Alan shrugged and sat up. He couldn't quite fathom the extremes this mother was going to, to protect the so-called virtues of her daughter. And it seemed each step she took to make sure Teresa was in the best of hands caused the reverse action. Teresa was obviously revolting against Grace, but Alan decided to say nothing. After all, it wasn't his position to make suggestions, especially when he was being pleasantly shifted from one prime cunt to the other.
"You go back out now," said Grace. "Forget about pool duty and find Teresa. Ask her to dance, tell her we're all through."
"She knows about us?" Alan asked with surprise.
"Yes, she does. Tell her you broke off with me… that I'm heartbroken. But you prefer young women to old bags like me."
Alan watched as she tucked the beautiful masses of firm breast into her dress. "Some bag," he cracked.
CHAPTER SIX
The drinks tasted flat in Walter's mouth as he sat at the table, staring. Staring at the dim light of Grace's office window. They had been in there for almost half an hour with no sign of life. No one left, no one else came in. With a final gulp of his drink, Mr. Cunningham rose slowly up to his feet.
"Where you going, Walter?" asked Bill Hendricks.
"Bathroom," he muttered.
Walter wandered from the bar. He didn't want to see it anymore… that window. He knew what was happening inside, what his wife and the young lifeguard were doing. But he was almost positive the young man was Teresa's current boyfriend. He shook his head. Things happened fast, he told himself. He just wasn't keeping up with current events.
He grinned and wondered if Johnny Carvel had seen the young man enter Grace's office. He couldn't help but enjoy the humorous idea of Johnny Carvel being more upset by Grace's voracious sexual habits than her own husband was. Walter had known for many years that Grace always maintained an outside relationship with one flashy guy or another but never let it bother him. Hell, he had his fun too.
As long as Grace kept her affairs neat and secret it was actually convenient for him. His apologetic calls from the office about having to work late were always accepted by her with enthusiasm. When he played, she played. Monogamy just wasn't their thing.
But the young man bothered him. It wasn't like Grace to get involved with someone as risky as her daughter's boyfriend, a youth who might talk or become emotionally involved. Especially within sight of her bartender lover… she was underestimating the repercussions of jealousy.
Walter snapped out of his concentrated thought when he saw Eileen approaching. Through his somewhat glazed eyes he enjoyed the limber sway of her hips, the graceful bounce of her long red hair.
She stopped right in front of him with her eyes downcast. Walter wondered how deeply his rejection of her offer had affected her.
"Hello, Eileen," he softly said.
"Mr. Cunningham," she said. "I should apologize for my behavior on the dance floor."
His eyebrows lifted and a happy smile came across his face. "Huh? Why? There's no need to apologize."
"Yes there is. I was very forward, I had no right to ask what I did."
His hand reached out to lift her face up by the chin. "You had every right," he said. "You were honest, sincere and very flattering."
A tear was building in her eye as she said, "But I was wrong to think you'd accept me."
"I was wrong not to."
His statement caught her by surprise. Eileen stepped back and looked at him with hope. "You were wrong?"
He nodded. "And if you'll forgive an old man his lack of clear thinking when what he wants is offered I'd like to change my answer from 'no' to 'yes.'"
"Yes?" she asked.
"If you'll have me," Walter seriously replied.
Her face beamed with joy. "When?"
Walter gazed around the dance floor and it reminded him of his wife's disappearance. "We have an old saying in the business world: 'There's no time like the present.'"
Teresa stood by the punchbowl and watched her father and Eileen over the shoulder of a young, joke-cracking tennis enthusiast. When she saw her father walk casually to the side door end exit she knew something was in the wind. Eileen didn't return to the group, instead she slowly walked to the main entrance of the dance hall and suddenly was gone.
Teresa's pulse was pounding in her temples and she felt a warm thrill. The thought of Eileen telling her everything about it, explaining in great detail what it was like to sleep with her father, made Teresa's body flood with curious excitement.
Eileen walked through the parking lot like Mr. Cunningham had said. When she reached the edge of the golf green she stopped and stood alone in the darkness. The soft purr of an electric motor grew louder in her ears. Then there he was. Cutting across the grass in an electric golf cart with a striped awning on top and Terra-Mar Country Club stenciled on the side.
He stopped in front of Eileen and giggled. "I hope they don't notice this is missing," he said.
Eileen sat beside him and asked, "Where are we going to go?"
"To my secret hideaway, my dear," laughed Walter as he pressed the pedal to the floor and the golf cart whizzed off into the night.
Eileen excitedly held onto the frame work of the cart as it zipped over the grass, around sand traps, past a grove of trees, then abruptly turned toward the edge of the green. In the moonlight she saw the pointed roof of a small building almost hidden in the trees and shrubs surrounding the course.
"There?" she asked.
Walter nodded while searching for the small path winding into the dense bushes and leading to the cottage. The branches of small trees slapped at the canopy top of the cart as he maneuvered down the narrow walkway. Suddenly they were beside the cottage and he stopped.
"What is this place?" asked Eileen.
"Before this property was purchased by the country club it was an estate. This is one of the only original buildings still standing. All the rest were torn down. It was the ground keeper's cottage," said Walter.
"Does anyone live here now?" asked Eileen.
"No. Several of us husbands got together and leased it as a private clubhouse for our Wednesday night card games. Other than that it's never used."
Walter pulled a key from his pocket and unlocked the large, solid-oak front door while Eileen stared at the beautiful dream house with ivy-covered walls. As she stepped inside the dark doorway Walter moved ahead and nicked on a lamp.
The large downstairs room was lavishly decorated with a long bar, several leather chairs and a round card table covered with green velvet. It was indeed a place for men, she surmised. Trophy trout, elk heads and photographs of men at their different sports covered the walls.
"This is where we play cards," said Walter.
"For money?" she asked.
He grinned. "Money… and other things… "
"What other things?" Eileen asked.
"Follow me," he said while leading the way up the stairs with cautious steps.
Walter felt good. He had stopped drinking just in time. Any more would have been too much, any less not enough to maintain the carefree, giddy feeling he had. He knew he was violating a firm club rule by bringing Eileen here but he didn't care; after all, he was president of the club-within-a-club and they would never know anyway.
When he reached the top of the stairs he stood in the dark and waited until Eileen gently bumped into him.
"Oh, excuse me, Mr. Cunningham."
He put his arms tenderly around her shoulders and whispered softly in her ear. "You must promise that everything you see and hear tonight will be kept strictly between you and me. The fact that we were here, the room you are about to see… everything."
She gazed up into his twinkling eyes, her face beamed with the thrill of secrecy. "I promise," she said.