During the renovation of the new house, Sally had suggested restoring the basketball court that I had practiced on growing up. I had played endless games of one-on-one with Mac on that old broken concrete slab and it held many fond memories. It felt good to have Janey and Simone using it now. They had chipped in their own money to get a fancy backboard and a new hoop and net. They got a book of rules that had the specifications for the lines for the key and the baseline and had painted the lines with professional accuracy. Together with the new concrete slab, it looked great when they were done.
Janey's friends from her old school were just a little too far away to come over after school, but they made up for it on Saturday and Sunday. We could count on a serious depletion of our stock of soft drinks and snacks by Monday morning. I never knew how she did it, but Sally always had enough of what everyone wanted on hand, no matter how many hungry kids showed up to play or just hang out. She had a gift for that kind of thing, the perfect hostess. Either that or she had a huge cache of soda and snacks that I never found. I don't know which.
Simone took a different tact. She knew most of the kids from Janey's school, but since she was spending a lot more of her time these days with Gertie and the other scientists at the Agency and the rest of her time at home reading, she decided she wanted her own set of friends. Without telling us, she had started attending the local public school, the same one I had attended, on her off time. She never registered as a student, she just showed up for classes. She discovered that as long as she didn't turn in a paper with her name on it, no one cared that she wasn't on the class roster.
When we found out where she was going on those days when she disappeared from the house, - we flat out asked her - Nicole and I discussed it and decided to let her do it on her own for as long as possible. I also did a little checking just to be sure she would be safe, then kept an eye on her. A close eye.
My high school had changed a lot since I had gone there, reflecting the changes in the neighborhood. It had been a pretty decent school before forced bussing policies had delivered some other out of district white kids to it. When they started the bussing, the school had gone to Hell in a hurry, which was the height of irony. The reason my school had been selected to be desegregated in the first place was because it was felt that sending white kids to a 'good' black school wouldn't harm them as much academically as sending them to a 'poor' black school.
Fucking educators. No fucking brains. Give some asshole a Ph.D. and all you get is a smart-ass. They have never understood the community pride that goes into making an empty building into a good school.
You can't bus across community lines. You can't force it, it has to happen naturally. There is too much emotion involved. Parents send their children to schools, children they love, children they care about. They send them with their neighbor's kids, kids they know and have seen growing up. They want those schools to be in the neighborhoods where they have chosen to live. They like to know their children are not going to be influenced or challenged by outside forces. Not just yet, anyway. Let the kids mature, grow up first.
When Simone started attending the school, it was more like I remembered it at the beginning. With the end of the bussing, there were only local kids attending. Of course, there was a little more of a racial mix in the student population than when I had attended, so Simone didn't stick out quite like Marion and I had. We had been the only two white kids in the whole school. Talk about sticking out!
Part of the area surrounding our property had been renovated and rebuilt. Some of the worst abandoned apartment buildings and most of the uninhabitable places had been torn down and new condominiums and apartments built in their place. The dilapidated warehouses along the riverfront in both directions from our property had been gradually demolished and large luxury homes now lined the banks of the river.
Thorny had been one of the first to follow my father to this dubious area and had built on a much smaller piece of riverfront adjacent to ours. The common wall between our properties had the only other opening through the wall surrounding us, other than the main gate. We had never locked that gate to Thorny's house.
There were still a lot of rent-controlled apartments around, however. The city officials in this town had either been too lazy or too stupid to intervene with the natural selection taking place and the strange mix that evolved seemed to work. The people living here took obvious pride in their homes and stores. Lawns were mowed in the summer, rusting wrecks were not strewn about the streets, at least for very long. Block parties were common in the summer and the local community social hall maintained a regular schedule of well publicized events to bring people together. Sure, there was the occasional confrontation but in general the people knew and liked their neighbors. The ones who made the effort necessary to meet them, anyway.
This was the neighborhood where Simone found the players for her pickup games on our basketball court during the week. Janey was usually home too late to play, so this was Simone's time. Janey would enter in if she was there but found herself in the unusual situation of being the outsider.
Simone made it known that our court was open to anyone who wanted to play, male or female. It seemed that being out from under the shadow of Janey allowed her to develop into her own person. I found I liked that person very much. Many others were attracted to her, as well and the games quickly came to be well attended. I noticed, after watching for a couple of days, that one boy in particular seemed to show up almost every time. Over time, I noticed that when he picked players, he would always pick Simone and I thought I could see her eyes shine a just bit brighter.
