It’s past dusk, target is at the station, no calls yet. The big doors are down, it’s always chilly in northern California.
“We can’t take him here. Do they work eight hour shifts or twelve?”
“Don’t know, hang on,” poke around my phone for Petaluma Fire Dept., “Twenty four.”
“Ah, then he’s out of reach until six tomorrow night.”
“We can get him when he leaves, see where he parks? Far end of the lot, I’m guessing there’s a parking pecking order and he’s got no pecker,” she giggles.
I can’t help but grin, she’s too adorable laughing at her unintended double entendre.
“Good then, shall we find food, I only got cold cuts and cheese, crackers.”
“If you’re good with that, so am I, getting hungry with only coffee for lunch.”
“If we want to we can find more food at the hotel.”
Once we’re in and showered, wine in hand, we decide we don’t need more food.
Zoe C, “The dinner menu here is only fair, limited too, the roast beef and chicken slices you got are plenty, pre-sliced brick of cheese, how convenient.”
I take a slice of the Cabot sharp cheddar, “Good too.”
There’s a view of the marina, sun disappears, replaced by lights along the docks. We’re quiet while we nibble. I pour her another wine, make a vodka rocks, plop in an olive and stir.
We move to the couch, she surfs TV offerings and movie listings. I admire lean curvy nicely tanned legs, she’s in a t-shirt and socks. I see her glance at me, then back to the TV, grin on her face.
“And don’t you love it?”
She’s got me there.
Kill the evening watching Let Me In, a vampire flick starring Chloe Moretz, a personal favorite.
Zoe C, “That was good.”
“It’s a remake of Let the Right One In, a Swedish film I saw first. The girl wasn’t nearly as cute as Moretz, the movie was good all the same.”
“Normally I run from vampire movies, hunky guys chasing down hot girls who naturally fall in lust cause who wouldn’t want to date someone that only comes out at night?”
“I’ve only seen one other vampire movie, the name escapes me, with Tom Cruise and Brad Pitt, I think it was Brad Pitt. They looked so gay, it was like vampire drag.”
“It was, wait, it’s coming, Interview With the Vampire. I can’t recall how I got roped in…no, I remember, it was a movie night at the company, bunch of nerds yelling ‘faggot’ at the screen and throwing popcorn.”
“You didn’t run a PC shop.”
“Nope, they could say whatever they wanted, just couldn’t sexually harass other employees, that was a hanging offence and they knew it. They called each other fuckwads and dipshits fairly regularly, even the women.”
We simul-yawn, laugh, “Clearly time to sack out.”
I go to the connecting room, Zoe C has the room in the suite. Brush, flush, climb in the cool sheets and disappear. If I dreamt I don’t remember, never much of a dreamer.
The sun crawls in, check the clock, seven thirty. I smell coffee. After the morning ritual, I slip on slacks and a pullover sweater, follow the scent.
Zoe C is on the couch watching CNN with the sound off.
“Morning, can I get you another coffee?”
“Morning Chef, I’m good, this is already cup two, I made a fresh pot, should be dripped by now.”
I pour mine, dump in half and half and a Splenda, join her on the couch.
“You look rested.”
“I died, it was delicious…you?”
“Same,” I pull out the hotel menu, breakfast definitely looks a little better than the dinner offerings, lunch seems so-so but we’ll be out anyway.
“Breakfast menu looks acceptable, hungry?”
“Yeah, let me see,” I hand her the tablet.
“Omelet, can we split a waffle?”
She goes off to add jeans to her t-shirt, down to the restaurant. It’s busy but not packed. We skip coffee and juice, Zoe C has water, I get a Diet Coke, steel cut oatmeal and a standard two eggs over, crispy bacon, hash browns. Zoe C has the omelet which has various peppers, she skips the ham, gets a side of bacon and the waffle.
It’s a lot of food, but I’m a big guy and Zoe C is near five ten, plus we’re active. Gym at home, Krav, the pool, Zoe C runs the property regularly, calories don’t matter much, in our case we need them.
