The Brass Statuettes

By: Autumn Writer

Chapter 3—Disappointment

For Frank and Trudy, the aftermath of sex always brought the best of sleep. Though their lovemaking took them deep into the night, the limited hours of slumber refreshed them enough for the next day. Trudy woke with the birds in the morning. She rose first to get a quick turn in the bathroom, then threw on her robe and went downstairs to prepare breakfast while Frank got ready for work. It was summer, so the girls had no school. Trudy would roust them out of bed a little later.

Frank walked into the kitchen as Trudy was serving his eggs. He had a small gift-wrapped package in hand, which he set on the counter. Trudy smiled when she saw it.

“You don’t have to buy me a present every time you go out of town, Frank.”

“I only do when I have time, and this time I did,” he protested.

She unwrapped the box and lifted the lid. “Very nice, Frank,” she said, and she gave him a kiss on his freshly-shaven cheek.

“I know I got you the same thing last time,” Frank confessed. “I had a bottle of perfume picked out, but the clerk reminded me that they would probably confiscate it at airport security.”

“I like them fine,” Trudy replied. “Besides, I trust you to pick out earrings more than perfume.” She laughed a little at the thought of Frank selecting a perfume, with little dabs of samples on his wrist. “Besides, it’s the thought that counts and this was a nice thought.” She bent down to where he was sitting at the kitchen table and kissed him again.

“You already said ‘thanks’ last night,” Frank reminded her, “and did a fine job of saying it, too.”

“Stop it,” Trudy said. She covered her face to hide her embarrassment. “I was afraid that you’d be too tired.”

“Trudy,” Frank answered, “with you, I don’t dare to be too tired.”

Trudy rolled her eyes, still blushing. She wondered why she was embarrassed after all these years and all their private moments. She wasn’t shy when it counted, though, and that was the important part.

“I had breakfast with Alvin yesterday morning before he left for Europe,” Frank changed the subject. “He sends his compliments—said you looked nice at the company dinner the other night.”

“Oh, I don’t know, it was just a simple…”

“He also suggested that you spend more time with Gloria and her friends.”

Trudy drew a breath and let it out slowly.

“Frank, I have nothing against Gloria, and the others. They’re just not my type.”

“Alvin said that he thought that Gloria might ask you to join in some of her charity projects.”

“I dunno, Frank. It’s not that I’m against it, it’s only that…”

“No pressure,” she heard him say, “do whatever seems right for you. Heck, Gloria might not even call you. I told Alvin that it was okay with me, but it was really up to you.”

Trudy paused, thinking about how to answer. Frank finished the food on his plate and took a last gulp of coffee.

“Got to run, Trudy. I’ve got a lot of ground to cover today.”

**********

Frank strode into the Headquarters office suite at eight-fifteen. He was alone on the executive floor, save the security guard. The secretaries started at nine; the executives arrived according to what was on their calendars. Frank liked the solitude of the early morning. In a short while, it would be phones and intercoms and traffic in the halls.

“Good morning, Mr. Bennett,” Floyd greeted him. He was the security guard assigned to the executive floor. He was an aging, black man, gaunt with black-rimmed glasses and graying hair. As part of the upstairs security force, his uniform was a navy blazer, gray slacks and striped tie. A Western Chemical logo emblazoned the breast pocket of his blazer. He had an unobtrusive desk in an alcove at reception where he logged every person in and out and there was a direct line to the main security office, if he ever needed it.

“Good morning, yourself,” Frank called back.

“You’re in early,” Floyd observed, following Frank through the corridor to unlock his door. It was a familiar litany, repeated each day Frank was in the office. “How was your trip?”

“Fine; busy as always,” Frank answered. “You know, it was almost as hot in New York as it is here.”

“Almost, but not quite,” Floyd argued, continuing the drill. “Here’s some coffee to get you started.” He set a steaming styrofoam cup on Frank’s desk, from his private supply, as was his custom.

“Thanks, Floyd,” Frank said. “This will really hit the spot. Just don’t tell Jeannette.”

