The Ocean Waves, The Air Waves Back
Caution: This Mystery Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Fa/Fa, Mult, Consensual, Romantic, Lesbian, BiSexual, Heterosexual, Light Bond, Safe Sex, Oral Sex, Anal Sex,
Desc: Mystery Sex Story: Chapter 1 - Waikiki PI Story #5. Searching for a missing person thrusts our private dick into lots of love and lots of trouble. Be sure to read the earlier stories in the Waikiki PI Universe first to understand the characters.
I hadn't auditioned for a play since high school. I didn't think I ever would again. My high school dramatic career had lasted through two plays, one of which, a musical, I didn't mind ending up in the chorus, not having any voice training or a voice one would want to hear front and center. The other was "A Member of the Wedding." For some reason I had convinced myself I had talent as an actor. Even my friends were impressed by my audition, the most knowledgeable of them telling me I had a nice naturalistic quality. Disappointedly I ended up cast in a non speaking role as "a member of the wedding."
I found myself more than five years later in my third audition in the last two months, a locally written play produced by a small community theater company located at the base of Diamond Head. Remarkably one of the two directors for which I auditioned offered me a fairly substantial role I had to turn down. Not very professional of me as an actor but a necessity as a private investigator.
There had never been as much preparation involved in finding a person, or for any other type of case, either before or after this one. The client Jordan McAndrews, a CFO of a global technology manufacturing business in Minneapolis whose wife had left him and their two young children suddenly a half a year before. His wealth enabled practically limitless expense finding her. Other investigators throughout the mainland had tried tracking her down. One, after interviewing her father, suggested hiring a PI in Honolulu. Her father, a fellow veteran and acquaintance of Sam Kamalua, ended up being the conduit which got Sandy and I hired.
When Sandy interviewed the client and the missing woman's father, she agreed that Honolulu was a likely destination. Joan McAndrews, born Joan Trotter, had lived on Oahu when her father was stationed at Pearl for a couple of years. The McAndrews family had vacationed here as well, a highlight of her life. Clearly she loved it here.
Joan was also an obsessed semi-professional thespian. She acted in several plays in the Twin Cities, mostly in a couple of old, well regarded dinner theaters. Sandy sensed it had been a bone of contention between her and her husband. Not needing to work for a living, and having rehearsals and performances in the evening and weekends when her husband was home and could look after the children, as well as having a live in maid/babysitter, gave her opportunity to act. But of course it limited time together with the husband, and much more importantly according to her husband, made her not as available as she should be for her kids.
Could she be so obvious as to stick to her two obsessions: Hawaii and acting; and make herself available to be found? As it turned out, she could. As they say, third time's the charm. I waited in the theater seats to audition, going through my modern audition piece--a monologue from the "Zoo Story"-- in my mind when she strolled in.
My immediate thought was to call and thank Pat Bishop. A half Japanese, half Haoli actor, Pat had a recurring role on Magnum PI. Four years ahead of me in school, I never met him but knew his sister well having had her as a classmate for much of my years at public school. Through his sister, I had contacted and hired Pat to be an intensive acting coach for a little over two months.
Maybe it was my undercover experience living dangerously as someone else that kept me calm on stage, and the presence of my target gave me an extra jolt of energy, thankfully not of the nervous kind. The feeling I got from doing my monologue I had never felt before. I connected to my audience. I talked to them, telling my story completely within my character. It was blissful. The smattering of applause sounded truthful, not simply expected. It was a smattering because of the small audience. It sounded bigger than the amount of people producing it, at least to me.
If I felt I had done the work I needed to do to get a part, Joan, or, as she was called by the director, Penny Kolhaas went far beyond that. She was exquisite. It reminded me of the Dianne Weist audition in "Hannah and Her Sisters." The monologue from "Our Town" charmed; a vulnerable, subtle, incredibly well structured, powerful and gorgeous performance. An attractive and intelligent blonde when sitting near me, she looked beautiful and charismatic on stage. She glowed, and not just from the makeshift lighting. Her audience of production people and auditioners stayed silent for a moment before letting loose a loud applause. She deserved a standing ovation, but the situation prevented it.
"Wow," I said when she sat a couple seats down from me. "That was amazing."
"I thought you did interesting work, too," she said quietly, recovering from the performance. Her sort of half smile on the shy side with a disarming tilt of the head stirred me.
"Thank you. I'm pretty new at this," I said truthfully.
"I couldn't tell. You seemed confident while playing a less than confident character. It was interesting."
"You must have been working on that piece for a long time."
"Not really," she said. "I like to keep things fresh. I don't stick to an audition monologue for more than a couple times. But to tell you the truth, I have performed Emily before on stage. It had been awhile though. I figured it would be new again. When I went back to it, I almost wished I had waited to do the role until I was older. I could have done so much better if I had waited until now."
"How..." I began but was shushed. The next actor began his audition. "Hungry?" I whispered to Joan/Penny. She nodded. We carefully exited the auditorium. Luckily the young man trying for a part had a hard time of it. Not lucky for him, of course. He started and stopped. He tried to get himself together when we exited, so I don't think we were being a nuisance. I certainly didn't want to get the director on our bad side.
When we exited the theater building we immediately realized it was in a residential area. "I know a place nearby, but my car is..." I gestured to the decaying monstrosity that was my brown Buick. Next to it sat a cherry red Mustang convertible circa 1967. She walked up to the driver side.
"Yours?" I asked.
"A friend's," said Penny.
"Nice," I said. She shrugged.
I guided her to the Officer's Club sitting up on Diamond Head. Silently I thanked my father for his membership. I insisted she could have anything on the menu. She went for the priciest: Surf and Turf. I decided on a humble hamburger. We shared a house salad and sipped some fine rosé.
"How do you feel when you get inside your character?" I asked.
"It's a Zen thing," she began. "It's all about preparation. You know, 'The Actor Prepares, ' and all that. The more you stuff into your head about who the person is and what she is saying and why she is saying it and how she is saying it to get what she wants, you know, the five questions, when too, and then how you build the monologue to make it interesting and vital, the more you prepare, the more you can succeed in the moment when you perform. You forget everything, even the breathing part, when to take a breath, you know, the beats. You forget it all. But of course you don't forget. It's all there in the moment. Then it's about trust. You can never be afraid that it's not going to happen, otherwise it won't. Then, well that's not so much with auditions, but it's vital when you perform, you have to be responsive. With all the preparation stuffed inside and sort of forgotten, but affecting you completely, you respond to the people around you in character."
"Just remembering the words is hard for me," I said.
