Chapter 2

THURSDAY WAS A BIG day. Thursday was a huge day. Thursday was the day Marie and Sophie moved in. It was exciting to see Sophie so full of enthusiasm and her mother smiling with amused pride.

It was amazing how two people completely changed the character of my home. Lonely silence was banished by enthusiastic and loud conversation, by Sophie's eager inspection of everything, and by music she played on the compact stereo.

A simple thing like sitting on the veranda with a beer in hand became pleasurable. Behind me I listened to a mother and daughter having a conversation and couldn't stop smiling. Making room in my dresser and closet was fun. Seeing Marie unpack was wonderful. Studying her gorgeous rump moving under her colorful skirt was arousing.

I still didn't know if I loved her. What was I supposed to feel when in love? Were there signs? However, I knew other things. I knew I trusted Marie completely. I knew how happy she and now Sophie made me. I also wasn't ignorant. I was beginning to understand Marie's unspoken language, how her eyes spoke volumes and silences spoke loudly. I knew she'd agreed to move in even with her doubts. I wanted her to be happy and secure and free to do what she wanted. I had a plan. It was in the envelope in my hand.

With a final sip of beer I called out, "Marie, can you come here for a moment?"

I knew when she approached. I sensed her behind me. Her jasmine scent settled over me followed by Marie settling into my lap, sitting sideways.

"What?" she asked, her hand combing my hair.

"Just a couple of things. One, you're fired," I said casually, her mahogany eyes widening. "And two, here," I added handing her the envelope.

Marie was silent, her eyes flicking back and forth between mine, probing for more information. Breaking eye contact she looked down at the envelope.

The loud, bright sounds of girls laughing and giggling, a pool splashing, and music thumping, reached me in my office as I placed buy orders and sell instructions - beryllium now showing potential.

While I waited for confirmation I leaned back and studied the view of Marigot Bay. It was busy, boats coming and going.

My thoughts drifted back, three days ago.

Marie had been shocked at the documents. The Scotiabank forms detailed a new joint account in both our names and showed the bank balance, a very large balance. I'd touched the back of her hand and said simply, "What's mine is yours. As I mentioned, you're fired. You're officially unemployed."

That night, making love with Marie, her first night in my home, had been very different. It was full of soft touches and murmurs and silken skin and limbs intertwining. It was gentle and slow and sexy, kisses and fondling, exploring curves and intimate places. Marie was warm, her pubic hair silky and curly and dark, her folds moist and slippery. She tasted musky and sexy, and her first climax from my tongue was soft and intense. I was hard and aching. We fit together; our bodies fit perfectly against each other. Her small breasts pressed against my chest, her stomach against mine, her leg hooked over my waist. We fit together, her pussy warm and snug and velvety. We moved together, softly, quietly, passionately, our arousal rising, breath heated.

We came together, a quiet explosion of pleasure, ecstasy wrapping us up into a small world of pulsing, spurting, thrusting, sweet release. We climaxed deeply, hunching and moving gently, cock swelling and spurting deep inside her, our bliss cresting and washing away leaving limbs intertwined, racing hearts, sweaty bodies, and peace, peace, beautiful peace.

A loud scream of delight disturbed my musings. I recognized Sophie's voice. Rising, I went to the kitchen, pausing to study Marie. She looked flustered, her face glowing with perspiration as she worked the stove. An intricate early dinner was being prepared, the kitchen replete with spices and the aroma of tender lamb and wine and herbs.

Glancing to the right, through the dining room and out through the living room, through open floor-to-ceiling doors and across the wide veranda, a gaggle of girls swam, floated, sat on the edge of the pool, and laid on towels. It was an interesting mix; white with black, tall with short, slender with cuddly. Some wore one-piece bathing suits, some bikinis. Some showed puberty in full swing, ripe, others yet to change, their bodies still childish. But all were animated, all smiling, all involved and having fun. I liked my pool more than ever.

"Vien! Aide-moi," Marie ordered with a smile.

Before I knew it I was conscripted into washing dishes and pots, sweating from the heat and absorbed in Marie's commentary.