Floyd laughed at the warning repeated for the thousandth time. Jeannette was Frank’s secretary, and assumed responsibility for all of Frank’s office needs, including his morning coffee. Frank would have all traces of the bootlegged cup long gone before she arrived.

“Have a good day,” Floyd said as he left to let Frank get to work.

Frank took a quick look through the two days’ mail that Jeannette had set neatly on his desk. Nothing was urgent so he set it all aside. He turned his attention to the little slips of pink memos arranged neatly next to where the mail had been. He found the one he was looking for. It was from Jeannette.

“Finance Committee Members set for teleconference at ten-thirty.” Frank nodded his approval. He took a yellow legal pad from his briefcase that had his notes from the previous day. He began editing them and adding new notes to it.

Jeannette had been Frank’s secretary ever since he was in his earlier post of Corporate Controller and he occupied a smaller office at the other end of the executive hallway. Frank hadn’t thought twice about bringing her up the ladder with him. She could still wield a mean word processor, but most of the time she delegated that to one of the younger secretarial staff. She processed all his confidential material and there was a natural chemistry between them that made everything work just right.

“Coffee the usual way?” Frank looked up with a start. It was Jeannette arriving for the day. He hadn’t realized how long he had been poring over his worksheet on the yellow pad. He quickly swept aside the empty Styrofoam cup. He didn’t think she’d seen it.

“Why, um, yes-please, Jeannette,” Frank stammered. “But before you do that, come in for a second and close the door.”

Jeannette pulled the door shut behind her and took a seat in the chair in front of Frank’s desk without speaking.

“First,” Frank instructed, “would you let Tyler Smith know that I need him to sit in on this teleconference with the Finance Committee. Tell him it’s very important, and I’ll need ten minutes to brief him in advance.” Jeannette nodded. “Next, I need to meet with all available Senior VP’s as soon as possible after the teleconference is finished—fifteen or twenty minutes. Don’t tell them the reason; I’ll explain everything in the meeting. We’ll have the meeting right here in the office. Let me know who can’t make it, and I’ll get to them by phone later in the day.”

“Yes, Frank,” Jeannette answered in her usual, soft, unhurried way. “I’ll get on it right away.”

It had taken months before Frank had convinced her to call him by his first name. She still refused to do so when anyone else could hear her. Whichever name she used, her voice was always soothing.

“Whew! That’s the sexiest voice in the universe.” Frank thought as he forgot himself in a momentary daydream; he recovered quickly. Jeannette rose to leave.

“Wait, there’s one more thing. It’s the reason for all these meetings and conferences. Alvin and I met with the underwriters of the new stock offering the day before yesterday. We decided it would be best to put it on the shelf for a while.”

“I see,” Jeannette replied and Frank was sure that she did.

“It won’t be secret for long,” Frank explained. “It will be announced in the Wall Street Journal soon. You need to know about it so that you can handle it if it comes up. If you get wind of it in any way, try to squash it, if you can, and be sure to let me know.”

“I’ll do that,” Jeannette said, allowing herself a slight smile at Frank’s confidence. “And, do you still want your coffee the usual way?”

“Sure thing,” Frank answered. “By the way—Good Morning!” Frank watched her as she left his office.

Most people thought Jeannette was in her late thirties. Frank would have, too, except he’d seen her personnel folder and knew that she was forty-six. She was tall—not as tall as Trudy, of course—and was long and slender, just like Trudy. She was different from Trudy in some ways, too. She was long-divorced, having one grown child. She had jet black hair, neatly arranged with only tiny whispers of gray. It framed her cheekbones that rode high on her face in the classic way and if she wore any makeup it was done in a way that didn’t show. She had an unassuming elegance and reserve. Her looks and quiet manner created a pleasing, sexual aura that any man could see if he cared to notice. She may have been aware of her allure, but she never flaunted it, either in her manner of dress or speech or body language and that served to intensify her appeal.

Another difference was that her skin was much darker than Trudy’s, a coffee kind of color. When Frank first promoted her, the racial factor set off some vibrations. Over the years they seemed to have mostly withered away. Whether they had or not, Frank didn’t care, and hoped that Jeannette didn’t either. They had never discussed it.

