Some stories evolve over days, weeks, months, but this one popped into my head, almost fully formed while watching young women play soccer in the neighborhood park. My Transistor, tuned to NPR, announced that Beatle George Harrison had died in L. A. the day before. The station played a bit of "Something in the way she moves" just as a very pretty Italian or possibly Latina girl ran by. She flashed a confident smile at me and here we are.
Thank you, George, for illuminating with your special light.
Maxmillian, my champion stock Malamute, is almost four years old this summer. I just call him Max. His cold wolf eyes intimidate some of the mothers in the local park. They often shield their children at his approach, but he's actually great with kids. All ages, youngsters or oldsters. He'll take a head scratch or a shoulder pat from anyone, and make a friendly doggy smile for them.
He has only one flaw, in my mind. He's an elitist. It clearly shows when other dogs are running the park. He seems aloof, treating them with a casual disdain, as if they were just dogs, not people, like he is.
He loves two things, besides me, of course. Frisbees and pretty girls. Not all girls, oddly. He prefers Italianate, long dark hair, warm flashing eyes style girls. Like the young woman scratching behind his ear at the moment.
"You're such a pretty boy," she crooned softly. "Bellisimo."
I liked her style with Max. She'd squatted alongside my blanket, and, patting her thigh, held out slim curved fingers towards Max's nose.
"What's your name, pretty doggy?" she said, turning her smiling face to mine. "What breed?" she asked.
"Maxmillian, but he prefers just Max." I gave her my warmest smile, admiring her perfectly sculpted, prominent cheek bones. "He's an Alaskan Malamute."
The girl stroked slim fingers down Max's back. More a caress than a stroke, I was very aware.
"What's your name, pretty girl?"
She scratched above Max's hip for a moment, smiling when he closed his eyes and lifted his nose, his lips curling into a grimace of pleasure.
"Che-chee-lee-ah," she spoke slowly, as if her full lips had to carefully form and feel each syllable. Sparkly eyed, she smiled that confident smile of a woman who knows she's more than just pretty.
My lifted eyebrows asked the obvious question.
"Milano," she sang, with some pride. She pointed to Max's well gnawed Frisbee. "Will you do that again?"
"Frisbee? Yes, we stopped so Max could water and I could have a snack."
"He is so beautiful when he runs and leaps. I've never seen a dog soar so high into the air. He is graceful, like a ballet dancer."
"Would you join me, Cecilia? I have plenty to share." Yes indeed, much to share with this pretty.
"If you have an apple?" She seemed delighted at the suggestion. "What is your name?" she asked sweetly.
"Sit. I've apples to spare." I patted the blanket and watched her drop to her knees, twisting to sit opposite me, her tank top tightening nicely over full breasts. "My name is Janno. But first, Max needs water." I groped in my backpack for his water sack.
"May my friends join us? They may also enjoy to say hello to Max."
"Sure, of course." Especially if they are as pretty as you are. I poured Max's water sack half full, trying to keep my eyes on this graceful, olive complected young woman.
Cecilia waved at two figures slumped, elbows on knees, on a distant picnic table. The pair waved back, and jumped to the grass. Their body language hinted that they'd been waiting for Cecilia's cue. These girls be plotting something. I felt a tingle of anticipation.
I checked them out as they jogged toward us. The tall skinny one wore her hair in a sun bleached pony tail that bobbed and weaved as she loped gracefully along. Her reddish haired companion, shorter, slightly chunky, also moved with grace and confidence. Soccer players, I guessed, from the uniforms they wore.
"These are my American friends, Laney and Laura."
The tall girl stooped, holding out her hand. "I'm Laney. Pleased ta meetcha." Her tight lipped grin barely hiding braces.
"Likewise." I gave her fingers a squeeze as she dropped to her haunches.
"And you are Laura," I said, using Cecilia's melodic Italian pronunciation.
"Hey," she said, making a big smile.
"I'm Janno and this is Maxmillian or just Max." I fished apples out of my backpack and handed one to Cecilia as Laura dropped into a half lotus position. Her softly rounded belly pooched slightly as she leaned to offer fingers to Max's nose.
"Hello, nice doggy," she baby talked in a squeaky voice. "Do you like to smell fingers, Max?"
She turned her face to mine, giving me a wide eyed, innocent direct stare.
"Laura," Laney barked, her tone warning.
Max was licking the proffered fingers.
"Hmmph," Laney seemed annoyed. "She plays with herself all the time."
"Laney!" the chunky girl protested with little heat. "No more than you do."
"At least I wash after. Look, you're giving that poor dog a boner."
Cecilia seemed amused by her friends' playful banter. Her full lips pressed to the apple as she delicately bit into it. Max wasn't the only one growing some wood as I imagined those lips against mine.
"Slut mouth," Laura said, slightly peevish, but grinning.
