Chapter 16
(Mgg, oral, exhib)
Frank strikes up a friendship with Peggy and Wendy's aunt and uncle who turn out to have a kinky streak of their own...
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I awoke before 6 o'clock Friday morning, feeling better than I had felt in my life. I decided to set up my "What Do You Think?" booth in the Downtown Diner's parking lot, and ask people what they thought about the tree protest.
The majority opinion was opposed to the protesters, because the majority of breakfast customers were businessmen. This, of course, would generate a flurry of pro-protest letters to the editor. Protesters would flood the next city council meeting, giving our city hall reporter a good story. The next poll would be taken on the community college campus, which would give majority approval to the tree huggers, and inciting more anti-protest letters.
Anne looked at my poll and laughed, "Why didn't you just take the poll in the chamber of commerce lobby?"
"I wanted to get it out of the way early, so I can be home when Nellie leaves for her weekend training seminar. She expects to come home a little after 1 o'clock to get her suitcase."
"She's going to spend the entire weekend with her boss?"
"She's going to fuck his brains out."
"You are the craziest son of a bitch I know who's not locked up in a mental facility."
"I've discovered that I love sluts."
"I'm not surprised. You're a male slut. You'll stick your dick in any available hole."
"Not anymore. I want to be certain I can get it up for my slut wife and mother-in-law whenever I'm needed."
"Your mother-in-law!?!"
"I'm a fucking pervert."
"You and Nellie should come have supper and drinks with me and Mike some evening next week. I have no desire to be a slut, but I think it would be nice to have a lover on the side, without threatening my marriage."
I got on the phone and set up interviews for the following week, then went to the tree, where I listened to the protesters and the counter-protesters. I was walking away when a couple of the counter protesters started throwing rotten tomatoes at the protesters. I got a couple of good shots of the tomato tossers with my Rollei35. Then I shot close-ups of the victims. The culprits fled the scene before cops arrived.
It was a little after noon when I arrived at The Enchanted Garden, parking my car on the street, so Reggie could park in my space. A Sears truck was delivering furniture to Sarge's and Riley's apartment. The four deliverymen ogled Felicity and Pauline, who were constantly in the way.
"Why don't y'all go to the pool and stay out of the way," I said.
"The movers haven't complained," Riley replied.
Then to the movers, "Y'all want me to run the kids off?"
"No!" the foreman immediately responded. "We're professionals. We're used to kids being underfoot. We like kids."
"I can tell," Sarge chuckled, looking pointedly at the foreman's bulging crotch.
"Are they your daughters?" the foreman asked.
"No. They just like hanging out with us."
"This is a lot better than that little bitty apartment above the washateria," Pauline said.
Felicity giggled naughtily, "We'll have a lot of fun, hanging out here. Peggy, Wendy and Bethany are going to *Love* it!"
Felicity and Pauline directed the placement of southwest style furniture, upholstered with tooled leather, and brown and white cowhide.
"When's Mom coming?" my daughter asked.
"Her predecessor's retirement party is from noon till 1 o'clock. I'm guessing she'll get here before 1:15 to pick up her suitcase before she and Reggie head out to the Hilton."
"Grandpa said that him and Uncle Goeff will pick me up around 4 o'clock to take me to the houseboat."
"I'm being abandoned for the weekend," I whined melodramatically.
"You won't be lonely," Pauline said seductively. "You'll have me and Peggy and Wendy and Bethany to keep you company."
"That takes care of the daytime," Riley said.
"My grandmother will let me spend the nights with him," Pauline said, "if he doesn't want to be alone."
The movers went to the truck to retrieve more furniture, muttering to each other, and giving us sidelong looks. They were still carrying furniture in when Nellie and Reggie arrived.
"I'll be out in a minute or two," she told Reggie.
I went into the apartment with her, and carried her suitcase out to the Caddie. The trunk opened, and I set the suitcase in. I then opened the passenger door for her, and she got in.
"I want you to make certain Reginald keeps both hands on the wheel and both eyes on the road until you get to the hotel parking garage."
"I will. Don't expect me home before 5 p.m. Monday."
"I won't. Have fun, Babe.
"Ta ta, Reginald."
If looks could kill, I would have dropped dead on the spot. Instead, I winked and chuckled.
As the Caddy drove away, my daughter took my hand, and said, "Let's fuck."
