The Swim Team Ch 04

This is a work of fiction.

Any resemblance to any person living or dead is purely coincidental.

You need to read chapters 1,2 & 3 to get background on the characters and story.

There is more plot in the next few chapters and several flashbacks to frame Barry's actions.

All fictional characters participating in any fictional sexual activity are 18 years of age or older.

Voyeur, mf, masturbation, Exhibitionism, fff,

Thanks to Vexingvanna and Simba for proofreads and edits.

Chapter 4

I relaxed my grip and tried to pull my hand away from Linda's breast, but she had a hold of my wrist and kept it in place as she snuggled into me. I was warring with myself, wanting to bask in the sensation of holding this beautiful girl, and knowing I needed to get Linda out of my bed before Brenda woke up, noticed she was gone, and came looking for her. How in the world would I explain a half-naked 18-year-old high school girl in my bed? And with me in my underwear! No, I had to get her out. I pulled my hand away, despite her sleeping protestations. She stirred as I slipped my hand from her grasp and slid myself out from behind her and out of the bed. I grabbed my gym shorts, one-legged hopped into them, and slipped on my Flash t-shirt. At least now I didn't look like I just slept with her. At least I hoped I didn't.

She was still asleep, curled up on her right side facing away from me. Her t-shirt had ridden up over her ass and I could see her tanned thighs dip into buttocks separated by only the thin strip of fabric. I shook my head to get my mind out of the gutter. This was no time to indulge fantasies. I walked around the bed and put my hand on her shoulder. "Linda."

She mumbled.

"Linda, you need to wake up."

More mumbling. She groaned when I grabbed her arm and pulled her to a sitting position. "All right. All right. I'm up. Jeez." She opened one eye, squeezed both of them shut briefly, then blinked them open. Her face twisted in confusion as she took in her surroundings. "What? Where... Mr. B?"

"Good morning, Linda. Care to explain what you're doing in my bed?"

Confusion flashed on her face, then faded as she looked around. "Uhm," she began, "well, I, uh, woke up in bed and I couldn't stop thinking about my folks, and, uh," she fumbled through her explanation, "well, I couldn't get back to sleep. Whenever I get upset, my daddy always hugs me to sleep." Her eyes grew glassy, her tears welled, and her voice broke as she spoke. "I guess I just needed to feel that again. I'm sorry, Mr. B. Please don't be mad. I'll never do it again."

"It's not that big of a deal, Linda," I said, trying to sound more supportive than creepy. "I was just taken by surprise, that's all. I'm a grown man and you're my daughter's best friend. If it ever got out that you spent the night in my bed, well, people would probably get the wrong idea."

"Oh, no. I never thought about that." She seemed positively chagrined. "But I'm eighteen. There's nothing illegal about it."

"You're right, it wouldn't be illegal, but it still looks bad. Especially since I'm old enough to be your dad. In fact, I'm older than your dad." I looked toward the hallway. "Now, Brenda will be getting up soon. I think you need to get back to her room so you two can get ready for school."

She slipped out of bed and I couldn't help but notice the crotch of her panties pull tight across her mound, dipping into a camel toe before her t-shirt fell down over it. I shook the image from my head. What was I thinking? Get a grip, Barry. This girl is an emotional wreck. She needs your support, not your lust.

As she walked past me toward the hallway, she slipped her arms around me again, pulling her face into my chest for a moment. It was a reflex when I hugged her back and reached down and kissed the top of her head. "Everything will be alright in the end, sweetie. You'll see."

"I hope you're right." She disappeared down the hall and into Brenda's room.

It was only then that I noticed I had the remnants of a hardon tenting my shorts. Linda had to have felt it when she hugged me.

#

Brenda and Linda had only left for school five minutes before there came a loud banging on my door. I had just decided to shower, but had not yet made it to the bathroom, so, with coffee cup in hand, I veered to the front door. Two men in blazers and khakis stood there looking official and important. I didn't need to be a criminal to recognize the police detectives standing on my stoop. I did take a moment to recall if there were any tickets I might have forgotten to pay (never got one) or if there were any legal matters I might have overlooked. Again, nothing came to mind.

"Mr. Brandford?" The closest one was a large fellow with a prominent belly topping skinny legs. "Barry Brandford?"

I nodded.