I plop half the oatmeal onto a spare bread plate and hand it over to her, then we halve the waffle and get after it.
Zoe C, “They did a nice job, the food is hot, cooked to order, I love crunchy bacon, they got it like you do at home. We might add oatmeal to our breakfast rotation.”
“Next time you shop, I like steel cut oatmeal, just never occurred to buy it. Do you want me to make waffles?”
“No, your pancakes are good and easy to fix on the griddle at home. Waffles need a waffle maker and they’re messy and a pain to clean. If we want waffles, we can go to breakfast someplace. So, how do you want to kill the day?”
“It’s not a preposition?”
“To followed by a verb is an infinitive, followed by a noun is a preposition. Don’t ask, I have no idea why I know that.”
“Might be a closeted English major.”
“Let’s tour Petaluma.”
We wind up in Bodega Bay, view the Pacific, which looks like the Pacific we can see from my place in Malibu. Wind up having lunch at the Tides Wharf and Restaurant. I get a fried prawn sandwich, comes with coleslaw. Zoe C goes with red snapper, breaded and pan fried. Two glasses of sauvignon blanc.
A walk around Bodega Bay to settle lunch, neither of us are shoppers, I don’t collect knickknacks, there’s nothing particularly girly in Zoe C’s bedroom. Her concession to girl is a couple of fuchsia throw pillows on her bed. Around three we drive back to the Sheraton. I left the do not disturb tag on the door. I have a thing about housekeeping wandering my room when I’m out. We have plenty of towels and they only make the bed, don’t change the sheets for two nighters. I suppose they might if we requested it, but there’s no reason. I don’t climb in bed dirty. Not OCD, don’t wash my hands every twenty minutes, but since I can remember I was taking a morning and an evening shower, including shampoo in both. Hair is a dirt trap.
Zoe C, “I’m for a nap, what time should we track down the target?”
“Five should do it. I guess it’s possible they get a call and run to overtime, nothing to do about that. Can’t take him while he’s working an EMT or a fire.”
She nods and goes to the bedroom. I stick with the couch, stretch out and go to semi-sleep zone out.
This time I make the coffee, go in and give Zoe C a shake on the shoulder, “Wake up Death Princess, time to stakeout.”
We have the coffee in takeout cups, down to the Tahoe and on to the fire station.
I’m in a reverie, what if we started a fire, then tried popping the target while his colleagues are occupied. Then my brain makes the connection to shooting and sound. We need suppressors for the Glocks.
Zoe C, “Good idea, a bit late, I didn’t think of it either.”
“How’d you know I was thinking about suppressors?”
“You said so.”
“No, not out loud, but I was thinking about them.”
“Chef, don’t lose it on me now, I heard you, just like now.”
“Strange, I talk to myself like everyone, but almost never say it out loud. I mean I’ll let out a fuck when I pinch my finger, but I don’t have monologues.”
“True, I’ve never heard you babbling on your own. I do it, but just when I’m alone, if anyone else is present, I don’t chatter to myself. I know a girl who does. Sits at her laptop and runs her head the whole time.”
“We had one of our geeks doing it. I asked the others if it was a problem, they said no. It wasn’t like he was yelling hallucinations, just a stream of consciousness. The people near to him said they treated it like white noise and ignored it.”
“What about the guns?”
“I don’t know, a small pillow this time, when we get home, we get them properly threaded and buy the best suppressors.”
A stop at Walmart, two throw pillows, fat enough to help in noise reduction. I did make sure we had latex gloves. Zoe C has her wig, we both have cheap plastic sunglasses that make us look like flies.
It’s ten of six. Cars, mostly trucks, arrive, men get out. It’s the next shift. One more comes at a couple minutes to six, jumps out of his Ford and quick steps inside the station. I’m looking through the binoculars Zoe C got, first quality, it’s like I’m in the station. They’re Vortex Viper HD 10x50 roof prism binoculars, she said they were near six hundred and from the clarity they’re worth every penny.
