Sweet Summer Bliss

"It's not babysitting we're asking you to do," Michelle said. "She's a good kid." The words gave her pause and she amended, "A good young woman. You know that."

Paul did. So far as he knew, Michelle and Leon's youngest daughter had never caused a bit of trouble, apart from one incident four or five years ago where she snuck out of her house not to visit some boy or go to a concert or something, but to go to a book signing two hours away by a favorite author of hers on a school night. It was the sort of story Michelle and Leon loved to tell at parties and he heard it a half-dozen times now, being their neighbor a few houses removed.

"And of course we'd be willing to pay you for the trouble," Leon said. "Say... four hundred a month to drop in a few times a week and check on her?"

"Don't sweat it. Happy to help. Besides, I still owe you," Paul said, and that was true. A couple years back on a roofing job, he crashed through rotting beams into the attic of a client, breaking a leg and several ribs in the process. It took time to heal, and while he was laid up, Leon, Michelle, and their daughter Summer became his living crutches, bringing him meals, driving him to medical appointments, and tending to his house for him. It was a debt he tried to repay by mowing their yards every weekend during the summer and shoveling their walks in the winter, but it had never felt like enough. He was not a man who was used to taking charity, but they'd inserted themselves into his life effortlessly and he was profoundly grateful for it.

"You don't and you never have," Leon said. Michelle nodded her agreement, touching her hair and hastily realizing what she was doing. It nearly made Paul smile. He knew the fifty-something mom liked to look at him from time to time. It was flattering. She was a beautiful woman, and he knew she would never cheat on her man, not that Paul would say yes if she ever actually did come on to him. He wasn't a homewrecker and he thought Leon knew it, the way he'd flash a secret smile when he caught his wife looking or blushing from time to time. Or so Paul hoped, anyways.

"Still, I won't take any money for it. And let her know if she needs anything at all, I'm just down the street. A meal, help with anything around the house, household stuff, whatever. My door's always open to your family, you know that."

"We appreciate that, Paul," Michelle said. She looked at her husband and nodded. "I feel so much better about this now."

"Me too," Leon said.

"It's a hell of an opportunity for you both," Paul said. "I'm jealous. Always wanted to go."

"We're so excited but it would be hard to leave Summer here alone," Michelle said. "I know she's twenty-one now but still..." Her voice thickened and her eyes went glassy. "She's our girl."

"I'm sure she'll do great here," Paul said, reaching across and taking her hand to squeeze it. "And I'll look out for her. Hell, she'll probably call annoyed with me coming over and knocking on her door."

"Good," Leon said, and Michelle chuckled as she wiped at her eyes. "Thank you."

* * *

A month and a half later, Summer helped her parents load their luggage into their Uber, all smiles and a little bit apprehensive. Not for herself, but for them. She wasn't the biggest fan of flying and the thought of a nine-and-a-half-hour flight to London gave her the chills, especially with all the flight accidents occurring lately.

"You're going to have such a great flight!" Summer squeaked, trying not to think about oxygen masks dropping and screaming passengers and the plane filling up with water when it crashed and oh God she was going to pee herself a little if she didn't stop thinking about how this could all end. She added much more faintly, "So much fun. Fun fun fun."

"It'll be all right, sweetheart," her father consoled her as he closed the trunk on the SUV. "We're supposed to worry about you, not you worry about us."

"I'm not worried," Summer said. "Just... you know... be careful. Be smart. If the plane... oh, I'm sure the plane will be fine. It'll be totally fine!"

Michelle saved her daughter from her overactive imagination running amok by rushing her and embracing her for the day's half-dozenth hug. "Oh honey, I wish you were coming with us."

"I wish I was too, Mom. But you're going to have an amazing time, you really are. And I'll be out there at the end of July, so have the tea and crumpets ready."

"Aye aye, wut wut?" her father said. Neither father or daughter were exactly Anglophiles, and Michelle turned her head skyward to mouth, "Lord help me."

There were tears, and another round of hugs, and her parents were off on their grand adventure. Summer had never been prouder of her mom, and with good reason. The acquisition of a small but popular candy company had been her pet project for over two years now, and this was its culmination, an opportunity unlike any she'd ever had in her career. Three months in London. It was a dream come true.

