“Carl, could you make up the beds too?” Mary pointed to a pile of sheets and pillowcases she’d dumped on the living room sofa.
“Really? Couldn’t you do that much yourself?”
Mary turned to look at him. “I’m still working on the curriculum for the first day, right? I’m the teacher.”
“Oh.” With a sigh Carl picked up the pile of sheets and headed out to the barn. He’d spent several weeks converting the barn into the Lake Washington Drama Camp. This was Mary’s dream -- to start up her own drama camp. Their daughter Charlotte would be the first camper. She was 13. And somehow Mary had managed to get three other girls to sign up who were a year or two older.
It was a small barn. This hadn’t been a working farm in decades, and the previous owners had built this barn for the atmosphere. The conversion had meant putting up a stage, meaning a raised platform with a decent floor. He’d hung some strong overhead lights at Mary’s suggestion, and he had to admit it made it created a nice effect. In the back of the barn he’d spiffed up a little half-bath. For a shower he’d jury-rigged a hose mounted on the outside of the back wall of the barn. And he’d made the sleeping quarters out of a former horse stall -- which had never known a horse. Mary had gotten a good deal on craigslist for a pair of used bunk beds. He had to drive an hour and a half each way to haul them back in the pickup, but they would work fine.
The camp would be in the barn, and Mary and Carl would have the house for their own use -- a small house, with just their bedroom, Charlotte’s smaller room, and a living room/kitchen.
Carl made up the four bunk beds.
Saturday morning. One camper arrived, and then another. Mary realized she desperately needed a few more things from the store, so Carl set off on the 20-minute drive to town to get them.
When he returned, the third girl had arrived and the four campers and Mary were already reading from scripts up on the stage.
Carl was unhappy.
He was a registered nurse, with a decent job at the hospital that was a 45-minute drive away. His income supported the family. But he’d lost his job in May. The hospital was being consolidated with one farther away, and Carl had been a casualty of the first round of lay-offs. That was a disappointment, but he’d immediately set in motion his job hunt. After four weeks it became clear that there weren’t any jobs within a reasonable commute that paid enough to support the family. Mary didn’t seem to be that interested. She didn’t say it in so many words, but to her it was his responsibility to have a good job, and if he didn’t it was his fault.
They had already enrolled their campers when he lost the job. Mary could argue that they really needed to make the drama camp work so next year it would have a dozen campers and they’d earn real money. And since Carl wasn’t employed, he was available seven days a week to help her out getting it ready -- somehow there was a lot more work than she’d planned for.
But even with 20 campers the numbers wouldn’t add up. What they needed to do was sell the farm and move somewhere he could get a decent job. She deflected his gentle attempts to make that point. In any event they were committed to the six weeks of camp this year.
Back from his errands, he went out to the barn to say hello.
Mary made introductions. “This is Charlotte’s father Carl. He’ll be helping out at the camp. This is Megan, Liz, and Emma,” she said, pointing to each in turn.
Carl said hello and beheld the five people in front of him.
His daughter Charlotte was the one bright spot in his life. He took a moment to really look at her. Brown eyes, shoulder-length straight brown hair, 5’6” with a typical girl’s body. He noticed she really was developing -- those bulges under her flannel shirt were real breasts now. She was a pretty good student. She’d always been pretty easygoing. In the past year she and Mary had started the sniping and fighting that was typical of adolescence, but she still got along fine with Carl.
Emma was shorter, maybe 5’2”, with pixie cut reddish brown hair and big blue eyes, thin and not even as developed as Charlotte.
Megan was Charlotte’s height, with brown hair halfway down her back, brown eyes and quite a womanly figure. She exuded energy, with sparkling eyes and a loud voice that she used often.
Liz was 5’8” or so, with shoulder-length blond hair and blue eyes. She had a willowy figure, with hips and breasts definitely there but understated. She was model material.