We went to my bedroom, where I ate her pussy, fucked her, and ate her again. She was sucking my cock when the back doorbell chimed.
I put on my robe, and opened the door to find my father-in-law, and uncle-in-law.
"Frank, this is my brother, Geoffrey."
Felicity came bounding down the stairs, naked. "Hi, Grandpa! Hi, Grand-unk! Wanna fuck before we go? My Daddy really loves watching me fuck and suck cock. Grandpa says that you've got a big one."
He looked at me.
"Whip it out."
He pulled it out. I thought it was bigger than mine.
My daughter went down on her grand uncle, grasped the shaft at its base, and took as much of it in her mouth as she could.
"It's almost as big as yours, Daddy.
"Fuck me from behind, Grandpa."
Geoff didn't last long. I knelt and kissed her while her maternal grandfather fucked her doggy style. My daughter's mouth was full of her granduncle's cum. I took it, showed it to Geoff and Gerry, and swallowed it.
"I'm certain I'll last longer next time," Geoff said.
I got under Felicity as her grandfather began ejaculating.
The moment he withdrew, Felicity straddled my face.
"Clean my pussy, Daddy. Clean it good." She humped and whined and babbled as she approached orgasm.
They left, and I laid in bed, reviewing the past two weeks. I rolled a joint, took a few tokes and snuffed it out. I swore to quit the booze. Alcohol was a downer. My daughter didn't like me being drunk. Not drinking immeasurably improved my sex life.
I returned to the office to process the film and make a few prints for Saturday morning's paper. I called the police chief for a comment, and he requested copies of the photos to aid in identifying the tomato tossers.
Pauline greeted me when I returned to the Enchanted Garden. "We have to go out of town. Lula's sister was in a wreck. They say it's bad. They don't think she's going to make it. She's on life support."
Peggy and Wendy came in after Pauline left, and took turns riding my beard.
"We won't be able to spend much time with you this weekend," Wendy said. "We got aunts and uncles and cousins visiting all weekend."
"Damn!" I whined. "I'm being abandoned."
I called my mother-in-law, and discovered she was visiting her mother. The visit was an annual tradition during the fishing contest.
I put my swim trunks on and went to the pool. I was lying face-down on my float when Peggy, Wendy, their parents, aunts, uncles, and cousins invaded the pool.
"Mamma, Poppa, this is Mr. Harris, Felicity's Dad."
I vaguely remembered meeting Norman and Wilma a year or so earlier.
He was a security guard supervisor at the oil refinery, working the 11 p.m. to 7 a.m. shift, Monday through Friday.
"We love to see you at church Sunday," Norman said.
"I'm not a believer."
"I'll give you some reading material."
"I know you from somewhere," I said. "Away from the apartments."
"I don't think so," he said nervously, avoiding eye contact. "I'm at work, at home or at church."
"Or fishing," Wendy said. "He sometimes goes fishing at night on Saturday and Sunday nights."
"I keep my hours on the weekends. So I'm up all night."
I stared at him, trying to place the face.
That made him nervous, and he swam away to join his relatives.
Then I recognized the male pattern baldness. He had sucked my cock on a couple of occasions at The Debauchery, a gay bar in Biggston, where he was Saturday night's featured drag queen; Fifi Lafleur. His Dolly Parton wig had gotten in the way, and he/she removed it to perform fellatio in the dressing room. I knew the head that gave me head. He told me I had the most gorgeous cock he had ever seen. He wanted me to fuck him in the ass bareback. My strong aversion to feces prevented me from maintaining an erection.
A Saturday night run to Biggston, and another encounter with Fifi was in order. I see nothing wrong with blackmailing hypocrites. I had no real intentions of extortion at that moment. I just wanted him to know that I knew about his secret life, and didn't want to hear any of his sanctimonious bullshit.
I slipped off my float. Wendy asked if she and Peggy could use it.
"Sure, Kid," I said. "Keep it. You'll get more fun out of it than I will. I may borrow it from time to time."
"Kool!" Wendy exclaimed. "Peggy! Mr. Harris says we can keep the float."
Peggy swam to me, threw her arms around my neck, and kissed my cheek. "Thank you, Mr. Harris!"
I fondled her ass underwater.
"You're Felicity's best friends, and I love you both."
"Where is Felicity?" Norman asked.