She paused and stared at me. "You are new to this, aren't you?" she said.
"You must have gone to school to learn all that," I said.
She shook her head. "I went to school. I took drama, but I didn't major in it. It happened afterwards. I mean I caught the bug in high school, loved taking a couple acting classes in college, but I never really learned the craft until I started actually working. Then I did just what you're doing. I asked a million questions, read all the books. But mostly doing the work, you know, acting in front of an audience taught me."
"I hope you don't mind me picking your brain," I said. Somehow, despite our conversation she practically inhaled her meal. I waited while she chewed the piece of steak in her mouth and swallowed.
"Like I said," she finally said, "I did the same thing. I've never been on the other side, though, you know, the mentoring side."
"I guess we won't know if I will be your first pupil," I said.
"What do you mean?"
"I have to get a part first."
"No problem. You're a shoe in."
"How do you figure?"
"You'd be perfect for the part."
"What part is that?"
"The gumshoe," she said.
An uncomfortable pause ensued. She must have been sensitive to the possibility of being searched for, of being hounded by PI's sent after her by her rich husband. As far as I knew, despite the extensive search, none of the private detectives had found her. She may have been feeling confident that her escape had been successful. She had, after all, managed to make herself vulnerable to discovery. On the other hand, she seemed bright, and she had managed to remain under the radar for a long time. There had to be a sense of plausible paranoia within her to stay out of our clutches. Despite my confidence at undercover work, this was an uncommonly sensitive woman. I did my best to give a reason for my sudden, barely contained shock.
"That's a big role, isn't it? I mean, I didn't have a chance to study the script much, just during the audition, but he seems to be pretty important."
Penny laughed. "A lot of lines, hunh? Don't worry."
"But you seem so sure."
"Tell you the truth, I have an inside. Betty, the director and playwright workshopped the play at the University. I've been giving her as much help as I could. The one character she seems to be struggling the most with is the detective. She's never had a voice or a physical type available that could give her a sense of who this guy is. And there you were, tall, handsome, and a little rugged, with a naturalistic, sort of complicated acting style. The perfect gumshoe."
"So you're studying at the U?" I asked.
"Well, the workshop occurred during the summer, not really a school thing. But I am taking classes there, auditing classes. I wanted to finish up my schooling. My studies kind of ended when I got myself pregnant and married. But I'm having some troubles with transcripts, so..."
"Separated," she said.
"Not as tough as being married. The tough part is missing the kids. I may not have been the best mother in the world, and I'm not quite ready to be one now, but once things settle and the divorce comes through, I hope they end up here with me. I hope but..."
She looked upset. The words had tumbled out and quickly reined in.
After a long pause, I said, "I guess you don't want to go there." She shook her head.
After another long pause, I asked, "It's usually the first question, the break the ice question, but I guess I've waited long enough. Where are you from?"
"Here," she said.
Her accent, definitely Upper Midwestern, and her general attitude, that bit of tightness Mainlanders take a long time to lose, belied her statement.
"Really?" I asked.
"I've been away a long time, but I'm back. I'm back home." She said it somberly, but I sensed she felt uplifted by the statement.
"It's good to have you back," I said truthfully. We smiled and locked eyes, creating a sense of intimacy. It must have made her a little scared, because she broke off the stare and gathered her things.
"We should return to the auditions," she said tightly. "It must be winding down."
We paused in the entryway of the theater. An assistant who I had given my name to when I first arrived held us back behind the door into the auditorium. We heard some faint applause, and she let us in. I sat about where I had been sitting before. Penny talked to Betty for a minute. When the conversation began, Betty seemed a little pissed, but by the time it ended, she smiled and nodded at me. Penny winked at me before sitting at my side.
"Anyone else?" asked Betty, standing up. She was a big lady, and nearly my height. When no one responded, she said, "I'd like to hear some cold readings. I'm going to announce a list of names. Those not mentioned can leave. That doesn't mean we're not interested. The cast will be set by the end of the week. I will contact those I am interested in. If you don't hear from me by Friday, I'm sorry, but that will mean you are not in the cast. However, if you would like some crew work, give me a call next week. If you are not confident I can reach you at the number you gave me, let Billie know at the door. She will arrange a time when we can best contact you. Thank you."
Betty rattled off ten names. Unfortunately I had to wait for the last name to hear mine. I must have been pretty tight by the time she spoke my name, because when I relaxed, I sank at least a couple inches into my chair. Penny did something amazing when I relaxed. She took my hand, intertwined her fingers with mine and gave them a squeeze. I thought that would be it, she would release my hand, but she didn't. We held hands until our names were called, playing intimate touching games with our thumbs and finger pads. The intimacy made me hard. I had been semi-hard since we had first met, but I needed to adjust before getting on stage by the time our names, the last ones, finally were called.
"Relax and listen. Don't worry about the words. Just react to me," said my new mentor directly into my ear before we got up and climbed the steps to the stage.
"Read the beginning of Act II Scene 2. Read to the end, unless I stop you," commanded Betty.
She did stop us a couple of times, giving me a little insight into my character and some easy business. Each time we returned to the beginning of the scene. That helped me relax, because I got to know the words and the tone of the scene better. Responding to Penny and her responding to me also helped. She spurred me on.
At the end of the scene, the stage directions said we kiss. Happy to see it, it also surprised me since we argued throughout the scene. Penny's character tried to get my character to not be so direct and threatening to the witness and the accused. I insisted my technique always worked. She reminded me I wasn't dealing with the usual thug. In essence she considered me a thug. So in the end, when she pulls me to her, I had to decide if I should show her I could be gentle, or if she wanted to make love because she liked my thug nature.
I decided on the latter, pulling her tight against me and kissing her hard. I'm sure she must have felt my man meat. Tempted to rub, it would have been too much. However our tongues hotly dueled by the time Betty yelled, "Good." We slowly separated. Her fingers intertwined with mine when we faced out towards the audience. "Thanks everyone," said Betty once we had stepped down into the auditorium. Betty glanced at me and smiled. "We'll let you know," she said to the remaining auditioners and sat down at her dais.
I gathered my things slowly, wanting to see if Penny remained in the theater or headed out. She surprised me when she threw her stuff together and left in a hurry. "Shit," I thought. "Well, I hope I get cast. Now that she knows me, I can't follow her." By the time I emerged onto the parking lot, her Mustang backed up. "Hey," I said, restraining my desperation.
"Nice meeting you, Joe," she said, glancing at me with a tight smile. "Good work. See you next week."
"I hope so," I said to the dust, the wake of her quick departure.