On the days when rain drove the kids off the court, the game room, as it was now called, became the center of the after school activity. I swore the kids would all be deaf in a matter of months, as the only volume settings they used seemed to be 'Off" and 'Max.' Fortunately, Sally had had the foresight to insulate that room with extra heavy sound proofing. I often wondered how she knew how to prepare for these things but, like most men, I didn't have a snowball's chance of figuring it out. She just knew. Sally had soundproofed the room so well we only heard the occasional tsunami of sound crashing down the hallway as the door opened and closed. As rare as that was, it was still deafening.
One afternoon I heard a strangely familiar laugh mixed into the roar of the video games. Not believing my ears, I walked down the hallway and looked in through the glass French doors. There, sitting surrounded by a scraggly group of neighborhood ruffians was my darling sister, Marion, the US Federal Judge. Her face flushed with excitement, she was engrossed in one of the less violent of the video games, intent on kicking the stuffing out of her opponent. She was getting in some good punches, too, which caused even more hoots and hollers from the crowd.
Simone, one of the group crowded around watching, glanced up as I watched through the door. I saw a flicker of concern pass across her face, then she slipped away and came out to me in the hall. I noticed one young man's attention diverted from the action on the wide-screen TV to watch her ass as she walked by him. Ah, youth!
"Papa? Is everything OK? We're not being too loud, are we?"
I gave her a quick hug. "No. Everything is fine. I just thought I heard Marion in there and thought I would check. I didn't know we could join in, too. It looks like fun."
I was teasing her a little, but only a little.
Simone got a look of horror on her face, then got herself under control.
"Uh, Papa, it's different with Marion. She, uh, well, she's lived here longer and, like, she knows most of these kids and uh, well, um, you know... ?"
I would have sworn she was uncomfortable with the thought of my being in that room. I got the distinct impression I wasn't welcome. Imagine!
"Well, as long as she isn't bothering you. Uh, I'm kind of busy today anyway. Tell you what. You let me know when you want me to play and we'll see if it will fit into my schedule, OK?"
Simone's relief was palpable and so overwhelming that she didn't realize I was teasing her. Then she got a guilty look on her face.
"It's OK, Simone. Really."
I gave her a light kiss on the forehead. She hated when I did that, but she felt so guilty, I got away with it. Ha!
I watched as she eased back into the room, part hostess and part participant. I was quickly forgotten as she approached that certain young man, her hips swinging with just a touch more sass than before. He and I both appreciated her efforts. She gave him a blinding smile as she spoke with him in passing. He gave her a punch in the arm. I could tell the kid needed help.
JT, as he was called, showed up at the backdoor one day when Simone was in Washington with Gertie. Nicole, who was working at home that day, showed him into my office. He kind of stood there for a couple of minutes, shuffling his feet nervously.
"What's up, JT?"
"Oh, uh, nothing, Mr. Sampson."
I waited. Nicole's smile as she walked away had been a little too smug for this discussion to be about 'nothing.'
"Uh, Mr. Sampson? Can I ask you a question?"
Damn, I had only had to wait a couple of minutes. This must be urgent!
"Sure. What's on your mind, JT?"
"Well, it's kind of personal. 'Bout basketball. And, uh, 'bout girls."
Oh, shit!
He jumped right in. "Why is it, when I pick Simone for my team, she plays hard to win, but when she picks the teams, she never picks me? Then, when she guards me, she's always, well, bumping and rubbing against me. Not hard, with her elbows and stuff like she does with the other guys, but, well, you know... ?"
I knew. You could say one thing for the kid, he got right to the point. None of this 'I know a friend... ' stuff, or 'there's this girl... '" Straight to the point, him and Simone. OK.
I got up and took him out to the basketball court. On the way by the kitchen I called Sally and Nicole out to join us. Not surprisingly, they seemed to be dressed and ready to play. These two were getting scary.
"Let's play some two-on-two. Why don't pick one of the women for your team, JT?"
He looked at me funny.
"Go ahead. Pick one for your team, JT." I felt like drawing a map, sometimes.