She told me 10x50 meant ten times magnification, the objective lenses (the ones in front) are 50mm in diameter. The wider the objective lens, the more light the binoculars will take in making the image brighter.
“You did a good job on these things, it’s like I’m leaning on the fire truck.”
“You said top rated, those are.”
“Check them out,” hand her the binocs.
She adjusts, that’s what the roof prism does, just raise and lower each side to focus and fit your eyes.
“Sheesh, if one of them had a hard on I could tell from here, perish the thought.”
“Let’s checkout. Gloves, hat, Glock loaded, safety off, pillow for half assed suppressor,” Zoe C giggles.
We’re both using the nine milli Glock slim line subcompact. We don’t need to kill a cape buffalo, just an abusive firefighter.
His Jeep is in the same spot as last night. It suits our purpose but just. He’s backed into the spot, which is good, the driver’s door is away from the rest of the lot and the firehouse. Ten feet past the truck is a sidewalk, then the street. If a car passes, we have a problem. The day is overcast and it’s just at sunset, the light is on our favor, his Jeep is in the shadow of the fire station.
I parked one block over, it’s mixed use, retail, an apartment complex, subdivision a little further on. We came in that way and are at the back of the station. Jeep is five yards down around the corner. I hear engines, a bit of chatter in the distance. I peek around the corner, crouched so the line of sight is just over the hood and the driver’s window. Two men stop in front of the truck next to the Jeep. From what I can hear, arranging to stop for a beer before heading home.
The other one, a Ford something, is parked front end first. They’re nodding, I pull back, finger to my lips at Zoe C. An engine starts, I can just catch the Ford’s rear bumper as he backs out.
Key fob, I hear the door lock click open, then the handle clunk, I step around the corner. The Ford’s taillight signaling a right at the far end of the lot.
I wave Zoe C around, let’s see what she can do.
She steps up behind the target, pillow over the barrel where the casing will eject, that’s where the noise comes from...bang! Not horribly loud. I check the target, she zapped him at the base of his neck, he had no clue what happened, felt nothing. A better deal than he was giving his wife.
I stuff him into the Jeep, a car passes but I’m in between the dead fireman and the driver’s door and Zoe C is behind the door. The car keeps rolling.
I put a second round in the side of his head, take his wallet and mobile phone, leave the keys with him, click the armrest switch and lock the Jeep. We put away the guns, walk through a stretch of tall grass and strip off our latex gloves, then to the rear of a small strip mall.
Zoe C goes left, I go right, we come out on different sides of the building. Then she walks in the direction of our Tahoe, I follow along thirty yards behind. She keeps going, I get to the SUV, climb in, crank it and drive down the block, past Zoe C, a right and pull to the curb halfway down. Zoe C gets in the passenger side a minute later.
We’re quiet, riding along, I make several pointless turns, keep an eye on the rear view. No sirens, no cars trailing.
I park the SUV, go to the back, lift the hatch and pretend to be arranging something in the bed. I reach down and pull the tape off the license. I’d used duct tape to turn a 4 into a 1and covered the letter B entirely. It was risky, any cop pulls up behind could likely spot the alteration. Almost no civilian drivers give a thought to the license plate in front of them.
My makeshift subterfuge fixed, I go up to the room, Zoe C went ahead while I fiddled around behind the Tahoe.
She’s on the couch, the Glock is next to her.
“Well? In shock? Feel one way of the other?”
“I had an orgasm,” she colors a bit, not much.
I stare, must look like a guppy with my mouth halfway open. I can’t think of what to say. We look at each other and break out into hysterics.
“Make me a vodka Chef a fat one, lots of ice.”
I make two, hand her one, we lightly clink glasses. I take the other end of the couch.
A healthy sip, the smooth bite of chilled alcohol tingles my tongue.
Zoe C, “Is that crazy or what?”
