Starting Over Ch 05 1

It was a Friday in the third week of September as we drove from Berkeley up to Napa. I had been to Napa a few times over the years before my wife Ellen passed away. Wine was something I enjoyed. I had a substantial collection of wines in the basement of my Berkeley home, many of which I had bought before Ellen's accident. During the long period Ellen spent in a coma I lived in a small apartment in San Francisco to be near her long-term care facility, the wines she and I had collected aged peacefully in the cellar beneath our home in Berkeley. Only since Ellen died and I moved back to Berkeley had I began drinking wine again.

Sitting next to me behind the wheel was my voluptuous next-door neighbor, Britt Torkelson. Britt worked as a marriage counselor. She had come directly from a counseling session, still dressed in her conservative professional garb with her long blonde hair coiled neatly atop her head. Britt and I were both in our late forties. Like me she was widowed. We had both been trying to "start over" from the trauma arising from the loss of our respective spouses. Our relationship could best be described as neighbors with privileges, although of late as she slowly recovered from the trauma of her husband's death, she had begun to regularly sleep next to me. She hadn't moved in but... a lot of her clothes seemed to reside in the closet I had once shared with Ellen. I didn't object.

Britt and I couldn't have come from more different experiences. Her marriage to Doug Sanders had been an "open relationship" that permitted each of them to have sexual relationships with others as they saw fit. Prior to marrying Doug, Britt had spent her free time from Med School and her psychiatric residency at a commune in the hills to the west of St. Helena where, as she described it, she had unrestrained sex with anyone and everyone, male or female, that she met there. She had met Doug at the commune. Although she characterized her marriage to Doug as an open marriage, Doug had maintained tight control over Britt's choice of other lovers. I thought it would be more than fair to describe their relationship as abusive.

My relationship with Ellen had been totally monogamous and extremely conservative. Basically we didn't have much sex and what there was of it wasn't very exciting or creative. We had been together since the sixth grade and were deeply in love. She died as a result of an auto accident followed by a long coma. Her coma and death were traumatic for me.

My relationship with Britt over the last few months had been an eye opener for me. Who knew people had sex like Britt and her friends? I had to admit that although occasionally shocked, I was enjoying the sexual education I was getting. Britt was happy to introduce me to other women, such as her good friend Ingrid and her twin sister Freya and had no objection when I had sex with them, frequently participating to make it a threesome.

This trip wasn't about wine tasting. We were going to Napa to visit four of Britt's good friends who lived there. As we drove up the highway from Vallejo towards Napa I asked Britt to give me a bit more background on the people we were going to visit for the weekend.

"Okay," she said. "They were basically the last survivors of the commune where I met Doug. Like a lot of communes it eventually failed economically, but these four had lived all their lives in the Napa Valley so they hung around until it became obvious to them that if they wanted to continue to live in the Napa Valley they were going to have to move away from the commune and get real jobs. Now they all live in a big house on the west side of Napa. I'm not even sure if it's in the city limits, but it's close. They have an acre or so of grapes they use for their garage wine, a big vegetable garden (including a marijuana plot), a couple of goats, a cow, several cats, dogs, chickens, and so on. But don't get the idea that it's a functioning farm. All the critters and growing things are just a hobby for them that I am sure costs them more than anything they earn from it. It's all just a part of the commune life they couldn't bear to shed."

"So what do they do for a living?" I asked.

"It changes from time to time but the last few years have been a bit more stable. Louie, and Marcus have a wine consulting business. They help small producers market their wines. Wines are like my sister Freya's art. First you learn to produce it and then you learn to sell it. That's where Louie and Marcus come in for a lot of people."

"And the two women?" I said.

"Yes. Now Gina, hmm,... I think Gina is working retail up in Yountville. Yes that's right. She works in a gallery. It's strictly a commission gig, but I think she does okay with it. It's the same gallery that handles some of Freya's abstracts."

"And Bianca... yes Bianca works as a guidance counselor in a high school. She has been doing that for several years. So all in all, pretty much normal people. Oh, and they are all about the same age as us, give a year or two. "

"Okay, now who is married to who," I asked.

