I think you will find the series makes more sense if the episodes are read in sequence.
Everyone engaged in sex is eighteen or older.
Chapter 06. Things get [more] complicated....
From the moment she joined us in the kitchen for breakfast next morning, Anna was acting a little weird. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught her several times staring surreptitiously at both of us, and smiling knowingly, when she thought we weren't looking. As we ate, Beth and I flanking Anna on either side where she sat at the end of the table, I caught her doing it again, and decided to call her on it.
"All right, little miss, just what the hell is up with you this morning?" I asked her sternly.
"Who, me?" she replied, trying to act all innocent...and failing miserably.
"Yes, you, cupcake," I said. "You've been sashaying around acting like the cat who ate the canary since you came in here, and smirking at us behind our backs. What's the deal?"
Anna dropped her eyes, with a hang-dog guilty expression, looking for all the world like a kid caught red-handed trying to rob the cookie jar.
"Last night I saw you guys out by the pool, in the storm," she admitted, almost in a whisper.
Beth and looked at each other, stunned. "Oops," was all I could say, and Beth added, "Oh, my!"
"I'm really sorry," Anna said, imploringly. "I didn't mean to. It just happened. I know it was wrong for me to stay and spy on you, but...I just couldn't help myself."
Beth and I burst out laughing. Anna looked back and forth between the two of us, puzzled, and said, "What, did I say something funny?"
"'Couldn't help yourself', huh?" Beth told her, still chuckling. "There's been a lot of that going around this house lately. It's like an epidemic."
"Oh," Anna said.
"It's OK," I said, gently. "Tell us what happened, kiddo,"
"The babies kicking me woke me up," she explained. "Maybe the storm scared them. I was thirsty, so I got up to come in here for a bottle of juice. As I was walking down the hall past the door into the den, a breeze ruffled my nightgown. I looked, and saw that the patio door was ajar, so I went over to close it."
"In a way, you're lucky I did see you. I was going to just close and lock the door, and go back to bed. You would have been trapped outside, in the storm, naked."
"Yeah, that might have been a little awkward," I agreed. "Though in fact I had my phone, and could have called you."
"But anyway, I did see you, and once I did, I just couldn't look away," she went on. "It was...incredible. It was wilder and hotter than any X-rated sex scene I ever saw on the internet, and at the same time more tender, and more erotic, and more loving than the most sultry, alluring love scene in any romance movie I ever heard of."
"Without even realizing I was doing it, I found myself with one hand rubbing my nipples, and the other between my legs, rubbin' the nubbin. I scooted the recliner over a bit for a better view, lay down on it, and got busy having fun with myself while I watched you guys go at it."
"The recliner; that was it!" I exclaimed. Both women looked at me in surprise.
"When we came back in, I had the vaguest notion something was off," I explained, "But I couldn't quite put my finger on it: the recliner had been moved."
Anna went on, "I came twice, jerking off while watching the two of you make love. If not for the thunder, I'm sure you would have heard me. When you finally got up to come back in, I barely had time to get up and scuttle out of sight, or you would have caught me. I went back to bed, and jerked off again before I went back to sleep."
"Well, it's not like you didn't already know that we're lovers," I told her.
"And I'm glad to hear we weren't the only ones enjoying the storm," Beth added.
Anna reached out to us, and the three of us joined hands. "I just hope someday I can meet a guy like you, Grandpa, that I can spend my life with, and love, and make love with, the way I watched you two do last night," she said, her eyes moist. "Aunt Beth, I know that you sending Grandpa to my bed is a gift, a wonderful present, that can only happen for a short time, while I'm here to deliver my babies, in the company of people who know and care for me...people who care for the spawn, too. If you send him to me again, another night, that will be wonderful, too, but if last night should turn out to be the last time it happens, I won't be sad. I'll never forget the experiences he and I shared when you allowed us to be together, and be eternally grateful to you."
"Sweetheart, until your babies are born, and you go back home to New York, you have my unconditional permission to make love with John as often as he can get it up for you," Beth told her. "So far, since you arrived, there somehow still seems to be enough of him to keep us both happy."
"Don't I get any say in this decision?" I asked, lightheartedly.
Both women looked at me with resigned, patient expressions. "Does he always ask such silly questions?" Anna wondered.
"Never stops," Beth replied. "Doesn't seem to realize that women understand that asking a man if he'd like more sex is like asking Yogi Bear if he could use another Pic-a-Nic basket."
"Or asking Wiley Coyote if he wants to keep chasing Road Runner?" Anna suggested, with a snicker.