“When did you…”
“Right as he fell forward into the Jeep. You were occupied stuffing him in. It wasn’t a screech and moan climax, just a buzz, enough to make me tense up and flush.”
“Stranger things have happened, but then, not to you…you haven’t killed anyone before?”
She rolls her eyes, pretty head bobs left and right, like I’d discovered the obvious.
“Why shoot him the second time? Did you think he was alive, or just making sure?”
“Partly just making sure, mostly because it confirms to you that I’m in it as well. I mean, complicity in a murder makes me just as guilty even if I never held a gun.”
“You were telling me it’s us, not me or you.”
I nod, “Maybe you didn’t need the reassurance.”
“I don’t know, probably not, but I’m glad you did it. I’d have been suspicious if this one and the next half dozen killings were all me.”
“Considering your reaction I could always say I wanted you to have the fun.”
She tosses a pillow at me, “Idiot. I guess I opened myself up to a ribbing.”
“Not to worry, I won’t bring it up, it was pretty funny though. I’m glad you told me. If that’s what happened in the moment, I doubt I have to worry about you having regrets or nightmares.”
Next morning, drive to the airport for eight thirty, turn in the Tahoe which means park the SUV next to the plane, leave the keys, grab our stuff and board. Into LA by nine twenty, an hour drive home, which is only twenty five miles down the PCH. But it’s LA, everything takes an hour when it’s good, when it’s bad, bring a blanket and refreshments.
“It takes as long to drive from the airport to the house as it took to fly from north of San Francisco to LA.”
“Maybe you should get a helicopter, you have enough land to build a heliport. It wouldn’t be a dot on the whole property.”
“I have no intention of getting aboard any aircraft with only one engine. Besides, we can practice Japanese.”
Which we do, it makes the drive move along, we’re home for ten thirty.
I have a thought, she needs to clean the Glocks. I know, a single shot each, but I want all the powder traces gone and they need to be clean to have the threading done. I turn to her…
“You want me to clean the Glocks to get rid of residue…and they need to be clean for threading.”
“I was NOT talking to myself.”
“I know, it just popped in my head, I wasn’t consciously trying to guess what you wanted, and I wasn’t thinking about the guns at all.”
“This is getting…well, it’s unusual. I suppose it could also be rank coincidence. We do tend to focus on the same things when it comes to the house, cooking, shooting practice, Krav. You aren’t doing an alien brain probe are you?
“I thought they probed butts, never been abducted, it’s only hearsay.”
“Beats me,” I open and poke around the refrigerator. Onion, tomato, cheeses. Then I check the pantry, a loaf of Sara Lee Artesano Golden Wheat, various kinds of chips, good, lunch is easy.
“I have lunch figured, any dinner ideas, preferences?”
“We had seafood, quite good seafood, so roast chicken? Fried?”
“We like Popeye’s, how about that?”
“Perfect, and their coleslaw please.”
We don’t care about beans and rice, certainly not eight hundred calorie biscuits, but the chicken is dynamite.
To the office to check on investment accounts. I swear, if you had told me the stock market was going to twenty four thousand this year, I’d have told you to piss off.
On the other hand, I have a lot of money in four ETF funds. Suffice it to say, big stocks, medium stocks, small stocks and real estate. That diversifies my equity portfolio. I happened to ride the, so far, late teens bull market. The rest of my millions are in municipal bond ETFs, short and medium term. Today’s interest rates are really low, I don’t make a high percentage, but what comes in is tax free. My home is paid for, I suppose with rates so low I should get a mortgage and use the money to invest. But I’d only feel comfortable borrowing, say, ten million, about half the value of the property. And ten million more to invest just doesn’t mean that much. My portfolio is bumping up on three hundred million, plus the value of the house. Not a billionaire, but not likely to need employment or food stamps anytime soon.
It’s eleven thirty, I close out my Fidelity brokerage account, which has the equities, and my Vanguard account which has the muni bond funds. I use two because it’s simpler to see my performance if it isn’t tangled up in both stocks and bonds.