"She's spending the weekend on a houseboat with her grandfather and granduncle. They're entering the fishing contest."
He said, "I'll be fishing all night Saturday and Sunday."
Wilma laughed, "I don't know why Norm enters the contest. He almost never catches anything."
"My father-in-law says fishing isn't about catching fish. That's a bonus. He goes for relaxation. Watching the sunrise over the water. Being close to nature. Most of the time he doesn't use a rod and reel. A cane pole, hook, line and sinker."
"What's he fishing for in the contest?"
"Shark. He's never won. Fourth place is the closest he's ever come."
Wendy said, "The last time she went fishing with her Grandad, she caught a three foot long black tip shark. Is she going for shark too?"
"No. The rules require that the angler gets no assistance landing the fish. She couldn't get the black tip in the boat without her grandfather's help. She's going for flounders and specks. She'd have trouble landing a trophy sized gafftop."
"Do you fish or hunt?"
"Only with my camera. I don't have to deal with blood and guts."
"You're a photographer?" Wilma asked.
"Photojournalism mostly. Wildlife photography is a hobby, and not even a serious one. I lack patience."
"What about portraits, weddings, and that kind of thing?"
"I've done candid portraits for friends and their kids. I'd like to do nudes, but I haven't found anyone to model, other than my wife."
While Wilma blushed and giggled girlishly, I winked at a girl who appeared to be 11 to 13 years old. She looked around, then winked back. Peggy witnessed the surreptitious eye flirting.
"This is Dianna, my cousin. She's 12."
"Dianna?" I chuckled. "That's a Pagan name. Goddess of Love."
"We didn't know that when we named her," her mother said.
"I did," her dad said. "My brother-in-law, Norm, didn't seem to take notice of that fact."
"I noticed," Norman said. "I assumed that y'all were unaware of the Pagan origin of the name, and said nothing."
"What's a candid portrait?" Wendy asked.
"That's when I photograph someone who's not posing for the camera. I usually do it at parties, family gatherings, wedding receptions, birthday parties, picnics."
"Cool!" Wendy giggled. "We're going to the park for a picnic in a little while. You wanna come take pictures of us?"
"I'd love to come," I said.
Wendy, Peggy and Dianne stifled giggles. The adults pretended not to notice the kids noticing the double entendre.
"What do you charge?" Dianne's father, Gilbert, asked.
"I'm not a pro. I don't charge. Buy me a pack of photo paper, and a 36 exposure roll of Tri-X monochrome 35 millimeter film."
I flirted with Wilma and her sister, Bethel, hoping they would assume the bulge in my trunks was for them, and not for their daughters. Norman seemed unhappy that his wife was enjoying my flirtations. Gilbert seemed amused. He whispered in his wife's ear. She blushed brightly, pushed him away, and gasped, "You're terrible."
Her indignation was feigned. She was obviously titillated by his whispered comment.
"You're a terrible person. I don't know why I married you."
"Yes, you do," he said suggestively.
"Stop it! I cannot believe that you're a preacher's son."
"The only one who could ever teach you was the son of a preacher man," he sang to the tune of the Dusty Springfield song.
"What did he say, Momma?" Dianne asked.
"Your father was just being rude. You don't have to know."
"All of my grandfathers are preachers," Dianne said. "Daddy's the black sheep of the family."
We all got out of the pool at the same time, and I made no effort to conceal my bulge.
"We're going to shower and dress," Gilbert said. "Then we'll stop by KFC to get a couple buckets of goodies on the way to the park."
"I'll meet y'all there."
I showered, put on a tee shirt and a pair of denim cutoffs that would allow me to 'accidentally' expose myself. I put my 85mm lens on the Pentax for headshots. I put my Rollei35 in my fanny pack for group shots.
When everyone arrived at the park, the sun was low in the west casting harsh light and long, dark shadows.
"Why did you bring two cameras?" Dianne asked. "Is one for color and the other black and white?"
"Both are black and white. The little camera has a wider angle lens for group shots. The bigger one has a longer lens for headshots. The lighting's going to be perfect for about an hour after the sunsets."
I joined in at the picnic table.
"I love breasts," Gilbert said, eliciting giggles from the girls.
"I'm a thigh guy," I responded.
"Norm tells me that you're a heathen," Gilbert said. "But you let your daughter go to Sunday school and church."
