Muriel plays matchmaker. There's girl-girl, MM, MF and of course incest. Consider yourself warned.
Any errors that remain I managed to slip past LarryInSeattle.
Enjoy. Helpful comments appreciated.
Turbidus
*****
"William, honey come up here and help me with the pizza would you?"
Muriel's request results in a series of hoots and hollers from his siblings.
"William? Uh-oh, somebody's in a heap of trouble," Mark razzes.
"William, be a deah and hep me with these greezzy ole pizza pie boxes," Jill intones in her best southern belle drawl.
"Jill, you making fun of my accent?" Muriel calls down to the pool as Bill makes his way toward the stairs to the deck. "Your momma can still spank you, you know."
"No she won't," Jill retorts. "She knows I might like it."
Meg shakes her head at her daughter. Her father stifles a smile.
"What do you mean, you might like it?" Jim asks, giving her his best lecherous look.
"Ask me later, big boy," she growls.
"If that was supposed to be Mae West, it sucked," Mark tells her, eyes closed and face tilted to the sun.
"Meanie head," Jill pouts. She proceeds to destroy the pretense of irritation by splashing across the pool and jumping in her brother's arms. He hears her coming in time to step away from the wall, preventing her from scraping her knees on the side of the pool. Instinctively, his arms go around her waist.
"What are you doing?"
"Swing me around, like you used to."
"You were like, I don't know, 5 then. You only weighed like 50 pounds. And you weren't naked back then."
"Are you calling me fat?" Before Mark can answer, Jill splashes water in his face. He glares at her. She smiles. He drops to his butt, dunking them both. When they surface, Jill squeals and sputters in delight. Mark's hands are still around her waist. He lets the water cascade over his face. Jill puts her hands on his shoulders and pulls herself close. She kisses her brother quickly on the lips as her legs leave his hips. Her pussy slides over his dick as she stands.
"I want you to know the best part of this weekend, apart from Jim finally manning up enough to stop ignoring me, is knowing you don't dislike me."
There isn't a hint of jest in her voice.
"No, sis. I've never disliked you," Mark tells her. "And I'm happy to know I was wrong about you not liking me." He leans, kisses her softly, and steps back to rest against the side of the pool. From the pool steps he hears his mom sniffling. "See what you did, sis? You made mom cry."
Jill sticks her tongue out at him, her own eyes shining. Jim opens his arms and she settles in against his chest.
On the pools steps, Ben raises one arm and Meg leans in under it to rest her head on his chest.
Mark, momentarily on his own, looks over his shoulder at the house, wondering what Muriel is up to with his brother. He's not worried, not in the least, but he suspects she's up to something.
***
"I was thinking we'd eat down by the pool. The ocean breeze has been keeping the mosquitos inland. It looks to be turning into a beautiful twilight."
"Sounds fine by me," Bill assures her. "As long as stuff doesn't start to blow in the pool."
Muriel nods. "I think we should leave the pizza inside, nothing stops the damn flies. Everyone can grab a paper plate and what they want to drink."
"Floors going to get wet."
Muriel nods at her young friend. "That is a flaw in my plan now, isn't it?" She gives a single jerk of her head. "You're right. The pizza will be in boxes. We'll set 'em out on the table on the deck. We can throw some beer and soda into a cooler and I'll bring down a bottle of wine from my place. I got plenty of plastic cups. We won't have to worry about glass around the pool."
"I'll stick some of our beer in. It's in cans," Bill agrees. "Ours is down by the car. I'll go grab it." He looks around the room. "I thought I left my shorts up here," he mutters to himself.
"Don't worry about it, honey. It'll take Jim a bit to fix up that many pizzas. We're at the end of the road. Unless, you see someone taking a walk, you'll be fine to go down and get the cooler. Shoot, if anyone does see your bare ass they'll probably consider themselves lucky."
Bill shrugs and turns toward the front door. Muriel stops him. "Bill, I keep that freezer chest full of ice. It's locked but the combination is 1,2,3,5. Throw some ice in the cooler would you, honey?"
"No sweat. The first four primes isn't a very safe combination you know," he adds.
"No but it's a very safe neighborhood. And aren't you clever."
Bill shrugs and this time when he turns, Muriel lets him go. She taps her front tooth with one thumbnail. Her timing might be off but in the end she won't let a little thing like that stop her. For the first time in hours she's not worrying about what to do about Mark. She finds that comforting.