Britt laughed, "Oh, I thought I told you. None of them are married to anyone. That's another hangover from their days in the commune. We all screwed each other freely there and when they shut it down and moved to town the free love, plus the marijuana, grapes, goats, chickens, and so on were all parts of the lifestyle they kept. It's a very free love place."

"Oh, I see," I responded, thinking, this could be an interesting weekend.

"Oh and they are all bi-sexual so don't be shocked if you see one of the guys sucking the other off or something else."

"That will be new and different," I said.

"Oh and you should also not be surprised if one or more of them proposition you. I know that they will all want to take me to bed. They know I've given up my celibacy since I met you."

"Are you going to say yes?"

"I would like to. Will that bother you?"

"No, no. It'll be fine. I like the idea of us simply being neighbors with privileges. I am far from ready for a long-term exclusive commitment at this point and I'm not expecting one from you. we are both just 'starting over,' as you remind me from time to time. Will it bother you if I say yes to one of them?"

"Absolutely not, but if it's Louie or Marcus, I want to watch," she said with a grin.

"Hmmm," I said. "Don't get your hopes up. I've come a long way in starting over with you, but I'm not sure I'm ready for that."

"Don't knock it if you haven't tried it," she responded.

Half an hour later we were driving up a dusty, graveled road on the outskirts of Napa. The mountains separating Napa from Sonoma started on one side of the road. Everything up the hill was a mixture of brown grasses, scattered boulders, and oak trees. Everything to the downhill side was a neatly kept big commercial vineyard. All of it, even the vineyards, had that late summer toasted look. After a mile or two, Britt slowed and stopped at a gate on the uphill side of the road.

"You're riding shotgun," she said. "You get the gate." It wasn't locked but it swung open stiffly with a creak of hinges, the posts dragging in the dust and gravel of the road. Once back in the car we drove uphill on a narrower, rougher road through a grove of oak trees alongside a dry, dusting looking gulch. After three or four twisty turns the trees opened up and we found ourselves on a slightly tilted open plain running a couple of hundred yards to our left and back towards the hills. Like everything else, it was mostly dried grasses with a scattering of lava boulders. There was about an acre of grapes on one side and a big dilapidated looking barn and a couple of other smaller out buildings on the other side. Close to the hill there was a large old farmhouse. It had a broad covered porch around the two sides we could see and a patch of lawn that disappeared around the side. The lawn, like everything else in Napa this time of year, looked like it had had just about all the hot, dry summer it could take.

We parked in a graveled area in front of the house. As we opened the car doors a pack of 4 or 5 dogs, all of that time honored breed, the American mongrel, came barreling around the side of the house, barking and growling as they charged towards us. I quickly pulled the door shut but Britt walked around to my side calling out a variety of names. The barking stopped immediately and Britt was soon surrounded by a group of bouncing dogs, tails wagging and obviously overjoyed to see her. She stood surrounded by dogs laughing at me, "Come on Dave. Get out of the car. They're friendly."

I had expected the racket the dogs had made would bring someone out of the house, but no one appeared.

"They must not be home from work yet," Britt said. We walked up on the porch where Britt opened the door and walked in without a knock. She called out a couple of names but when no one answered she said, "Let's get a beer and sit on the porch."

Within minutes we were comfortably seated in the shade of the covered porch, beer in hand and surrounded by sleeping dogs.

"They don't lock up?" I asked.

"That's what the dogs are for," Britt responded.

"I thought you said they were friendly?"

"Once they know you."

"Oh. I see. I guess I better remember their names."

"Good idea."

About that time a rusted and dented old Ford pick-up appeared in a cloud of dust and rolled up to the porch. The dogs apparently recognized the battered tone of the muffler as they didn't raise their heads. When the truck stopped two men about my and Britt's age jumped from the truck and ran up the stairs with enthusiasm. Once each of them finished grabbing Britt in a crushing hug and swinging her around off her feet they paused for introductions and a handshake—Louie and Marcus.

"I see you found the beer," Marcus said.

"Well, you didn't expect us to drive all the way up here from Berkeley and then sit around with the dogs without a beer, did you?" Britt responded.

They both laughed.