As soon as I got home, hornier than a horny toad, I grabbed a cold beer, sat at my kitchen bar/table and stared at the phone. Normally I would confer with Sandy during a lusty hour or so of fucking and sucking to relieve my needs, but she was far away in Minneapolis checking out the client and Penny/Joan's previous life. Diana had been my sex partner a couple nights before, and she told me she had a date with a lesbian she had met, her first date with a woman, that night. I hadn't seen Kitty for awhile, and though I loved making love to her, she always made it too complicated, like I should decide to be her man, but at the same time she didn't want that. The idea of going fishing at the local watering hole for a one night stand rarely appealed to me. Besides, I couldn't get past the fact that I really enjoyed Penny's company, and pursuing some less than interesting woman to get friendly with held no appeal. And, of course, it would take time and money and would likely be unsuccessful. I considered a guaranteed fuck calling an escort service, but the all business, timed fucking of a professional left me cold. So I began to masturbate, closing my eyes, fantasizing about Penny.
I approached climax when the phone rang.
"Hi," said my lovely partner.
"Hi Sandy. How's life in the Twin Cities?"
"It's nice. Lots of lakes. The leaves are changing. It's a little cool, but refreshing."
"So you have nothing to do but be a tourist?"
"Hardly. Jordan McAndrews has been driving me around the cities. He doesn't want anyone to hear us. We've had a couple picnics on the edge of some beautiful lakes. He's taking me out on his sailboat tomorrow on Lake Minnetonka. You should see the houses. His is huge and there are some twice his size. I'm getting the sense that he wants more than business from me."
"Sounds like it," I said.
"I don't like him."
"Neither does Joan," I said.
"You found her!" she screamed.
"Yeah. Now what?"
"He doesn't want to grab her. He wants information."
"Like whom she's been fucking?"
"Maybe, but I don't think so. The guy is the cock of the walk. It wouldn't be too strange for a man to get it on the side and not let the wife get any, but I don't think he cares. I've seen him with his family, with the help, who must have been Joan's choice because she is anything but attractive. That's not where he lives.
"Power's his bliss. Manipulating women and money is his life. He likes challenges. The women in his office are almost all beautiful. His executive secretary is absolutely gorgeous. Her and a couple of the VPs attend and respond to his every word, but see him as an equal. The lesser employees like the secretaries and the receptionist fawn over him. Those underlings shot me daggers, while the executive secretary studied me like a threat, but oddly not sexually, and considering her awe inspiring beauty, I can imagine why she wouldn't. He likes to seduce, and I think the more challenging the seduction the better. I wouldn't be surprised if he's fucked every woman in his office, but the ones he comes back to are the executive secretary and the VPs. And I bet he spent a long time getting into those women's pants. Of course I'm just speculating, but I swear the sexual tension in his office is so thick, it's like walking underwater.
"Now if he likes challenge, if it turns him on, what would that mean for a CFO? Siphoning funds, perhaps? Accounts in Switzerland or the Cayman Islands? And if the wife, a nice, smart farm girl from the backwoods of Wisconsin finally gets sick of this philandering sophisticate and wants to get revenge and get out, what would she do?"
"Grab the money and run," I said.
"And what could he do about it?"
"Hire some stooges not associated with the government who would greatly appreciate the abundant salary he provides."
"So what's she like?" asked Sandy after a pause.
"She's lovely, incredibly talented and maybe a bit flighty."
"Couldn't bag her, hunh stud?" Sandy teased. When I told her about the events of the audition, Sandy continued to tease. "Poor baby. You must be in dire need of release. Not the time to have a girl play hard to get."
"I doubt even if she hadn't drove off I would have gotten far. She's pretty tense. But I enjoyed her company, and she seemed to enjoy mine. I think she's scared to death of intimacy."
"Or she's on the run from an unscrupulous son of a bitch."
"I'm sure that's not helping her nervous nature," I said.
"I'll check on this Penny Kolhaas. She may have come up with the name out of the blue, or it's someone from her past. If she's got the kind of money we're thinking she has, she won't need a social security card or a passport to get a job. It's worth a look."
"Sounds good," I said. "I'll keep the home fires burning."
"Don't be getting any blisters on your hand missing me."
"No thanks to you. You caught me just before I got some relief. Now I gotta start all over."
"Poor baby. Don't be using Joan as fantasy material."
"What she doesn't know won't hurt her," I said.
"Oh, and Joe," said Sandy, getting serious. "I could be paranoid, but like I said, I don't like this guy. I want you to watch your back. Make sure there's no one following you, okay?"
"You be careful, too."
"I'll try. But you know how I liked the Mata Hari bit. Well, I want to learn this asshole's game first hand. I'm going to get seduced. It will play to his hopes; get him even cockier than he already is. It may even be safer to succumb. He is charming and handsome, so I don't think it should be too much of a chore."
"Wow," I said. "I hope he appreciates his luck."
"Probably not," she said. I nodded which of course she didn't see but somehow knew. We hung up.
My indefatigable penis described a gentle curve. Perhaps my balls, on the cusp of being blue, constricted the blood flow out of my flesh pole. Clearly, the fluid swelling them demanded release. I closed my eyes, revisited the stage kiss of less than an hour before, and developed it into a frenzy of stripping, licking, sucking and uninhibited screwing, with the audience of hopeful actors cheering us on, and a shirtless Betty giving directions while twirling hard nipples crowning large knockers. Penny/Joan groaned encouragement to fuck her harder.
Ready to explode at last simultaneously with the imagined Penny, the phone did its best to hold me back with its ringing. Why I didn't stop to answer it can only be explained by an absolute need for release. As soon as the telephone made its presence rudely known, the scenario disappeared like a popped balloon turned into useless rubber. I used friction alone. But when my answering machine spoke, it had the voice of Joan/Penny.
"Hi Joe, it's Penny. I hoped you might be home. I wanted to talk..."
I picked up. "Hi, Penny," I said breathlessly.
"I hope I didn't catch you at a bad time," she said.
"I was just about to finish something."
"I could call you later," her tense voice wanted anything but that.
"It was nothing important. I can always get back to it later. So how did you get my number?"
"Don't be mad. I called Betty. I told her I wanted to thank you for being such a good partner on stage."
"Are you kidding? You created all quality of the quality," I said, idly stroking my hard-on.
"Nonsense, Joe. You were perfect, so strong and confident. I've rarely had better partners, especially in a cold reading."
"Thanks," I said, trying to eliminate any doubt of her flattering intentions. I must not have been successful.
