Freeing Kirsty Ch. 06

Hurrying through elementary ablution in the all white and stainless steel bathroom, the only coloring being the hated (loathed by Sam) pink towels and a painting of a lonely surfer in Hawaii riding a moderate-sized wave that seemed to stretch forever (loathed by Bess).

Saluting the surfer – the epitome of grace, balance and power – Sam winked at the painted figure and went downstairs to join Merrick whom he considered was a live version of that figure in the painting. The noise Sam had heard minutes before was Merrick lightly toasting two slices of bread and squeezing a lemon into water to consume before going for a run.

"May I join you?" Sam yawned.

"Yeah," responded the surprised younger man. "Welcome aboard the fitness bus. You better a least grab an apple or a handful of something."

Dressed similarly in shorts, aged polo shirt, socks and sneakers and a cap, the two men jogged away slowly but as they warmed up the pace quickened somewhat. After a couple of miles Sam was red-faced, sweating and breathing very heavily.

Merrick was waved on, but instead he circled back.

"All right, mate?"

"Yeah, just haven't done this pavement pounding for sometime – like some years."

"You'll be right, just stand feet apart and lean over nice and loose with your hands resting lightly on your knees."

It seemed less than a minute and Sam was breathing much easier.

"I'll stay back with you; we can walk and mix in just a few short lengths of easy jogging."

With a grin, Sam said, "Fuck off; I want to be alone now. With my mind clearing I've got some thinking to do."

Startled, Merrick realized that Sam simply wanted Merrick to have a good workout. So he slapped Sam lightly on his no longer heaving back and continued on with a cheerful salute.

Walking on at a brisk pace, Sam's thoughts returned to Bess. For some time he'd been aware of Bess's largely concealed irritation. Rarely did she harbor hostility towards anyone, Sam assuming he was the focus. But no; when he finally tackled Bess about it one night hen she had been tossing and turning, he found the problem was this guy Merrick. Bess thought she was too old for Kirsty and said that anyway she would rather their daughter married an American, preferably someone her own age and with wealthy and socially prominent parents.

"Oh yeah, and preferably white skinned, well educated and who is a hit with his prospective mother-in-law's friends," Sam had said sarcastically.

Surprisingly, Bess had turned to him, and stroking the side of his face said, "Yes, oh you do understand. This pleases me greatly."

Sam didn't understand at all. Kirsty was twenty-five for Christ's sake. If she couldn't pick someone suitable at that age she deserved what she got. Smiling at him Bess had asked him to join her to work on Kirsty to get her "to ditch this totally unsuitable man."

"What's unsuitable about him?" queried Sam, alarmed. "Kirsty has picked him and says she'd deliriously happy."

"She'd lost her mind in passion," snapped Bess, pulling her hand away. Facial caressing was over – claws were now out.

They had a big row.

Sam accused her of interfering and being a snob.

"He's a New Zealander."

"I've met many bloody good Kiwis in my time – give him a chance. He'll probably amaze you. You're a snob."

Bess had run off with her beloved pillow crying, heading for the spare bedroom.

"Christ, women!" Sam had shouted, sending her on her way.

Early next morning he'd gone to the markets and returned with flowers and her favorite tiny loaf of dark and allegedly organic bread, allegedly organic butter and allegedly organic honey. Those gypsy-type folk taking his extra money for organic certified produce must be laughing their butts off, thought Sam grumpily. Anyway, where were the certificates? There were none in sight! What a fucking rip-off!

"Oh darling, flowers – and look my organic favorites," Bess had cooed, after an excellent sleep. She always slept well in the spare room free from Sam's snoring.

A great meal was consumed that evening in a restaurant and when Sam entered the house after putting out the refuse for collection early next morning, he followed the line of Bess' discarded clothes up the stairs, patting down his hair and thinking, "I've got something very organic for you, baby."

Afterwards, with Bess lightly snoring herself into sleep he suggested they should row more often, pleased with such a profound thought, but got no reply. Bess, who was six years his junior, half a head shorter and who now weighed more than he did, was already asleep. She was hunched up and breathing like a much older woman.

"Why do women let themselves go when the kids leave home or when they hit fifty," Sam wondered aloud.

"What's that dear?" Bess mumbled.

Sam froze, but was not asked to repeat himself. The snoring resumed.

