The Substitute Ch. 03

Jock yielded with resignation, hoping for the best. "Alright, Mare," he said, with a sigh. "But, just a quick PEEK... remember what I said? 'This cannot happen again'?"

Mary guided her father's hips as she turned him sideways to the sink while she rotated left and squatted between his knees. "Yes, I remember, Papa... and I remember what I told YOU, too." She let go of Jock's dick long enough to lower his underwear and free his now fully formed hard-on. Returning her hand to the stiff shaft, Mary pushed his foreskin down and kissed the exposed spongy head.

Jock grimaced and groaned as his conflicted mind struggled to balance his guilt against the pleasure of his daughter's warm pursed lips. "Nnnuu-NO! Mmm-MAR-eee..." His feeble protests fell on deaf ears as his hands cupped the sides of Mary's head and held her in place. Thus anchored, Mary parted her lips and was promptly rewarded when Jock's swollen glans hopped past her teeth. She closed around him and teased his slit with her tongue while she fell from her squat into a more stable position on her knees and shins.

In full surrender, Jock rolled his hips and gnarred deep in his throat. Mary moaned with him as she hooked her right arm behind his hams and pulled him closer. Taking the rest of her father's six-and-one-half inches into her mobile mouth, Mary filled her pulsing left fist with his oversized eggs. Jock was doomed. Stifling an ecstatic shout, he lunged his hips and hauled Mary to his groin by her hair. Her cupid's bow squashed at the base of his root as he fucked her face and pumped his seed to the back of her throat. She sucked and swallowed as fast as she could while coaxing ever more shots with her active hands.

When Jock's prick lay quiet on her tongue and his hands fell away from her temples, Mary leaned back. His legs quivered against her forearm and crooked elbow. Looking past his panting gut, Mary smiled and said, "Thank you, Papa... I'll go look for Teddy's phone number now." Standing up, she hugged her frozen father and gave him a lingering kiss. He smelled and tasted his cum on her lips as she cooed, "See you at breakfast."

As Mary walked along the hallway to the front room, her mother waved her into the kitchen. "Goodness gracious, honey," Isabel McGuinness said, clucking her tongue, as she eyed her daughter's bathrobe and slippers. "You're no more ready to go to church than a squirrel! Breakfast will be ready in ten minutes... soon as the biscuits are out of the oven. Can you at least wash the sleep out of your eyes before then?" She laughed to show she was partly teasing.

"Yes, Mama," Mary answered. "As soon as Papa is out of the bathroom, I'll wash my face." She winked at Isabel. "And don't you WORRY! This squirrel is bushy-tailed and will be ready on time." As if an afterthought just occurred to her, Mary hesitated. "Uh, Mama... could I... invite a fellow to supper with us... today? He's REAL nice... I think you'll like him."

Isabel shook her head in wonder and smiled broadly as she thought to herself, "My Little Girl... not so 'little' and not a 'girl' anymore. Imagine, wanting to bring a boy to meet us." Out loud and still beaming, she replied, "Certainly, honey... but ask your father, too. I doubt he'll say 'no', but if he does, don't argue... We'll work on him TOGETHER!" She gave Mary a peck on the cheek and said, "Now SCOOT and wash up."

Mary nodded, but, as soon as Isabel's back was turned, she darted into the front room and pulled the city phone directory from its drawer in the drum table. Edward Trotter had no listing, however Mary found one for his landlord, Mr. Farragut. She quickly picked up the black hard rubber candlestick phone and dialed 'UP 2081'.

An older man's voice answered crankily, "Uptown two zero eight one. Who's callin'?"

Mary almost hung up. Taking a breath of courage she spoke meekly into the mouthpiece as she held the receiver to her ear. "Is this Mr. Farragut, please?"

"Yes, yes, go on... what do you want," Farragut replied testily.

"M-my name is Mary. Do you know does Mr. Trotter have a telephone?"

Farragut spluttered, "You call ME to ask if HE has a PHONE? Why don't you just look him up your OWN self?" After his initial outburst, he muttered, "Of course, if you did THAT you'd know he DOESN'T... And I suppose you were really just askin' to see would I take him a MESSAGE... is THAT it?"

Mary swallowed the baseball in her throat and gulped, "Umm, YES, please. COULD you?"

"Bah!" Farragut decided Mary had a lovely sweet voice and must, therefore, be a lovely sweet young girl. He was nearly moved to kindness. "Young lady, I did not achieve sixty-two years on planet Earth by being hornswoggled by coy creatures, such as yourself. Nor by butting into others' affairs unduly, I might add." Farragut paused briefly for effect then continued. "I will NOT take a message and be your fool, but here's what I WILL do, if you like: Mr. Trotter lives in the house behind me. If you will stay on the telephone, I will walk back and inform him of your call. If he is UP at this early hour and AGREES, he may use this phone and you may speak directly with him. How does THAT suit you?"

Mary gasped as the plan unfolded. "Oh, Mr. Farragut! You would DO that for me? Oh, PLEASE... go right away!"

