Chapter 19

Peg met them at the airport, Harry’s embrace and kiss of her got noticed at the pick-up spot but Harry didn’t give a shit. Peg’s much briefer embrace and kiss of Marisol probably got noticed more.

“Where’s our little spinner?” Harry asked.

“At Frances’s manse. Frances asked Chrissy to get the home ready for your nephew and niece and she picked them up a little earlier. They weren’t impressed with Chrissy’s Honda.”

“Sorry to hear.”

“Yeah. Chrissy will show you your room, her room, Marisol, and once you’ve had some sleep, she’ll show you what her duties have been.”

“Sounds good,” Marisol replied. “Except what about us and Harry?”

“I don’t know,” Peg admitted. “I haven’t met the brats yet, and I imagine I’ll be introduced as Harry’s wife.”

“Brats,” Marisol giggled.

“I haven’t been around kids,” Peg reminded them. “Bars aren’t exactly kid friendly. But speaking of kids...” she rubbed Harry’s thigh.

“Really?” Harry asked. “Not to be insensitive, but aren’t you too old?”

“On the cusp. I talked to my doctor about it and a pregnancy specialist. In theory a woman can conceive until menopause. In practice it’s riskier when older, but I’m healthy as a horse.”

“Of course,” Harry chuckled. “If you’re sure, I’m definitely for it.”

“Good, because I’ve been off the pill. It’ll maybe be a week when I’m most fertile?”

“You just started your period...”

“Uncomfortably on my trip home. Luckily after the orgy.”

“An early start sounds good.”

“It does,” she chuckled.

“So?” Marisol reminded Harry.

“My first thought is fuck them what I do,” Harry said.

“They’re teenagers, Harry,” Peg scolded. “Not to mention their parents just split.”

“And their possibly psychotic uncle sleeps with women half his age,” Harry shrugged.

“Psychotic is one thing you’re not,” Peg disagreed.

“And I don’t know what it means to them that their uncle whom they’ve never met just got out of prison. Frances thinks there’s less shame than I’d think, more somewhere between cool and scary for some reason. Bottom line, if they’re sticking around during the summer, they’re going to find out one way or another. I imagine Frances will hide things better, including ending her thing with Chrissy. And I’m thinking of using Tom’s office as mine as long as he’s in rehab, so I guess that’ll be my work, and sometimes you’ll be there for sleep, Peg, and sometimes I’ll be with you at the bar. Maybe I sneak into Marisol’s room or Marisol sneaks into ours, but I’m certain we’ll be found out sooner than later. Why hide it?”

“I guess that makes sense,” Peg agreed. “We’ll have to figure out an office for you when Tom gets out of rehab.”

“I thought we talked about the guest room, Chrissy’s room,” Harry remembered.

“I was thinking she’d need her space too,” Peg said, “but she could just work downstairs since that will be her workplace anyway.”

“So you’ll be working where I work,” Marisol grinned.

“Depends on how much Frances’s pet project takes of your time,” Harry said.

“I know you were teasing and creating an excuse and all that,” Marisol said, “But I actually might be interested.”

“It was only half teasing,” Harry responded. “I think Frances hoped you might feel that way. You should definitely talk to her. She can steer you to who’s in charge.”

“I will.”

They reached Frances’s home. Chrissy went out and met them getting a long hug and kiss from Harry before helping haul the luggage up to the sunroom and Marisol’s room, Chrissy actually staying in the sunroom.

“I guess that answers questions,” Harry chuckled.

“About you and me and Peg,” Chrissy grinned. “Your nephew and niece know.”

“Does this have anything to do with their attitude about your Honda?”

“Maybe. They might have felt different when they sampled my food, but by then all had been revealed,” she giggled. “Hungry?”

“Starved. Where are they?”

“Robbie’s been in his room and Max is swimming.”

“I guess we’ll be meeting them in their own time,” Harry shrugged.

While they ate Chrissy’s delicious food, a tall, willowy, beautiful blonde teenager came in via the glass door wearing cutoffs and a hoody, opened to reveal her blue bikini top and breasts larger than her slim body might have expected.

“Uncle Harry I presume,” she smiled. “And Aunt Peg?”

Harry and Peg stood, Harry lifting his hand. “Guilty as charged,” he said.