*************

Tyler Smith had been briefed. He and Frank sat together in the office sipping their coffees waiting for Jeanette to finish stringing the conference call together. Tyler was a Corporate VP and General In-house Counsel. He also had the title of Corporate Secretary and Investor Relations was in his portfolio.

“Sorry that I couldn’t get to you before the decision was made the other day,” Frank said to Tyler.

Tyler shrugged it off. “It sounds like a no-brainer to me, Frank. Sometimes these things come up all of a sudden. Anyway, I trust your judgment.”

“Thanks,” Frank mumbled, then took another swig of coffee.

Tyler and Frank worked together often because of their respective positions. They got on well, knowing when to step forward or to remain in the background, depending upon the situation and their own expertise. Tyler started in his position at about the time that Frank became Controller. It was Tyler who most strongly urged the Board to promote Frank to CFO. As he told the Board, Franks’ tough, by-the-book approach would serve the Company well in the environment created by Sarbanes-Oxley.

“By the way, how’s Ashley doing?” Frank inquired.

“I guess I should find out,” Tyler admitted. “I’ve been giving so much time to the job that we haven’t spent much time together lately.”

“It’s easy for that to happen,” Frank agreed. “I try not to…”

“Conference call ready, sirs,” Jeannette interrupted through the intercom.

“Come on in and take the minutes, if you please, Jeannette,” Frank called back into the speaker.

“Hello—hello, can anybody hear me?” a voice on the speaker phone blurted out.

“Loud and clear, Jim,” Frank answered back. “This is Frank Bennett speaking and I’ve got Tyler Smith with me and my secretary, Jeannette Parker, to take minutes.”

“Very good,” answered the voice in the speaker.

“I’ll turn on the recorder now, if that’s alright,” Frank called back.

“May as well call the roll,” Sweeney replied. Jim Sweeney was a retired Executive Vice- President of a major oil company and Chairman of the Finance Committee of the Western Chemical Board. “Why don’t you do the honors, Tyler?”

Of the five members, three were marked in attendance. They were Sweeney, Detlef Mueller, a German banking executive, and Simon Lambert, a retired business school dean. The others weren’t available on short notice. Frank wasn’t a member of the Committee, or a member of the Board.

“So, we’ve got a quorum,” Sweeney said. “The floor, so to speak, is all yours, Frank.”

Frank moved his chair closer to the speaker and cleared his throat. “Alvin and I were in New York this week to meet with the underwriters of our stock offering,” he began. He paused, thinking that there might be a question coming over the line. There was none, so he continued.

“We’ve all seen the condition of the Stock Market lately. The investment bankers believe, and Alvin and I agree, that in the current market circumstances our proposed stock offering at this time would be a disaster. We’re recommending that we put the registration on the shelf until the market rebounds.” There was silence on the line. “I hate to give bad news, gentlemen, but there it is,” Frank added, trying to get a response.

“That is bad news,” Lambert said.

“How bad is it?” Sweeney asked. “What are the numbers?”

“When we planned this, we believed that the Company should trade at $65 per share in a normal market,” Frank reminded them. “At this time, considering the dilutive effects of the offering, the best that we could hope for would be $43. We don’t see it getting much better anytime soon.”

“That means we would lose over a third of what we expected,” Sweeney said.

“But what about the R&D facility?” Lambert protested. “It’s critical to satisfy our long-term objectives.”

“Gentlemen, I am concerned about zee merger vith Wertheim Werke,” Mueller protested in his German accent. “Vee haf vorked very hard to gain a footing in zee EU market, ja? I fear vat vill happen if vee dee-lay.”

“Alvin is in Germany talking to the Wertheim directors at this moment to explain our situation and see if he can buy some time. As regards the R&D facility, I made inquiries with potential lenders about interim lines of credit until we actually get the stock proposal off the ground,” Frank explained.

“Ja, ja,” Mueller scowled, “but zee Vertheim people expect cash, not excuses.”

“Perhaps we should consider a stock-for-stock deal at the $65 valuation,” Frank suggested. “That would make the stock market issue moot.”