"Alright, alright," Farragut answered, suddenly smitten by Mary's obvious earnest anxiety. "But you will owe ME a favor, my dear, and I will expect the debt repaid."

Mary bit her lip and asked, "What would you have me do?"

Farragut was vague in his reply. "I'm sure I'll think of something... suitable. Now, do not break the connection. I'll see if I can roust Mr. Trotter." He put down the candlestick, laid the bell carefully on the table's lace doily and walked to the back of his large house, absent-mindedly rubbing his crotch, where a surprising growth stirred.

Farragut found Trotter was up and about and quite agreeable to taking a telephone call from a mystery woman who sounded young, only gave her name as 'Mary' and provided no other clue to the purpose of her extraordinary mission. True to his word, however, Farragut did not listen in on Trotter's end or question him about the import of the call. Edward was grateful for his landlord's discretion but happier still to hear his young student's voice.

He consulted his Elgin pocket watch. Although it was not quite nine o'clock, it felt as if considerably more than twelve hours had passed since he last touched, smelt or listened to Mary. His heart leapt when she invited him to Sunday dinner to meet her parents. What had she told them? He could not know, but he was eager to find out. In two weeks time Mary would graduate high school and he could openly court her without public scandal. Edward fairly floated back to his shanty and tortured himself with a zillion possibilities.

When Trotter arrived at the McGuinness bungalow, with an arranged bouquet of spring posies in hand, it was obvious that, among the information pieces Mary had shared with her parents about him, his age was absent. He could not discern whether her father or mother was the more shocked, so amazed were the looks on their faces. He quickly held his right hand out to Jock and said, "It is an honor to meet you, Mr. McGuinness." He immediately followed up by handing the flowers to Isabel. "I hope, Mrs. McGuinness, you will find these miserable blooms are worthy of a vase in your home."

Mary let out her held breath as she watched her parents welcome her love. Jock pumped Edward's hand and replied, "The pleasure is all mine. Mary has said very kind things about you." Isabel was still too flustered to speak and blushed pinker than the Sweet Williams clutched in her hand. She merely nodded and turned quickly to get a vase and water.

The awkwardness of the age difference, and the relationship itself, was soon overcome when it became known that Mary, who had no math courses this year, was not actually one of Trotter's students. Both Edward and Mary declined to mention he had substituted on Friday for Mrs. Anderson, or their activity after class, or even that that was their first meeting. Mary let her folks believe their feelings had developed more slowly across the school year. At any rate, Jock and Isabel agreed that, come June, it would all be moot and, anyway, Edward seemed like a very fine young man.

Over a simple dessert of pound cake, Jock turned to Edward and said, "You are a math teacher... by any chance have you taken up the game of bridge? I ask because Mrs. McGuinness and I have been studying it and showing Mary how to play. If YOU were able, we would have a fourth and could play a few rubbers."

"As a matter of fact, Mr. McGuinness," Trotter answered, "bridge intrigues me. I have closely followed Mr. Vanderbilt's and Mr. Culbertson's writings on the game and would very much enjoy a rubber or two. Would Mary be my partner? Or do you prefer to cut cards?"

Jock looked at his daughter, who protested, "I'm afraid I would be a liability... I am quite the beginner." She looked back at Jock and then at Trotter. "But I think you BOTH could be very fine partners. That is, unless Mama wanted to suffer." Mary laughed and bowed her head slightly.

Isabel quickly demurred. "No, honey, I think it would be a mistake for the two stronger players to be together. Let the men cut cards and decide which will partner you and which me." She slid her chair back from the table. "Meanwhile, if we're going to play at all, I need to clear the dishes and straighten the kitchen. You three go to the parlor... I'll call you when we can set up."

In the front room Jock pulled two decks of cards from the drum table where the phone directory was kept. While he shuffled one, he said, "Let's draw based on age: Low card takes Mary; High card takes the missus. Is that alright with you, Mr. Trotter?"

"That's as good as any," Edward said, "but, SAY, if you don't mind me stepping out with your daughter, and if you invite me for Sunday supper and bridge, don't you think you can call me 'Ted', Mr. McGuinness?"

Jock laughed aloud and allowed, "I guess I CAN call you 'Ted', Ted... if you can see YOUR way to calling me 'JOCK'." He spread the deck and said, "Pluck one... TED."

Trotter drew the Queen of Hearts and watched while Jock pulled the Diamond Six from the fanned pasteboards. "I guess you get Mary, Jock... at least to start with. Maybe Mrs. McGuinness will want to you back after a couple of rubbers with ME." He chuckled, threw the queen back on the pile and said, "If you'll excuse me, I'll go help my new partner dry dishes, or something, while we strategize." Trotter smiled and left the room.

The swinging kitchen door closed silently behind Trotter. He took a moment to quietly appreciate his hostess as she stood at her sink looking out the window into the backyard while she washed the crockery. Although Trotter figured Isabel, like her husband, was near forty years old, he had remarked, to himself at supper, that her clear smooth face seemed to be a dozen, or more, years younger. Now, paying attention to her backside, he noted she was well put together in all respects.