"Asking Dagwood if he'd like another sandwich."
"Or asking Popeye if he wants more spinach."
"OK, fine, I get it," I interjected. "This is fun, but you, Beth, need to get ready for your employment agency intake interview today, and I have to get cupcake here to her photoshoot, so we need to cut this short and get a move on."
"You see, he really can be useful outside a bedroom when he puts his mind to it," Beth told Anna. "Just go easy on the praise and don't let it go to his head."
"Which head?" Anna quipped, giggling.
"Either one," Beth answered, with a smirk.
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As I finished up the breakfast dishes, Anna came into the kitchen and told me it was time for us to head out. "Where am I taking you?" I asked her.
She fished a slip of paper from her purse and handed it to me. "It's a luxury Airbnb, that they've rented for the shoot," she told me. "Here's the address."
I glanced at it, and whistled. "This is out in the swankiest township in the metro area. We'll have to take the sedan. By township ordinance, pickup trucks can't be parked on the street out there, unless you're a tradesman working a job, in daylight work hours only. If you live there and have a pickup, you have to keep it in a garage."
"Yes, they mentioned that," she replied. "Let's go."
On the ride over, Anna explained a few things to me. "I've hired a nurse, from a referral agency, to be at the shoot. Her only job is to keep an eye on me and make sure I don't get overstressed. So, you don't have to be the Grinch, and tell me to take it easy, OK?"
"Good for you," I told her. "That's a smart thing to do."
"Normally, they would be reluctant to let someone like you, who's not a pro, hang around," she went on. "I've told them you won't get in the way, and if they still don't like it, they can kiss my ass."
"That's my job," I insisted, and she smiled at me.
"Later, Grandpa," she teased me, and then went on. "We're getting there a little early, so the hairdresser and makeup lady have time to do their thing with me. There'll be a sort of pre-production meeting, where the marketing rep will give the crew their marching orders. Ordinarily these shoots are a frenzy of activity, to get in shots of as many garments as they can squeeze into the available time, but I've made it very clear to them that I'm going to pace myself, and they'll have to be satisfied with that."
I swung the car up into the broad, curving drive of the palatial home where the shoot would take place, and unloaded Anna at the front door. A burly guy in some sort of uniform, evidently a security guard, directed me to a parking spot, and checked my ID against a list he carried on a clipboard, before waving me through the massive, ornate door. I found Anna in a side room, being attended by a couple of people busy doing her hair and makeup, and being greeted by various members of the crew as they arrived. These people, most of them, anyway, had flown in from the east coast for this gig, and Anna had obviously worked with many of them before. I found a seat out of the way, where I could watch, fascinated, how a high-end fashion shoot unfolded.
The fashion marketing rep, Gina, who was in charge because she was paying for everything, brought everyone into the makeup/hairdressing area for the pre-production meeting, so that the girls could keep working on Anna, along with a couple of additional models. The other girls were pregnant also, but Anna's was the biggest belly be a substantial margin. A lot of what Gina told the crew was jargon that went right over my head, but everyone else was nodding, and a few were taking notes. There was only one glitch; a male model who was to be in some of the shots was a no-show. Gina told her assistant to 'go track down that idiot'.
The shoot itself was a flurry of activity. They would set up in one room after another, and block in the shots they wanted. When the fashion rep was satisfied with the plan, the photographer got busy. Anna stepped onto her mark, and followed the photographer's directions with poses as he snapped dozens and dozens of shots. In many, she was alone, and in some, one or more other models joined her. When she needed to change costumes, she waddled sedately into the nearby changing area, where the wardrobe lady helped her into her next outfit. Some of the lingerie outfits were skimpy and revealing, racy even, but there was no snickering, off-color comments, or leering directed her way. Everyone's demeanor was strictly professional and respectful. I was very impressed.
Two hours in, and the missing male model was still unaccounted for. Gina was starting to get pissed, and a little desperate.
"Why don't we use Grandpa?" Anna suggested. "You'll be cropping his head out of the shots anyway. No one will know he's fifty years older than me."
Gina and the photographer exchanged a look, and she said, "That might work, what do you think, Tony?"
"Well, let's see," Tony replied. "Mr., uh, Miller, could I get you to stand up, and turn around, slowly." I complied, and he snapped a quick series of shots. He and Gina spent a minute examining them, on the small preview screen on the back of his very sophisticated and expensive-looking digital camera.
"I think we can make this work," Gina announced. "Mr. Miller, can I interest you in a one-shot gig as a male fashion model?"
"Standard minimum salary!" Anna interjected.