The routine was familiar. She'd wake up in the morning complaining of a dry throat – through drinking too much wine and sleeping with her mouth open – and complaining about a recurrence of her old back injury because they'd been too active in bed. Younger women began coming into Sam's life when he went away on golfing trips with buddies. He was very aware that some men strayed, some more than others, but he'd not felt the need for it, aware that it can lead to major trouble downstream.

The breaching of his marital fidelity happened ... well, it just happened; not at all like that way authors invent acts of naughtiness and indiscretion. He and Bess had been due to go out with Ray and Honey Killup on their boat – Honey was in the crowd of women Bess hung out with and Sam rather liked her and Ray from joint outings with the gang and their partners.

The previous night to the boat outing, Bess had received a phone call to fill in for someone at a promotional event. So she told Sam to go without her; he readily agreed as he enjoyed boating, and Bess phoned Honey to explain. As she did so Sam lounged back in his chair wondering if Honey would wear her two-piece swimsuit on the boat or that slippery black one-piece that looked glued to her still quite shapely body.

That's exactly how an author might write about this upcoming sizzling set-up.

But when Sam boarded the boat Honey came up and kissed him wearing a white polo shirt – it was so voluminous it must be Ray's – and baggy white shorts.

"Join Ray up top – I'm going into the saloon to help Belinda with the food."

Sam did as instructed. He wondered about the boring day Belinda would have without being accompanied by her husband. She was a nice kid, only twenty-two, and lacking real curves like her mother.

As usually, they found a quite spot to anchor for lunch.

After a drink of sparkling wine Ray pulled out another bottle from the fridge and followed Honey down the companionway, smacking her on the butt as she went. She giggled. Sam had an idea that they would not be lunching for quite a while.

"We're going for a rest," Ray said to Sam straight faced. "Lunch in an hour, eh?"

Belinda still looked a bit glum.

"What's up, love?" Sam asked: You haven't looked yourself today."

She burst into tears and held out her arms. Sam hurried to her side and began patting her back.

"I'm so unhappy. Tom is playing around."

"Oh Christ."

"Exactly," said Belinda, mascara running. "May I play around with you?"

And there it was; a simple, direct question.

Actually, at first Sam had no idea what she was talking about. All he'd been thinking was how to extricate himself and go outside for a discrete pee over the side and he didn't want to go down below to the head (toilet) and disturb Ray and Honey.

Yes, seemed to be a logical reply to her question, and that would lead to enlightenment.

"Oh, I've always fancied you Sam. I like your square shoulders and the way your muscles ripple across your chest."

That surprised Sam, and he wasn't aware that his chest muscles could be seen underneath the fat he'd piled on a bit over the years. But he was aware that both Ray and Tom were rather lean.

Sam felt foolish, so acted foolish – puffing out his chest at Belinda.

"Oh God," she said, dropping her unbreakable flute to the ground and dropping her head on to Sam's chest, her fingers working to unfasten his shorts.

By now Sam was aware how she wanted to address her happiness – though sex with another man and he was the only man handy, it seemed. For an instant he had a moral poser – does one fuck the married daughter of one of his best friends? Well, the poor girl certainly needed cheering up.

Belinda was good, very good in fact. She had Sam's shorts open and her hand in charge before he'd managed to resolve his dilemma. His resolve simply crumbled.

Later they heard movement below and Honey appeared.

"We've hungry – need a snack," she said. "You look much happier, love."

Belinda rose and went over to whisper something to her mother.

"Good God," gasped Honey. She then looked over Belinda's shoulder at Sam – right at his crutch, he thought. She then gave Sam a huge wink.

"Look," Honey said to Belinda. "Help me load a tray and Ray and I will lunch down below and remain down there for the next couple of hours to allow you two to have some fun. Since you both have decided to commit adultery you may as well get yourselves legless."

Later Ray appeared, having made considerable noise before climbing up to the saloon. He looked thoughtfully at them, indicating no hostility.

"I'm going topside to get us underway. Honey is taking a nap. So for the next couple of hours you two have this area to yourselves. Enjoy. Glad to see you looking so happy again, darling. These have been two grueling weeks for us all.

With that, Ray was gone.

Sam shook his head, remembering that day. Tom and Belinda got right back together again, with Belinda now expecting her second child.