"I mean it Joe. I know you haven't had much experience, but I swear to you it didn't show." An uncomfortable pause followed.
"So," I said slowly, "were you telling Betty the truth?"
"Is that why you called? Not that I don't appreciate your praise, but ... Are you okay?"
"Oh Joe, I'm sorry." She sounded like she intended hanging up.
"Penny! Wait! Penny?"
"Yeah?" she said sadly.
"I really enjoyed our time together, the audition and our talk at the club and just sitting with you. I felt a bond, and the bond felt comfortable and exciting at the same time. I'd hoped we could exchange numbers after the audition. I'm really glad you called."
"Oh Joe, I'm sorry I rushed off. I'm ... I got scared."
"Really? I didn't mean to scare you." I felt confused. The evening with Penny tumbled through my head like a tipped jar of gemstones. Except for the kiss at the end, I couldn't find anything scary on my part.
"No, Joe, you were a gentleman. I enjoyed our time, too, probably more than you. I've led a sheltered life. No, that's not quite it. I've mostly sheltered myself from life. I can handle the little things, the domestic things, but in terms of relationships, I'm guarded. My husband considers me a cold fish, not that it would matter to him if I became the most loving woman ever. But my children..." She suddenly heaved out great sobs.
"Penny?" I said. "Do you want me to come over? Or we could meet somewhere and talk. Wouldn't that be better than talking on the phone?"
"Yeah, okay, but wait," she said, slowly pulling herself together. I waited. "What was I saying?" she finally began again. "Oh yes, the children, they don't know me. I love them with all my heart, but I never let it show. God, I haven't cried in I don't know how long." She paused, probably remembering her last cry. "Anyway, this is how I see myself. In acting class, you try a monologue that hits home too deeply, and when you get there, in those depths, the work really shines. But many actors when they get there, it scares them so much that they can't do it. They stop. As an actor, I live for those moments, but as a person, I can't go there. I'm scared, I freeze up, and I can't go on, so I don't."
"So you said you wanted to meet?" I asked.
"Okay, yeah," she said, gathering her courage. "You know the University of Hawaii radio station?"
"KTUH? It's my favorite," I said. "Why?"
"Well, have you heard the show 'Penny for Your Thoughts'?"
"Can't say that I have."
"I guess that's not too surprising, considering it's probably the worst shift on radio: 3am to 6am Tuesday morning."
"That would explain it. So you're on tonight?"
"But it's not even midnight."
"True. So I guess your assignment is to keep me entertained until then."
"No, actually I want to do some production work, make a PSA and a station ID, and I want you to do it with me."
"Sounds cool!" Penny's laugh was a breath of fresh air. "I'm not sure where it is. You want to meet somewhere?"
"You know the Moosehead Tavern on University?"
"How soon can you get there?"
"Depends on how clean you want me."
"Come as you are."
"15-20 minutes then."
"See you soon," said Penny.
"See you," I said and hung up. I gathered a couple of joints together, thinking pot always aided creativity, and headed into the lovely, trade wind cooled night to meet my target and new friend.
I found her in a booth half way through a large ice filled glass of light brown liquid. The same drink sat replicated though untouched in a position for a person sitting across the table from her to claim.
"I hope you like Long Island iced tea," she said.
I sat in front of my glass of the potent multiple alcohol concoction.
"It's not about liking. It's about getting buzzed," I said. I sucked on the straw, drawing in the sweet and bitter drink. She nodded and gave me a half smile.
"Are you feeling better?" I asked.
She nodded. "Thanks."
We sat silently studying each other. She looked good. She'd applied her make-up with subtlety and care, bringing attention to her eyes and their coronas, an ocean blue/green, and her expressive mouth, the narrow lips painted a quiet maroon. Her hair, dirty blonde with hints of red, she styled not quite shoulder length, full and unrestrained. I knew that in Minnesota her hair had been a pale yellow blonde. She made an interesting choice in altering it. She had shorn her long hair and had permed it to make it fuller, but had not gone black, instead just darkened and reddened it enough to look natural.
She wore a tight green Alligator shirt further accentuating her eyes and revealing her healthy physique. If I had an image in my mind of a corn and cheese fed farm girl from Wisconsin in her early thirties, tightened a bit from a nervous metabolism, Joan/Penny Trotter/McAndrews/Kolhaas would be it. Her breasts held full and proud, the cleavage revealed by the short unbuttoned area of the shirt hinted of a pleasurable softness.
Her height, closer to six feet than five, gave space for an even distribution of torso and legs. Her womanly, child bearing hips perfectly balanced her bosom. When she excused herself to visit the ladies room, I watched the sway of her ass, reminding me of a ripe Georgia peach. Her golden brown shorts allowed me to see the firm, full healthy thighs. Physically, Penny was a woman's woman.
Mentally however she was a mess. As soon as she got back from the ladies room she ordered another tea, and sucked it down when it arrived. Her eyes turned glassy. Her stare became more consistent. Throughout our odd meeting, we had said little. We simply looked at each other. She would stare at me for awhile, give me that quirky smile, then turn shyly away. Sometimes when she looked away, her mouth tightened. After the second drink, the stare and the smile, looser and more honest, stayed on like she posed for an artist and had found a pose she could hold comfortably.
"Let's go," she said after noisily sucking up the remains of the potent liquid. I got up and grabbed my wallet, but she insisted on paying. "I invited you," she said, standing in front of me, looking up.
Reminded of our audition kiss, I again thought about being aggressive, but knew she needed to make any move. She sidled up against me, her slightly pronounced belly rubbing against my penis, half hard and tight in my jeans. I wondered if she could feel it twitch and grow. She tousled my hair and pulled my head down. We kissed, gently this time, and briefly.
"Come on," she said, after tossing the money on the table. I happily watched her ass roll as I followed her outside.
We began walking towards the University. "Where's your car?" I asked.
"I live a block away," she explained.
As we entered into the campus area, I noticed a bunch of unlit buildings.
"Do you smoke pot?" I asked.
"Not since college," she said. "It made me kind of paranoid. Why, do you have some?"
I nodded. "That's okay."
She stopped, looking up at me, smiling. "I trust you. Let's go get stoned."
We found a clump of grass next to a small dark building hidden from the two main University streets and sat down. I lit the substantial joint, and we passed it back and forth. She coughed after the first hit, taking a bottle of juice from her large shoulder bag and drinking it. "Screwdriver," she explained. She offered me some. I declined.
"Take it slow, Penny," I instructed her on the mechanics of smoking Hawaiian. "The smoke expands in your lungs, so you don't need to fill them up."