Zoe C is swimming, I step out, “Lunch in twenty.”
She waves, I got in to fix grilled cheese with onion and tomato, cracked black pepper chips and choice of Diet Coke or Diet Coke.
I toast the bread on one side, layer cheese, tomato, onion on one piece, butter the grilling sides. Put the sandwiches on the griddle, not hot, low medium. You want the insides to melt and heat the onion and tomato before the bread starts to brown. Flip the sandwiches a few times until I’m satisfied with the color, cut each sandwich diagonally, slide the finished product on two plates. Salt, pepper, powdered garlic, habanero powder and paprika, sprinkle the spices directly on the sandwich.
Zoe C, “Damn Chef, gourmet grilled cheese.”
“The bit of onion and sliced tomato makes it, the cheese is just provolone and mozzarella, they melt well, cheddar gets too stringy.”
“Any reports on our activity?”
She flips through her phone between bites, “Fireman found shot in station parking lot. First year firefighter David Cruise was found shot in his truck, two bullets to his head. Authorities have not found any motive for the killing, but the victim’s wallet and phone are missing. Local Petaluma police Captain Josh Randall says it looked like a common robbery,” then there’s the usual babble about fine young man ‘serving’ in the Petaluma FD. It isn’t serving if you get paid, unless you’re a waiter.”
“Makes people feel better, first responders, god bless America and whatnot.”
“If they catch me and put me on the stand, will it go better or worse if I admit to a post-kill orgasm?”
“The jury would be intrigued, but they can’t admit that, so you could go with insanity…what sort of girl has an orgasm when she kills?”
“I could have the first estrogen defense, hormones made me do it.”
“Hormones make us do everything, but it might work since most people don’t believe it. They think they have free will.”
“We aren’t getting caught. We have no connection to the victim, or his wife or anyone he knows. They person who alerted us to him has no idea who we are. My wig, your cap, our big sunglasses, latex gloves, there’s no miracle miraculous enough.”
“I’m ordering GPS trackers, we can stick one on a target’s car and not have to stay on his tail all the time.”
“How’s it work?”
“Spark Nano, a waterproof case is available with a powerful magnet. Plunk it someplace under the car, like the bumper strut, the real bumper behind the plastic bumper cover, It’s good for twenty four hours but only uses the battery when the vehicle is in motion, so unless the target is driving twelve hours at a time, it could last for days. The signal comes up on my phone, just like any GPS.”
“Don’t you love technology?”
“Made me wealthy, tech is my friend. I also found out how to pick up cams. There’s an app that spots the electromagnetic field of CCTV or private video surveillance. We should install it on both our phones and on one of the extra phones.”
“You can also make an old IPhone run it’s video and connect it to your current phone, a home or personal CCTV.”
“I’ve got two old IPhones.”
“Good, we can start with those. Not sure when we use them, but better to have it set up and know how to work it before we need a reason to use it.”
“Zoe C, super spy.”
“That’s you, your pal coming over this weekend?”
“Oh yeah, lucky you, two nude babes swimming, going to set up your private CCTV?”
“That would be tacky, smarmy actually. I’ll ask Natalie if she’s free, when is Elle coming?”
“Friday through Sunday. We’d love Natto be here, she’s fun.”
I text her, explain about Zoe C and Elle, hope she can make it.
I get a reply ten minutes later, ‘bought a car, goldman gave me a signing bonus, so blew some of it on an nsx like yours mine is white why don’t I pick up elle and save zoe c the trip”
I mention it to Zoe C, text Natalie, ‘she said thanks what time will you pick up Elle’
‘cu at six thirty seven’
‘have the champagne chilled’
That was simple.
“Girls day after tomorrow, I’ll plot dinners, breakfast and lunch are pretty simple. Check the pantry for anything we need, Friday night will be seafood, Saturday steak, filets with marchand du van, baked potato, grilled vegetables.”