“We have to be sure that the market understands that it’s because of the general price level, not lack of confidence in our numbers,” Sweeney added.

“That’s right…” Frank began.

“Zat is, if vee don’t perform zee new issue,” Mueller interrupted. “I still belief zat vee have to…”

“No—no!” Sweeney insisted. “We can’t believe the Company is worth $65 and sell ourselves out for $43. It’s against the shareholders’ interest.”

“If vee don’t take ackshone, BASF or Bayer vill,” Mueller argued. “And vee’ll be shut out.”

“They don’t have that kind of spare cash, either,” Frank said. “European markets are just as depressed as ours.”

“So what were you saying about the forecast?” Sweeney asked Frank.

“Operations-wise, everything is fine. We have to redo it for some below-the-line items that will come up because of holding off on the stock issuance as we expected.”

“We’ll leave that in your hands,” Sweeney said. “I’ll take care of communicating this to the rest of the Board and the missing Finance Committee members, too. From my seat in the house, you and Alvin did what you had to.”

The parties hung up. Frank breathed a sigh of relief.

“I’ll get these minutes typed up,” Jeannette said and then took her leave.

“That went better than I expected,” Frank confided to Tyler, who had remained behind.

“I thought it would be okay,” Tyler answered. “Everything you said made sense. I wouldn’t sweat Mueller. He’s got his own agenda with respect to the expansion in the EU countries.”

“I know,” Frank said. “I tried to get Alvin to rethink that whole deal over breakfast the other day. I dunno if I got very far.”

“You might get your wish, anyway,” Tyler told him. “Mueller’s right; Wertheim won’t have much patience and I doubt if they’ll go for stock-for-stock.”

“That’s probably true,” Frank said. “I’m pretty sure we can swing the credits for the R&D facility, but never even close for the merger.”

*********

The meeting with the senior VP’s went less well than with the Directors. Frank’s chief antagonist was Jason Lowell, the Chief Technology Officer, who headed up Research and Development. He was younger than most of the others, with the fewest years of service. Before taking his position with Western, he was a dean at a major engineering school and took credit for reviving the program at that institution.

“We’re already late getting the R&D building started,” he complained. “This delay might be too much.”

“Too much for what, Jason?” Frank asked.

“I’ve recruited key people based on their being on the ground floor of this new R&D thrust. If they stop believing it’s going to pan out, they’ll go somewhere else.”

“So explain it to them,” Frank replied. “I’m sure…”

“We’re cramped; it’s stifling,” Lowell interrupted. “We’re sharing space with other departments, borrowing labs.”

“You mean that your people are prima donnas,” Frank shot back.

“Don’t blame them, they’re trained to be prima donnas,” Blake Hart joked. “It’s a secret oath they take when they get their PhD’s.” Everyone in the room laughed at the joke, even Jason. Frank was grateful for the brief moment of levity.

Blake Hart was the Chief Operating Officer of the Company. In the Western Chemical scheme, that meant that he was charged with making and selling the product. He was a kind of ‘first among equals’, having the most experience and in a critical post. His credentials were solid with engineering diplomas and his spotless work record in tough assignments. He was waiting for the day that Alvin conferred the President title on him.

“But there is something to this, Frank,” Blake continued. “That R&D money is for things besides brick and mortar. There are patent rights to obtain and university research to fund. If we fall too far behind, we put completion of the five-year plan in jeopardy. We need those new products in the pipeline. Competition won’t slow down just because we are.”

Frank listened carefully and understood the wisdom. Jason crossed his arms, looking smug over picking up an ally.

“What we need in that case, Jason,” Frank responded, “is a careful evaluation of priorities and costs associated with each one. If we can’t get this financed all at once, then we’ll have to know where to apply the dollars first.”

“I’ll have someone look at the commercialization aspects,” Blake offered. Frank nodded.

Frank turned to Hart. “Blake, we need to look at our forecast again. I know we just did it, but if we have to back off, sooner would be better than later. If we hiccup, investors will assume we had a slip in our numbers, rather than waiting out the market. I have some below the line changes to do, myself.”

