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.