"Cunt mouth," Laney escalated with a laugh, her eyes darting to mine as if to gauge my reaction.
They'd played this game before, that seemed obvious.
"You all smoke?" I asked as casually as I could muster.
Laura pulled her fingers away from Max's avid tongue.
"Sure. Whatcha got?" she asked brightly.
"Some early harvest Mendocino. It's not bad."
"Bitchin'," she replied, her round face breaking into a huge smile.
"But first, Max and I need to finish with the Frisbee."
Cecilia rose with me, asking, "Please show me your style to throw it."
"Sure. Just put two fingers in this position." I showed her the bottom of the Frisbee. "Then drop your shoulder and sling it." I side armed the Frisbee towards an eager, trembling Max. He ran after the Frisbee, jumping high. Not breaking stride, he brought it to us, dropping it at my feet.
"May I try?" Cecilia asked, giving me a warm inviting smile.
"Sure." I held out the Max spit dripping Frisbee. She faked a cross chest throw over Max's head causing him to run from us. When he stopped to look back, she side armed an easy throw slightly away from him.
"He's all yours, pretty girl." I dropped to my butt facing Laura.
"What are you all up for today?" I asked a grinning Laney. She shrugged, and made a noncommittal face.
"We're just hangin'." Her eyes flashed to Laura's. "How 'bout you?"
I mimicked her shrug, and watched her lean over to whisper with Laura behind her hand. Both girls giggled and turned flushed faces to mine.
"Where did you meet Cecilia?" I asked Laney.
"Chechi's an exchange student. She lives with me," Laura said, smiling brightly, "for the next year."
The Frisbee bounced across our blanket so I snagged it to sling it in Cecilia's direction. Both she and Max ran to catch it. Cecilia leaping into the air, her legs splitting into a grand jete. She seemed to float in the air for a long moment, as if suspended by an invisible thread. Great hang time.
"She's really has some moves," Laney asserted. "She's gonna join our soccer team."
"Invite me to your next practice?" I asked her. "I'd love to play with you," I let a small grin play on my lips for a moment, "girls."
Laura tittered nervously, but Laney lifted her face, and gave me a bold stare. She raised her arms, and brushed her hair back, tight to her temples. My eyes, of course, dropped to her small breasts, now clearly defined under her jersey. I examined her for a moment then raised my eyes to her slightly flushed face.
"Laney, you are such a slut," Laura stage whispered, laughing softly.
When I looked at her, Laura leaned back against stiff elbows, and let her knee flop to the side.
My eyes tracked up her thigh to her shorts which seemed to be very tight against her crotch. Her plump lips clearly defined under the shiny nylon fabric.
"So, do you have a big dick?" Laney asked, almost too casually. A little catch in her voice belied her boldness.
I raised my eyebrows at her, ignoring Laura's convulsion.
"Chechi said you would, 'cause you have a big nose."
That got a laugh out of me.
"I thought fingers were your reference."
I held my hand up, fingers spread, palm toward her. She high fived me so I held my hand out to Laura. She seemed to very carefully examine my hand, her brows knitted.
"Well, I'm not very big, actually." I held my thumb and forefinger about an inch apart. "Maybe just a bit more than that." I spread my fingers to about a two inch gap.
Laney seemed horrified at my admission. Her eyes so wide, they seemed to fill her narrow face. Laura seemed to be choking back pity for my minimal member. She had such a sorrowful expression that I cracked up.
A breathless Cecilia dropped onto the blanket.
"Laney, you look like you sat on dog shit." She smiled at me openly, an inviting smile.
"You said his nose..." Laney couldn't complete her sentence. She held up her thumb and forefinger to show two short inches.
Cecilia blinked and frowned, then turned a coy smile to me.
"Ooh, really?" She grinned so big I worried her face might split.
"I think we've found our man." The heat in her voice raised the temperature of the water in Max's bowl ten degrees.
Cecilia's eyes locked on mine.
"He was teasing you." She pursed her lips. "He knows what's important."
"You have the most beautiful eyes, Cecilia. I'll fall in love with you, just for your eyes."
Cecilia hugged herself, and shivered slightly. "See, I told you," she said, turning a smug face to her friends. "Older men are much more fun than your little boys."
Laney and Laura sprawled on my couch, their eyes darting about the room, avoiding eye contact with anyone but Max. He was curled in his usual place, the rug in front of the fireplace, watching us from under hooded eyes. Cecilia kneeled gracefully before the CD rack, at ease if she were in her own room.
"You have all the Beatles' albums?" she queried, looking at me over her shoulder.
I nodded, not taking my eyes off the bong I was filling with cheap red.
"Do you have any opera?" she asked, as if expecting a negative reply.
"I have something very unusual. Try the green, white and red label on the bottom right shelf." I couldn't help a small grin when Cecilia flashed a look at me.