Summer saw them off, waving until the SUV took a corner, smiling and sniffling. She would miss them, and she was genuinely heartbroken she couldn't join them for another month and a half, but she had to admit, she was looking forward to this, to having the house to herself for the first time, to fend for herself, to feel like an adult. Sure, she was twenty-one, but this was her on her own -- for the most part.

She headed inside to the old two-story house she loved so much and had missed her two disastrous years at college in Georgia. How eager she'd been to move away from home then, and how eager she was to move back. A year home now, and still it felt good to be back in her parents' house and the neighborhood. This place would always be her North Star, and she only wished she'd seen that sooner, but she had been young and in love, or so she thought. Oh well.

She touched everything that reminded her of her parents, the quilt her mother sewed as a means to relax when she came home from work, the books her father self-published as a fun side gig to his programming job, the coffee mug he'd left on the kitchen counter, having forgotten to wash it out. Summer did that now, smiling to herself and already missing her parents fiercely.

She thought earlier she would take a nap while she waited for their flight to land, but knew now that she would be too worried to sleep, so instead, she changed into a bikini and grabbed her Kindle, a beach towel, and some suntan lotion. The bikini was a new purchase and pretty daring for her, a black two-piece that made her big boobs and curvy hips practically shout for attention. Too bad there was no guy in her life at the moment to show it off to. Well... there was one, but she was not going to be showing off any bikini, sexy or not, to Maddox Tillsley anytime soon.

Outside, Summer laid out her things on an end table next to a lounge chair and found a pop playlist on her phone. She kept the volume low, not out of any worry that the neighbors would complain but because that was her nature, quiet and sweet. Summer liked to move through the world with as little dappling as possible.

Before tanning came the pool. Ten laps, she told herself. No rush. Swimming was her favorite way to exercise, but these laps would be more to get her mind off missing her parents and her worry about their flight, so when she dropped into the slightly chilly water, she swam her laps lazily, first freestyle, then the backstroke. Swimming was the only sport she joined in high school, but because Summer never had a competitive spirit, she rarely placed, usually falling somewhere near the bottom of the meets. That was fine by her. She was there to stay fit and have fun with her friends.

And now, in between her junior and senior year of college, she swam to exercise and relax, to calm her mind and her soul. It was her Zen, her meditation, and even when she finished, she still paddled around lazily on her back, beaming up at the sunshine, eyes closed right up to the point where she heard someone call her name from the side gate.

"Summer?"

It was Mr. Castle, and that made her smile widen. Her favorite person on the block. Her parents' too, but probably for different reasons, though Summer suspected that, like her, her mother had a crush on forty-year-old Mr. Castle. Then again, just about every woman who ever met the man probably did.

Summer called, "In the pool! Come on back."

She headed for the shallow end and the edge of the pool where her body wouldn't be on such display, folding her arms on the decorative concrete and enjoying the sound of birds in the trees as the gate opened and closed.

He came around the side, a hulking figure that would have scared her if she hadn't lived doors down from the man for well over a decade at that point. He was a linebacker back in the day in high school and college and it showed in Mr. Castle's broad shoulders and tall, well-muscled frame in his jeans and chambray shirt. His face was rugged and leathered for forty, the result of working construction jobs in the sun for nearly twenty years. But it worked for him. Oh God, did it work for him, especially with the sharp angles of his square jaw and sharp cheekbones. His eyes, though, were surprisingly soft, warm sandy browns that lit up easily.

Those eyes fixed on her now, his smile warming her to her very core. Oh boy, if he was to come to the lip of the pool and offer her a hand, she'd be out of the pool and on her knees for him in about half a second.

"Hey, pool warm enough for that swim?"

"Just barely," she said. "I needed something to do to keep my mind off Mom and Dad's flight. I am completely terrified of flying, so I did some laps and now I'm relaxing."

"Hey, I get it. But I'm sure they'll be fine." He stuffed his big, scarred hands into his jean pockets, an almost criminal act. Summer was big on guys' hands and his were both deliciously large and fascinating in all the nicks and scars that covered them. "You got something for dinner tonight?"

"I do. My mom made up a bunch of my favorites and either froze them or left them in the fridge. I think I've got enough for two weeks, at least."