“What do you mean, Frank?” Tyler asked.

“We’ll have to write off some of the underwriters’ fees that we had capitalized when we thought that the offering was going to go through. Interest income and expense will be different too, since we won’t be handling all that cash. And, of course, there’s taxes.”

There’s always taxes,” someone yelled out, getting another laugh.

“As you all know, I’m still looking for a new Corporate Controller,” Frank explained. “I interviewed a candidate in New York a few days ago, but I don’t think that he’s the right guy. So, I’ll be doing double duty on this. Any forecast issues, come and see me. And please don’t forget, this is very confidential.”

“How come you didn’t hire him, Frank,” Tyler called out. “Did he know more than you?” He got another laugh out of the group.

“Something like that,” Frank replied, laughing with them.

It was a good note to end on, and all the bases were covered.

“Look, Jason,” Frank said as they were leaving, “I’ve already started working on the alternate financing for the R&D. I might need you to help with some presentations. I’ll let you know.”

*************

It was another hot Texas afternoon; Gloria had once again summoned her Ladies-in-Waiting. It took only a short time for her to lay out the details of the Foundation and invite the three of them to be a part of it. Each promptly agreed to take part, not that they really had a choice. No one complained because Gloria’s project sounded like fun.

Although Gloria thought that she was breaking fresh news to the group, Brenda had already briefed Ashley and Darlene that morning. She called them individually to smooth the way, being sure to extract promises of secrecy. It was important to make sure that no one displayed any hesitance and that all were in cheerful compliance. Cohesion was important for the success of any group. It wasn’t automatic; someone had to see to it. For her services Brenda asked nothing, nor did she even mention it to Gloria. She was satisfied in her role; one day she would rise higher. Gloria was their compass; Brenda was the engine that made things happen.

“I think it will be so exciting,” Brenda gushed. “It’ll be like being back in our college sororities.”

“And we’ll get to dole out all that money,” Ashley added. “And all those gala benefit dinners we’ll have. It surely does sound exciting.”

“I think we can get a tax deduction for the costs of our gowns,” Darlene said.

“Yes, indeed!” Gloria confirmed, “along with any other expenses like lunches or travel. Alvin had the lawyers set up everything just right. The Foundation is a registered charity. All donations are tax-deductible, too.”

“What about an office?” Ashley asked.

“For right now, I thought that we’d run it out of the house. But, we’ll need staff soon and for that we’ll need an office. I think somewhere downtown.”

“Western must have people in the office who do real estate,” Brenda suggested.

“Good idea, Bren!” Gloria exclaimed. “I’ll have Alvin to assign someone in the office to help us in their spare time.”

There was a pause as each waited for one of the others to offer a new topic.

“There’s one last thing to think about,” Gloria told them. “Brenda wants to invite Trudy Bennett into the group.”

“Oh, no!” Ashley cried. “Little Goody Two-Shoes will ruin everything.”

“She’s not so little,” Darlene corrected with a forced laugh.

I didn’t want to do it, either,” Gloria admitted. “Brenda convinced me.” Brenda felt Gloria’s eyes on her, and then Ashley’s and Darlene’s, too. “Tell them why, Bren.”

Brenda drew a deep breath as she asked herself why Gloria punished her just because she‘d taken the trouble to care about this most mundane of details. It was often this way. Gloria would make her pronouncements and leave those unpleasant little tasks to Brenda. It was vexing, but Brenda accepted it as the price of turning talk into action.

“If we pass Trudy by, our husbands will wonder why,” Brenda explained. She looked out on the three faces looking back at her, with expressions that half acknowledged that perhaps she had a point. The other half was waiting to be convinced the rest of the way.

“They’ll know why, too,” Brenda went on, “and it will put them off. They won’t risk hard feelings with Frank, especially over something like this. Remember, they’re the ones who provide most of the money. We’ve got to welcome Trudy with open arms. Besides, after a while, Trudy should come around to our way of thinking—if we help her.” She shot Gloria a reminding look; she was only re-synthesizing the material fed to her at lunch the day before. Darlene and Ashley nodded, signifying that the dawn had broken.