“You want me to get the seafood and stakes too?”
“Do that Friday, steaks can marinate overnight. We’ll see what available at the fish market tomorrow. I’m going to round up the chicken, we can sit by the pool and pig out on Popeye’s finest.”
Friday, I happen to be out front when Natalie slips up in her new NSX, Elle is with her.
“Welcome, the car is beautiful, enjoying it?”
Natalie, “How can I not, I fell in love riding in yours. It was my first and last choice.”
Zoe C comes out, ‘Hey Elle,” they hug, “Damn Natalie, hot car, hot girl, liking it?”
“Loving it, and I didn’t even get a vanity plate, still waiting on the official one.”
“The car speaks for itself.”
“One day, I want to take the course you and Chef took, at Bondurant. I have to put my time in at the new job though, they didn’t cough up a half million bonus so I could take a week off.”
Zoe C, “When you do get time, let me know, I’ll go with, it’s loads of fun.”
Elle, “Is it expensive?”
“Not that much, you’re coming too, my treat.”
Natalie, “It may be a year before I can sneak in the time.”
Zoe C, “No sweat, we go when we can go. Let’s get you guys settled, seafood tonight, steak tomorrow.”
Natalie, “Skipped lunch, we almost never have lunch, or sandwiches get delivered. My days run from five in the morning until they quit piling on. But I’m slowly making contacts and management is complimentary of my work, complimentary in their way, like ‘not too shabby newbie’. I’ve not said anything too stupid, so far so good.”
We go inside, Zoe C gets them situated. It’s a clear, balmy Malibu evening. I’m popping the cork on a bottle of Charles Heidsieck when three lovelies appear in slinky t-shirts and nothing.
Shrimp cocktails by the pool, followed by king crab claws and a finale of grilled Dover Sole with asparagus tips in lemon butter sauce.
Natalie, “Thank you Chef, it was all splendid.”
“Cheesecake for dessert, the simple kind, cream cheese topping, graham cracker crust, we can have it later with Cognac or white wine.”
Elle, “You eat like this all the time Zoe C?”
“We have elaborate once in a while, most of the time it’s pretty basic. Lasagna, meatloaf, beans, sausage and a little rice, chili, grilled fish, pizza, you can do loads of stuff with chicken. Lunch is usually light, cold cuts and chips.”
Zoe C asks Natalie, “How is the job? Really.”
“I’m in mergers and acquisitions. We go out and talk clients into pointless mergers and financially questionable acquisitions. Every CEO wants more bodies under his command while letting go duplicates and defunct departments that hung on under the old regime.”
“So it’s not necessarily about the client’s best interests?”
“The client is a fee machine, our job is to milk it for all it’s worth. Neither we nor they know it it’s really a good idea, sometimes it works, sometimes the acquisition becomes a spin off a few years later. We also help them spin it off, for more fees.”
Elle, “Don’t they get pissed? Why use the same company that talked them into a dumb deal?”
Natalie grins, looks at me, “You explain it Chef.”
“The investment bank takes no responsibility. They will say the deal was presented, they reviewed the numbers. The Board approved the deal. To make it even more credible, the bank will say that unforeseen circumstances changed the parameters, new competition entered the market, new technology made the old technology outdated.”
Natalie, “Exactly. Nobody could have known about the changes in advance, or that management wasn’t able to work smoothly with the acquired company and some of their best people bolted, blah, blah, we can go on forever. In the end, the client will thank us for bailing him out.”
Elle, “I applied my algorithm to a few common indexes, to keep the number of stocks manageable for test purposes. It’s a massive job to get all financial news and economic data for the entire universe of NYSE and NASDAQ stocks. I had a bunch of false starts, forgot to search some databases, and the program has to get the most current data available constantly.”
Me, “Doesn’t being in an index bias the stock favorably?”
“There is some evidence that it’s favorable for a time. Conversely, there is only limited impact when a stock is deleted from an index. In general, investors in index funds have little idea when a stock is replaced by another stock.”