"Ah, well, you want something hot and fresh, you let me know."

"Thank you, Mr. Castle."

"I was thinking about bratwursts on the grill tomorrow night. That interest you?"

"Oh my God, yes," she said. When Mr. Castle and his then-girlfriend whose name she couldn't remember had their family over for dinner one time not long after he moved to the neighborhood, he grilled bratwursts for them. It was one of the best meals she'd ever eaten, even when her priggish older sister Becky told them all what bratwursts were really made of. "Sorry, am I actually drooling?"

"Just a little. Don't worry. With the pool, I can barely tell. Come on by my place, say... seven o'clock. That'll get you out of there early enough the neighbors won't think I'm making a dishonest woman out of you."

"What does that mean?" Summer asked.

His eyes twinkled with his easy smile. "Figure it out in context."

"Ohhhhh," she said, blushing hard. "Oh, we are going to have so much fun getting some rumors started this summer, aren't we?"

"I bet we are. You got my number. You need anything, big or little, let me know."

"Thanks, Mr. Castle. I'll see you tomorrow night."

He turned to head for the sidewalk leading to the gate, and she pushed away from the wall to head for the steps. But just as she was rising out of the water, he turned.

"Oh hey," he started to say, then stopped, staring at her big breasts in the bikini top, her nipples hard points against the fabric. He only looked for a second and then his gaze shot to her face. "Sorry, I... shit."

"It's okay," she yelped, dropping down into the water and covering her chest. "I would have dressed more decently if..."

"Yeah, no, it's my fault, I should have... called, uh, texted..."

Wait. Was Mr. Castle actually flustered? About her body? Summer grinned, noticing the way he was now pointedly staring about four feet to her left and well above her head.

"What were you going to say?" she asked, her voice far too bright and cheerful. Oh God, forget tanning. She was going to run into her house after this, lock the doors, and either die of embarrassment or dig out her vibrator and die by dehydration.

"Uh. Just that you can call me Paul. The Mr. Castle thing, you're twenty-one. Paul is fine."

"All right. Paul. Yes. Paul."

"Right," he said, finally collecting himself. "See you tomorrow night."

* * *

It was easy at first for Paul to laugh off the moment with his twenty-one-year-old neighbor. So he got a pretty good look at her tits. It wasn't like Summer was naked, and he'd seen her in bathing suits before. Though definitely not a bikini that put her very ample curves and toned, trim waist on display. And the way her nipples stood stark against the black fabric, like they inviting him to jump in the pool and say hello...

No. She was his ward for the summer, his friends' daughter. That was a fantasy he would not entertain. Or so he told himself.

It was undeniable that Summer had become a stunningly sexual creature over the last couple years. It wasn't until she came home from her first year at college that he really noticed her as a woman and not the goofy shy teenager she had been, the first time he thought to himself with lowkey amusement that were he twenty years younger, he'd be chasing her like a bulldog chasing a steak on a string. It was an idle thought, a mental, "Oh damn, she really is nineteen now, huh?" and that was it.

Summer's story was an interesting one, though he only knew bits and pieces of it from conversations with her family. The young woman followed her high school boyfriend to Kennesaw State University in Atlanta before breaking up with him and coming back home two years later to New Bainbridge to finish out college here. He knew she was spending the summer here rather than England because she lost college credits in the transfer to the local college and needed to pick up a handful of classes over the summer to graduate on time the next spring. Smart, but it must have been a hard decision.

He also knew a smattering of other things about Summer, that she started studying business and now intended on becoming a teacher or a professor. She'd make for a good one, he thought.

And now he was looking after her for a couple months. Not a big deal, though. She was a sweetheart, and didn't cause anyone any trouble. Though, Paul did vaguely remember a pretty shitty boyfriend of hers that would play rap at maximum volume in his car when he'd wait for Summer outside the house, but she was smart enough to ditch that loser a couple weeks into their fling.

Paul thought about all this as he worked out at the gym that night, hitting it hard. He had a weight machine, treadmill, and free weights at home, but he was a vain man, a fault that amused him to no end. He wasn't a workout freak but he was proud of his body, especially at forty, and he liked the women at the gym looking at him. He liked it even more when they approached him and struck up a conversation -- and sometimes more.