"Look at Sophie," she said as she rinsed basmati rice and chopped herbs to add to the rice. "She's so happy."

Sophie, a mirror image of her mother, was standing at the edge of the pool in a bright yellow and blue bikini contrasting with her beautiful mocha skin, her face radiating pleasure, animated, talking to a couple of friends, her hands moving.

"She's beautiful," I said.

"Oui. She is. But she's embarrassed about her body."

I studied Sophie a bit more closely. She was tall for her age, three inches over five feet. Her skin was like her mother's, flawless and silken. Her dark brown hair was damp and tied in a ponytail high on the back of her head, tendrils falling to her prominent shoulder blades. As she moved I saw a young girl's body, slender as a reed with no real waist, narrow hip bones, and endlessly long legs. The bikini bra didn't appear to hide anything, no mounding visible. From the side her bottom swelled out filling her bikini with a rather lovely shape. I had the sense that her legs were too long for her body, her arms too long, feet a bit big; as if parts of her body had rushed to grow up but left other parts chasing to catch up.

"Why is she embarrassed?" I asked. "There's not a thing wrong with her."

Marie answered, "She wants boobs like her friends. I told her she'd have to wait. I was almost fifteen before mine appeared." With a laugh Marie added, "She was not very happy to hear that news."

"I imagine not," I said, turning my attention to the pot in the sink.

With rice boiling, Marie dumped the fragrant herbs into the pot, stirred and set the lid on sealing the contents. She turned the heat to its lowest setting. "Voilà."

I rinsed the last pot and set it on the drainer, wiping my face. "Would you like a beer?" I offered.

"No. A glass of white wine would be nice."

Together we wended our way through the garden. In a shady spot far enough away from the pool to give the girls room, we found chairs and sat. A gentle breeze kept heat at bay. The Carib beer tasted good. Marie sipped her wine. I was inordinately happy.

"You should tell her she's beautiful if you think she is," Marie said.

"Okay."

"She asked me if you were a good lover."

"I am," I said.

Marie chuckled. "Yes. That's what I told her."

We sipped our drinks in comfortable silence, watching the girls have fun.

"When did you first have sex?" Marie asked.

My mind drifted back: Birmingham, school dance, rain, Chrissie. I didn't really like her but she was loose and willing and I was horny and curious. "Fifteen years old," I answered.

"Was it good?"

With a bark of laughter I explained, "It was a disaster and I've tried very hard to forget it." After another sip of beer, I asked, "When was your first?"

Watching the girls, Marie answered. "I was younger than Sophie, thirteen."

"Really?" I asked. "Isn't that too young?"

"It wasn't at the time," Marie said with a smile.

"Was it good?"

A short silence followed. "I think it would have been better if it had been with someone like you, someone with a bit more experience," she said casually. "I'm getting some more wine. Want another beer?"

"Sure."

Afternoon flowed into early evening. The house was filled with bright chatter and music and laughs and life. Dinner was served, a delicious meal of lamb and rice. I became pleasantly intoxicated, consuming enough beer to make the world soft, make Marie evermore alluring, and make the girls sweetly innocent. Loneliness was banished. My life was full and rich and noisy. I was happy, truly happy.

I enjoyed hugs from all the girls as they left, accepting their enthusiastic thanks. I enjoyed Sophie's tight hug and quiet thanks, and suggested she should have another pool party. She happily agreed. And, as we all cleaned up, I groped Marie's lovely ass subtly, enjoying her tsk-tsks as she brushed my hand away.

I was horny by the time we hit the sack.

With some alcohol in us we made frisky love. Marie had my number. She dropped her skirt revealing sexy, silky white panties that conformed to her body in a very arousing way. With a seductive smile she ordered me to strip and sit on the edge of the bed.

Bending, she leaned in and whispered into my ear, "I want to taste you." Her warm hand curled around my shaft. "You have a beautiful erection, Sylvan."

My excitement grew when she knelt in front of me. She eased my knees apart, her hand caressing my shaft. Silken lips kissed the tip, warm and teasing. My cock swelled.

