Matched Pairs Ch. 06-08

Author's note: this story was originally written in eight chapters. I later reorganized it into seven. It's the same text as the original, just in one fewer chapters. I neglected to change the title of the submission to reflect the change, so it's a little misleading in that regard. Sorry for the confusion.

Please enjoy the two concluding chapters, 6&7.

AW

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CHAPTER 6

Pat and Maggie were finished shopping at Blue Mountain Lake. Pat had been strangely quiet. It wasn't like her. She was usually chattering away. It wasn't sullenness or bad humor. She wasn't giving Maggie a cold shoulder; she was pleasant enough when spoken to. She seemed too preoccupied to share whatever was going on in her mind.

Maggie accredited it to their leaving for home the next day. Maybe she was mulling over what had gone on the day before as she accosted Fred while they were swimming. Pat was usually a bundle of energy. Maggie thought that she might have used it all up for a while.

"Let's have some lunch at the restaurant where we ate the other night," Maggie suggested. Pat nodded and soon they were seated at a table at a window overlooking the lake. They gazed out at the peaceful water, the sun shimmering off of it. Pat was still quiet. Her eyes hinted of thoughts that were as deep as the lake, itself.

Maggie took an unusual role of leading the conversation. "It's been a nice vacation. Things turned out pretty well."

Pat didn't look away from the view of the lake. "Oh, yes. It's been better than I had even hoped for. It's gone so fast! It seems that we just got here." She continued looking out the window. "I hope that you're still not mad about my little game with Fred yesterday afternoon," she added.

"I never was—just worried." Maggie replied. "We set it up together with all our play-acting, the bikinis and everything. It was just moving so fast. Things like that can get out of control."

"It was fun, though," Pat grinned, turning her head to face her friend. She seemed to feel relief at having been forgiven. "I wouldn't have gone all the way with it...at least not without permission." She said the last part as a joke and laughed, but the words hung in the air. Maggie laughed, too. She wondered if she was laughing at the idea or to be polite.

They ordered their food with a glass of wine and chatted about the events of the trip. They laughed over the episode with the store-bought catch of Smallmouth Bass and how they knew that Fred was ogling them as they boated around the lake that first day. It had all been great fun, and it opened the way to do more things together after they returned home.

They were nearly done with their sandwich plates. Pat was quiet again for a moment and then spoke again.

"Charlie and I watched you and Fred in the lake last night." Her voice was soft and low. She paused a moment to wait for a reaction from her friend. Maggie blushed, but otherwise sat motionless. "It was beautiful. It was one of the most beautiful things that I have ever seen," Pat told her.

"We didn't know that you were watching us. It just happened," Maggie said. "We didn't think that anyone could see us."

"We were wondering why you hadn't come in and Charlie went to the doorway to make sure that everything was alright. I joined him when he didn't come back right away. I arrived as Fred was helping you out of your bra," Pat explained. "We should have gone back to bed, but we couldn't; it was mesmerizing."

"We went quite a few yards out in the lake. I'm sure that you couldn't see much after that," Maggie answered, hopefully.

"Actually, we did. The moon was bright and you two were silhouetted against the blackness of the water. The cabin is elevated on a little knoll, so it's like being in a stadium."

"I'm so embarrassed!"

"Don't be!" Pat said. "Like I said, it was beautiful. Don't tell me I've ruined it for you. I'll be sorry that I brought it up."

"Nothing could ruin it," Maggie confided. "It was unbelievable. Everything just came together the right way. It may never happen again." Maggie was no longer blushing. She refused to be embarrassed. "Just don't mention that you saw us to Fred."

Their waiter appeared to ask if they wanted dessert. Maggie hesitated. She was unused to a big meal in the middle of the day.

"Let's have some!" Pat insisted. "It's our last day. We'll have some ice cream. I'll have strawberry. She'll have chocolate," she said to the waiter.

Maggie hadn't forgotten the ice cream comparison Pat had made about Fred and Charlie. Pat noticed the furrows on her brow.

"It's in honor of the boys," Pat assuaged her. "We've put them through their paces this week. They deserve a salute."

"It was good for them," Maggie put in whimsically, sounding half-convinced.

The ice cream arrived in glass, fluted cups on little pedestals. There were spoons with small business ends and long handles.