"I'm Detective Sergeant Malloy. This is Detective Christopher. We're investigating an alleged assault that occurred Saturday night. Could we have a few minutes of your time?"

Well, this guy was more polite than Law and Order portrayed detectives out to be. "There was no assault here," I said. "Nothing like that happened here at all."

"We're aware of that, sir. This incident happened elsewhere. Could you tell me, sir, were you in the residence the entire evening?"

The hairs on the back of my neck stood up and my mouth went dry. I found it difficult to swallow. "Am I a suspect? Do I need a lawyer?"

"No, sir." Christopher spoke up. "Not at all. We're just trying to establish where people were, that's all."

"Can you tell me what happened?"

He never looked up from his notepad. "We're not at liberty to say at this point in the investigation. Could you answer the question please?"

I debated getting stupid, but I knew I had nothing to worry about. No one was assaulted in my house. "I was here all night, yes."

"Were you alone?"

"Well, no. My daughter had several of her friends over for a pool party."

"I see," Malloy said. He fished several photographs out of his pocket and handed them to me without looking up from his notepad. "Do you recognize any of these people?"

I flipped through the stack of young people. They looked like high school kids, which meant they kind of looked alike. One stood out though. "Speedo Boy." I tapped a picture. "Mark. Mark Landry."

The detectives exchanged a look. They had expected that. "You know this young man?"

"Well, not personally. I know of him. He's on the swim team at my daughter's school."

"Was he in attendance at your pool party?" Malloy scribbled in a notepad.

"It wasn't my..." no sense arguing the point that it was Brenda's party. "Whatever. Yeah, he was here for a while, but he left."

"Did you see him leave?" They took turns asking the questions and I began to feel like I was watching a tennis match.

"Yeah. Well, no. Not exactly. I saw him leave the house, but I didn't see him drive away." I flipped through the rest of the pictures. "Why? Did he do something?"

"We're still sorting out the facts," Malloy said. "What time did he leave?"

"I'm not sure exactly. Must have been between nine and ten. The party shut down at eleven. Most of the kids were gone by then. Except for a few of my daughter's friends that slept over."

"I see." More scribbling. "Do you know where Landry is right now?"

"At home or school, I'd imagine. Why don't you call him? Or his parents. The Landrys? I'm sure you've heard of them." Everyone in town has heard of the Landrys.

"We'll take that under advisement. Do you recognize any of the others?" Malloy kept scribbling.

"Well, there were a lot of kids here. These might be some of them, but I'm not sure."

"Is your daughter home, Mr. Brandford? Perhaps she could shed some light on things."

"She's at school, and no, I don't want you questioning her." I tried to sound as imposing and authoritative as I could. I was confident that Brenda was mature enough to handle the situation, but as a parent, I still wanted to keep her as far from this kind of trouble as I could.

"It may become necessary to do so, Mr. Brandford," Malloy was nonplussed at my bravado. "She could be a material witness."

"If it does, we will bring in an attorney. I don't want to subject my daughter to any unnecessary stress at the beginning of her senior year. She has enough on her plate."

"We understand, Mr. Brandford," Christopher said as though reading from a script. "We'll let you know if and when we need to talk to her. In the meantime," he thrust a card at me, "if you remember any details about Landry, or any other details of that night, don't hesitate to call us. Day or night."

As I realized they were concluding the interview, a thought occurred to me. "Wait a minute. Did Mark Landry assault someone? Is that what this is all about?"

Again, they looked at each other. "As I said, we're not at liberty to say as the investigation is ongoing. Thank you for your time." They turned in unison and quick-stepped to their waiting generic, nondescript four-door gray sedan at the curb. I had a bad feeling forming at the pit of my stomach.

#

I spent the rest of the day getting some files together for a meeting with my former clients and their new product manager. I'd get a free lunch out of the deal and maybe some side work down the road to keep me from getting bored in my retirement. I found it difficult to concentrate on the task at hand, though, as my thoughts kept going back to the party, and whether I missed something that could have prevented the assault that Speedo Boy allegedly perpetrated. I knew he was an ass just from the 30 seconds I interacted with him, and from Brenda's and Linda's characterization of him, but did I see the capability in him for that crime? Maybe I did, maybe I didn't. I'd go nuts if I dwelt too long on it.