***
Owen's car practically knows its own way around Kill Devil Hills. That's good; he's not paying much attention as he drives. He's trying to figure out what the fuck is up with Jim. The fucker knows he needs the money, so why is he telling him to knock off after this delivery? Fine, this customer is great tipper. Big deal, it's a couple hours until they close. Sure it's quiet but a couple more deliveries is another 5-10, hell maybe more, bucks in his pocket.
Owen knows Muriel, sort of. You can't grow up here and not at least know
of
Muriel. She's damn near a legend. He doesn't believe most, if any, of the stories he hears. When she's come into the shop she's a lot nicer than most folks. She's a helluva lot nicer than the occasional tourist that wanders into the pizzeria. Not that any of that matters, none of that puts money in his bank account, which the only thing that matters if he wants to go back to school in the fall.
His mind thus occupied, at first he doesn't notice the naked man leaning over the freezer.
***
Bill doesn't hear the car at first, he's head first in the chest freezer, which, he's discovered is hardly "full" of ice. There is one twenty-pound bag, side ripped open, frozen to the bottom of the freezer. He's prying at the bag, wondering if it would be easier to bust the chunks of ice loose or to pull what's left of the bag free, when he hears the telltale crunch car tires on crushed oyster shell. He considers running for the shelter behind the wood grill that hides the storage area from the street and decides "fuck it". Whoever it is, the pizza guy he imagines, will have already seen his pasty white ass, damn if he'll run like a school girl.
He hears the engine die. The goddamn ice will not budge. He hears a car door open and then close. Footsteps crunch, then grow silent as the walker reaches the concrete slab.
***
Owen takes a moment, making sure he's actually seeing what he's seeing. There's no question about it. A naked man is leaning into a freezer, damn near falling in it. Having confirmed his initial impression, Owen expands his evaluation. It's definitely a dude. He's got a nice ass. The way he's leaning into the freezer exposes his balls. They look to be nice heavy balls. They don't hang very low, so the dude is either cold or he's not that old. What he can see of the guy looks nice enough. In his current position, the dude's muscle definition is hard to assess but Owen sees no evidence that the guy is grossly overweight.
The dude paused for a second when Owen pulled into the driveway. Owen is sure the dude knows there is a car behind him. He considers flashing his lights at the guy but decides against it. This is a very interesting situation. Up until now, he's decided the stories about what happens to pizza delivery guys is just bad porn but now, looking at a naked dude's ass, he wonders if maybe those stories might hold a grain of truth; he can hope so anyway. The sight of a naked dude, damn near upside down in a chest freezer, might not seem all that extraordinary to some, but to Owen the sight is most definitely not part of the expected chaos of life on the Outer Banks during the summer season.
He gets out of the car. The dude doesn't move. Owen is sure the guy isn't dead; he'd seen him move. Maybe he's afraid it's a cop behind him or maybe he's frozen in shame. He smiles to himself. That's pretty good, frozen in shame.
"Dude, you okay? You like stuck or something? You didn't put your tongue on the side of the freezer on a triple dog dare did you?"
***
Triple dog dare? At least the interloper had good taste in movies.
"Nah, can't get this fucking ice free. It looks like it's been in here since Muriel bought the place," Bill replies without looking up. "You the pizza dude, bro?"
"That'd be me," Owen replies, looking over Bill's shoulder, trying to see his face. "You want a screwdriver or something to bust it up with?"
"Fuck yeah. Should have thought of that. There's probably one back there, in one of the drawers. You mind looking?"
"No need. I got one in my trunk. Be right back."
Bill hears nothing for a second then the sound of footsteps on crushed shell. He straightens. There is no point he can see in continuing to pry and jerk at the block of ice taunting him from the bottom of the freezer. Besides, he wants to get a look at the pizza dude. He turns and rests his butt against the side of the freezer. The cold air on his back feels strangely hot.
The pizza dude is about his height and thin. He's blonde, hair short on the sides with a top-knot. Normally, Bill would have scoffed at the top-knot. He had a visceral distrust of hipsters but this guy didn't carry himself like a hipster. For one thing he wasn't wearing a tee shirt bearing the name of some unheard of indie rock douches. Nope, the tee shirt was adorned with the cover from Pink Floyd's
"Dark Side of the Moon".