Pat put a little of her strawberry ice cream on her spoon and raised it slowly to her lips. Rather than insert the spoon in her mouth the usual way, she sensuously pursed her lips to capture it, tenderly sucking the ice cream into her mouth. Then, she pushed the tip of her tongue between her lips to clean the remaining drops from the spoon.

"Mmmm, tastes good!" she purred. "It tastes like Charlie; sweet, thick and creamy. The taste just lingers. It's delicious."

Maggie watched Pat. She knew that the display was about more than ice cream. She thought back to their earlier discussion about them watching Fred and her make love in the water. She was sure that Pat was reminding her that Charlie was also skillful at pleasing a woman.

It was true. Maggie remembered her good days with Charlie and her delights in their bed. He was such patient and thoughtful lover. He had an innate sense of how the parts of a woman's body merged with her feelings, and he knew how to time the stroking of each to mix them just right.

Maggie's reverie was broken as Pat placed her hand gently on top of hers. She reached slowly across the table with the long-handled spoon. Pat sunk it into Maggie's dish and lifted a generous mouthful.

"I'd like to taste the chocolate," she declared in a husky whisper, quietly, forcefully, piercing Maggie's eyes with her own. She slowly brought the ice cream to her mouth, fellating it off the spoon as she had done to the strawberry ice cream moments ago.

Maggie's brow oozed tiny beads of perspiration, and she trembled involuntarily. Pat's sensuous fingers caressed the top of Maggie's hand. They were meant to calm her, but had the opposite effect.

"The chocolate is delicious," Pat purred. "A strong, robust flavor overpowering the palette; not lingering on the tongue, but creating the desire for more."

Maggie sat frozen, feeling Pat's fingers gently stroking her hand, unable to speak or react.

"They're both so good. It's hard to choose," Pat went on. "Why should we have to choose?" she asked. "Why can't we enjoy both flavors once in a while?"

Maggie was shaking again. Pat's allusion was surely plain. The libertine attitude of the past week fought to take her over. It was winning. She fought back; it was against all convention.

"Of course, I would normally choose strawberry," Pat interjected in a soothing voice. "Strawberry is my favorite. I just like a taste of chocolate once every now and then."

Maggie's breathing became faster and more shallow. A rumbling started in her belly and a dampness began invading her panties. It all appeared so naughty, and sensual, daring—and delicious. Husbands on loan; what was the harm if all agreed? It could be a secret shared intimately by the four of them. She was aware that they had flirted with the possibility ever since they spoke of it at Pat's house. Then, it was just an exciting fantasy. It was so risky, and Maggie wondered if it was right or wrong.

"Would you like to try some of my strawberry?" Pat asked seductively and continued stroking her hand. She parted her lips and her tongue traveled out of her mouth like a lush sponge to wet them.

Pat pushed the dish of strawberry ice cream a few inches closer to Maggie. Her mind's eye fixed on the melting dessert. It was like staring at Charlie—nude, hard—preparing to transport her body to his private corner of nirvana.

"Go ahead, try a taste," Pat whispered softly and nudged the dish a half inch closer.

Maggie looked at her free hand and realized the long-handled spoon was already in her fingers. The taste of her chocolate ice cream had just left her tongue; the memory was already beckoning her back. Surely she wouldn't abandon the chocolate. Could she put it off a while and just taste the sweet strawberry?

Maggie's hand slowly crept forward through the space that separated her from Pat. The energy of her trembling hand transferred down the long handle of the spoon, to the end of it, so that it fluttered like an aspen leaf in a gale. Slowly, she pushed the spoon forward, holding her breath, fighting through the gusts of her conscience screaming to pull her arm back.

With a final thrust, she dug the spoon into the pink, melting mass and scooped a dollop, returning it quickly to her mouth. She didn't want the chance to reconsider. She swallowed it and released her breath.

It was agreed.

She glanced up searchingly into Pat's knowing eyes. Maggie looked lost for a moment, then slowly her lips parted and her eyes widened. The two women broke into grins at one another, and in contemplation of the adventure in which they conspired.

"This is so evil!" Maggie whispered.

"It's not evil," Pat countered. "It's just naughty. At our age we've earned the right to be a little naughty. As long as everyone is agreed there's no harm to be done—no one to get pregnant, no one to be hurt. You'll see the men aroused like you've never seen them."

"Have you spoken to Charlie about it?" Maggie asked.

