The gallery was packed with the usual buyers, former models, friends and hangers on. It was unveiling night for mom's three pictures of me and my lovely little lady, Sharon, the 20-year-old bikini model.
Karla, at 50 a slightly larger version of me, was stunning in a red satin dress, her nipples protruding into the material like organ stops. For my slightly less lush 32-year-old figure I had chosen an ankle length black satin number, and from its sheer cut you could immediately tell I wasn't wearing bra or panties.
It was getting on for unveiling time and still the dark-haired little vixen wasn't here. Just as I thought we'd have to go ahead, without her, Sharon arrived with a beautiful blonde on her arm.
"Hi Darla," said Sharon, breathlessly, as she brought her companion over to me. "Sorry I'm late, but I promised Karen here I'd introduce you and she was fuckin' late. Darla - meet Karen. Now, I must say hi to Karla."
And with that, my little subby left me with the blue-eyed blonde. "Sorry about that," said Karen. "I've only been in Hawaii for a month or so and I got lost on my way to Sharon's apartment."
"Where are you from and why the move to Hawaii?" I asked.
"I'm from dreary old Wisconsin , but I made a move here for my line of work," she told me.
"And what would that be exactly?" I asked, drinking in her full, firm breasts, encased in a sheer white evening dress, which stopped way above her knees.
"I'm a Sharon," she laughed.
"A Sharon?" I said, puzzled.
"Yeah, a bikini model, Darla!" she replied.
She must have been disappointed by my reaction. "Hey don't you think I'm built for it?" she asked, with a sweet little pout. "I work out every day and I hit the tape at 36-23-35. That's OK isn't it?"
A passing waiter pressed a glass of Taittinger into her hand, as I responded: "It's not OK, Karen, it's fuckin' fantastic!"
And I meant it, she was a little stunner, just a bit taller than Sharon, but still a couple of inches below my rather statuesque height. "Now let me introduce you around."
That had been some hours ago, and now the caterers had left, the crowds had gone - all gushing in their appreciation of mom's three paintings of me and Sharon - and Karla, Sharon, Karen and I were up in the house, sipping on chardonnays and relaxing after the evening's activities.
After some chat, Sharon stood brightly and announced: "Darla, I hope you don't mind, but I've promised to show Karla my apartment on Kuhio. Be a pet and look after Karen, will you?"
Then, mom and my little subby swept out. Showing her the apartment! Her pretty little pussy, more like! Then I glanced at Karen and saw a look of disappointment on her face, then tears started to dribble down her lovely cheeks.
I picked up my chardonnay and moved over to the couch and sat beside her, placing an arm across her lovely tanned shoulders. "There, there, baby," I said softly, "tell Darla all about it."
Between heaving sobs, Karen wept out her tale of woe. "I hardly know anyone here, Sharon's the only person I really know, but she's like a sister, I don't fancy her.
"And tonight two disgusting old men hit on me - and I don't like men, disgusting old men, or disgusting young men."
Phew, I thought, that's a relief!
"And then I saw those paintings your mom did of you and Sharon and I got, I got ..." Her voice faded away.
I stroked her corn-coloured hair. "Yes, baby, you got what?" I said, as comfortingly as possible.
More tears, then: "I got jealous. I got envious, and I felt terrible with myself. Tell me, Darla?" Then her voice trailed away again.
"What, sweetie?" I said, still stroking her lovely head.
"Did she, oh you know, in that picture where's she's kneeling behind you, did she? I mean, did she touch you there?"
I placed a gentle kiss on her cheek and smiled. "Yes, my darling, we posed for mom's camera - she works from the photos - and yes, Sharon touched me there. But don't ever be jealous darling."
And with that I rose, unclipped the dress behind my neck and let it fall to the floor, leaving me nude but for my high heels. My 38-26-36, part-Polynesian brown body gleamed in the light. Then, slowly but deliberately I turned with my back to the lovely blonde bikini model and bent over, hands grasping my thighs just above the knees, feet spread a yard apart.
All right, it was, I must confess, a lurid, blatant sexual display, but I hoped it would serve its purpose - Karen would either accept my erotic offer, or storm out, or storm into one of two bedrooms. Mine, which would be fine, or the guest room, which I have to admit, would not have been so fine.