"Felicity likes going places and doing things with her friend, Peggy, who goes to Sunday school and church every week."
"She won't be going with me this week," Peggy said. "She's spending the weekend on a houseboat, fishing with her granddaddy, and her grand-uncle, and Roy and Mickey."
"Who are Roy and Mickey?" Bethel asked.
"Mr. Harris'… erm ... buddies," Wendy giggled.
I said, "They're a couple of teenaged boys who've kind of adopted me as a sort of surrogate uncle. Obviously, they're not very good judges of character."
"You're not religious?" Bethel asked.
"We don't want to go into that discussion here," I said. "I'll wind up offending everyone, and I do not wish to do that."
"Where's your wife?" Wilma asked.
"She was just promoted to administrative assistant to the general manager of her company, and is spending the weekend at an administrative assistant training session in Houston, learning the duties and responsibilities of her new position."
The sun set, and I separated myself from the group. "Try to forget I'm here."
Gilbert started telling tales about his friends and relatives, growing up Baptist. Each of them had gone through a brief period of rebellion in their youth. He could have made a living as a stand-up comedian.
He had them all laughing or frowning, depending on who was getting gigged. I got some great shots.
"Group portrait!" Gilbert said. "Please take several shots. Hopefully, we'll all have our eyes open on one of them."
"Say, Cheese," Norman said.
On the next to the last shot, Gilbert grabbed his wife's right boob. The last shot caught her slapping him. I was the only one who witnessed the boob grab, and the slap. The sound of the slap attracted the attention of the others.
"What is wrong with you!?!" Bethel demanded.
"You didn't get a picture of that, did you?"
"I'm not sure. I won't know until I'm in the lab." I knew I captured the boob-grab, and was fairly certain I caught the face-slap.
"I want a blow-up of it, if you did," Gilbert chuckled.
"I'm pretty sure I could give you a four by five that wouldn't be too grainy."
"Don't you dare!" Bethel demanded with a forced frown. But her eyes didn't show anger. I saw amusement and maybe arousal.
"What did he do?" the girls asked.
"You don't need to know."
Peggy and Wanda looked at me, grinning, knowing I would show them the photos.
"When are you going to develop them?" Gilbert asked.
"I'll drop the film off at a One Hour kiosk in the morning. Y'all can review them later, and let me know if you want any eight by ten prints."
I returned to my empty apartment, and lit a joint, attempting to repress the urge to go to the Oasis for drinks. The lure of the bar was overwhelming. I missed the camaraderie and conversation. I got dressed and opened the back door as the doorbell rang. Gilbert and Bethel standing there, surprised that the door opened so quickly.
"Were you expecting us?" Bethel asked warily.
"No. I was leaving. But there's nowhere I have to be. What's up?"
"May we come in?" Gilbert asked.
I ushered them into the living room and motioned toward the couch. Bethel was visibly nervous.
Gilbert cleared his throat. "Could you photograph Beth in the nude?"
"Gil!"
"Drop the innocent act, Baby. You know you want it," he said, soothingly.
Then to me, "I've taken naked pictures of her with a Polaroid, and showed them to my buddies out on the rig." He handed me three Polaroid pictures; one of her getting out of a bathtub, one stepping out of a bathing suit, and one of her lying in bed, pretending to be asleep. Her eyes were shut too tight to be asleep.
"Rig?"
"Offshore drilling rig. I'm the crane operator. I act like she doesn't know I'm showing them to other men. She gets off to me telling her what they said about her pictures. I'd like to have some artistic poses."
"I'm not a studio photographer. I don't have the proper lighting. The lighting might be alright here around midday with the drapes open."
"What about outdoors after sunset? You said the lighting is perfect then."
"Or before sunrise. I know a secluded beach."
"Outdoors?" Beth asked with a mixture of anxiety and arousal.
"It's possible that there might be fishermen in boats this weekend."
"I love it!" Gilbert said. "You know you want it, Baby. You want it bad. You want to see men looking at your naked body."
"I'm fat."
"You're not fat. You're pleasantly plump. You're curvy in all the right places."
"I don't know."
"Yes, you do. Could you photograph her now, Frank. Using a flash?"
"Maybe if I suffuse the flash and bounce it off the ceiling."
"Get naked, Baby."
She hesitated.