Unfortunately, my lunch meeting ran long, and I was not home when the girls got back from school. I wanted to talk to them about the police visit, but that would have to wait until I got back. Once my meeting was over and my clients left, I remained in the booth, closed the presentation app on my laptop, and tunneled into my security system to check on the girls. I was worried that the police might try to talk to them alone, or worse, Speedo Boy might come by. Brenda would be 18 next week, and the police could question her all they wanted no matter what I thought, but until then, I was her father and I would protect her. And no matter how old she was, I would do anything necessary to protect her from the likes of Mark Landry.

The camera in the living room revealed an empty room. I flipped over to the pool camera and saw Brenda doing laps. Linda was not with her, though, which was odd. They usually train together. I checked the other cameras on the security system and saw no sign of Linda. I was a bit concerned, until I realized that if something were wrong with Linda, Brenda wouldn't be swimming. Then a thought occurred to me. I closed the security app and opened a remote access tunnel to my PC in my bedroom and activated my webcam. I didn't know what I was expecting to see, but it wasn't at all what I saw.

Linda was laying on her tummy on my bed, her face buried in my pillow. She was wearing her bikini under a t-shirt, but that t-shirt was bunched up under her arms and I could see the swell of the side of her breast peeking out under her right arm. Her left arm was underneath her, her thighs were spread just enough that I noticed movement under the thin band of fabric that ran between them. Unlike my security system, my PC camera has audio, so the sounds of her breaths and groans filled my ears, despite the low volume on my laptop. She took in a deep breath of my pillow as her ass thrust forward to meet her probing fingers. Her hips rocked in rhythm to a beat only she could hear or feel. I was stunned as I watched her butt clench and relax, the flexing muscles slowly drawing the gusset of her bikini deeper between her cheeks. I've been passively indulging a fantasy about Linda for some time, and in the past two weeks, I've seen her masturbate three times now.

Her breathing was coming in gasps as her hips rocked faster. Her breath caught, and she tensed up and shuddered as she pressed her fingers against her mound. She blew out a long breath as she relaxed before a small tremor made her pause a moment. After a second, she rolled over, her legs splaying out bent at the knees. Her pink bikini was drawn tight against her pussy and her taut belly flexed below the gathered t-shirt.

Wait a minute. That's my Def Leppard t-shirt! She was wearing my shirt. Before I could consider what that meant, she picked the pillow up and held it to her face, drawing a deep breath before flipping it back where it belonged and sliding down to the foot of the bed.

"Hey, what are you doing in here?" Brenda's voice came from off camera.

"I just changed into my bikini, but I wanted a t-shirt to cover up. I didn't bring one, so I thought I'd borrow one of your dad's."

"You could have used one of mine."

"Well, true. But I found this one, so it's all good."

"Bull shit," Brenda swore? I'd never heard her use a foul word in her life. "You were in here playing, weren't you? Don't deny it, I can smell it."

Linda's expression changed in an instant. I'd never seen her eyes narrow like that or set her jaw in abject defiance. "So, what if I was? It's none of your business anyway."

"But you told me you weren't in the mood." Wait! What?

"I wasn't then, and then I was," she said brushing past Brenda on her way out. "It's no big deal. I'm getting in the pool. You going to stand there and drip, or what?"

What was I hearing? What did that mean? Surely, she didn't mean playing as in masturbating. People don't talk about things like that, do they? Not kids. At least not to their friends. She must mean something else. I remembered the conversation I wanted to have with Brenda, and now it looked like it was more important than ever to have that talk, but we kept getting interrupted. I made up my mind to talk with her just as soon as Linda's situation got settled.

That reminded me that I needed to call Dennis Mitchell and have a talk with him about Kelly and Linda. Whatever his problem was, it needed to be fixed and soon.

#

When I got home, Brenda had dinner on the table. She and Linda were dressed in pajama pants and t-shirts, having changed after their swim. It was a normal occurrence at our house. Brenda got used to cooking while I worked late hours (which was too often) so she wasn't surprised when I came home at the same time I usually did before I retired. I kissed her cheek as I walked past her, and then I bent down and kissed the top of Linda's head.

"How was your day, girls?" I sat in my seat and reached for the bowl of potatoes.

"Oh, just wait 'till you hear!" Brenda said as she took her seat. She looked like someone dying to spill some tasty gossip. "The whole school is in an uproar."