But that night, despite the looks and whispers from a pair of blonde cuties who might have been sisters or cousins, Paul's mind never strayed far from that image of Summer in the pool, caught by surprise as she was just starting towards the stairs. That black bikini, her dark brunette hair matted to her back, her richly tanned skin, those big sweet doe eyes widened in surprise. Even her fucking overbite kept him half-hard.

His amusement with himself vanished that night as Paul rested in bed, staring up at the darkened ceiling. He tried to tell himself not to do it, not to fantasize about her, but he could not shake the vision of his twenty-one-year-old ward no matter how hard he tried. He stroked himself to one orgasm thinking about a favorite actress, but his mind kept wanting to wander back to a pool and a black bikini. And his forties left him sexually ravenous, an odd contradiction to what he heard happened to men at that age, but which was no less true for him. One orgasm was simply not enough for him that night, and try as he might to fantasize about Salma Hayek and Kate Upton giving him a joint tit job, his mind invariably returned to Summer.

"Fuck!" he snarled into the night, and at two in the morning, with a basement remodel to do in just hours, he finally allowed himself the release of imagining himself behind Summer in the pool, bending her over the concrete, that juicy fit ass thrust at him, his cock sliding between her deeply tanned cheeks before he pointed himself at her cunt and hilted himself inside her.

Inside her twenty-one-year-old pussy. Half his goddamn age.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!" he grunted when he came again, his chest heaving, his eyes wild in the darkness.

With the release, he fell asleep in less than a minute.

* * *

Thoughts of dinner with Mr. Castle -- Paul -- kept invading Summer's mind during class. It distracted her to the point where she flubbed a lob of a question by her professor, who gave her an amused reminder to pay attention. Amused, because Summer was, in general, a great student and wasn't the type to let her mind wander easily.

Her summer schedule was lighter than the fall and spring semesters, with fewer students and a more casual, relaxed atmosphere. There were only seven students in the class that day, a full house, and the professor let them out ten minutes early.

As Summer closed her laptop and stowed it away, her friend Maddox did the same with his tablet. He always made a point of sitting at the same table as her, and stood with her. "You okay?" he asked. "You were out of it the whole class."

"I'm fine." And she was. She spent most of the class thinking about what she would wear that night, entertaining a brief, silly fantasy of showing up in a lacy bralette or a teddy underneath a trench coat.

"You sure?" he asked. "Is it your parents?"

"No. They're doing great. I'm all right, Maddox, really."

"Okay," he said dubiously, following her out of the classroom. "Do you want to get dinner at the cafeteria tonight?"

Another day, she might have said yes. Even with reduced hours during the summer, the cafeteria still made pretty good food and she might have enjoyed the company. Except Maddox started taking these little lunches or dinners together as too much of a sign, like they were dates. That worried her. Maddox was not handsome, leaning towards chubby and bookish with long shaggy hair he really needed to cut. But Summer wouldn't have cared about that if he wasn't so clingy and needy. She suspected she was the first girl to have ever shown him any sort of attention in his life, and the nineteen-year-old took that as more than what she wanted to give him, the story of a dozen other guys in her life, from junior high to college.

"I'm sorry, I have dinner plans."

"A date?"

She seized on that. "Sort of. He's from my neighborhood. I want to see how it goes."

Seeing Maddox's hurt made her feel a twinge of guilt at that, but she'd been trying to push him gently away for the last couple months. The usual hints like "oh, you're a good friend" weren't landing with him and it was starting to bug her.

"Oh. Well, I hope it goes good," he said.

"Maddox," she said, and sighed inwardly. This had been a long time coming, but she needed to rip this Band-Aid off now. "Listen, you're a sweet guy, but-"

"No, I get it," he said, brusquely.

"But I need to say it anyways. We're not going to date. You're a nice guy and I'm sure there's someone out there for you but it's not me. I hope we can stay friends, but..." She smiled commiseratively and shrugged.

"I get it. I get it, I get it, I get it. Have fun on your date."

With that, he stormed ahead, his short legs churning fast to keep ahead of her. She thought about calling after him, but she could do no more for Maddox.