After we smoked it down to a roach, I extinguished it and stashed it in my small mint tin. She lay back.
"I love it here. I love the nights," she said. I could barely hear her, so I lay beside her on my side, propping my head with my hand, marveling at her soft white beauty in the shadows as she stared at the sky. "It's like we're moving, slowly, imperceptibly, like Oahu is floating in the middle of the ocean, a giant green creature meandering along, chewing on the ocean floor just enough to sustain itself. The stars look like they're moving, but we're moving, and not just like the spin of the earth, but our own, different movement. Or maybe it's the stars that move, gliding slowly on waves of air. Air waves!" she laughed. "We're going to make some waves tonight. Airwaves! In the middle of the ocean, on our big green creature, being splashed by the ocean waves, we're going to wave back with airwaves. The ocean waves, the air waves back!" She thought that particularly funny. Her laughter emerged from her diaphragm at a pleasant middle range where a well trained actor speaks, but also like an earthy farm girl, again tempered by a touch of nervousness in her throat that defined her as Joan Trotter.
"The stars seem so close here," she said after the laughter subsided. "If I stood on your shoulders I could touch them. But of course they stay out of reach and they wink at us for thinking they're touchable. I wish sometimes I could be up there with them, free, untouchable, floating peacefully." She looked at me. "Not now though." She reached her hand behind my neck and pulled me down.
Through a long early mating ritual kiss, we got to know each other's mouths and tongues, learning how to excite and stimulate, readying our bodies to copulate. She pushed me on my back and straddled me. Her pelvic bone rubbed against my cock. Her pussy lips hinted their presence at the rubbing, a heat and a liquid softness. I could feel her excitement, and I'm sure she could feel mine.
"Mmm," she said, lifting her head from our kiss, her eyes closed.
When her eyes opened, her expression transformed from a relaxed, just been kissed happiness to a hard stare. "I know nothing about you," she complained.
Suddenly her lips latched on to mine with twice the force. Her rubbing became more pronounced. She grabbed my hands, placing one at her breasts and one at her crotch. I twisted her nipples through the shirt and bra and pressed at the heat of her pussy. Exploring the amount of pressure twisting her nipples and the exact location of her clit, I soon found the right formula.
She breathed heavily into my mouth, her libido clouding her mind, making her lose any skill at kissing. Her hand met mine at her crotch and gave more weight to the masturbation. Her head arose and she let out wail, a sort of Midwestern woman version of a wolf howl. My fingers squeezed her nipple a little harder, and our hands at her pussy ceased moving and simply pushed in. Once her orgasmic seizure finished, she collapsed on top of me.
I kissed the top of her head. She lifted it, smiling. "I feel like a teenager," she said happily.
Standing up and brushing the grass and dirt off each other, Penny seemed to find the most amount of it in my crotch area, a lump of unreleased excitement.
"Poor thing," she finally said. "Looks like you could use some relief."
"I'm getting used to it," I mumbled.
"Hunh?" she said.
"Never mind. I'll be alright." In my mind, I could see her on her knees, her large, sensuous mouth sucking me to completion, my cum filling her mouth which did nothing to improve the situation.
"Sorry," she said. "Maybe later. We should head to the studio."
Switching to all business, she led me to the KTUH station. We didn't even hold hands.
Once in the station we walked down the hallway to an open door. Inside sat a tall thin bearded blond scruffy looking young man. His lips seemed to be pressing into the foam covered mic while he talked low. Headphones covered his ears. He pressed a couple buttons, removed his headphones, pressed another button and the sounds of Frank Zappa and the peculiar paranoid three record set "Joe's Garage" reverberated in the small on air studio.
"Penny, you're here early," the disc jockey said with a smile.
"Hi Tam, this is Joe. We're going to work in the production room. Tam's a fellow thespian. He told me about the station and got me the slot."
"Cool," I said. "Much of my music education has come from listening to KTUH."
"You a student?" asked Tam.
"Part time. I'm studying accounting." I said. Penny gave me an unhappy glance, but remained quiet.
"There's a shift open Wednesday mornings, same time as Penny's."
"Sounds tempting. Don't you have to matriculate?"
"Probably, but you said you're a student." He shrugged. I shrugged back.
"I'll think about it."
"Let me know by when Penny takes over. Otherwise it's me doing it."
"Okay. Can we smoke?" I asked, making the universal sign for toking.
"If you got it, smoke it. Don't be smoking during the day here though."
I whipped out the joint. We passed it around. Tam readied the next side of "Joe's Garage". After a couple of tokes, Penny said, "We should get working." I tapped out the joint and we headed into the production studio next door.
"The music got to me," explained Penny nervously once the door shut. I sat down and tapped my lap. She straddled me and I hugged her. "You never told me you're student here," she complained. "You haven't told me anything about yourself."
I kissed her gently. She returned the kiss. It seemed to calm her down. The gentle little kisses continued for awhile.
"We should get to work," she said, rising from my lap and my tumescence. Looking through her shoulder bag, she found the notebook. "The station ID probably won't take long, but the PSA will be a little more involved. Let's get the ID done first. Follow me."
We headed to the record library on the other side of the on air studio. Tam had his headphones on and the Zappa music could only be heard by him and the unknown masses listening in radio land. I don't know if he sensed Penny's reaction to the music or was being courteous to us in the neighboring studio.
The library impressed me. "It's supposedly the largest collection of records in Hawaii," said Penny.
She found a recording of Leon Russell doing the Alan Toussaint song "Back to the Islands." She continued searching for awhile. She stepped into the next room while I looked at the record spines feeling like a kid in a candy store. I got into a sort of riff, looking for Penny themed songs. "Penny Lane" by the Beatles was easy. "Pennies from Heaven" was more problematic. I looked through the big band music without success, then remembered the Steve Martin movie and found the soundtrack.
Meanwhile Penny brought Tam to the library where he guided her to the sound effects section. "There's probably some in the production room," he informed her.
Continuing my search, I scraped my memory for another Penny song. A Bee Gees tune tickled my memory, so I searched through their albums and found "Throw a Penny." Running out of Penny songs, I began thinking of music similar to the songs I had chosen when Penny pulled me away and back to the production studio.
I had passable experience with recording devices in my surveillance work. Luckily, Penny seemed to know what she was doing. "I come in here a couple times a week making Public Service Announcements or just messing around. They're probably getting sick of my voice."
"Never," I said.