He looked at the two women. I could tell he favored Nicole. She looked a lot like Simone in her cut off T-shirt and short-shorts. She had fixed her hair different, too, so she looked more like her daughter. I got a little distracted by her new look and realized I could get used to that look in a hurry. She saw me staring and was pleased at my response. Such simple pleasures.
Nicole was also taller than Sally, but I think JT sort of took a shine to her for other reasons. I thought I saw Nicole 'help' him look her over, as I saw her nipples poking out through the thin material of her shirt, which seemed to get tighter across her chest as JT examined the two women. Sally was playing her part, too, I understood, for once quite and demure and standing to look shorter, if that were possible. That was not like her at all.
"Her," he said, indicating Nicole.
She smiled brightly at him and we played a quick basket. Sally held her own against him and I got a couple of sharp elbows from Nicole. Not enough to hurt, but enough that I knew she meant business. This kid was important to her because he was important to Simone. If I hadn't figured that out by then, which I had, I would have during that basket.
When the basket was over, I held the ball. "Now let's switch."
He looked puzzled, but kept quiet. I was going to like this kid, I could tell.
This basket took much longer. Much. I nearly molested Sally right there on the court. Hell, I did molest her, and she loved it. JT's eyes bugged out as he watched how closely I guarded the smaller blonde's body, especially at where I put my hands. Nicole, playing her part to perfection, nearly poked his eyes out with her tits while she guarded him. She even accidentally let her hands run over his crotch, several times, in fact. I thought the kid would die from embarrassment, but he kept trying to play and get the ball to Sally. Finally, the ball went through the hoop, and I held the ball again.
"Now, JT. I want you to think. Which way did you like better? Playing with Nicole, or against her?"
He thought a minute. "We won when she was on my team."
"Did you really? You may have scored the basket, but is that the real reason for this game?"
"Yeah, but,..." I could almost see him blush when the light went on. "You mean... ? Simone wants... ?"
I grinned at the dumbfounded — and severely embarrassed boy.
"Yeah, apparently she does." I shrugged. "Go figure! But I would suggest that you ease into it gently, and, speaking as her father, hardly at all. And JT? Never, ever do more than what she lets you, understand?"
He understood my implied threat.
"Would you want to try it again?" Nicole asked him sexily.
She giggled delightfully at his obvious erection and discomfort. Sally and I glanced at each other. From the size of the bulge in his shorts, Simone had chosen very well, indeed.
It was a bizarre thing to watch, a mother teaching a boy the proper technique to feel up her daughter. Several 'not so hard' and 'no, like this' comments were eventually replaced by a rippling laughter and some serious gasps. Nicole kept looking over at me for approval as she let the boy manhandle her. It was a different feeling I wasn't sure I liked, but Nicole seemed to be enjoying herself. I called a halt to the lesson when I felt the boy had the general idea. I figured Simone could teach him the rest of the game. Or not. That was up to her.
When JT was gone, both of the women thanked me. Right there under the basket. He shoots, he scores!
Simone came in a couple of days later, flushed from the exertions of the game.
"Did you have a talk with JT, Papa?"
It was almost an accusation, and her hands on her hips didn't make her look all cuddly, either.
I nodded that I had.
She seemed to think about that for a minute. "Thanks," she said, finally.
I went back to my computer.
"I kind of like him. He's nice."
I looked back up at her. She was asking if I approved.
"I like him, too, Simmie. He reminds me a lot of Mac when he was his age."
At the mention of Mac and JT being favorably compared, she smiled proudly. I think Mac had just lost this maiden's heart to another. I'm not sure if he would be disappointed or relieved. I wasn't sure how I felt, either.
Simone kissed me on my cheek and skipped off to her room. Her daughterly kiss left me with a strange feeling in my chest. I decided I liked it, kind of. This parenting thing had its rewards.
Janey was commuting to school and seemed to have come to terms with having to use her Mom's old car to do it. I knew we had overcome a major hurdle when I heard the 'thump-thump' of a new stereo system and saw her detailing the car with an old toothbrush. She had just waxed it for the third time in two weeks and was getting all that white waxy build-up out of the cracks between the chrome and the paint.