I stabbed a pork chop from the platter. "Mark Landry was arrested?"

Both of them looked shocked and deflated at the same time. "How do you know?"

"The police came by here after you left for school. Did they contact you at the school? I told them not to."

"No. Well, yes. They came to the school, but they didn't talk to us. They took him away in handcuffs, though." Brenda seemed quite pleased as she spooned mashed potatoes onto her plate.

"Marched him right through the lobby at Senior lunch," Linda added with a smile.

"You look happy about it."

"Well, he's an ass. He's just getting what he's got coming. He deserves it."

"Did the police tell you why they arrested him?" Brenda was cutting her pork chop into several bite-sized pieces.

"It seems he is wanted in connection with an assault case they're working. The detective wouldn't elaborate, but from what he did say, it sounds like Mark might have tried to rape someone after he left the party Saturday night."

Brenda and Linda looked at each other for a silent minute.

"What? Do you know something?"

"Well," Brenda hesitated, "I don't know if it's connected, but Ivory Johnson wasn't in school today."

"She kinda had a crush on Mark," Linda added.

"Ivory? Was she at the party?"

"Yes, she and her brother Tommy came." When Brenda said this, the name Tommy sounded familiar. That was the name of the kid I saw behind the pool house with Bethany and Tina. "I saw Tommy leave alone though," Brenda continued. "I don't remember seeing Ivory leave. Linda?"

"Nope. The last I saw of her, she was talking to Karen by the pool. That was when Mark tried to hit on me."

"Okay. The police might want to question you both. I am going to try to keep them at bay, so we don't end up having to get attorneys involved. But you might want to write down as much as you can remember on paper. I'll hold onto them for if and when we need them. If a detective comes by or calls, do not, under any circumstances, say anything to them until either I, or an attorney I select is present. Got it?"

"Yes, Daddy. Geez. I thought it was just some excitement at school. I never thought it was something to worry about."

"Well, let's hope it stays that way. The last thing either of you needs right now is the stress of a police investigation."

"You can say that again," Linda muttered.

"Oh, Linda, I tried calling your father today, but I got no answer."

Linda's face fell even further. She dropped her fork and put her hands in her lap. "Oh?"

"Yes. I wanted to set up a time for him and I to have a chat. Also, so you and I can stop by to get anything you need for school."

"Oh, I went by the house today on the way home from school and got some things. No one was home, though. Which is a good thing, I guess."

"Well, that's fine then. I just wanted you to know I plan on speaking with both your parents."

Her eyes grew glassy as tears welled up, threatening to spill. "You don't have to do that, Mr. B."

"Sweetie, I've known your folks almost since they were your age. I need to do this out of friendship. And not just mine, but Carrie's, too."

Brenda's phone rang just then, breaking the moment. I flashed her a look. I don't tolerate phones at the dinner table, and she knows that. She threw her hands up, showing that she didn't have her phone. When it rang again, I saw it on the counter behind her. Kind of skirting the rule, but whatever.

"Silence it," I said.

She reached back and picked it up, looking at the caller ID. She blinked in surprise, as though it was from the last person she'd expect to call. "It's Austin!"

Now it was my turn to blink. "Who's Austin?"

"Ivory's sister. She graduated two years ago and is at college now."

I now understood the reaction. "Answer it."

Brenda swiped her thumb across the screen. "Hey, Austin." She looked across the table as she listened. "Oh my God! It was her? Yes, we did hear about it. We were just talking about it. How is she? Is she okay? No. Nothing happened here at the party. I'm sure. Mark got a bit handsy with Linda, but my dad ran him off. No... Now you know better than that. She was still here then. Austin, stop yelling. It's not my fault. It's Mark's. He's already in jail. Yes, I'm sure. I watched the police take him away today. Yes, in front of God and everybody."

As the conversation went on, I was struck by the girl's name. I've only heard of one girl named Austin--the cam girl--and I was pretty sure that was a stage name, and her last name wasn't Johnson. I've paid her probably enough money to pay for Brenda's college. How odd that my daughter knows another girl named Austin.

After a few more moments, Brenda rang off and put the phone back on the counter. Linda and I stared at her expectantly.

"She's coming home to be with her family. She says they're all taking it hard."