Marie's tongue caressed the crown sending shivers through me. "I can taste you," she whispered, her lips kissing my crown, parting, and slowly oozing over. A moist mouth engulfed the tip, tongue caressing, her hand gently stroking my shaft.

My moan broke the silence, brought on by her other hand cupping my balls. She sucked. I swelled. Horniness and alcohol was addling my brain. Moving her mouth slowly, Marie took more and more of my erection in. It touched the back of her mouth, then I felt the tight squeeze as she swallowed me, her throat taking me in, her lips slipping down my shaft to nestle into pubic hair. The return withdrawal was exquisite, her mouth making a popping sound as I slipped out. She kissed the tip.

"How was that?" she asked, studying my straining, glistening erection.

"Uh," I grunted, my voice temporarily lost.

She caressed my shaft casually. Her thumb spreading precum across the tip distracted me when she spoke. "Sophie wants to experience sex."

"Uh-huh," I muttered, my eyes locked on her caressing hand. Her lips slipped over my crown, moist warmth enveloped me. She eased my erection into her throat, taking me completely, a mind-emptying swallow. The return journey was exquisite ending with a wet pop and cool air.

"We agreed it would be you, just like I told you this afternoon."

"Uh-huh," I muttered, distracted by a moist mouth slipping over my crown, a tongue caressing with far too much expertise, and a gentle suck that left me breathless. "Wait! No! Hold on a minute!" I exclaimed, pulling her head up and off me.

Beautiful exotic eyes twinkled at me. Damn, Marie was so pretty. I pried her hand off my straining cock.

As she sat back on her heels I took a few deep breaths to clear the fog of horniness. "Okay. Start again," I said.

Marie stood and started removing her blouse. "I said, Sophie wants to experience sex."

"I got that part."

She dropped the blouse on a chair and reached behind her back to open her lacy white bra, shrugging the shoulder straps off and dropping the bra. Her breasts may have been petite but they were perfect. Sensual, sexy and curving up off her chest, her areolae were crinkled and very, very dark, her nipples turgid and proud.

"She wants you to be her first. I agreed. I told you this afternoon."

"No you didn't. The subject never came up."

"Mais oui. It did. I told you my first time would have been better if it had been with you."

"But that has nothing to do with Sophie," I claimed.

Marie gave a sexy wiggle and white silky panties dropped to the floor. I almost lost track of the conversation, my attention drawn by a silky dark bush and an arousing gap.

"It has everything to do with Sophie. She agreed with me. Besides, you told her she was beautiful."

Now I was lost. "Back the truck up," I said, moving up onto the bed. "Start over, please."

Marie crawled towards me and straddled my thighs, her hand casually touching my erection.

For the next fifteen minutes Marie talked and fondled and somehow my body betrayed me. She talked about young love, sex at fourteen years old, the yearning to be mature and sexy, hormones raging, and sexual desire strong yet sexually insecure. She fondled me and talked about her own first time, about loving her daughter, about wanting Sophie's first time to be the best not some fumbling in the back of some yard with an inexperienced, uncaring boy.

Marie used feminine logic to convince me it was the right thing to do, a reasonable request, and, for a few minutes I actually believed her. In fact, I believed her all the way through our making love, Marie rising to slip my crown through her cleft, settling down on me, taking my aching erection deep into her moist pussy. I believed her as she undulated, her pussy pressed to my groin, my erection massaged deep inside her. I believed her as she rose and fell, stroking my erection with her velvety snug hug, as she bent forward and offered her beautiful breasts to my mouth, as I sucked and nipped, and held two beautiful buttocks. I believed her as she climaxed with sexy clinches and exciting grunts and body shaking. I believed her as I came, swelling and exploding, semen erupting deep inside her, thrusting and cumming, semen spurting with beautiful pleasure. I believed her as I came hard, completely, exquisitely. And then I didn't.

Drained, erection softening, peace arriving, with her relaxing on top of me and her legs to my sides, I caressed her back and thought rationally.

"No," I said softly. Fourteen years old? No.