"Sit," she said. "I'll get you boys one. It's your beer after all."

"Company beer," said Louie. "And you're Company."

I would learn later that his use of the word "Company" was not referring to our status as visitors, but instead to the complicated partnership structure they had created to facilitate the property aspects of their unorthodox lifestyle. Not only are they all free as unmarried consenting adults to have sexual relations with each other (or anyone else they took a fancy to), but they owned all their Napa assets, the farm, the equipment, the animals, as equal partners. They were all expected to work at conventional jobs and to tithe a portion of their personal income back to the partnership to keep it afloat. Furthermore I would learn later that Britt was one of the partners, although her inheritance from Doug was excluded from the partnership's assets. But at that point I thought that he simply meant they kept beer on hand for visitors such as us.

They laughed and sat down. "All right. Get us some beer, Wench," said Marcus. He tried to slap her ass but she danced out of the way and he nearly fell out of his chair. Britt give him an annoyed look, but as she turned away she had a mischievous smile on her face and she added a sexy wiggle to her walk as she headed towards the door. When she returned a minute or so later she handed each of them a can of beer. She had released several buttons on her blouse so when she leaned forward to deliver the beers she was giving them a view of her always impressive cleavage. "Well done Wench," said Louie. Unbeknownst to them she had shaken both cans thoroughly on her way back from the kitchen. When they peeled back the pull tabs they were immediately drowned in a fountain of foam.

They came out of their chairs yelling at Britt. "You bitch. Look what you've done to me."

She was laughing hysterically but beat a quick retreat down a set of stairs and out on to the lawn with Louie, Marcus, and all five dogs in hot pursuit. She had a bit of a head start but the high heels on her office shoes were a real impediment. Marcus caught her from behind, his arms around her waist and her feet kicking uselessly in the air, shoes flying to the side. He swung her around to face Louie who promptly doused her with the remaining beer from both cans, soaking her white blouse with suds. Britt was screaming and laughing as she continued kicking her feet. The dogs ran in circles about the three of them barking at the excitement.

There was a bit more wrestling before all three of them walked back to the porch. Britt was walking between the two men, her arms around each of their waists and their arms around her shoulders. Her hips were firmly pressed against theirs. Her white blouse, fully soaked with beer, was now pretty much translucent doing nothing to hide the lacy bra she wore beneath it. All three were grinning like kids coming back from a mud wrestle.

I looked at them and shook my head. "I better get some more beer," I said, rising from my chair.

"In the kitchen straight back from the front door," Britt said as she flopped down in a chair and pushed a few wisps of beer-soaked hair from her face. When I returned all three were naked from the waist up, their beer-soaked clothing in a pile on porch. They sat laughing and smiling while the previously wild dogs had returned to their assigned sleeping positions around them. Britt was petting the dog they called 'Digger' because he had brought her shoes back without chewing them up. She held one up and said, "It's only slightly slimed. It will be okay."

That was when Gina arrived in another old pick-up followed by Bianca in a ten- or fifteen-year-old Honda Civic. Like the pick-ups, the Honda's paint was oxidized, the body work was dented, and the muffler was barely functional. Gina had round hips, a tight waist, and a buxom chest, not as large as Britt, but still very noticeable, especially on her short frame. She wore makeup that accentuated her wide dark brown eyes, and had a head of thick, dark, curly hair trimmed just to her shoulders. Her clothing, a short tight skirt and a thin sweater, was designed to show off her best features, which in my quick appraisal were clearly her bust and her ass.

Bianca was much taller. Her hair was a mousey brown tied together in a ponytail that hung down to the middle of her back. She wore no makeup and a loose-fitting dress which disclosed little about her figure. I would learn more about it later.

"What's this shit?" yelled Bianca as she stood before her pickup, hands on her broad hips, staring at the half naked group on the front porch. "You guys started without us." The dogs, by this time were pacing in a circle around her. Apparently they viewed her as the 'food guy' in the family.

When Bianca reached the front porch, dogs trailing in her wake, she wrinkled her nose and said, "My god, it smells like a brewery out here. Have you guys been drinking all afternoon? I thought this was a workday."

"It is," Louie said defensively. "Or at least it was until these two showed up."

