Castillo. Day seven. Monday.
It's been a full week since I returned to my home town. In that time, my life has completely and perhaps irremediably been altered by my father's will. I used to hate this city - now, I can't see my life without it. It's all thanks to a little ring I inherited from my father.
So many women. So much love. So much sex! It started with mom's friend from the other town, Dolores, and a wonderful blowjob. Pauline Walker, next door neighbor - I spent time with her twice, getting to know her and her troubles with her husband Jeff. My former high school teacher, Alice Welsh, with whom I spent quality time, sharing her with her husband as their passion rekindled. Olivia Carson, former schoolmate, with whom I've become quite intimate, to the point of having a threesome with her and another girl, Milly Flint, waitress at a local restaurant - both these girls are looking for what they want to do with their lives. Then there's sweet librarian Mary Winston, a wonderful feminine package that I've got working on my father's request from his will - finding his estranged daughter, Jessie. There's even been beautiful sex with a local realtor, Sally O'Malley, with whom I've struck an unusual real estate deal. I've also entertained a business transaction with local restaurant and bar owner Lulu Bowler; I've loaned my services out to her in exchange for money. Nothing sexual has come of it so far.
That money was going to be invested in taking care of my mom, now a widow (not that she still lived with my father as they were divorced a long time ago), living alone. I'm now partially rethinking the management of those funds, in light of broader plans (those I sealed with the realtor).
And I shouldn't fail to mention the increased intimacy with both of my sisters, the eldest Stacey and the youngest Heather, who clearly have a form of sexual fascination with me, like most of the women in my life. Things got pretty heated with Stacey on Sunday, and though I am glad she's no longer around to tempt me, I do miss her presence in our home.
My waking mind wanders to a thought: I spent the entire day yesterday without the ring, and it had no effect - nothing changed. Mary, Stacey, the realtor - they were all swayed by me in the exact same way. So either it's not the ring, or its effect on me has already become permanent. There's no way to tell.
I rise and hurry to the shower, wash, dry, get dressed and then head down to the kitchen. Mom is there, cooking breakfast; Heather is still in bed. I suspect she's still a late sleeper, and only woke up early because she was sharing the room with Stacey.
I walk up behind mom, slaving over the stove, building a small tower of pancakes. I wrap my arms around her; she nudges against me and we embrace. Today, she's not going to work because of me supporting her. As far as I'm concerned, she doesn't have to go back if she doesn't want to. We hug silently still for a moment, then I pull away.
"Mom, can I still have the car for the day?"
"Of course, dear," she replies. "What do you want it for?"
"Taking a short trip out-of-town."
She carries on cooking.
"I have a list of groceries I'd like picked up. Could you do it?"
"So long as you don't need them early. I don't expect to be back until supper."
"That's fine."
I grab a few pancakes, disrupting the perfect tower beside my mom. She gives me a fake scolding glance; I laugh as I sit down to eat.
"I miss your sister already," mom says.
"I know. Me too."
How I miss her indeed; the touch of her skin, her hand on my shaft - I push these thoughts away to consider something else.
"Mom, I need to ask a very blunt question. A few, maybe."
She removes the pancake from the pan, lowers the flame, then turns to me, at full attention.
"This house we have... how much are you attached to it?"
"Grant, dear... it's... the home where you were born - where you grew up. It carries all these memories with it."
I was afraid she might see it like that; I can't fault her. I have my own memories connected to this place. Some older, some more recent.
"Why do you ask?" she inquires.
"No reason."
I don't feel confident asking her to put out a second mortgage on this place so we can move to my new future beachfront residence with some capital to start. If she sold it, it would mean less hassle than with a loan, but if she doesn't want to leave, I would never force her. Still, mom's house could serve as the starting capital for my project. It's a difficult quandary.
Mom moves closer to me, placing her hand on my shoulder.
"What's eating you, son?"
"Just... thinking of my future in town. I love living here but..."
"You'd also like your own place. I understand."
My hand reaches for hers; I pull her in against me, my head resting against her soft breasts. She caresses my hair.