We recorded ocean wave sounds, one on top of another with the intro to "Back to the Islands" fading in and out in the middle. On top of that we recorded my voice saying, "The wave to catch is in the air on KTUH 90.3 FM Honolulu." Penny directed me through three takes, evening my inflections and pace until she was satisfied. After duping it onto a cart, Penny decided she wanted to add an alternative ID to that same cart. Inspired by her stoned moment a little earlier she decided to use the quote that had amused her. I said, "The ocean waves." She said, "The air waves back at..." And simultaneously we said, "KTUH 90.3 FM Honolulu." When we spoke simultaneously, our mouths touched. Somehow Penny managed to turn off the tape machine at the moment the kiss began.
Our passion flamed higher than it had outside when I masturbated her to orgasm, and it happened with a kiss. I sat back on the chair and she straddled me again, grinding her pussy against my cock. My hand slid under her LaCoste shirt to feel the soft silky texture of her skin and weigh her corn fed Wisconsin maiden breasts. The bra, though lacy and thinner than most, remained in my way. I reached behind her and negotiated its unhooking.
Once freed, the breasts weighed softly and elastically and abundantly in my hand. Her nipples, at last naked to my fingers, resembled small, rubbed down erasers. Large and bumpy and sensitive areolas surrounded them. She dry humped me with complete abandon, rocking her pussy against my cock
When I threatened to lift off her shirt, she said that disappointing word, "Wait," but only so she could turn off the light. A window on either side of the news studio that separated us from Tam could be seen through by him.
She threw off her shirt and returned to my lap. She unbuttoned my shirt while I fondled her tits. We kept kissing, keeping the heat going and fanning it even more.
It waned a moment when she got frustrated trying to complete the unbuttoning task, unlocking our mouths and focusing and still being clumsy. I did it for her, threw off my shirt, and her sensitive hands caressing my chest and shoulders rewarded my accomplishment. My fingers began twisting her nipples more violently, the way she seemed to like it. She moaned and dug her crotch against mine.
Leaning down, she licked and teased my nipples. That never has done much for me, so I returned the favor, sucking and licking her amazing teats. She began rocking hard and fast on my hard-on.
Her hand descended to my crotch. She slowed down the humping. We hugged, enjoying the meeting of naked chests.
Feeling her teeth gently chewing on my ear, her breath blowing hotly in, I let her know I liked that with a moan. Our humping stopped. Her fingers explored my cock through my denim.
"Oh god, okay, oh god okay," she whispered in my ear.
Suddenly, gathering up the courage, she knelt down before me on the floor. "Pants off," she ordered. I had them and the underwear removed as quickly as I could. She began to study my sturdy hard-on, playing with it, making it bounce, exploring all the nooks and crannies down to and including my ball sack.
"You're my second," she finally said.
"You're kidding," I said.
"Except for my boy, and that certainly doesn't count."
"How?" I asked in wonder. It didn't seem possible that this beautiful, intelligent and talented woman could have had only one lover in her life.
"I told you I'm shy," she said, perhaps belying the statement by kissing the head of my cock and licking around its edges. "I like this feeling. I like this cock."
"You never..." I began.
"No, I ... you know ... did this with my husband."
"Kissed his penis?" I asked. I acted less vulgar than I normally would be with this virginal thirty year old mother.
"No. More a blow job. He didn't seem to have much time for kissing or for me for that matter."
She continued to explore my rampant pole with lips and tongue. The lips circled my crown and began aggressively and firmly sliding up and down, going further with each descent until her mouth journeyed halfway to the base before it could go no further. One hand grasped the base and stroked while the other tickled my balls.
I felt the exquisite tightness before release. "Oh god, Penny, I'm cumming," I warned her.
She opened her sensuous mouth wide as I spewed forth a day's worth of cum. Some she swallowed and some dripped from the corners. I looked around for a towel to catch the sperm and grabbed a dusting cloth and managed to save the studio floor and her shorts from the sticky proof of our little adventure. She continued lapping at my cock head until I couldn't take it anymore. The flagging penis dropped from her mouth. She smiled up at me, her face radiant with pleasure.
"Your turn," I said, standing naked and guiding her to the chair.
I kissed the sperm tinged mouth gaping open, mostly nipping at her upper and lower lips before moving down from erogenous zone to erogenous zone, spending a couple minutes on each: the neck, the ears, the nipples, where I lingered, the belly button making her giggle. My hands reached the button of her shorts. She held them back and undid the shorts herself.
"I'm not ready to go all the way," she said quietly.
"Neither am I," I said, looking down at my dwindling cock. We shared a laugh.
She lifted up so I could slide her shorts and panties off. Before me I beheld a hungry pussy topped by a lush growth of blonde hair.
She must have expected fingers, because when I attacked her pussy with my tongue, she said a loud, "What..." quickly replaced with, "Oh. Oooh. Aaah," and then, "Goddamn Jordan ... Oooh ... Never would ... Oh ... do that ... Oh god."
Her hips lifted and moved forward as my tongue sawed her clit and my lips embraced it and sucked.
"Yes!" she moaned.
My index and middle fingers circled the swollen lips of her vagina before sinking in and stroking. My other hand teased and twisted her nipples. My tongue lapped her pleasure button, quickening as my finger fucking quickened. I kept at it until I sensed she approached a high plateau. It had been a long journey, hard on the mouth but well worth the effort.
Once I sensed her impending orgasm, I began to suck her clit with earnest while my fingers sought the bumpy area of her g-spot and pressed and stroked. With one hard twist of her nipple, she flew over the edge. As her love fluids flowed over my tongue, that wolf wail returned.
"You have a rubber?" she panted. "I have to feel you inside me."
When I searched and found my stash from my pants pocket, I pulled it out and ripped it open. "You bastard, you knew this was going to happen." She smiled loosely, a lovely, excited smile.
"Always be prepared as they say," I replied.
"My Boy Scout bastard."
Balancing on my knees, I managed to roll the condom over my resurrected hard-on. I hobbled a couple knee steps, feeling the rough carpet rubbing. "This may leave scars," I thought, but really didn't care.
Lining up my cock to her pussy, I pulled her ass to the edge of the chair. Two sets of eyes watched as the glans entered. I pressed forward and slowly felt her tightness and heat enclosing my cock slipping inch by blissful inch inside. Her hand remained at the juncture sort of petting my trouser snake as it disappeared.
Once completing entry, pubis mashing against pubis, I stuck my tongue out, tickling her mouth with its tip until I coaxed her mouth to let her tongue escape. Our tongues barely touched. It felt electric. Her lips clamped to mine, and our tongue pas de deux happened within the mouths.