Her cheerleading career was at its zenith. She had been elected as the head cheerleader and was taking those responsibilities very seriously. She had decided that the whole process of selecting the girls for the squad needed to be overhauled to allow for more participation from groups outside the 'in' crowd. I figured that idea would be blown out of the water, but, as usual, I underestimated Janey's capabilities.
She knew the opposition she would face with that suggestion. She lobbied and politicked the idea into reality. Next year's squad would be made up of kids from several of the more identifiable factions in the school, from the 'geeks, ' to the 4-H-ers, to the wall-flowers and other wanna-bes that normally just stood on the sidelines. Attendance at the games, by both kids and parents was way up already over previous years and the team wasn't doing that great. People just felt like they were a part of the school again.
Sally had mentioned that Janey would be home later than usual on Mondays and Wednesdays. She would be stopping by Amud and Bala's house on the way home to continue her 'education' in their culture. That practice soon expanded to Monday through Thursday. Janey was really serious about all of this.
While she was extremely popular with a wide range of kids at school, Janey didn't date anymore, and soon stopped going to parties that weren't at our house. A lot of that was because of homework — she still maintained her high grades — but she just seemed to have lost interest in the social whirl. Sally didn't seem to be concerned but I confronted Janey about it one afternoon.
She got this puzzled look on her face, like, why should I be worried? When I explained that I was concerned that her lack of interest in boys and dating might have been a result of what had happened earlier, she solemnly nodded. She then proceeded to explain that she still liked boys — she called them 'men' — but that the boys at her school were just too juvenile. She was looking for more maturity, among other things. I figured I'd better stop while I was ahead. I wasn't sure I wanted to know what 'other' things she was looking for.
I immediately cornered Sally. Had she talked with Janey about this? Did she think Janey's expectations were too high? Was she OK with all of this?
Sally, too, patiently answered my questions, just a bit amused at my fatherly concerns, even if they were belated. Janey was growing up, she said and it wasn't unusual for a young girl to shun social contacts with kids her own age, especially when forced to meet life head-on as Janey had been. Some girls matured much faster than boys and felt uncomfortable with them. She trusted Janey. In other words, butt out. But thanks!
The Saturday basketball games were played with a different crowd of kids. These were the kids from the other school, mostly Janey's friends. Simone hung around the edges but it was clear none of the other week-day kids showed up, not even JT. It was probably for the better but it didn't sit right, watching her just stand there. It wasn't Janey's fault, either. She kept pulling her in and including her but it was just not a good fit.
After the second week of watching this awkwardness, I grabbed Nicole and — not THAT way, Geez! Anyway, I located Nicole and walked with her out to the garage. I caught Simone's eye on the way by the basketball court and motioned her to follow us out towards the garages. We opened up Simone's bay and stood staring at the jumble of boxes and crates.
"Well, it isn't going to build itself! What do you say we get busy?"
Two squeals of delight were my answer. I knew they had both devoured the instruction manual in the first three or four weeks. Simone had been amazed at the technical aspects of the task while Nicole had found two minor errors in the specifications. I just shook my head. I hadn't read it. Being a guy, I knew the manual was only there if I couldn't figure it out on my own. When all else fails, read the directions, right?
Before we began doing anything, Nicole, who naturally took charge of this task, had us inventory and inspect each and every piece. Several of the larger pieces were hauled down to a specialist's shop she knew of and each piece was tested for stress fractures along the seams and welds. Surprisingly, only three parts failed the extra inspection, all of them non-critical but nonetheless, they were sent back for replacement. As Nicole said, this was her daughter's car we were building, not just some hunk of metal. Put that way, I agreed wholeheartedly.
That was how Saturday became the day for Nicole, Simone and I to work on the car. It was a unique experience, working that closely with a beautiful woman willing to do anything to please you, even when covered in grease. It became expected that at least once, but usually more often I would ease myself into Nicole's willing and waiting cunt or asshole or mouth. When that would happen, Simone would slip out of the garage, discretely timing her return until after we had completed our screwing around. Usually she came back with soft drinks for the three of us. Only once, when I was unzipping for the fourth time, did she roll her eyes. But she was grinning as she left, her Mom's satisfied and lustful moans escorting her out the door.
That car was taking forever to build. Thank goodness!