"Okay," he sighed. "Forget it. Let's go home."
"I'll do it."
"I knew you would. You knew you would. You fucking want it. You want to see another man's eyes looking at your tits and ass and pussy. Now, take off the dress."
The dress was all she wore.
I put two layers of toilet paper over the strobe, and directed it to the ceiling.
"Look at the camera."
"I thought you weren't supposed to look at the camera."
"I want anyone looking at the photo to feel like you're looking at them--like you know they're admiring your body--like you know they want to fuck you."
"Yeah, Baby," Gilbert agreed. "Like you know my buddies want to fuck you. And like you want them to fuck you. You know that they're going to jack off, fantasizing about fucking you. They're going to dream about fucking you."
"That's what you want," I said. "You want them to want you. You want to be wanted. You want to be wanton. Show them that you want it. Let them know how fucking hot you are."
I had her pose in several different ways, none of them overtly obscene.
"Look at that bulge in Frank's jeans. You're going to do that to my buddies."
"Is that what you want, Gil? Do you want your buddies to want to fuck me? Or do you want them to fuck me? Do you want other men fucking your wife? Do you want me to be a wanton woman? A slut? What kind of man wants his wife to be a slut?"
I raised my hand. "This kind of man," I said.
"Really!?!"
"My wife is fucking her boss' brains out as we speak."
I told them about Felicity and her friends catching Nellie being sucking Dr. George's cock, and her being caught on tape fucking a 17-year-old boy in a vacant apartment, and her motel escapade. "I discovered that I loved her being a slut. I get off to other men and boys fucking my wife."
"Your daughter and her friends caught her mother sucking cock?"
"Yep."
"Oh, my God!" Bethel exclaimed. "Was Peggy one of her friends?"
"Both Peggy and Wendy," I said. "I would appreciate it if you didn't tell their parents."
"Your daughter and her friends know that your wife is a slut?"
"Yes. And they know I want her to be a slut, and I love her being a slut."
Gilbert licked his lips and cleared his throat. "Wendy said something about Roy and Mickey being your buddies. Have they fucked her?"
"The three of us gangbanged her. She loved it."
"Damn!" he chuckled. "Your reality is wilder than my fantasies."
"What does your daughter think of all this?" Bethel asked.
"She was totally pissed off at first, until she realized that her weird daddy loved having a slut wife. If it's cool with me, it's cool with her."
"It's not setting a very good example." she said.
I replied, "Being totally honest, being who and what you want to be is setting a bad example? Is being a hypocrite, and pretending to be someone you're not, a good example? Is sucking cock at a gay bar on Saturday night, then acting sanctimonious on Sunday morning a good example?"
"Who are you talking about?" Gilbert asked.
"Maybe I'm speaking in generalities."
"Oh, my God!" Beth exclaimed. "You're talking about my brother. You're talking about Norman."
"What!?!" Gilbert asked.
"When we were kids, I caught him a couple of times, dressing up like a girl. I even helped him put on makeup once, and Daddy caught him and whipped him with a belt. The bible prohibits men dressing up like women, and women dressing like men."
"Please don't confront him," I begged. "I don't know what it would do to his family. I don't know what he would do to himself."
Gilbert asked, "You know this for a fact, or is it just conjecture on your part?"
I told him about Fifi Lafleur and The Debauchery.
"When was this?"
"Six or seven months ago."
"I'm going to go check it out tomorrow night."
"I was planning the same thing," I said. "I might be mistaken. It could be someone with the same male pattern baldness."
"It is kind of unusual with that little patch of hair in the front that he grows long and combs back, and sprays in place. A Cat Four hurricane wouldn't budge it."
"I guarantee you won't recognize him. Fifi is knock down gorgeous, and a fantastic fellationist."
"You changed the subject," Bethel accused.
"Did I?"
"What about the example your wife is setting for your daughter. What if your daughter, Felicity, decides she wants to be a slut like her mother?"
I sighed. "What the hell? I've always been told that honesty is the best policy. Felicity was a slut before she found out about her mother."
"How old is Felicity?"
"Ten."
"Your daughter's a slut at 10 years old?" Bethel asked. "Do her friends know? Does Peggy and Wanda know?"
"Practically all of the kids in the Enchanted Garden know. And they know that I know, and approve."
"You let boys fuck your daughter?" Gilbert asked.