My cock pulled nearly all the way out before slowly reentering. I slid it deliberately along the top of her pussy to give her g-spot friction. The next time I slid out and in a little faster. Her arms wrapped around my torso and pulled it against hers.
She pushed forward, toppling me on my back. She began to ride me, her sweet Georgia peach ass rising and falling and bouncing back up. I stopped the motion, holding her against me and turning her over onto her back. She spread her legs wide while I sank deep.
The retreat from her depths went too far, and I felt the cool air contrasting with her inner heat as my cock briefly dangled. She took hold of it and sent it in the right direction. I sank in fast.
Holding her by her hips, fingers digging into that amazing ass, I began pummeling her with quick long strokes. She rested her elbows on the floor and watched the penetration. Her head bent back and her eyes closed.
She lifted her head up and watched again, her face a little redder and its expression more blissed out. My hands moved towards her rosebud, pulling her open and pushing the cheeks in as I retreated and attacked with my battle club. Once found, my middle finger entered the smaller hole and pressed up where I could feel the thin membrane between it and the head of my cock sliding by. She suddenly shivered and groaned out an orgasm.
I continued my relentless fucking. She soon reached another one. I shut my eyes and concentrated on my cock and my fingers and the interior and exterior textures, ignoring the damaging friction scuffing up my knees. It worked. She stiffened. I opened my eyes to see her eyes widen. Her mouth opened wide. Nothing came out. She appeared to be having an extraordinary orgasm. I pounded in a couple times then pressed hard against her pubis, letting an exquisite orgasm overcome me. My throbbing, expelling cock had a throbbing pussy surrounding it, echoing it and thrilling me even more.
The two of us became a mass of flesh relaxed on the floor. "God, Joe," she said. "I needed that. I needed that for a long long time."
"My pleasure," I said, carefully removing my softened penis with the filled rubber still safely around it and rising to my feet. She remained spread open still on the floor. In the shadows of the dark room her pale skin glowed. Tempted to turn on the lights to see this beauty so unusually relaxed, I resisted.
"I'm glad you had a rubber, Joe," she said while I helped her to her feet. "As horny as I was, I must have been extra fertile."
She hugged me. I delighted in the contact of her soft flesh. We kissed. Separating our mouths, her smile radiated.
"I'm so glad we met," she said, putting on her clothes. "Is it okay if I don't fall in love with you?" I nodded. "Is it okay if we stay friends?" I nodded. "Is it okay if we do this again?"
"Definitely." We hugged and kissed; Penny still clothed and me naked. She pulled my naked ass against her. I dangled the condom.
"Where's the bathroom?" I asked. She gingerly took the sad flaccid condom from me so I could dress.
"I'll take you," she said. She held my hand, intertwining fingers, my other hand hiding the condom in its palm, and guided me to the toilets.
Over sounds of police sirens rising and falling, car doors slamming and my voice distorted by placing the mic against my throat telling the police dispatcher about a possible burglary taking place on Woodlawn Drive in Manoa, Penny told a story with subtle and convincing emotion. "I was just coming home from an evening out with friends when a police cruiser, flashing its lights and driving fast, passed me by. I was still three or four blocks from my house, but I had a bad feeling that they were going to the same place I was. When I arrived a couple minutes later, there were three cruisers in front of my house, their cherry tops flashing like party lights. But this was no party. I saw a man being placed in the back seat of a cruiser, noticing the other cars were similarly occupied. As I stepped out of my car, a middle aged man approached me. It was Ted Bremer, a neighbor a couple houses down from mine. He was a member of a neighborhood watch we had formed recently. Because we shared information about moving or vacationing, when Ted noticed men carrying large objects out of my house, even though they were dressed in moving van outfits and were loading a truck, he called the police. It turned out these men had been robbing houses the same way all over the city. Thanks to the neighborhood watch, they were caught red handed, and my possessions weren't stolen."
In a low, raspy dog voice, I said, "Neighborhood Watch: Another way to help McGruff, rrruuffff, take a bite out of crime." A siren rose and faded. The PSI ended.
Once satisfied with the recording, we put it on a cart and celebrated with the finishing of the joint and a couple swigs of the warm screwdriver. Penny immediately rushed off to gather music for her show. We had less than five minutes. I went into the on air studio where Tam gave me a crash course in basic deejaying.
"Is it okay if we play the station ID we just recorded?" I asked him.
"There's a kind of approval process, but it is the middle of the night, so what the hell," he said. I ran into the production studio and grabbed the newly created cart. Tam showed me how to get it ready. I pulled out the Beatles Magical Mystery tour album. Tam showed me how to cue it up.
"No rush, Penny, Tam and I have everything under control," I yelled to her. When Tam's music ended, headphones on my head so I could hear it, Tam guided me to the proper buttons to push, and my first experience in radio broadcasting began.
The intro to "Penny Lane" playing out of the speakers brought Penny, her hands full of albums, into the little studio. She placed the stack in a bin and put her hands on her hips. "You shit," she said with a wry smile.
"I get the first half hour. You can have the rest," I said.
"I didn't play my theme," she complained lightly. "What are my fans going to think?"
"They'll just have to wait. Anticipation is a good thing." She laughed and gave me a quick kiss and headed back to the library.
Before passing through the door, she said, "Be sure to write down the song, the artist and the album."
"Any problems, Penny can help. I gotta go," said Tam, gathering his albums together. "So are you going to take the shift tomorrow?" he asked.
"I'd love to," I said.
"Come in an hour early. I'll meet you here and get you trained in, okay?"
"Thanks a lot."
"Thank you. You be good to Penny. She needs someone good." With that bit of wisdom, the sweet, scraggly blond man took off.
I cued up the Bee Gees song. "A Penny song I don't know," said Penny, organizing her show in the studio. I played "Pennies from Heaven" from the soundtrack, which had a thirties quality, so I followed with some early Bing Crosby and then some even earlier Louis Armstrong before giving way to Penny. She tossed in a cart with her theme song which turned out to be a Gregorian chant.
"A Penny for your thoughts," she said as the voices began to rise. After a pause, she introduced me, "The newest deejay on KTUH, his show can be heard tomorrow, same time, same station. So what did we just hear, Joe Beau?"
With that, Penny had christened me. I recited the play list and gave the rest of the night to Penny.
Her show was unique. She played mostly spoken word: poetry, comedy, speeches, with be bop jazz, modern compositions and unexpected sound effects either in between the talking or underneath. She had a clear theme stemming from the title; she put thoughts out there for her audience. I helped her get the recordings cued up or written down so she could run off and find something in the library she suddenly needed to play.
Too busy for hanky panky, we seemed in constant motion. By the time six am arrived exhaustion struck.