“Trudy’s not very smart, y’ know,” Darlene pointed out. “Ah don’t think she’s evah bin t’ college.”

“She’s smarter than you think,” Brenda countered, “and if it’s an issue, then we’ll give her jobs that she can do—jobs that we don’t want to do, ourselves.”

“Makes sense,” Ashley conceded. “Are you going to call her up and invite her?”

“No,” Brenda replied. “Naturally, that call should come from Gloria.”

“Me?” Gloria cried in alarm. Brenda could see that she hadn’t yet considered the obvious point.

“You’re the head of the Foundation, our leader,” Brenda explained. She stifled a sigh of frustration. “Of course, it has to come from you.” Gloria slumped in her chair, acquiescing by silence.

“Then it’s settled,” Brenda concluded. “It will be the four of us, plus Trudy.”

“That does it for business,” Gloria quickly declared before more inconvenient details could pop up. “Did you all bring your suits?” Gloria took a quick glance around the table; no one said that they didn’t.

“Juana,” she yelled out, “we’ll have our drinks at the pool.”

***********

Each of the women had worn their suits under their casual clothing, except for Gloria, who wore her bathing suit under a beach cover-up. The four ladies formed a kind of parade as they walked from the veranda to the pool and the waiting chaises. There, they kicked off their sandals and slipped off their blouses and skirts.

“Someone, help me with my lotion,” Gloria called out as they each opened a bottle of sunscreen. Brenda jumped to it, while Ashley and Darlene traded the same favor. Each of them wore bikinis, even Gloria. It was a good day to work on their tans.

Nearby, José had a crew of four young men helping him build a flower bed and some other landscaping tasks. The sudden appearance of four scantily clad gringas didn’t escape their attention. They were well worth the look, too. Although Darlene, the youngest of them at thirty-two, was a good ten years older than the youths, the quartet inspired plenty of interest. The women in the barrios had no money or time for personal trainers and private gyms. Not only that, their women were bronze, while these had creamy, white skin that they rarely got to see.

“’Eer are dee drinks, Señora,” Juana announced, as she opened the gate to the pool area. She carried a trayful of four tumblers with a green, frothy mixture. There was a pitcher full of replenishments on the tray, too.”

“I thought that we’d have Margaritas today,” Gloria announced.

“Good choice, Gloria!” Ashley spoke out in glee on behalf of the group.

“Juana,” Gloria ordered, “put the pitcher in the refrigerator in the exercise room.”

“I dun’t ‘ave de key,” Juana answered. “Dee Señora has dee only key.”

“You should have reminded me,” Gloria scolded. She reached into the pocket of her cover-up and produced a keychain. “Here you are. I’ll get it from you later. Now, put the pitcher in the refrigerator and go back to the house.”

“Si Señora,” Juana mumbled as she complied.

The women were left to themselves and their sun lotion. No one said anything for a few moments.

“Mah goodness,” Darlene gasped. “”Ah do b’lieve that those young men are oglin’ us.”

Of course they are,” Gloria said. “That’s one reason why I moved the meeting out to the pool. Don’t you want them to? You can ogle them, too, you know.”

“That would be undignified!” Darlene exclaimed.

“Who the hell cares?” Brenda laughed. “It’s all in fun; nothing will come of it. Besides, it’s good practice for when it counts.”

“Here—here,” Gloria seconded the motion.

The workers had discarded their shirts long ago. Sheens of sweat shone on their dark skin. They were lean and muscled, a product of their toil. They tried hard to get a view of the women without giving themselves away—which was not easy since they were being watched, themselves. A leer or lingering gaze at the wrong moment could cost their job.

“Watch this,” Ashley told the others after taking a big gulp of her drink. She was a raven-haired beauty with pale, creamy skin. She worked hard on her figure and it worked hard for her.

She put a dollop of sunscreen in her palm, and then stretched out her other arm. The oiled hand softly glided the length of her arm to her shoulder. She repeated it on the opposite side. The white, outstretched limbs were flags calling the young men to attention. She took a little more of the lotion in her hands and started circling applications along her collarbone, and then she went lower and then a bit lower, yet. When she was sure that she had the attention of her audience, her hands smoothed the tops of her breasts spilling over her bikini top. She repeated it over and over until the boys almost had their fill.