"Felicity's not into boys."
"She's a lesbian?" Bethel asked.
"Bisexual, but mainly hetero."
"But you said that she's not into boys."
"She's into men, or more correctly, she's into men being into her."
"How did you find out?" Gilbert asked.
I told them.
"I wonder if Peggy and Wanda have told Dianna," Bethel said.
"I doubt it," I said. "I'm not certain. But Dianna's older, and an outsider. Are they close?"
"No," Gilbert said. "They're little kids. Dianna's almost a teenager. Normally, she treats them like they're pests."
"She is sexy," I sighed. "I winked at her, and she winked back."
"You stay away from my daughter," Bethel commanded. Her scowl slowly became a grin.
"Did you flirt with grownups when you were a preteen?"
She blushed brightly.
"Maybe you did more than just flirt?"
She gave her husband a sidelong look.
"Out with it Bethel. Tell us what you did."
"Don't get mad."
"Spill it."
"Robert Preston, the evangelist. He came to our town a few times a year; once for a revival, and a couple of times as a guest preacher, when our preacher went on vacation. I was in the children's choir."
"How old were you?"
"Nine the first time."
"The first time?"
"We got together every time he came to town, and once or twice when he was just passing through on his way to somewhere else. Until I was 14. He was into prepubescent girls."
"What did he do?"
"The first time, he said that he wanted to kiss me all over, and I let him."
"Did he fuck you?"
"Yes," she whispered with downcast eyes.
"Son of a bitch!" Gilbert muttered, then took a deep breath, and sighed, "That is so fucking hot!"
"Hot!?!"
"I've been carrying this guilt around since we started dating. Worried that you would hate me if you ever found out. Worried that my parents would find out. Then when you do find out, you say it's so fucking hot!"
"Guilt is a terrible thing," I said. "Religion wants you to feel guilty for having natural needs and desires and dreams. Unworthy. Religious leaders want you to feel guilty, and afraid of being found out."
"You're preaching to the choir here," Gilbert said. "I quit believing when I was 12 or 13, but continued faking it until I was 16.
Bethel sighed, "Dianna decided she didn't want to go to Sunday school and church anymore six months ago. I begged her to fake it while we were visiting Norman and Wilma."
"Fake it, kid," I laughed. "That's setting a good example. Act like somebody you're not to keep peace in the family."
"Especially when the guy we're trying to impress is a closet cocksucking drag queen," Gilbert said. "Hypocrisy piled on top of hypocrisy."
"Have you told your wife and daughter about Norman?"
"No. I didn't recognize him until this afternoon at the pool."
"Are you going to tell them?" Bethel asked. "Felicity might tell Peggy and Wendy."
"That's tricky. It would drastically change the family dynamic, which could be a good thing, or it could be a disaster. I don't know Norman. I don't know anything about his mental state. For all I know, he could go homicidal and suicidal. It could be a total freakout. How would his wife handle it? The kids don't seem to take the religion thing too seriously. I wish Pauline was here."
"Who's Pauline?"
I explained who and what Pauline was. "Maybe she could get into his head. She told Felicity that he was a closet homosexual when nobody suspected a thing. Oh, and another thing; Felicity thinks the preacher's fucking Wilma. She thinks she almost caught them making out."
Bethel laughed, "It's not just me. I've suspected it for years. I thought it was just my dirty mind, working overtime."
"I wonder if this Pauline person told Peggy and Wendy about her suspicions," Gilbert said.
"With Pauline, it's not mere suspicion, it's concrete knowledge."
The phone rang.
"Do you miss me?" Pauline asked.
"Yes!"
"I felt you needed me."
"You are spooky, Pauline," I said.
Gilbert's and Bethel's mouths dropped open.
I quickly outlined our ‘drag queen dilemma. "Have you told Peggy and Wendy that their father was a closet queer?"
"A closeted gay man," Pauline corrected. "Yes. I told them. And I told them to be sympathetic when he comes out or is exposed."
"What do you think he'll do if he's exposed?"
"He'll probably faint. When he regains consciousness, he'll feel deep shame, and relief."
"He won't go postal?"
"Oh, no. He/she's a very gentle soul. Once he sees that his daughters accept him for who he really is, he'll be happy. You're not going to expose him, are you?"