"I'll never abandon you, mom. I'm... I'm just thinking about options right now. Covering all bases, if you will."
"I know you'll find something that works for you."
She lifts up my chin; her smile is reassuring.
"You have your dad's stare," she states.
"I do?"
"Yes. Intense and profound - always thinking. It's one of the things that drew me to him in the first place. I see so much of him in you, now."
You have no idea, I consider.
"Thank you, mom."
I smile. She leans in and gives me a peck on the forehead. I squeeze my head hard against her chest. This makes her giggle, then we let each other go. I turn back to my pancakes as mom returns to her stove work; I catch myself staring at her figure a tad longer than before, but I quickly turn to my meal and swallow everything.
"Tell Heather I said hi," I tell my mom.
"Be safe on the road."
"I will be."
I go back to offer mom another hug, from the side this time. She leans her own head against my chest and I kiss it - then, I'm out the door, keys in hand. I don't bother checking my messages (which I'm sure there are, Mary, Olivia, Milly, who else!) I'll do it when I get to my destination, an hour's drive from here.
THE RIDE IS BORING. One hour alone in the car, for a man who doesn't really like to drive. But the destination will be worth it. Dolores is not expecting me - not that it matters. I know her schedule, or at least I remember it and I don't think it's changed that much. Monday morning, 9:30am, she should be home. And if she's not, I can always give her a call and find out where she's at.
There's also my local side project, but I am keeping that for the afternoon.
With only the radio to keep me company, my mind has plenty of time to wander, and wonder. The miracle of newfound powers of persuasion (which has led me to some rather incredible sexual activity) remains intact. An ornate ring, given by my father, seemingly grants me the ability to charm people to my way of thinking, and to make me somewhat irresistible to people attracted to me (women so far, and I'm not tempted to try it on men, simply because I have no inclination towards homosexuality myself). Mary Winston is on it, but I'm doubtful she'll find anything. For all we know, the ring is centuries old and no one knows its origins. My father inherited it from his father - but I know nothing before that. Mary thinks that there may be records in the court offices to track the inheritance. Who knows? It's clear the answers will be difficult - if not impossible - to get.
But there is another mystery that's connected to it, and I'm hoping Dolores will be able to grant me some insights into it. I do not dare ask mom - she's already opened up enough about her past to me to make me rethink my stance on my dad. I suspect his absence in our lives had much more to do with the presence of the ring than any desire not to see us. In fact, he and my mom were still somewhat close despite not telling us. But the mystery of my father is one I can pierce - if I ask the right questions to the right people.
Dolores is one of those. I think of her because, for one, I know that she slept with my father way back when (the picture in my dad's collection tells the story). She lives far enough from Castillo that I don't fear word of my visit spilling outside of her immediate neighborhood, if even that. She's been my mother's friend for a long time, so I feel she wouldn't compromise my mother's happiness for anything.
Frankly, she seems the best person to help me understand my father's life and mind.
I pull into Dolores' street and drive down slowly, taking in the neighborhood. A quiet place, potentially nosy neighbors. Not that I really care, but a part of me reminds me to be cautious. I pull into the driveway and exit the vehicle, walking slowly to the door. I knock. A moment later, the door opens. Dolores is standing there, wearing a flowery dress just at mid-thighs with tight straps, a low balcony that shows ample cleavage. Her smile widens as she acknowledges my presence.
"Grant. Hi!"
"Dolores. May I come in?"
"Of course, dear, of course!"
I notice the twinkle of desire in her eyes from the moment I move into the home, but she plays it cool, closing the door gently, smiling.
"Come in. Want something to drink?"
"I'm not disturbing, am I?"
"Nonsense. I was just... doing chores."
For a woman in her forties, she remainsquite stunning.
"Had I known you'd been coming, I'd have made myself presentable!" she says.
"You are quite lovely as you are, Dolores. Thank you. I will have some water. Or wine."
We move into the kitchen. I watch her get the glasses, then the bottle from the fridge. She pours them, brings one over to me, takes one for herself. I raise my glass.
"To new experiences."