Sunday's were family days. At home. Sally and Nicole would fix light snacks and have them available in the big family room above the entryway. Marion would join us almost every Sunday, and soon, other friends began dropping by. Amud informed me that Sally and Nicole had quietly urged him and Bala to make this a regular thing, something he and his wife seemed eager to do. Mac, CeCe and Beth would drop by when he was in town. I was pleased that he seemed relaxed in the old house and in general with his new relationship. The tone of those days, even when he was there, was quiet and relaxed with good food and good conversation. Good friends are a great treasure.
Janey and Simone would often use the opportunity of Sunday to cuddle with me, not sexually, but as daughters. Janey in particular seemed to need to just be close. She would be quiet as she curled up next to me in one of the huge pillows, attentively following the conversations that swirled around us. Simone would occasionally snuggle up on the other side, unless Mac was there. In that event, she would usually be tormenting that poor man somehow. Even though JT was in the picture now, I don't think she could help herself. Instinct, I guess.
I had given Nicole the Bugatti as a wedding gift. I had thought it was something she would like, but I was wrong. She loved it. Adored it. She showed her appreciation to me over and over and over. And over. I mean, it's not that we had that much more sex than normal, well, we did, but then we had more sex than normal before I gave her the car. It's not that she did anything different when we made love, either. I guess it's that she just did it with more feeling or something. Attitude, maybe? It's hard to explain, so I'll leave it at that.
She drove the car back and forth to her work at the Rosen's clinic. She didn't work there every day and she began to look forward to those days she could drive. I drove with her once to The Guild after she had become familiar with the car and the road. She had found back roads almost the entire way that wound through the countryside.
I had never been as terrified of dying in my life as I was on that ride. I was certain I would not see tomorrow. It's not that she was careless or a poor driver. Just the opposite. She drove that little racer to the limits of its capacity for the conditions of the road. And beyond. She and the machine became one living, breathing beast. She owned the fucking road.
I thought perhaps she was driving this way to impress me but she confessed that she had actually backed off for my benefit. This was the first time for her to drive with two people in the car and the weight distribution was unfamiliar. It was more familiar to her on the way home and I swear I almost wet myself as we flew on the road by the quarry.
After that first trip, I forced myself to ride with her as often as I could. I didn't have a death wish, I just liked to deal with my fears head-on, although that's probably not the best term to use in this case. 'Head-on' was the last thing I wanted. A ride with Nicole driving the sports car made me glad to be alive, especially when it was over. It made me want to kiss the ground after we arrived at our destination. I did on several occasions.
Sally, of course, was predictably envious, in her own quiet way. She understood the attachment Nicole had for that particular car, but still, the specialness of that gift to her co-wife certainly stuck in her craw. She sulked around the house for a couple of weeks until I innocently suggested she go shopping with Nicole over at The Guild for the afternoon. Just an easy afternoon, two women out for a casual drive to go shopping. She was ashen and pale when I saw her later that evening and she never said another word about the car. She never rode with Nicole again voluntarily, either.
I treated Sally and Nicole differently. They had asked me to. Still, I knew that I had to be careful and maintain a reasonable balance. I was spending a lot of time with Nicole for various reasons and I knew, even though Sally wasn't keeping score, that I needed to do something for her. Hell, I needed to be with her, too. I was stumped for a solution. Then I had an idea. And, yes, this one actually worked out OK!
For Sally's birthday I gave her a small gold box. The box held an engraved golden plaque, about the size of a business card. The words on the plaque read '1:00-2:00 M-F.' Her disappointment was palpable but was only slightly greater than her befuddlement. She didn't understand what I meant, why I would give this to her as a gift. I didn't elaborate, just asked her to show up tomorrow at 1:00. So, on that first day, at 1:00 sharp, she came to me in the office. She was stark naked and more than a little upset, thinking I just wanted to have sex with her. Well, I did, but that wasn't the point.
I explained to her that what I had wanted to give her was a special time everyday that was just hers, for whatever she wanted. I told her why, that I missed her and that I wanted to be with her, but that this time was for her mostly. Sure, we could have sex, too, but if she wanted to talk, to shop, to cuddle, to play basketball or to take a nap then that's what we would do. I only made two requirements, it had to be something she wanted to do and it had to be with me. When she realized what her gift really was, she too, showed me her appreciation over and over and over. And over.
All in all, it was a pretty satisfying special time with her.
Even the shopping. Ok, almost.