "what if", thoughts started to stream through his brain. He squeezed his eyes shut, in an effort to stop them.

Mia had noticed his discomfort, and put her cup down. She scooted over on the couch, and took the cup from his shaking hand. 'We know you are grieving. We know exactly what that's like. You are probably running endless loops of "what if" in your head.'

Peter opened his eyes and looked at her, then at Sia who was nodding sympathetically, her cup in her hand.

How did they know

? he thought.

'When my husband, Sia's father, died, we both did exactly the same thing. It was his birthday, we should have insisted he take the day off. But no; a colleague had called in sick and he just had to do his duty and take his place. What if we had insisted more forcefully, what if we had delayed him; he might not have been at that place at that time.'

Peter remembered; Mia had told him her husband was killed, when a container rolled off a truck and crushed his car at the Singapore port, where he worked as a customs officer.

Mia continued, 'What if the lorry had been late that day, or my husband had stopped for a cup of coffee? You see, it just goes on and on. So yes, we were grieving, but we supported each other, with love and compassion; yes, and sometimes some tough love, too.' She looked at Sia for confirmation.

Sia continued, 'We had to get past our grief. It took a while, but we helped each other.'

Mia took Peters hands in hers. 'Look at me, Peter,' she said. 'We would like to help you the same way, if you will let us.'

Peter looked into Mia's caring brown eyes, then his gaze fell onto Sia sitting across from him, with a worried expression on her pretty face. 'Okay where do we start?' he sighed.

Mia stood, leaving Peter looking at her smooth thighs; he glanced over at Sia, who had also stood up.

'We start by getting you out of this house. Tonight you are taking me on a date, nothing too fancy, just dinner at one of my favourite restaurants.' She went to the kitchen and rummaged through the third drawer 'til she found a pen. She looked around for paper, and found a piece of cardboard from a beer box, that they had missed in the cleanup. She wrote quickly. 'Here is my address. Pick me up at seven,' she instructed, as she handed him the note.

He looked over at Sia; she was smirking at her mother's take-charge attitude.

Peter walked them to the door.

Wait a minute,

he thought,

how did she know where to find a pen?

'Oh, and in case you're wondering--top drawer, cutlery; second drawer, utensils; third drawer, bits-and-bobs-and-string, as my husband used to call them. Including pens.'

Mia stopped at the front door, turned, and gave Peter a hug and a kiss on the cheek. He felt her soft breasts press against him briefly. Then Sia did the same.

'See you later, Peter, 'they chimed together. They walked arm in arm to their car, Mia, flicking the remote to unlock the doors.

It's like she can hear what I'm thinking

, he mused, as he watched them drive away.

A date, huh?

he thought,

how did that just happen

? He wasn't ready for dating, he was grieving. He thought about something Mia had said,

"what would Dani think?"

Would she want him to get on with his life? Sure she would! The thought of her brought another tear to his eye. He looked over at the teapot, went over and poured the last of the pot into his cup. Well, he supposed, I'd better figure out what to wear.

He sipped his tea, as he picked up the other cups and saucers, and took them to the kitchen.

Somehow,

he thought,

I seem to be thinking more clearly.

He looked at the tea in his hand,

could it be the tea? Surely not

, he chided himself, as he drained the cup, and put them all in the dishwasher.

He could have said no. But then, it wasn't like a request, if she had asked "please, can you take me on a date" or "would you like to go on a date with me?" No. "You are taking me on a date," brokered no refusal.

Mia shifted expertly through the gears as she drove away, the two-litre Golf Cabriolet was not the ideal car for this region, but she loved driving it, and her late husband had taught her to drive a manual transmission. She looked over at Sia, who had been smirking at her, as they drove away. 'What?' she asked.

'So, a date?' Sia enquired, 'I wasn't expecting that.'

'Well, I think it's a good way to get him out, and I can have a long talk with him that way,' Mia replied.

'Sooo,' Sia drew the word out, 'are you going to fuck him?'

'Yes... eventually. But probably not tonight. I want to know that he's in a right state of mind. He's still grieving, and blaming himself; we have to get past that first.'

'You're right of course, but don't leave it too long, I can't wait for my turn.'

'Your turn? What do you mean, your turn, he's not some show-ground ride, you know, just around for your pleasure!' Mia admonished her daughter, smiling as she did so.

'Yes, but he could be. How much fun could we have, if we double teamed him. We could put a waterproof cover on the tatami mat, mix up a batch of nuru massage gel, then play slip-slide wrestling followed by slip-suck-and-fuck, where Peter could stick his dick into any of our holes, that happened to be in range. We could go for hours...' Sia finished hopefully.

'Will you stop that!' Mia exclaimed. 'I'm trying to drive here, and your talk is very distracting. Look, he might be, "the one" --I think he is, actually; anyway, we're getting close to your place, in case you hadn't noticed during your...reminiscing. I'm just doing a kiss-and-drop darling. Then I'm going home to get ready for my, "date". She pulled up outside Sia's place.

Sia leaned over for a kiss goodbye, a quick peck on the cheek. 'See you Mia, have fun with Peter tonight, ciao,' she said, as she exited the car.

~~~~~~

Mia thanked the waitress, as she placed yet another delicious dish, on the table in front of them. They were dining at one of Mia's favourites, Japanese, modern style. Peter looked at her across the table; her eyes shone in the light from the fake, LED candle on the table, (real candles having been banned, for so-called health-and-safety-reasons). She was wearing a pale-blue, pullover dress that moulded to her figure and simple, diamond-stud earrings sparked in the lamp light.

Peter took a mouthful of the latest dish, Spicy Wagyu Beef. 'This really is great food, I'm glad you invited me out. I must admit, I was getting in a bit of a rut. I do have some questions, though,'

'Mmmm, well, okay. Let's deal with those first, shall we?' Mia replied. 'Let me guess. How did we know your address? Is that one?' she asked. Peter nodded. 'Well, that's easy, your late wife bought a dress from Sia, using her credit card, so it was easy to get an address, when you have a name. Besides that, we had a visit from the police back then; they wanted to confirm your whereabouts, for the afternoon of your wife's passing.'