When she knew she had them, she lifted the strap away and slid her hand down inside the cup and left some of the sun cream there. She did it to both sides. One could imagine her hands cupping, kneading, and gently squeezing.

“Ashley, you are just shameful,” Darlene scolded, claiming the right of indignation.

“Be quiet, Darlene,” Ashley countered. “I’m, just having a little fun.”

“Why, you’re just teasin’ ‘em.” Darlene argued.

“Men love to be teased,” Ashley said, “and believe me, girl, those are men.” She cast a glance out at them, counting their muscles. “Now, for my grand finale.”

Darlene’s mouth fell agape as Ashley took more sunscreen in hand. She bent one leg up on the chaise, leaned forward and reached out with both hands to her ankle. The journey up the flesh of the calf began. Ashley made it go slow, so that those watching her would take in every inch of her shapely legs.

When she reached her knee she leaned back in her chair. She kicked her leg straight up in the air, knee locked and toes pointed to the sky. She grasped her leg at the knee and moved her hands slowly down the firm thigh flesh, ever-so-close to the crotch. She did it twice. Then, she repeated the entire process with the other leg—perhaps a little more slowly.

“Just shameful,” Darlene repeated, although with far less conviction than before.

“I, for one, am jealous,” Brenda admitted, observing the lustful stares of the audience.

“Why don’t you show them what you’ve got, Bren?” Ashley suggested.

“How could I follow that?” Brenda admitted. “I have a little something planned for later, but not ‘til they get over your little show.”

“I’ll show you something,” Gloria said. “Brenda, help me loosen up my bikini top. Don’t untie it all the way; just loosen it so it doesn’t hold me in place so tight.”

After Brenda performed the request Gloria downed the rest of her Margarita and then stood up. “I’ll just coil that hose for the pool filter,” she announced.

She walked slowly to it, turned face-on to the watching young men. Ashley and Brenda looked at one another in silent communication as they marveled at how Gloria could flaunt her stuff, even though she was the oldest of them. It was tools and know-how. It was a complete set—one was useless without the other.

“Go, girl!” Brenda urged her on.

Gloria bent from the waist, picked up the hose and slowly wound it into a neat coil. Her large breasts hung down and the loosened bikini top fell away just enough to allow them to sway. When she was half-done she rotated her hips slightly in rhythm to the coiling of the hose so that her breasts would pick up the motion. When she was done she paused, and then straightened and looked out at them for several seconds. She slowly sauntered back to her place and sat down.

Ashley and Brenda broke into applause.

“I hope that you’ve been watching, Darlene. Next time it will be your turn,” she warned. “No excuses!” Darlene turned red. The sun was hot and the Margaritas were strong. Gloria went inside to get the pitcher to refill all the glasses.

One of the men, a little older than the rest, edged closer to the pool. He was more heavily muscled than the others. As he drew closer the women could see the features of his face. He wore a smirk that let the women know that he was enjoying their game. He had a thin moustache and a tattoo of an Aztec symbol on his bicep.

“I think he likes you, Ashley,” Brenda said. The women broke into giggling. The closer contact, seeing the expression on his face, raised their excitement to a new level. The young man stole closer. They were eye to eye and the women gasped. He paused for a moment, pursed his lips into a kiss and flexed a pectoral muscle at them, and then abruptly about-faced and sauntered back to the group, who held him in hero’s awe.

“Oh—Ah feel a little faint,” Darlene swooned as she covered her breasts with her hands.

Brenda leaned closer to Ashley, but asked her question loud enough for all to hear. She pointed at the one who’d just approached them. “Ashley, what would you do if you found that one’s head between your thighs?”

Ashley laughed out loud, and then thought for a second. “Nothing, Brenda, dear. I wouldn’t want to interrupt what he was already doing.”

“Oh mah word!” Darlene gasped while the three others squealed in laughter.

