"Sing the song, Daddy!" The small voice rang brightly across the waters of the cove, and Thomas Albright shook his head a couple of times. A long, lean, nut brown body turned around and swam back past him, the blonde head poking indignantly out of the water. The nymph demanded: "Sing the song, Daddy! You know I"ll keep this up 'til you do!"
Tom took a deep breath, and in his shaky tenor did his best Peter Blegvad impression:
"That's my daughter in the water
everything she owns I bought her,
everything she owns. . ."
Amanda Albright's four year old face broke into a broad, pearly white grin that buoyed Tom's heart from the depths of the murky water, and her laugh bubbled across the surface of the lake in the sunshine. Already an expert swimmer, she treaded water as her father sang to her and beamed at him, flitting away when he finished the chorus.
The trees were deep green in the August morning humidity, barely stirring in the breeze. They lived in a remote place, Carefree Cove, Missouri. Only two houses were in the city limits: the legacy of dream frustrated by local prejudice. A flash from across the cove drew Tom's attention, he'd heard the Smithton house on the other side finally sold. A 40 something woman descended the stairs to the dock. She carried a light, outdoor lounger, setting it up at the waterside in the bright sunlight. A short, blue terrycloth bathrobe barely concealing her body hung on her curvy frame, and her feet were in white flip-flops. Wide, dark sunglasses sat on her face, which was graced with a peaceful smile.
Positioning her chair to face the bright sunlight and glancing out toward the Lake, she dropped the robe to stand naked in the sun, stretching fully in every direction before spreading sun tan oil on her medium brown skin. Her body was neither extremely lean nor chubby: a little cellulite pocked her hips and the curves of her legs and breasts were ample. When she finished, she stretched out on the lounger face down to toast her back, buttocks and legs.
Tom looked up at the blue, Missouri sky for a moment, squinted, shook his head and looked back at the woman. Four plus years of almost perfect celibacy stirred in his blue trunks, pressing them outward under the water. His hand trembled for a moment as it longed to console him with this unexpected bounty of the eyes. She gave no indication she saw him in the water, and it was tempting to use this vision to console himself. Abruptly, he remembered his four year old daughter was swimming nearby, and began glancing about.
"She's pretty, isn't she, daddy?" a high, serious voice whispered in his ear. Two light hands clasped his shoulder, and he felt Amanda's small form at his back. "Maybe you'd like to kiss her." His trunks returned abruptly to normal.
"Amanda Joy Albright," Tom whispered to his daughter over his shoulder. "Be quiet, we don't want to scare the nice lady."
"Why would we scare her daddy?" she whispered back seriously.
"She might not want us to see her naked."
Reaching around, Amanda turned to peer seriously into her father's face. After a few moments searching his eyes, she whispered: "Okay, daddy. I'll be quiet. That way, she won't see me swimming out here naked either."
Tom kissed his daughter on the cheek. "Honey, I don't think she'll notice you."
They lounged in the water quietly for a few moments, until Tom felt a fish at his side. It was small, probably a bluegill, and it touched him a couple of times. Silently, he prayed it would stay away from Amanda, who tended to yelp when surprised. A hair raising scream almost pierced his eardrum, and his daughter lunged away.
"Daddy, daddy, a fish just goosed me," she cried as she put some distance from him. Reflexively, Tom ducked underwater with the vain hope he could go unnoticed, but he didn't grab a big enough breath to stay for long.
Amanda's sudden shriek drew the woman's attention on the deck. Tom broke water to see her turn on her side, revealing her lovely form and lowered her glasses. "Good morning," she said, unconcerned about her nudity. "I'm Michelle Hawkins, your new neighbor."
Tom started to blush as his erection re-energized for the second time in as many minutes. Embarrassment monopolized his face, at his discovery and his predicament. Getting out of the water would be dangerous now, and his daughter was no longer a deterrent. He saw his daughter surface ten feet away.
"Hi, Michelle," Amanda replied with the sincere welcome of a four year old, and no trace of her surprise. "My name is Amanda Joy Albright, and this is my daddy. His name is Thomas Ray Albright. His friends call him Tom. My friends call me Mandy."
"Well, it's nice to meet you Mandy, and your daddy Tom. My friends call me Shelley. Have you lived at Carefree Cove for long?"
"All my life," she said, warming to the conversation. "My daddy comes from Kansas City; he makes greeting cards."
"Pardon me, Ms. Hawkins, if my daughter is bothering you," Tom broke in. "Amanda, we need to go back to the house."
Turning to face her father, she pouted. "But Daddy, I think she might be scared when we come out of the water, 'cause I'm naked."