Cecilia fumbled for a moment then extracted the CD.
She read the label and laughed, "Mario Lanza?" She gave me a snorting laugh, a look of disdain. "The American 'Caruso'?" she derided. "With an Il Tricolore label?"
I shrugged. "The flag of Ireland," I grinned at her, "also."
She mounted the CD and searched for the play button. After a moment we heard Lanza's emotional "La Donna e Mobile".
"Oh, a beautiful voice." Laura exclaimed. "What is it about? The opera, I mean." She held out a hand as if pleading with Cecilia to explain, but the grinning girl turned to me, lifting an eyebrow.
"Sex, violence, murder and great music," I grinned at Cecilia, who mugged an overexaggerated, 'I'm impressed' face.
I lit the bong, taking a small hit before handing it to Laura. My eyes caressed Cecilia's form. She was dancing in place, her waterfall of dark hair swaying gently around her long, slim torso.
Laura coughed out her first bong hit, and eagerly tried another, smaller toke. Cecilia watched her technique through slitted eyes as she swayed.
"Janno," Laura called to me, "come sit here." She patted the cushion next to her as she held the bong out to Laney.
I dropped into the couch where she'd indicated and twisted, raising my leg onto the cushion, letting my knee brush along her soft thigh. Her skin felt warm and smooth, a moment of distraction.
"Are you married or," she hesitated, "gotta girl friend?" Laura asked, still a bit nervous.
I couldn't help scrunching my lips before replying.
"Was in a relationship not so far back, but it ended badly so I'm a bit gun-shy these days still." I watched her face, trying to sense her reaction and saw none. "I just date around and do things with friends. Just casual, nothing really serious."
"So, you are straight?" Laney leaned forward to peer around Laura, her eyes dancing. "It'd be such a waste if you weren't."
I studied Laney's face for a long moment before shrugging.
"Mostly," I let that hang between us until I couldn't hold back a laugh. Her intense, serious expression changed to one of relief then to a mock angry "I'll get you for that" glare.
I felt Laura squirm closer, again her warm skin distracted. I dropped my eyes and studied her well rounded legs, resisting an urge to stroke the pearlescent flesh of her inner thigh.
She didn't. With studied casual, she gripped my leg above the knee, squeezing surprisingly hard.
"Strong quads," she breathed.
"Strong hands." I exaggerated the surprise in my voice.
"What's this tune," she hesitated, "song about? I think I heard it before."
"Aria," I corrected her. "Well, popularly, it's known as 'A Fickle Woman', but if you translate directly, it means a woman's mind is like a feather in the wind."
Laney and Laura both frowned slightly, as if testing for a possible misogynist put down.
"No, no, no," Cecilia exclaimed, waving her hands at us for emphasis. "Her heart, not her mind. She's a butterfly, fluttering on the wind, touching many hearts. That's my feelings."
Laura started at Cecilia's outburst then smiled happily.
"You mean she's slutty," she giggled. "Don't you?"
Cecilia tilted her head to the side and waved palms up.
"So, if a woman likes what a man does for her, you call her a slut? A..." She searched for a word. "A round heels?"
"Yeah," Laura breathed, turning a tight little smile to me. I would have returned her smile, but there were warm fingers sliding under the leg of my nylon shorts.
"Hey," I protested as she gripped my cock.
"Hoo, it's kinda long," Laura gloated. "Let's see what you got." She leaned over to tug at the waistband with her opposite hand, pressing a large firm breast against my arm. The delicate smell of her sweat added another tingle.
"Now wait a minute," I protested again. A false protest, of course. This plump muffin could do anything she wanted with me. I was eager putty in her warm, slightly damp, little hands.
"Shh," she shushed, as if dealing with an unruly child. Intent on her task, her face took on such a serious expression, I had to stifle a laugh.
"You could help," she mumbled, "You know?" Giving me a cute petulant glare.
I lifted my hips as Cecilia moved to stand at the end of the couch. I tilted my head back to look up into her face, raising my eyebrows at her. She just grinned at me, an sly little grin that forewarned of many delights. She raised a palm to her breast to lazily stroke a proud nipple with her thumb.
"I can't see," Laney complained. "Get between his knees."
Laura rolled off the couch, and squatted, hands on my knees, grinning at me.
"Show him your tits, girl. If that doesn't make for instant boner, we'll know he's queer." Laney's voice gurgled with excitement.
Laura crossed her arms and pulled her jersey over her head, arching her back to display a very full, black sports bra.
"Formidable!" I sucked in a deep, slow breath to show proper respect.
Laura slid thumbs under the bottom of her bra. I awaited the sight eagerly. Very slowly, she pushed the black Spandex upward, hesitating as her nipples came into view. With a nervous giggle, she stretched out her arms, and lifted the garment over her head.