"No. That's the finesse that we'll need to bring this off. They have to think that it was their idea."

The two women went about eating their ice cream before it melted. From time to time they reached across the table to scoop a little of their partner's flavor and then share a secret look and laugh.

"I'm just thinking about what our husbands will think of us," Maggie said.

"What do you think they will?"

"They'll think that we are a couple of sluts."

"Good!" Pat exclaimed. "Men love sluts. They don't have to pretend or be gentile. They love to be with them, as long as they don't have to answer any questions later. It will be perfect for them."

Maggie reached for the check.

"You pay for lunch and I'll buy some wine," Pat offered. "We need to go back to the cabin to make some plans. I have an idea."

**********

Golf in the mountains is as scenic as golf can be. The fairways are carved through the forests. Sunshine is rationed out by the trees to different spots as though by an ancient sundial. The course is moist and lush; alternately warmed and cooled by the granting and reneging of sunlight. Throughout a round, the trees are the golfers' masters, granting favor and condemning errant shots to oblivion. Golf in the desert; golf next to the sea; each has its allure. Only golf in the forest is so mystical.

It is good that the forest imparts such awe and keeps golfers' minds occupied. A round can take some time. Each errant shot finds a jail in the jungle of undergrowth that resides in the wood on either side of each fairway. It was on a crowded course that Charlie and Fred sat in their cart on the fifth fairway, waiting for the four hopeless souls in front of them to emerge from the woods with the realization that their beloved Titleist was long-gone, consigned to the Hades of ferns, vines, fallen timber and decaying leaves.

"I think she's has lost a ball on every fairway," Fred sighed with some impatience. "Maybe she'll run out."

"No such luck," Charlie corrected. "She's finding more in there than she's losing. At least the others aren't getting theirs off the ground, so they can track them better."

"We can ask them if we can play through at the turn," Fred suggested. "You must have eyes like a hawk. How can you see that she's finding lost balls in there?"

"Far-sighted," Charlie replied. "Sometimes it's a blessing, other times a curse."

"What do mean?" Fred asked.

"Like just now when I could see them picking up stray golf balls in the woods," Charlie explained.

"I meant the curse part," Fred clarified.

"I won't beat around the bush," Charlie confessed. "Pat and I were watching you and Maggie last night. You know—while you were in the water."

Fred nodded, but said nothing.

"At first, I just got up looking for you to see if everything was alright. You were down there for a long time. I saw you and Maggie kissing and I was about to go back inside when Pat showed up. I tried to nudge her to come back in, but she wouldn't move. She was riveted in place. I tried to go back by myself, but she clamped a death-grip on my arm. I was afraid of making too much noise. I didn't want to disturb you."

Fred shrugged. "What's done is done. I believe your story. I can imagine Pat getting like that. When she gets aroused she has a one-track mind. Just don't tell Maggie about it. She's more self-conscious."

"I won't," promised Charlie. "I wouldn't want to bet the farm that Pat isn't telling Maggie about it right now."

"I would bet it that she is."

"That's what I was avoiding saying," Charlie said. "You can't believe how turned on she got watching you two out in the water."

"What's gotten into these women of ours, anyway?" wondered Fred.

"They're just enjoying themselves. They're old enough to know all the ins and outs of sex and still have bodies that can make things happen. It's a comfortable and convenient situation for them," Charlie said.

"They sure have been putting us to the test!"

"It's all part of their fun," Charlie explained.

"What if we put them to the test, Charlie? What do you think they'd do?"

"I bet they'd come running back to 'papa' as fast as their bikini-clad bottoms would carry them," Charlie answered.

"I think that I'd like to take you up on that bet," Fred challenged back.

"It could get out of hand if I'm wrong," Charlie warned.

"Then it does!" Fred declared. "We'll just say 'sorry, thanks, and no harm done' in the morning."

"You could live with that?" Charlie asked.

"I think so!" Fred answered. "What about you?"

"The only stipulation is that both women have to agree. If one says 'stop', whichever that is, then the game is over," Charlie answered.

"Agreed!" Fred exclaimed. "I have a little plan for this, but it will have to wait. The foursome ahead is clearing the green. I'll fill you in while we're waiting on the next tee."