Sam was surprised that Merrick was not adverse to the suggestion of double dating. The New Zealander didn't appear to be obviously promiscuous, but this suggested otherwise. Kirsty might take it hard if she found out, but then again Kirsty was not your ordinary female who had wanted to settle down early and raise kids. She'd thrown it about quite a bit, apparently, and then there was this mysterious guy in New York who appeared to treat her like a high-class prostitute – though he'd never suggest that to Bess. Christ, paint would flake from the ceiling with her wailing if he made that revelation and then the dishes would fly.

On Sunday evening Sam and Merrick arrived at a tidy ground floor apartment, only one block back from the beach. Crystal headed a public affairs team at a huge law firm and Merrick was told that her sister Coral was partly qualified in law.

Crystal was an occasional companion, Sam had said – someone to take out and have fun with. Another even young woman was Kate, who at present was touring in Europe.

When the door opened Sam held the older woman possessively around the wait and made the introductions. He and Crystal watched Coral shake hands with Sam but their exchange of greeting gave little away.

"Well ladies," said Sam. "Do we eat locally or head downtown?"

"Locally," Crystal said. "Let's walk around the corner to the fish restaurant. Mike is expecting us and promises to wow us."

After a beautiful meal, Sam and Crystal said they were heading back to watch some TV. Coral said she'd eaten too much and wanted to walk, with Merrick saying he would accompany her.

Sam watched them walk off, Coral reaching for Merrick's hand. With Merrick involved even at that minor level it was unlikely that he would be indiscreet at home.

* * *

Merrick was finding his prospective in-laws a rather mismatch, at least that's what it appeared to him. The dressy and articulate Bess was defensive and a snob whereas Sam was open, very charming and friendly with quite a rough edge. Sam was impressive; here he was advancing into old age (early sixties seemed old to Merrick) but was not closing the door on his long accustomed ways without almost full-throttle immersion into the activities closest to his heart – his beloved golf, boating and, it seemed, sex.

He went to the gym regularly, now appeared to have resumed jogging, and he also played senior tennis – originally he joined with Bess, but within the year she'd pulled out, saying it was too exerting for her. Bess freely admitted that she'd readily picked up the label 'senior' whereas Sam was not at all happy to be dubbed that title.

As they had driven up to Crystal's apartment, Merrick almost had second thoughts. Perhaps by double dating Sam also meant being together in bed with the sisters. He'd wished that thought had occurred to him earlier. Perhaps another reminder would not go amiss.

"Sam, I'm not interested in having it off should the opportunity arise – understand?"

"Sure, sure, my boy; let's just enjoy ourselves, huh?"

As Sam rang the door bell Merrick saw him suck his belly in, not that there was a great deal of flab there. Sam was in good shape, excellent shape really for an old man.

As soon as the door opened Merrick's eyes widened, but he said nothing, and simply smiled at the two women.

The fish soup, entrée of scallops followed by a huge platter loaded with hot and cold varies of fish served only with side dishes of tomatoes and greens that looked something like water cress, looked superb, and tasted like true gourmet food. He gorged.

Not unexpectedly, after that sumptuous feast and drinking a sharp, dry Californian white wine in reasonable quantities, when Coral took his hand Merrick felt an electrical charge leap between them and it seemed to earth somewhere in his groin.

Oops, he thought. Tighten your resolve, my boy; no need to weaken simply because you've been quaffing wine.

They walked a long way along a board walk and then went down on to the beach. They took off they shoes and socks and walked back along the water line, chatting easily.

Then Merrick said, "Does Sam know that you are mother and daughter?"

There was no sudden change in hand pressure to signal Coral's surprise. But her gasp told him all. The distant blended roar of road traffic and jet aircraft was punctuated by a small fish jumping just out from where they walked. Merrick waited for a response. Being a woman she'd be unable to endure his silence.

"Are you going to tell him?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"It's no business of mine."

"How did you guess?"

"Sam had told me you were Chrystal's kid sister. When I saw you both standing there I immediately thought there were sixteen or seventeen years between you. I them imagined you both with the same color and shape of hair style and came to my conclusion. During dinner I confirmed it by covertly studying your profiles and then began to see unmistakable similarities in mannerisms."

"Such as?"