Then there was Mary. Her figure was long gone. Butt, belly, breasts -- everything sagged and spread. Her ponytail showed a fair amount of gray. They had had Charlotte late, and now she was 53 -- same age as him. She’d been an enthusiastic lover when they first met. She came every time. Then it had been once a week or so, and then she’d gotten enthusiastic again in the years they were trying to conceive. But once she was definitely pregnant, her interest had fallen dramatically. Ten years ago sex had become a monthly affair. To try to get more he’d taken to doing what she liked best -- eating her out slowly until she had a big orgasm. He then got a couple minutes to plunge his cock in and thrust his way to release. Even so, the frequency went to quarterly, and then it seemed like an annual event, driven more by some trace of Mary’s guilt and duty until it had stopped completely three years ago. If it was up to Carl he’d have sex every day, even with Mary’s body so bloated. But sex only happens when both partners want it.
There was a sixth person in the barn -- him. He had something of a belly himself, though nothing like Mary. He was 5’9” and his dark blond hair was balding. He had a weak chin and close-set brown eyes, and while no one called him ugly he knew he was definitely below average in sex appeal.
They went back to reading their scene, and Carl wandered up to the house. He sat back and tuned in to the ball game on TV.
Not long after, Charlotte appeared and said, “Dad, mom needs you. We’ve got a problem with the sleeping,” before racing back out to join the class.
Carl wanted to see if the Red Sox could get out of the jam they were in. Five minutes later, he heard racing footsteps and Charlotte appeared once more. “Mom says she needs you like right now.”
With a sigh Carl put his shoes back on, turned off the TV with the bases still loaded, and headed down to the barn.
“Oh, finally!” said Mary when he appeared. While the four girls talked, she said, “None of the other girls will sleep on a top bunk. No way, no how. Charlotte will, of course. But we gotta come up with another plan for an extra girl.”
“Oh, I guess one could sleep in Charlotte’s room.”
“Oh, come on, they would never go for that. You know how girls are. They need to be together, not with the stodgy grown-ups. You’ve got to make another bed down here.”
Carl thought. “Not sure I can do that for tonight.”
“Well, OK,” said Mary with a sigh. “But tomorrow at the very latest!”
Liz drew the short straw and had to sleep in Charlotte’s room.
The next day Carl set to work. There was another room, much smaller, maybe a tack room -- though one that had never known tack. He fashioned a platform at bed height and in town managed to get a new mattress. Unlike the converted stall, this room had a full-height door that shut.
Although far better than Charlotte’s room, the solo room in the barn was still less appealing than the converted stall. To be fair, Liz, Emma, and Megan would take turns sleeping in the single in a fixed rotation.
The girls were all very sexy, Carl realized. They might not be especially hot among their peers, but most girls that age were hot -- and next to Mary anyone would look sexy. Charlotte was too, though his reaction to her was totally different -- she would be sexy to other guys, but not to him. When hot weather came, the girls appeared in short shorts and skimpy tops, making it all the harder to ignore or hide the effect they had on him.
He was elected to drive the four of them to the local swimming hole -- a wide spot in the creek. Naturally all four rode in the back, none in the cab with him.
He stayed in the cab while the four in their bikinis walked down to the hole. Four pairs of gorgeous legs, four cute behinds. He adjusted himself so his erection wouldn’t just press painfully upward against his shorts. In the water the wet bathing suits clung to what they covered, accentuating breasts and crotches. He could see the water glistening on bare skin. He could even barely make out beads of water on eyelashes when they sparkled in the light.
Burning with desire, he found his hand idly stroking the front of his shorts. It would be so easy to explode in his pants. But he mustn’t.
When the girls returned, with wet hair, glistening bodies, and faces brimming with the animation and excitement of youth -- it only reinforced in him a powerful yearning.
On the way back, he made out Megan’s voice from the back. “A nurse? Not a doctor?” followed by hushing sounds.
He sighed to himself. Yeah, a nurse, not a doctor. He’d assumed the training would be less demanding and less expensive. Ha. He knew almost the same stuff but earned half as much -- when he had a job. He hadn’t gotten into med school either, the year he’d applied.
Going around the barn in the evening, he paused outside the window to the girls’ room as he heard them talking. He should keep going, of course but...
.... There is more of this story ...