"His brother-in-law, his sister and I are planning to confront Fifi Lafleur at The Debauchery tomorrow night."
"Excellent!"
"How's Lula's sister?"
"They're pulling the plug at 8 a.m. I told them that she will never recover from the vegetative state and that she is in pain. The cremation and memorial service will be Monday morning. I should be back in the Enchanted Garden around 5 or 6 tomorrow afternoon. I Love You."
"I love you, too." I hung up.
"How old is she?"
"Eleven."
"You're shitting me!"
"Genius level IQ, with ESP, and a nymphomaniac."
"Now that that's taken care of, what about that secluded beach you were talking about?"
"It's the original part of John Rivers County Park. It's low lying and is subject to flooding during rains at high tide, so it's been neglected. There's old depression era rock restrooms. There's a crescent shaped beach about a hundred feet long. I'd love to shoot you running and frolicking along the water's edge, like a water nymph."
"Sounds cool to me," Gilbert said. "What about you, Babe?"
"Before sunrise?" she moaned.
"Magic time," I said. "The light is perfect."
"What'll we do with Dianna?" Bethel asked.
"Leave her in the motel room. She'll still be asleep when we get back. She doesn't wake up before 10."
"I don't know..." Bethel said.
"She's 12 years old. She babysits the Jamison twins."
"How long will we be gone, Frank?"
"The light's good for only an hour.
"Where are y'all staying?"
"The Wenteltrap Motel."
"Ten minutes or less to the park and back. We can shoot what I want to shoot in ten minutes or less. We could be back at the motel in a half hour or less."
I called the paper, and Joel answered.
"What time is sunrise tomorrow?"
"Who is this?"
"Harris."
"How the fuck should I know?"
"Because it's in the weather section of the fucking paper. Ask Betty if she's there."
"Betty, Harris wants to know what time the sun rises tomorrow."
"Six twenty. Magic hour starts around 5:15."
"I heard her."
"Magic hour?"
"She'll explain it to you. Thanks. Bye."
"I'll be at your door around 5 a.m.," I said.
"Do you have anything to drink?" Gilbert asked.
"Sweet tea, Dr. Pepper, Pepsi, root beer, 7-up."
"Nothing stronger?'
"I'm sort of on the wagon. Your coming here prevented me from jumping off."
He let out a disappointed sigh.
"I don't suppose you smoke?"
"Why do I get the feeling you're not offering me a cigarette?"
"Because cigarettes are highly addictive carcinogens."
"Let's torch one up. I'm beginning to like you a lot."
I looked at Bethel, whose grin gave me her answer.
"I shall return," I said, going toward the stairs. "That is, unless y'all would like to smoke in my bedroom. It's much more comfortable there."
They followed me to the bedroom, where we passed the joint around at least three times. By gthen Bethel appeared to be perfectly comfortable being nude.
"It's getting late," Bethel said, looking at her watch. Dianna is going to think we've abandoned her to her bratty little cousins."
"Why don't y'all bring her here? Y'all can have my bed, she can have Felicity's, and I can crash on the couch. It is really comfortable. We can go to the park from here, without waking Dianna."
"Sounds good to me," Gilbert said.
We were about ten feet from the Long's apartment when Bethel remembered she was stoned. "I can't let my brother see me like this."
"Just act normal for a few minutes," Gilbert said. "He won't notice, as long as you don't start giggling."
Gilbert knocked on the door. Norman opened it. Bethel started giggling.
"Are you ready to go, Dianna?"
She grabbed her backpack.
"We're spending the night with Frank," Bethel giggled naughtily.
"I wanna go too!" Wendy exclaimed.
"Me too," Peggy said.
"The more the merrier," I said.
Norman looked at Wilma, who suppressed a lascivious grin, and said, "If Frank doesn't mind, I guess it's okay."
Norman would leave for work at 10:30. I wondered if the preacher would come to the apartment, or if they would fuck at the church.
We entered my apartment, and Dianna immediately sniffed the air, and gave me a look.
I grinned.
She grinned.
"We have to get up early in the morning," Bethel said.
"Why?" Dianna asked.
"Not you," Bethel said.
"Why do y'all have to get up early?"
"Uh....."
"I'm going to show them how to shoot sunrises," I said. "It's kind of tricky."
"Yeah," Gilbert said. "I'm going to take up photography, and take pictures of sunsets and sunrises out in the Gulf."