"You both sweep your hair back with an identical gesture. You both are left-handed. When you smile hard enough to grin both of you have a slightly lopsided drop at the left corner to your mouth. Then I considered the fact that you're a good three inches taller than Crystal. A height different like that does occur between sisters, but I feel it is more likely to occur between mother and daughter."

"Goodness – who are you? I was aware, of course, that we are both left-handed, but was not aware of the hair swishing and lop-sided mouth drop as you so pragmatically call it. Why hasn't Sam picked up on this?"

"I really couldn't say – perhaps blinded by lust. The blonde coloring of your hair would also be a sufficient differential to satisfy most men. I am a photographer – I study faces, poses and work to bring out key points of physical character if I can."

"So, you won't tell him?"

"Certainly not."

"Thank you. Perhaps we should find somewhere quiet where I can reward you."

"I don't need rewarding."

"Don't you. Then what's this?"

Merrick jumped as she clutched at his groin, giving his swelling a friendly squeeze.

"You took a risk," he grinned.

"That comes from experience."

"But you're only twenty-one," he teased.

"Nineteen, actually."

"Oh my God," he said, pulling away from her grip.

"What's the matter?"

"You're young enough to be my daughter."

"So?"

"You're incorrigible."

Coral began stroking his upper arm, increasing the pace. She invited him to sit down on the steps. Merrick did so, warily.

Dropping to her knees, she attempted to open his zip.

Gently Merrick imprisoned her hands in his, preventing her fingers from progressing any further.

"Why," she groaned, trying to wriggle free.

"Because."

"What sort of answer is that?"

Merrick told her he was about to get married and felt that he was promised. He freed her hands.

Coral stood up, brushing sand off her knees. She pouted prettily.

Merrick reached out his left hand to walk away with her.

She grasped it and with her momentum spun herself around his hand to fall against his chest. "Massage my nipples," she whispered.

Merrick obeyed, finding that although she wasn't abundant in breast flesh she had firm rises supporting now very hard nipples.

Working his fingers in soft concentric circles under the cover of her multi-floral V-neck top he told her it felt good.

"Mmmm," was all she said, trying to slip to the ground and taking him with her. He resisted. She moaned and passively allowed him to stand her back on to her feet.

They walked on slowly, hand in hand. Making lots of noise they entered the apartment, finding Crystal and Sam lolling back in armchairs sipping coffee, both having the appearance of being freshly showered.

Sam and Merrick left an hour later, both women kissing them lightly.

As they drove off Sam said, "How did you go?"

"I had a lovely time, but kept my zip done up if that was what this is about."

"Well, I'm sorry for you buddy. I got two great ones away."

Merrick asked, "Have you and the sister every considered a threesome?"

"No, she comes in sometimes and watches, which really excites both of us. But then she'd gone."

"You've got to take your opportunities, Merrick," Sam said seriously. "You won't be able to pop that gun of yours forever."

"I'll keep that in mind, Sam," Merrick said dryly. "Thanks for the advice."

Sam chuckled, a looked please.

Within the hour Merrick was in bed bringing Kirsty to a climax.

"Jesus," she said, rolling away right over to her side of the bed. "Get a towel please – we're flooded. Obviously you weren't a naughty boy tonight. Mum thinks dad is having it off with some bitch. What were you two up to tonight?"

Merrick was already in the bathroom getting a towel. He pretended not to have heard, and almost got away with it. As he dried the bed Kirsty said, "Well?"

"What, you want to go again?"

"No, you fool. What were you two doing tonight?"

"We had a great fish meal, plenty of drinks and just jawed. We're beginning to really bond."

"Oh darling – that's wonderful. I never thought you would have any trouble being accepted by daddy. Mum's the nigger in the woodpile."

"I thought the word nigger was a derogatory word."

"It is, but that's an old saying I learned from my grandma. She told me that mum had a Little Black Sambo doll when she was young but the church minister made grandma destroy it."

"What a pity – actually I remember hearing that story of Little Black Sambo when I was a kid. It was so quaint that I loved it"

"Well, obviously you did – but the conversation is really about mother dear. You've made headway, but you're still not there."

"Perhaps I never will be, darling. But at least I will try for your sake. Her problem, as I see it, is that she's learned to be difficult. That makes her a hard person to roll."

Kirsty looked at Merrick curiously.

"How do all of these things get into your mind?"