"Kate, I've got to tell you something."
"Mmmmm?"
"Dolores is turning me on. She's working at it, but she doesn't have to."
She made a face. "So now she's picking on you. Mark had the same reaction and I told her it wasn't nice to go around teasing her dad."
"Or her Uncle Dan."
"I'll talk to her about it."
"Please. I don't want to be tempted by a kid. Get a couple of more brewskis in me and I might convince myself that she wants to do more than tease."
Kate chuckled. "She probably does. She really likes you, you know."
"She's 15. She's just a kid."
"Oh, she's grown up enough in some ways."
"Not between the ears, she's not. And how's Irene looking?"
"She's grown up enough, in all the ways. When I grow up, I want to look like Irene. Looking forward to her arrival?" She stared pointedly at my crotch.
"As if you and Lolita weren't enough to raise the flagpole."
"Why, thank you for the flattery!" She smiled. Dimples. Hadn't noticed those before.
"It's truth."
"Well, if you're already salivating, wait'll Bonita gets here."
"Oh? She's – what? Nineteen?"
"You haven't seen her in a while, have you?"
"No. Last couple of times, she's been away at school." Bonita was a sophomore at Smith, on a scholarship. She'd spent her previous summer in Italy, visiting ruins (presumably). This summer she was interning at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. She was an Art History major.
"Bonita is gorgeous and hot and – remember young Raquel Welch?"
"Who could forget?"
"Okay – better. Sexier."
I whistled. "Maybe we better get some sheep in here before they arrive. I'm going to be drooling over a 19-year-old. If Irene shows signs of receptivity, warn her that I'm going to be, er, prominently energetic."
"The prominence is already evident." She glanced at my crotch.
"Cripes."
Dolores and Penny came out, wearing loose shorts and oversized shirts and thongs. Penny looked cute. Since Dolores's shirt was sufficiently oversized for her braless tits to bobble enticingly, she was again an ad for jailbait sex.
"Kate – Lolita?" I whispered.
"Right. Dolores, will you help me with something, please?" Kate strode toward the stairway to the upstairs bedroom, her daughter in tow.
Mark returned. "Mosquito heaven out there."
"We can't eat outside?" Penny asked.
"In a little while. Your dad has successfully engaged the nuclearpowered bug zappers. I will fire up the citronella blasters and in a brief time, the backyard will be safe for visiting humans."
"I'm still putting on jeans and a long sleeve," said Mark.
"Bug repellent's in the utility closet next to the bathroom down here."
Penny looked up at the closed bedroom door. "You told Mom about Dolores, right?"
"Right."
Penny looked at me, now. Her gaze was disconcertingly calm. "She really wants to do it with you, y'know."
"If she feels the same way in five years, I'll be delighted."
"I'm serious."
I was busy working a garlic clove around the steaks. I stopped and met her stare. "She told you?"
Penny nodded. "She's not a virgin, either. Hasn't been for a year. Why not?"
"She's too young – "
"She's big enough."
"And she's not big enough."
"You liked her body."
"Yes, but she's not big enough. In there."
"She's had – "
"Believe me, Penny. She's not."
"But – "
I reached into the vegetable bin and handed her a large cucumber. "No, she's not."
Her eyes widened and her mouth opened. A little "Oh!" came out.
I took back the vegetable and replaced it. "Put the plates out on the picnic table for me? They're in that cupboard." I nodded and resumed preparing the steaks. "How do you like yours?"
"Big and – uh, medium." She was blushing. She took a very long time to put the plates on the table. In the interim, Dolores and Kate came back downstairs. Both were dressed for outdoor dining, i.e., jeans and long-sleeved dark blouses. Dolores looked abashed. Kate was keeping her lovely lips pursed in a straight line, holding back a smile.
"Dolores?" I called.
"What?" she snapped. Then: "Sorry."
"It's okay."
Kate was stifling a laugh.
"Would you help set the table, please? Silverware and glasses." I nodded toward the appropriate cupboard and drawers.
When she was outside, Kate said, "She really wants to do it with you."
"If she feels the same way in five years, I'll be delighted."
"I'm serious."
I was cutting the steaks into New York strips. I stopped and turned to her, with an intense feeling of deja vu. "She told you?"
"She's not a virgin, either. Hasn't been for a year."
"She told you?" This is a recording – a recording – a recording…
"Sure. We have a good relationship."
"And what do you think of this desire?"
"I guess every young woman has a phase when she gets the hots for an older, male relative. Especially a good-looking one who has a romantic lifestyle."
"Oh, yeah. real romantic. Cooped up ten hours a day in front of a CRT, trying to turn obscure bits of fact into a coherent story. Dragging around the SEC or libraries. Hanging out for hours in some waiting room while the guy who won't return my calls ducks down the service elevator. About as romantic as driving a cab."
"She just sees the byline on a New York Magazine cover or a book in the stores. She remembers the name on the Times list or a Tonight Show bit – she taped it, you know." Kate smiled. "Yes – romantic. Handsome. Single."
"You still haven't told me what you think of this."
She took a deep breath. I was glad she was dressed. "Well, if she's going to get it on with an older male, I think I'd prefer it be you. I know you, I like you and I trust you with her emotions."
"She's too young – "
"She's mature enough."
"And she's not big enough."
"She turned you on."
"Very much." I was about to say "But she's not big enough, in there" and do the cucumber routine again – but then I remembered what Mark had told me. No, that was not the approach to take in this case. I just said, "I don't think it would be a great idea, Kate, and I'd prefer that it be discouraged."
She nodded thoughtfully. "And that's one of the reasons why I'd trust you with her. Thank you."
"Think nothing of it. Let's go grill some steaks."
By the time the salad was dispensed, the steaks were done and it was full dark. I switched on some of the low-wattage electric lanterns so we could see what we were eating. The night was filled with stars, the steaks were juicy, the potatoes sizzling, the salad crunchy, the beer was cold, good company abounded – heaven. We topped it off with the traditional toasted marshmallows (for the "kids," which included Kate) and some coffee cake for Mark and me. His spirits, which had been good during the meal, were sinking again. While Kate and the "kids" went into the house to play Scrabble, he started talking about looking for work. There were hints of the recession ending, but -
"In my field, you work for a loser, you're marked as a loser."
He went downhill from there. Through three more beers, he got progressively more morose. And less coherent. Never could hold his booze.
The womenfolk came out to help clear the table. Kate looked at Mark, sitting stuporous across from me, and rolled her eyes. I gave her a little shake of my head.
"It's almost nine," she said. "Their train comes in at nine thirty." The two girls helped me clear the table while Kate helped Mark clear the doorway and the Alpine climb to the bedroom.
"Gonna be quiet tonight," Penny said.
"For a change," Dolores said.
We were carrying our loads into the kitchen. "Who won the game?" I was trying to change the subject.
"The shrimp."
"Oh?" Penny was sticking her tongue out at Dolores.
"Yep. Turned 'or' into 'fornicate.'"
I stopped in my tracks and stared as they went to the counter. Penny glanced back at me and grinned impishly. "I read a lot," she said.