"You'll have two lovely models to pose for you," I said, winking at Dianna.
Dianna said, "You can photograph me in my bikini instead of the stupid one-piece I have to wear while we're here."
"Maybe you'll pose in the bikini for me too," I said, looking her up and down.
"The bikini's at the motel," she said. "Maybe you could come there tomorrow, and I can pose for you."
Wendy said, "I bet your bikini ain't as tiny as Filly's. Hers barely covers her... uh... anything."
"Filly?" Bethel asked.
"Felicity's nickname. I hate it."
"Why?" Gilbert asked. "I like it"
"Sarge says a filly is a sexy young woman," Wendy explained.
"Who is Sarge?" Bethel asked.
"He's our security guard," Peggy said. "He's cool. He used to be a cop in Chicago."
"He's the one who started calling her Filly," Wendy said. "We were calling her 'Fill' and she hated it."
A stoned Bethel suddenly realized the girls were talking about the security guard who was fucking my daughter. "Oh! That Sarge!"
"What Sarge?" Dianna asked.
"Uh... The one who's the security guard here, I think."
"Well, yeah. They just said that he's the security guard here."
"I'm very tired," Bethel said. "I'm going to bed."
"I'm right behind you," Gilbert said.
"You girls can figure out your sleeping arrangements in Felicity's room."
"We get the big bed," Peggy said as she and Wendy ran up the stairs.
"Where are you sleeping?" Dianna asked.
"On the couch."
"Did you smoke pot with my parents?"
"Would you believe me if I said, No?"
"No."
"Then. I respectfully refuse to answer on the grounds that it might incriminate me."
"I know that they smoke pot. They forgot, or didn't know, that school let out early one day last year. They were naked in the middle of the living room floor, smoking a hookah. They wouldn't let me try it, so I threatened to turn them in. They knew I didn't mean it. But Dad said that would be a stupid move, because I'd have to live with Uncle Norman and Aunt Wilma, and be forced to go to church three or four times a week. Mom and Dad let me quit going to church last year."
"I hope you appreciate the fact that you have cool parents."
"I do. I really do. I know I don't act like it most of the time."
"Teens and parents are natural enemies."
"Exactly. It would be uncool for me to think my parents are cool."
"Why don't you give them a break. Y'all could keep it a secret. They won't tell their friends and you won't tell your friends, that y'all are cool together. Let them know you think they're cool, but tell them they can't tell anyone you said it."
"That would be weird."
"But a very cool kind of weird."
"Are you and Filly like that."
"Yes, we are."
"Y'all are close?"
"Very close." That came out sounding sexier than I had intended.
She was quiet for a while. "What are you and Dad and Mom really going to be doing so early in the morning?"
"Photographing your mother dancing on a beach nude at the water's edge, like a sea nymph."
"No! Really?"
"I'm sure they'll be pissed off at me when they find out I told you."
"I won't tell."
"Maybe you should."
"For real!?!"
"I've been told that honesty is the best policy."
"Maybe they'll hate you."
"I'll run that risk. You have to tell them how cool, or hot, you think they are for doing it."
"Is Felicity's bikini really as tiny as Wendy says it is?"
"The top barely covers her nips. The bottom exposes most of her ass, and barely covers her pussy."
"And you let her wear it?"
"I'm a fucking pervert. If my daughter wants to be sexy, I want her to be sexy."
"I've known men who I thought were fucking pervs. They were creepy. You admit to being a fucking pervert, but you're not creepy at all."
"I'm an expert at camouflaging my creepiness. Who, but a creepy old perv, would talk to a sexy 12-year-old the way I'm talking to you?"
"You are the weirdest fucking man I've ever met."
"If you'll excuse me, I have to go next door for a moment."
"Who's next door?"
"Sarge."
I went next door, and told Sarge my suspicions about Wilma.
"What church does she go to?"
"The Inerrant Word of God Baptist Tabernacle."
"I'll have Riley watch her pad. I'll check out the church."
"Can you come in and wake me at 5? I'll be on the couch."
"No problema."
I flopped on the couch, and sent Dianna to Felicity's bedroom.
In Chapter 17 Bethel becomes a slut, making her husband a submissive cuckold. Frank exposes a sanctimonious drag queen, and his holier than thou cheating spouse...
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