MARIE NEGOTIATED THE MOKE through town traffic and around groups of loudly dressed tourists, making her way to the Hillsdale Girls School to pick up Sophie. Having finished a long lunch with her girlfriends and been cross-examined by them wanting to know everything about Sylvan, she was feeling good.

The last nine weeks seemed almost like a dream. Her friends were split fifty/fifty, half suspicious about the whole situation, the other half envious. They'd all been stunned when she told them Sylvan suggested she hire a new housekeeper. It had been her only argument with Sylvan. Marie saw nothing wrong with looking after a home she was beginning to think of as her own. Sylvan insisted she shouldn't have to.

Marie smiled to herself. He just didn't get it. She liked taking care of him. Sylvan, despite his occasional stubbornness, was just about the most considerate person she'd ever met. He was even treating Sophie as an adult, not a child, listening to her, holding long conversations with her, and actually changing his mind based on her point of view.

But his stubbornness showed in his refusal to consider what Sophie wanted; to experience sex. Marie would feel his determination waver when they were both aroused and making love, but it always returned after orgasms faded.

She pulled up in front of the school just as girls rushed out, all wearing bright white blouses and pleated navy skirts, knee-high socks and, oddly, sneakers.

Sophie waved to her and, turning to a companion, said something before running to the Moke.

"What's up?" she asked sliding into the passenger seat.

"A new plan. Shopping. We're dialling up the pressure," Marie answered with a smile.

Sophie nodded in approval. "Bon. He's stubborn, non? What's the plan?"

Marie asked her daughter, "Are you still sure?"

"Yup. Even more."

"In that case, I'm going to teach you the art of tease."

The late afternoon was spent laughing, mother and daughter caught up in the excitement of naughty plans. Marie talked and Sophie listened, giggling at times, eyes wide in amazement at other comments.

They moved from shop to shop, tried on clothes, discarding some, buying others. It was late when they got home, the plan made; a slow escalating series of accidents.

I DECIDED IDEAS ARE foreign entities, not a part of you. Ideas are not like bending elbows or breathing or blinking, all done with no awareness. Ideas are sentient aliens. They worm their way into our brains and sit, observant and aware, waiting to whisper to you at odd times. You can't ignore them, dismiss them, or forget them. They haunt.

Marie had placed an idea in my head about Sophie and sex and I couldn't get rid of it. It changed things. I just couldn't see Sophie the same way. I'd never really noticed how a young girl would wander around almost naked, but she did ... frequently.

I'd been sitting at the kitchen eat-on counter watching Marie cook when Sophie called out.

"Maman, where are my panties?"

The nature of the question was enough to make me turn my head and there she was, a bath towel wrapped around her slender body and acres of silky, firm mocha skin. She smiled brightly at me, hair a damp, scraggly beautiful mess.

Marie answered, "In the laundry."

"Bon. Thanks."

When Sophie turned and walked away I couldn't help but see the bare bottoms of two compact little buttocks. That idea inside my head whispered, 'How beautiful and petite, imagine what they'd feel like'.

"Marie, you should talk to Sophie about walking around naked," I suggested.

"What was she supposed to do? She had no panties," Marie argued.

I had no comeback.

The sight stayed with me and preyed on my mind. Sophie started losing all sorts of clothing, too. She wandered into the living room wearing a camisole and little panties asking where her jeans were. Her mother seemed casual, answering her. But I wasn't. Sophie had a rather succulent pussy mounding her little panties with a rather enticing hint of a camel toe. When she smiled brightly at me and turned to leave I watched a beautiful compact little bum moving in a very adult way under those panties, the fold of her panties outlining her butt crack.

Questioning Marie, she responded, "What was she supposed to do? She couldn't find her jeans."

I seemed to become hypersensitive to Sophie's state of dress and somehow, God knows how, I began to recognize all her undies; the tight silky white ones, the soft loose cotton ones, a rather shocking pair of blue lacy things that seemed to show her mons if I looked hard enough, and a heart-stopping g-string scrap of cloth that revealed two petite buttocks in wonderful glory.