Walter and Grace walked by Teresa and Eileen as several young men crowded close for their attention. Eileen leaned, close to Teresa and whispered, "Has your dad been drinking? He looks red in the face."
"What else could he do?" whispered Teresa. "My mother was gone for almost an hour."
"Oh? Who with?"
Teresa's face was set, she didn't display any of the rage inside her as she said, "Never mind."
"Ohhh," answered Eileen knowingly. "Him."
"Forget about that," said Teresa. "As soon as they're done dancing I'm going to ask my dad to dance with me. You wait a while then cut in."
"Cut in?" she asked as if it were some horrible task.
"Yes, cut in. Just tap me on the shoulder and I'll step aside. Then you dance with him and ask him."
"I can't," said Eileen.
"You have to!"
"I do not!"
"You want to, don't you? Don't you want to know what a real man, a mature man, is like?" asked Teresa. She giggled at some idiotic joke one of the fellows made.
"Of course I do, you know that," said Eileen.
"Then just ask him, silly. All he can do is say no… but he won't. I know he gets turned on by you… "
Eileen whispered, "Then why hasn't he asked me?"
Teresa sighed. "Because you're so young. He can't go around making plays for girls our age. What if we panicked and told someone? He'd be in big trouble. Anyway, he's married, he has to play things real cool."
"I guess so," said Eileen.
Grace pressed her body in close to Walter's while they danced but he didn't seem to feel it. His steps were unsure as he trotted her around the floor. But he's a handsome man, she told herself. Handsome and wealthy. Half the women there would give away their diamonds just to get in bed with him. She smiled inside. Grace knew she was the sharpest, most stunning woman in the club.
Walter let his eyes gaze across the dance floor. All he saw were the aging, overweight bodies of girdle-held backsides of the other men's wives. A sad lot, he figured. Grace was the most beautiful of the bunch… the bunch of wives.
His stare held firm when it came to Eileen and Teresa in the corner with all the admiring young men. Now, there are two fine creatures, he mused to himself. Young, firm, alive and vivacious. Not hardened by the years of struggle or softened by the years of time.
The music ended and Grace stepped back. "Perhaps we should circulate," she said.
"Perhaps," answered Walter. "Why don't we assault the Jameson's over there? You can hear the latest gossip and I can hear about his boat sales."
"Good idea," said Grace.
Then Teresa was there. "Daddy, will you dance with me?" she asked.
Her father smiled graciously. "If your mother will forgive my not socializing with the Jameson's."
Grace jumped at the chance. "Oh yes, dear. You dance with Teresa, I'll handle the Jameson's on my own."
The music started again and Walter took his daughter into his arms. She smiled sweetly and pressed in close to his well-groomed, spicy-smelling body.
"Enjoying yourself?" he asked.
"Not too much," Teresa answered. "These things are really a bore."
Walter chuckled. "Well, we must fake it. After all, it's the least we can do for your mother."
Teresa liked the secure feeling of his tender embrace, the smoothness with which he danced. He seemed much more sober than when he came from the bar. His graceful movements and gentle lead made her dance better than she ever had. Her breasts were gradually kneading into his chest to be pushed up high in her low-cut top.
Walter looked down on the bulbous masses of breast and saw where the dark tan stopped and the pure white skin began. He caught himself and stopped before inhaling enough to swell his chest and force more of the delicious mammaries into view.
"You're the most beautiful girl here tonight," he whispered.
She blushed. "And you're the most handsome man."
"Even more handsome than the lifeguard?" he asked.
Before Teresa could answer she felt a tap on her shoulder. She turned and saw Eileen's anxious face.
"What is this?" asked Walter. "Dance with the old-timers' night?"
Teresa stepped away and Eileen shyly took her place. "No, Father, it's dance with the grooviest man night," said Teresa. She smiled and walked away.
Walter couldn't think of anything to say to the sweet young thing in his arms except, "Are you enjoying yourself tonight, Eileen?"
She pressed herself in close to his warmth. "I am now," she coyly answered.
Walter grinned and shut up. He kept in perfect time to the music, all the while feeling how the slim, curving body managed to move closer and closer to his. The music was slow and rhythmic as he felt her hand moving high on his back to touch the nape of his neck. Then her hips moved in to press against his upper thigh and then he felt the flatness of her taut belly rubbing against his crotch.
He visualized her as he had seen her many times at the house with Teresa, both in their swimsuits. Teresa was a full-bodied, luscious thing with giant breasts and curving rump. Eileen was just as appealing in her thin, feline way. Her breasts were nowhere near the size of his daughter's but they were fascinating just the same.
He had tried many times to undress her with his eyes when they weren't watching. He pictured her breasts as broad-based cones without enough mass to ever droop. The nipples would be nothing but adolescent puckers of slick, pink flesh that would harden if you blew on them.
She had a high, proud backside at the top of her well-developed, long legs. They were the legs of a girl who enjoyed sports, limber, smooth, curving subtly with nerve-wracking temptation. He knew he could circle her waist with his hands and lift her in the air like a beautiful, giggling feather. Toss her like a gay nymph.
He inhaled and smelled the cleanliness of her long, red hair. She had white, tender flesh that refused to tan more than slightly. Eileen was always cautious when in the sun; she burned easily. Her freckled nose reminded him of the days gone by when girls her age weren't ever allowed to wear anything as brazen as make-up.
Walter suddenly realized what his fascination with Eileen was. No make-up. He stared into her face and saw nothing but pure, healthy skin. Her eyes were clear, unsmudged or coated with thick crap. Her lips always made him want to take her in his arms and kiss her… there wasn't a trace of lipstick on those lips, just honest, natural color.
Eileen could feel Mr. Cunningham's cock rising in his pants to bulge against her belly. She could hardly breathe, she felt so forward. But he didn't seem to mind at all, actually he looked like he was enjoying it. She pressed hard against the stiffness and swore she felt him grinding back.
He smelled so good and danced so gracefully. He held her like she was crystal, valuable, cherished. And the lump was getting bigger and bigger all the time. When he gazed down into her eyes she knew what he was thinking, what he was wanting real bad. All she had to do was get the courage like Teresa said.
"Mr. Cunningham," Eileen whispered.
"Yes, dear?" he answered.
"Do you think I'm too young?"
He smiled. "Too young? No, of course not."
"Good. Because I certainly don't think you're too old."
He was silent for a while before asking the next question. "Too old for what?"
"To have an affair with me."
He was silent for a very long time. Eileen's face was flushed red and she felt warm all over. Finally he said, "No, you're not too young and I'm not too old, Eileen. But I do think you might be better off with someone closer to your own age."
The words cut through her like a knife but she couldn't back down now. "I don't. I think I should be taught by someone who's mature, someone who knows what he's doing."