“Nothing except enjoy it and not let him stop,” Ashley corrected. The chorus of laughing got louder. Even Darlene joined in.

“I thought you were scandalized by all this,” Gloria asked her youngest pupil.

“Well, Ah am, you know. But Ah know it’s all in fun between us girls. It’s somehow—excitin’,” she confessed.

“He’s not the one I’d choose,” Brenda said. “I like that slender one over there. See him? He’s been watching us all this time but he’s scared to death of getting caught. I think he’s a virgin. I could break him in just right.”

“Interesting idea,” Gloria said.

Brenda gulped down the balance of her drink. “Now it’s time for my little part in this play.”

She rose up from her chaise and slowly walked to the diving board, walking out and stopping at the end and paused for all to see. She dove into the water and swam the length to the shallow end. When she reached the far wall she climbed out and turned her back to her quarry and bent slightly at the waist. She reached back, traced her hand down her shapely backside. She inserted a finger under the clinging spandex at the crotch of the bikini bottoms and rearranged it properly over her cheek, and then did the same to the other. She walked slowly back to her chaise, swinging her hips all the way.

“Good points for originality,” Gloria pointed out. Ashley and Darlene were applauding. The youth’s face could not be seen, but they assumed that he was gulping.

Juana had been watching the festivities from the kitchen window. She shook her head in disapproval and went to the veranda. She spied her husband working nearby.

“¡José, José! Los chicos, ses olvidan de las camisas.”

Juana stood on the veranda and saw her husband roll his eyes. She knew that he had witnessed the little theater by the pool and she knew as well that he frowned on it less than her. It wasn’t the modesty of the Señora and her friends that concerned her, but her sense of dignity of the young men. She placed her hands on her hips, letting José know that she was preparing to yell again. As always, he chose to comply and preserve the peace.

“¡Oye, Chicos!” José shouted out. “Ponerse las camisas.” The youths heaved a collective sigh, but found their shirts and put them on.

“Well, that ends that!” Brenda exclaimed as their audience evaporated.

“It was fun while it lasted,” Darlene sighed.

“Remember, Darlene,” Ashley reminded, “next time it’s your turn—and no excuses. Think of something really special for your first time.”

“That damned Juana!” Gloria growled. Her face had turned bright red, and not from the sun. “She’ll be sorry for this. I’ll make Alvin let me fire them. I hate her; I hate them both. I’ll have her ass on a platter if it’s the last thing I do.”

Brenda looked at her compatriots. She could see that Gloria’s sudden rage had put them off. Gloria always seemed so cool and wise, a veneer that had to be protected. It was disconcerting to see her so out of control over a few tee shirts. Of course, Brenda had seen Gloria in ways that Ashley and Darlene had not.

“Gloria, Gloria,” Brenda soothed. “We all know what a bitch Juana can be. Don’t bring yourself down to her level.”

Gloria slowly calmed; she was still panting. “You’re so right,” Brenda, dear. “Let’s have another round of Margaritas.”

“The pitcher’s empty,” Ashley informed them. “We’ll have to have Juana make some more.”

“I refuse to ask her for anything,” Gloria hissed like a serpent.

“Well, all this flirtin’ an’ dirty talkin’ has me…,” Darlene wrinkled her nose as she searched for the proper word, “…I would say it’s left me a little bit randy, if y’all know what Ah mean. I think Ah’ll go now an’ see if Jason came home early.”

“Good idea,” Ashley said. “I’m right behind you.”

“Watch out, Tyler,” Brenda called after her with a smirk.

“Juana drove away my friends,” Gloria pouted as she slumped in her chaise. She stared straight ahead for a full minute, not uttering a word. “Aren’t you going, too,” she finally asked Brenda.

“No, I won’t leave you,” Brenda replied in a soft voice. She found something to brighten the mood. “We have some time to ourselves now. A workout in the mini-gym would be just the thing.” She got up and started to make her way before Gloria had a chance to answer. She peeked over her shoulder and Gloria was following. Brenda was already fumbling with the tie behind her bikini top. This time, Brenda promised herself, she’d get naked before Gloria had a chance to stop her.

*************