Me, “So we won’t be seeing anything for a while?”
“It will pick stocks, then figure out where it might have gone wrong, or right. It will keep learning as more transactions happen, and learning what data is relevant and what isn’t. For instance, the average of all forward looking earnings estimates are pretty good. Any one analyst, not so much, they miss by as much as twenty five percent.”
Natalie, “And it doesn’t matter if the analyst was twenty five percent high or twenty five percent low, it’s still wrong.”
“Tricky business, but the stock market has always been tricky business.”
Elle, “Yes, and that’s why I’m setting my flag on the side of deep learning algorithms, not human guesstimates. It could still go wrong.”
“Flash crashes, out of the blue national or international events, a war, death of a President, tax law changes with unintended results.”
Zoe C, “What are black swans?”
Elle, “The completely unexpected. If all we ever see are white swans, we conclude black swans don’t exist, then one shows up. It creates confusion and consequent chaos, everyone heading for the door at the same time.”
Chef, “All market crashes amount to the same thing, too many sellers, not enough buyers. Prices drop precipitously because nobody knows what to pay, they just don’t bid and prices erode further. They talk about market liquidity, but that’s based on everyday markets. When there are no buyers, there’s no liquidity, people panic and sell at any price, which lowers bids even more.”
Zoe C, “So the whole business of experts picking stocks?”
Three replies, “Is bullshit.”
She giggles, “There seems to be a lot of that in every profession.”
Getting chilly out, we move inside. Girls load the dishwasher, a separate washer for glasses. Then put out cheesecake, Natalie and I have Cognac, Elle and Zoe C opt for chardonnay, a bit too sweet for me but they like it.
“Zoe C said you enjoyed Pulp Fiction, we have Get Shorty ready, another movie based on an Elmore Leonard book, different director, Sonnenfeld, not Tarantino. The only actor from Pulp is John Travolta. Have you seen it?”
I know Zoe C hasn’t, the others say no, the movie clicks on.
We laugh our way through Chili Palmer’s manipulations, either physical or psych out. Totally screws with Danny DeVito as a full of himself actor and manages to take his girlfriend while he’s at it. Gene Hackman does his usual professional work and nails his part perfectly.
Movie ends, it’s still only nine forty five. Girls decide a late swim is in order. They don’t actually swim, they park in the Jacuzzi and bubble. I take acrylic glasses of chardonnay, bid everyone a good evening and retreat to my bedroom. If Natalie wants to play, she knows she can climb in even if I’m asleep. Trust me, you want Nat to wake you up for sex.
Alas, not to be, I wake at seven alone. Try not to envision the three of them in bed doing girl-girl-girl things. Coffee’s ready, it distracts me from erection inducing images.
The New York times further distracts, at least until Natalie shows up at eight.
“I’m great company, come to see you and sleep with the girls,” she’s in another slinky t-shirt, barefoot, luscious.
She sits in my lap, I kiss her soft cheek, run a hand along hard silky thigh.
“Don’t start what you can’t finish,” then, “you have a baton in your pants, or a flashlight, something hard anyway.”
“What do you expect, you on my lap.”
She stands, “Come along and make me see stars.”
After a bit of fondle and stroke, we get to it. She goes down on my play pole, when it’s where she wants it, she climbs on top and has her way with me, which happens to coincide perfectly with what I want.
After a long quiver and moan, she rolls off, “I said stars, I got lightening. Nice work Chef.”
“I just lay there thinking how lucky I’d gotten.”
She smiles, “Sweet, thank you. Perhaps you can get lucky again later.”
“I’ll make a note.”
When we emerge, Zoe C and Elle are outside drinking coffee.
Zoe C, “Early meditation?”
“Something like that, definitely enlightening. You guys hungry?”
“Lightly, if scrambled eggs should appear, they would soon disappear.”
Natalie joins them, I go in to crack eggs, pull out a loaf of bread for toast. I hear soft giggling through the open patio door.