As her arms moved with her work, her shoulders, middle back and hips moved in small independent circles behind her rose summer weight cotton tunic dress. Its hem shifted slightly across the centers of her calves, perfectly perpendicular to her sheer rayon stockings' dark straight seams. His eyes travelled the natural sight path to her slim ankles, which were stationary within her wine two-and-one-half inch pyramid-heeled suede mules. Her right foot was angled such that the shoe's butterfly bow was visible above its tapered box-toe.

A ruffled open-back lemon apron, tied loosely at her hips and nape, framed three large white buttons marching from the dress' white collared neck to its high wide white waistband. The effect was startling. Trotter could not help sucking his lips as he imagined, briefly and rudely, his fingers twisting the disks through their slots and then creeping around her ribs to twist what else he might find. His cock twinged. Isabel turned thirty degrees to her right and slotted a dish into the drying rack on the drainboard. Edward's prick pulsed again as the bulging side of her heavy right breast stretched under her thin dress and pressed out the yellow frilled apron front.

Seeing her guest in her peripheral vision, Mrs. McGuinness completed her turn, wiped her hands on a tea-towel hanging in front of her apron and said, "Oh! Hello, Mr. Trotter... I'm almost finished here." She smiled, but, remembering one of her father's favorite aphorisms, wondered, once again, if Edward might be "Too much horse" for Mary. His urbanity aside, she had sensed, all afternoon, a subtle dangerous underlying power in him. A flash of warmth in her stomach disturbed her equilibrium and she unaccountably fantasized riding him herself.

Much to Trotter's pleasure, Isabel surprised him with a fleeting blush before she continued, "Have the partners been established?" Isabel wished she knew why she felt light-headed all of a sudden.

"Yes," Edward said, smiling warmly as he stepped forward. "I was lucky enough to draw YOU. Of course, I wouldn't have minded had it been me and Mary... but often a beginner is more comfortable with their first instructor, whereas more experienced persons are more... ADAPTABLE." Trotter paused. He stood less than a foot away from Isabel and the heat radiating from her full chest was palpable as he asked, "Don't you find it so, Mrs. McGuinness?"

"Umm, uh, YES, Mr. Trotter, I certainly, uhh-GREE." Mary's mother was as nervous as a hare. "What's WRONG with me?" She asked herself furiously. "I am hardly able to speak!" Hoping to clear her throat, she coughed discreetly into the tea-towel she still held in her hand. "Forgive me. A bit of fluff must have flown into my throat!"

Trotter thought lasciviously, "MARY'S a 'bit of fluff'... YOU, my dear, are the full MUFF!" Taking advantage of her vulnerable moment, he tucked his arm behind Isabel's shoulder blades and guided her to a chair at the table while he said, "Let me get you a glass of water." When she sat, his palm slid unnecessarily low on her back before he pulled away and walked to the sink. Mrs. McGuinness' breath shortened and she felt another heatwave course through her body with his brief trailing touch.

Returning to the table, Trotter set the glass before his hostess and sat beside her. He patted her back very softly and then swirled his flat hand gently in a figure-eight. Her dress and slip slid smoothly until his fingers bumped and rode over the ridge of her bra band. "Take a sip and a deep breath, Mrs. McGuinness," Edward directed with persuasive encouragement. As she swallowed and then inhaled, he felt her torso swell beneath his hand. Isabel was torn and terrified. She loved the pressure of Trotter's hand, but hated herself for that, and feared Jock, or Mary, would come into the room at any moment.

Putting the glass down, Isabel dabbed her quavering lips with her tea-towel. "Thank you, Mr...

"TED..." Trotter interjected. "Call me 'Ted,' please. After all, we're going to be partners at bridge and, with any luck at all, we could be even MORE than that... I think your daughter is aces AND I think SHE is sort of sweet on ME, too." He rubbed a firmer, broader, swath below Isabel's dress' high waistband to her lower back. Feeling a small roll of soft flesh at the elastic edge of her panties, he happily verified she was not wearing a girdle to shape her fanny.

"Awl-right," Isabel panted, desperately fighting for control of her voice and emotions. "Then-nn, n-YOU must call me 'Izzy.' Only Jock calls me 'Isabel'." She squeezed her eyes and her thighs tight. Starry sparkles crashed in her head and her cunny dripped, in spite of her willing it otherwise.

"That's jake with me, Izzy," Trotter teased, deliberately using an expression which played on her husband's name. She squirmed on the chair while he spread his fingers and covered her bottom like the Sherwin-Williams slogan.

Just then the kitchen door swung open and Mr. McGuinness stepped in, with Mary right behind him. He asked, "Hey! Are we going to play some cards tonight, or not? I'd like to get more than one hand in before Ted has to catch the last trolley downtown." He laughed and tossed the card decks on the table.

Isabel, grateful for the timely intervention, shrugged Trotter away and said, "Yes, Jock... we're ready. Sit down and deal. Mary, honey, grab a pencil and pad from the utility drawer, please."