"Yeah," Marcus chimed in. "And besides, she started it."

"And we did sign up a new client today," Louie added.

"And is this the new client?" Bianca asked gesturing at me.

"No, this is Dave," Britt said.

"Oh," Bianca said looking me over as I rose from my chair.

"You mean that Dave?" Gina asked. "The one who writes the filthy stories?"

"And has the sexy voice?" Bianca added.

In addition to gardening and cooking, my retirement hobbies included writing erotic short stories which I posted to a web site for erotica. No money involved. Just a hobby. After spending a couple of months with Britt, Freya, and their friends, I had become accustomed to their characterizing my writing as 'filthy.' When I thought about it, I couldn't disagree. Most of it was filthy. I even took pride in it. "Yes, that would be me," I said, holding out my hand.

"Oh you're Britt's Dave," Gina said. She paused for a moment. "And you do have a sexy voice."

"Thank you, I think."

"And you're not soaked in beer like the rest of these people," Bianca said. She stepped forward and wrapped me in a hug, smashing a pair of large, soft boobs against my chest. Gina was next. Her hug hung from her arms around my neck, her feet barely on the ground and her breasts pressed against my lower rib cage. She whispered in my ear, "I love your filthy stories."

"Why don't you girls get out of those work clothes, get a beer and join us," Britt said, rescuing me.

"Do we have to be half naked like you, you hussy," Gina responded.

"You can be fully naked. I'm sure Dave won't mind," Britt responded. "He likes naked women."

"That's very true," I said with a smile.

"You girls get changed and I'll get more beer," Louie volunteered.

Louie had just returned with the beer when Gina and Bianca reappeared. Bianca was wearing an old, tattered pair of jeans and a loose-fitting T-shirt that did little to disguise her large, now obviously braless, soft breasts. Gina was wearing an old pair of Levis that had been cut off so they barely covered her round full ass. She had on an old scoop necked T-shirt that disclosed some tasty looking cleavage when she leaned forward to pull a beer from the ice chest. It was obvious that she too had gone braless. Bianca tossed an old T-shirt at Britt and said, "Cover up you hussy. Do you want your friend to think everyone runs around naked here?"

"Well he sees me naked almost every night when we crawl into bed together so I don't see why it should be a problem here," Britt responded. As she spoke she pulled the T-shirt over her naked upper body. It fit snugly emphasizing her large breasts which I had come to so enjoy over the last few months. She was perhaps sexier than she had been without it.

After a couple of rounds of beer Louie announced that we had consumed all the cold beer available and he was getting hungry. Bianca rose from her chair stretching and said, all right it's my turn to cook. I'll go in and get the lasagna I made up last night started warming. Britt, you and Gina can tear up a salad."

"Yum," Marcus said. "I do love your lasagna Bianca. How long will it take to heat up. We need to do a little weed so we can really savor the flavors."

"Yeah," echoed Louie.

"Louie you can get out a few bottles of the house wine and let them have some air. We can't have this meal without wine," Bianca responded.

Gina laughed. "We can't have any meal around here without wine. Good thing we've got our own vineyard and winery."

Bianca continued, "And Louie, get that wine opened before you start toking or you'll forget." I was getting the distinct impression that Bianca was the alpha dog of this little group. She made decisions and the remainder of them followed.

"Dinner in 45 minutes," Bianca said as I watched three nice plump middle-aged female asses file through the door. Gina's was particularly attractive, but maybe that was just the moment. My assessment of women's bodies has always varied a bit with the circumstances and other factors I've never understood.

I shared a joint with the two guys and chatted about their history a bit—growing up in vineyard and winery workers' families in the Napa Valley and their life in the commune. I asked a question about Doug but they changed the subject. They didn't want to talk about him. I told them the history of my life with Ellen. They were sympathetic and not critical at all about our restricted approach to sex that differed so dramatically from their own. We talked about their business and my former work life. They were interested in my logistics experience, telling me that shipping wine presented many of their small winery clients with some challenges. The dope was not particularly strong. I was feeling very mellow, but not silly stoned. I could smell the lasagna wafting out from inside and was seriously hungry.