**************

Fred and Charlie returned to the cabin at five-thirty from their round of golf. Their faces were sunburned and their shirts had salt lines from dried perspiration. Besides themselves, they carried in three bottles of white wine. Charlie promptly deposited two of them in the refrigerator and the other in the freezer to chill it faster.

"We brought you girls a little present," Fred explained as the women watched Charlie at the refrigerator. "We thought that you might want to have a last-night-in-the-cabin party."

"And how was your little round of golf?" Maggie asked. Her voice sounded strange.

"I see that you've already started the party without us." Fred spied the half-empty bottle of wine on the table sitting between the two women and an empty placed off to the side.

"We knew that you boys would want to party, so we decided to plan it." Pat sounded slightly woozy. "Every party needs a plan."

"It sure does!" Charlie agreed. "Right now I think that we better plan to prepare some food to absorb some of that wine in your system."

"Charlie," Pat sighed lazily, "you're such a mother hen. Do as you please! Come along, Maggie."

The two women, clad in shorts and tank tops disappeared behind the closed doors of their respective bedrooms.

"Let them sober up a little. We'll start the grill. There will be plenty of time for partying later," Fred advised. "I wouldn't mind a last swim in the lake to wash off some of this grime from the golf course

"I could go for that," Charlie agreed.

"The trouble is," Fred called out in a louder voice, "Pat and Maggie are locked in the bedrooms where our suits are and we can't get at them."

Fred and Charlie looked at each other expectantly for several long seconds. Slowly, the door to Fred and Maggie's bedroom opened wide enough for a hand and arm to emerge from the darkness. Dangling from the hand were Fred's swimming trunks and a towel. The hand flipped up and lobbed the contents through the air, landing at Fred's feet. Immediately upon completion of the task, the same occurred from the door of Charlie and Pat's room.

"Oh look, Charlie, here are our suits and towels to go with them. What a nice surprise." Fred called out sarcastically.

Charlie joined the game. "You're right, Fred! It would be even nicer if we had tee shirts and our sandals for after we get out of the water."

The two doors simultaneously opened a crack. No faces were seen, but the desired apparel soon was sailing through the air in their direction.

"I think that they want to be left alone," Fred chuckled as he and Charlie changed into their suits. They went outside to start the fire in the grill.

"What do you think that this does to our plans for later?" Charlie asked.

"Nothing," Fred said. "They'll have a little recovery time, and then come out. After a while, they'll start drinking again. They'll be like putty in our hands."

The men started a fire in the charcoal grill. While they waited for the coals to get hot they went for a swim. They didn't stay out long—just enough to rinse away the day's grime and cool off. By the time they were finished swimming the fire was ready to cook.

There was still no sign of the Pat and Maggie. Fred walked into the cabin. He saw an unopened package of hamburger in the refrigerator and a package of rolls sitting on the counter. He glanced in the other direction and noticed that the door to his and Maggie's room was open and that Maggie wasn't inside, but the door to Charlie's and Pat's room was closed. The bathroom door was opened halfway and Fred could see that it was unoccupied.

Fred rapped on Pat's door.

"Do you want me to start cooking the hamburgers now? If you want me to wait I can bank the fire down."

"Maggie isn't in here," Pat called from behind the door. "She's in the bathroom."

Fred peered into the nearby unoccupied bathroom.

"Neat trick!" Fred thought to himself. "Maggie!" he called louder, pretending to shout through the supposedly-closed bathroom door. "What about it? Do you want to eat now or wait?"

"She doesn't want to answer you right now, Fred," Pat called through the door. "She's...busy."

"Is she sick? Is everything alright? Is she mad at me.?"

"No, none of those things—just busy," Pat yelled through the closed door.

"I think that I'll bank down the fire for a while," Fred informed them. "Come on out when you're ready."

Fred went to the refrigerator and picked out a beer each for Charlie and himself. He switched the chilling wine from the freezer to the refrigerator.

"Everything alright in there?" Charlie asked as Fred sat in the lawn chair alongside him.

"I think so." Fred declared. "They're just getting their equilibrium readjusted. You know, all Maggie has to do is sniff the cork and she's three sheets to the wind."

"I remember it well." Charlie agreed. "For Pat, it takes two sniffs of the cork—same result."

"After they get their boats righted again they'll come out," Fred predicted. "They'll think that they've sobered up, but they won't be. A few more glasses of vino and Plan Excalibur will be in motion."