"How did you like it?" she asked as I walked her home in the cool, lovely pre-dawn darkness.
"It was fun," I said. "I can't wait to have my own show. It's a dream come true. Thanks."
She stopped me mid-stride and put her arms around me, looking up into my eyes. "Thank you Joe. This has been one of my best nights ever."
She pulled me down a little and we kissed. Though early, a few cars and a couple pedestrians passed by on the major artery into the University, but to me at that moment, the universe dwelt in our kiss.
"You can stay at my house this morning. You're too tired to drive home," said the sweet woman who, with each new moment we shared, grew in my estimation. She amazed me. We stopped at a convenience store and bought some juice and a couple rolls and I replenished my condom supply.
We arrived hand in hand a block and a half later at a large old brick house broken up into four apartments. We climbed to the upper apartment on the left. If she had become a wealthy woman from the theft of her husband's money, she didn't flaunt it. Neither the house nor the furnishings in the apartment would belie the image of a student. Posters pinned on the walls came from shows produced at various theaters around the Twin Cities of Minneapolis and St Paul. One from "Our Town" at "Theater in the Round" featured her face. She had a nice oak desk and an old fashioned oak desk chair. At the center of the room a queen sized bed beckoned to me.
"I have class at 1:00 today," she said as she removed her clothes. "I'm going to need my beauty sleep."
She stripped down to her bra and panties, filling both nicely, and stood in front of me and began coaxing me out of my clothes. My hard-on tented my Jockeys. She kept her eyes on it and licked her lips. Pulling the cover, light blanket and top sheet down, she crawled under them, keeping them open for me to follow her.
After I settled in beside her, she straddled my hips, pushing her pussy against my cock, leaned over and kissed me. My hands caressed along the sides of her torso, feeling silky skin. She stripped off her bra. I ravaged her naked breasts with my mouth. Friction between her panty clad pussy and my underwear clad hard-on overcame me with lust.
She toppled onto her back and pulled off her panties. Pushing the covers away, I moved my head between her thighs and attacked her juicy cunny. She immediately wailed when I sucked on her taut little clit.
"Fuck me quick." She commanded; her back arching in pleasure.
I removed my underwear, moved into position, felt the heat of her drooling lips on my sensitive glans ready to penetrate into her delightful depths when I heard myself say, "Wait, Penny. We need protection."
"Shove it in once. I want to feel it naked." I shoved it in all the way to the hilt. It felt hot and slick and tight and alive and blissful. I rolled our bodies to the edge of the bed. She held on tight. I reached to the floor and found my pants and removed a rubber from the box.
"Let me," she said. We reluctantly unhitched. I lay back as she turned her delicious round ass towards me. Guiding her legs until she straddled my head, I pushed her ass down so I could return to her sopping pussy.
Licking and sucking her labia and clit fought her concentration. She set aside the condom for a moment to encircle her lips around my cock's bulbous head while masturbating the stalk with her hand. She threatened to suck the cum right out of me and I threatened the same from her pussy.
"Oh god, Joe, I love making love with you," she moaned after removing my cock from her mouth and continuing to fist it. "Everything you do makes me crazy. Stop a second. Let me cover up this prize penis. I want to feel it all up inside me."
It took her a minute to figure it out, but managed to make me safe. Then she aimed it at the center and lowered herself slowly. "Oh god yes," she said as I returned to her depths.
We kissed gently, tongue tips teasing. She began to rise and fall. No longer desperation, we cherished every nook and cranny of each other's sex organs. We made love. Our eyes shut as we kissed and fucked. The rhythm sustained a slow ballad, a love song.
My hands caressed her, rediscovering the feel of her breasts and hips and shoulders and arms and tummy and pubic hair and ass. I sure did love her ass.
She explored my body as well, combing her fingers through my hair, following my neck down to my shoulders and chest and back along my arms. We stopped our explorations to intertwine fingers before unlacing them and continuing the explorations.
When both of us held each other's asses, pushing and prodding and forcing deeper penetration and more friction, it got us rolling. She literally rolled her hips, rubbing her clit against my pubic bone. When I shoved my finger in her ass, she did the same to me. She sped up, from a walk to a trot to a canter to a gallop. Her breathing quickened and vibrated louder at her throat, coming out as sighs and moans. Her wail returned long and loud, stopping suddenly. She released my ass and embraced my torso, pulling me into an almost painful hug until she went slack.
I was close. After a moment to let her regain her senses, I turned her on her back, pulled her legs to her ears, and began fucking her fast and hard. She looked at me wide eyed and smiling. Her hips joined the action, timing the meeting and retreating perfectly. I kissed her wildly until my balls demanded release. I hugged her like she had hugged me, pushed my cock as deep as possible inside, and let the world be the explosive orgasm that filled the condom. I nearly passed out from the pleasure.
I collapsed at her side. Holding the condom to my cock became my one act of consciousness. She turned on her side. She kissed my nose. "Goodnight, lover," she said, her hand sliding through my short mane.
"Goodnight," I whispered barely smiling because it took too much energy to fully smile. We stared into each other's eyes until my eyes closed and the night ended.
The princess kissed the prince awake, a reversal of a fairy tale, or she kissed the frog hoping for transformation. Perhaps a toothbrush and some coffee would help.
Penny leaned over me dressed and ready to go. "I hope you didn't have any plans before 1:00, because it's 12:30 now," she said. When I shook my head, she looked at me funny. "What do you do Joe? Are you independently wealthy; family money or something?"
"An old family friend willed me a percentage of some businesses. I help with the numbers, you know, accounting, purchasing, things like that," I explained truthfully. Charles Boyle III had given me part ownership of the club, the restaurant and the sleazy downtown bar, and I put time into these enterprises to help them sustain themselves, kind of what Charlie did. I also took courses at the U to learn the world of business and numbers. I enjoyed it, but enjoyed my one computer class more and found the study eventually useful to my profession. The money coming in, and when I sold off my ownership, a big chunk of money, gave me a nice financial cushion to sustain myself through the ebb and flow of my true occupation. I did end up owning Moby Dicks for awhile, enjoying the ambience of a cheap bar, and when that got old, timely selling to a company needing the land to build some condos provided more comfort. Charlie ended up taking care of me quite well financially.
"Wow, Joe, you actually told me something about yourself," said Penny, kissing me. "I gotta go. The coffee's pretty fresh. Help yourself to anything in the kitchen, though there's not much. The door locks behind you. I left my number by the phone. Call me tonight, okay?"
She was out the door before I could respond.