"No bother, Mr. Albright, Mandy seems like a nice little girl," Michelle said with a laugh. "You won't scare me if you're naked, Mandy, if you're not scared I'm naked."
"I'm not scared now, Michelle, and my daddy isn't either." Tom did a double take as his daughter misread him spectacularly. Amanda caught her father's stare at and stared right back into his clear blue eyes with her own.
Tom blinked first, and turned toward Michelle. "I'm glad we're not scared," he said with a slight quaver in his voice. "But it's nearly time for Mandy's gymnastics class, then her violin lesson, and she needs a little bath after this dip in the Lake of the Ozarks before we go."
"Yes, the e-coli level has been a bit high lately," Amanda added.
Michelle sat up higher, and took her sunglasses off to reveal warm, brown eyes underneath her head of dark blonde hair. "Why don't I meet you in town for lunch so we can get acquainted? Do you have a favorite place in Seville Hills?"
"Ah, the Q and A Bar and Grill is a nice, middle of the road place. On the main highway; can't miss it. Why don't we meet there?"
"We should be finished by 1:00," Amanda cut in, "And I like the Q and A Bar and Grill, too."
"It's a date," Michelle said, putting her sunglasses down over her eyes. "See you at 1:00."
"Bye, bye," Amanda chimed in.
"Later," Tom said. He waded to his small beach, slipped on a pair of flip-flops waiting for him there, and started up the path, carrying his wet daughter in his arms. She was light for her age, and he'd grown accustomed to carrying her from the day she came home from the hospital, so he bore her easily.
She leaned back to look at their new neighbor halfway back up the hill. Facing him, she said, "Michelle seems like a nice lady," she intoned seriously.
"Yes, punkin."
"How old do you think she is?"
"I dunno, sweetheart, thirty?"
The blonde hair full of wet curls shook in exasperation at the lame attempt at diplomacy. "Think again, Daddy. She's forty, at least." A mischievous smile lit up her face. "I think you like her," her voice sang accusingly.
"We'll see, baby."
"Yes, I think you like her. And she has nice tits. But she doesn't have any hair between her legs like Grammie does." Tom stopped cold and turned to look at his daughter's face. She returned his disbelieving look with a cold, analytical gaze that brooked no challenge. "C'mon daddy, we need to get going," she said at last.
Tom was able to resume walking after a few seconds. They got back to the house where he ran her a bath, which they accomplished in a businesslike manner. As her was drying her off, she demanded: "Sing the song, Daddy."
"That's my daughter in the water. . ."
***********
Five years earlier in Seville Hills, MO, the nearest sizable town to Carefree Cove, on an August day at the local grocery store. Another sultry day that soaked clothes in milliseconds outside the thermal protection of air conditioning. Tom Albright was picking up a few things to take to his lake cabin, and was ready to celebrate since he'd just finished a big project that earned him a hefty bonus.
Tom was a tall man in his mid forties: six foot one, with dark brown hair barely touched by gray, dazzling blue eyes, and although his body was a little chunky: it sported a small paunch. He wore a blue short sleeve shirt with his jeans and red sneakers. Five years earlier, his seniority and position earned him the right to telecommute to the greeting card company he'd worked at his entire adult life, and a small house on the forested bluffs with a panoramic view of the Lake of the Ozarks became more than an weekend retreat.
It was a dumpy little grocery store in the middle of the small town, but Tom shopped there regularly since he hated going to the local Walmart. The clientele of the Thriftway had more decorum and fewer screaming children running loose. Tom brought his half full shopping cart to the checkout, laden with store made sausages, fresh vegetables, and a couple of six packs of fine beer. The checkout girl, SHARIBETH was a chubby girl around twenty with red hair; the sacker RENEE was slightly younger girl with delicious curves in her shirt under short blond hair and sky blue eyes.
Sharibeth passed the items over the scanner, pushing them back for Renee to load almost individually into plastic sacks. Tom worried for a moment when it came time for the beer: if Sharibeth wasn't 21, she'd have to call customer service to scan the last items, and that might take time during a mini rush. Fortunately, the checker passed them over the beam without a pause, and announced the total. A swipe of the credit card and a signature later, Tom turned to take his cart to the parking lot.
Renee was loading the beer into the cart, when Sharibeth said: "Is that beer?"
"I hope so," Tom replied.
"Oh gosh, I touched it!" Renee said.
Tom smiled and gave her a wink. "I'll never tell," he whispered conspiratorially.
A broad, toothy smile of white uneven teeth behind full lips was his reward. "Okay," she said. "Hope it won't corrupt me too much."