Max snorted a laugh and enveloped him in a hug as she did Peg. “And who are you?” she asked Marisol.

“My replacement,” Chrissy said.

“In all things?” Max smirked.

“Not all things,” Marisol explained, adding, “Chrissy will still be their lover, so not replacing her.” She gave Harry a kiss as illustration. “I’m Marisol by the way.”

“Max,” Max blushed. “Why my old uncle?”

“Not old,” Marisol explained. “Mature like an aged wine. He happens to be my favorite vintage.”

“Me too,” Chrissy giggled.

“I’ll go break up Robin’s masturbation session,” Max smirked.

“I wasn’t masturbating,” a handsome bordering on cute tow headed teenager an inch or so shorter than his sister growled, appearing from the hallway. “I was calling friends. I’m Robbie.”

“Marisol,” Marisol grinned.

“So I heard,” Robbie muttered. “The new maid?”

“And cook. Chrissy’s going to show me some of her tricks.”

“So I heard.”

It didn’t look as if he expected the laughter, but it seemed to relax his expression, a half-smile even emerging.

“Speaking of friends,” Harry said. “You should invite them over. You too, Max. I’m having friends over too, speaking of which I should probably call them.”

“And I should call my sisters,” Chrissy added.

Both stepped away to make their calls.

“Barbecue!” Max crowed. “Have you done that, Marisol?”

“Mostly observed. Walter usually did the barbecue.”

“Not Dad’s friend Walter?” Max asked.

“The rock star,” Marisol nodded. “I was his live in maid and my parents were cook and chauffeur.”

“I thought Dad would be here,” Robbie pouted.

“I’ll let your mother explain. She should be here soon.”

As if on cue, they heard the garage door open. The siblings headed out to the garage. Marisol collected plates to begin her maid work.

The parade of luggage bearing people ended with William carrying a small bag. Neither sibling looked pleased by his presence.

“Just set everything down and let’s talk,” Frances said. “In the living room?”

Frances and kids settled into an armchair and sofa respectively, facing each other across a coffee table.

“What’s going on, Mother?” Max asked.

“Tom and I have separated,” Frances informed them.

“This have anything to do with that old guy?” Robbie asked.

“William’s a friend, and no.”

“And where exactly is William sleeping?” Max asked.

“He’ll be leaving in the morning,” Frances responded. “He was nice enough to accompany me on his private jet.”

“Not the question,” Max muttered.

“Tom’s in rehab, otherwise he’d have been here,” Frances delayed.

“So you’re fucking Willie,” Max shook her head.

“He prefers William.”

“Who fucking cares what he prefers? He obviously prefers you.” Max popped to her feet and stomped out, or as much as bare feet could stomp.

“I’m sorry, Robbie,” Frances nearly whispered.

“To tell you the truth I’m not surprised,” Robbie said matter-of-factly. “I could tell you and Dad weren’t getting along. Even with you shipping us off to boarding school...”

“The best school,” Frances interrupted.

“Whatever. That’s fine. But when we’re together I could slice the tension with a dull knife. You might not have fought much, but that would take communication, wouldn’t it? So what’s this about rehab?”

“Your father’s drinking took a turn for the worst. He’d been on a long binge when he checked himself in. I know it’s coincidental to our separation, and maybe I should feel guilty, but it wasn’t just that. It was just the catalyst. Your father’s writing...”

“Didn’t he just write a screenplay? Uncle Harry’s story?”

“That was part of the catalyst too, I think. When my brother got out, they collaborated and it went well, but your father’s never really collaborated, at least not for years, and it felt like he needed Harry to write anything, especially when Harry insisted they collaborate on another screenplay. Your father feels...”

“Inadequate. That why he strays? To feel adequate?”

“Why do you imagine he strays?”

“Not something I like imagining, but it makes sense. He’s still a good looking man. He’s still a famous writer and actor.”

Frances sighed and nodded. There was something not mentioned, something a child doesn’t like to deal with regarding his or her parents, that is their sex life. Or lack thereof causing them to stray. Even if their very existence proved their parents had to have had sex.

“Sorry about William,” Frances said.

“I guess you’re not with Dad anymore.”

“I guess not.”

“A private jet, hunh? Well done Mom.”

They laughed.

When they returned to the kitchen only Marisol and Max were there at the table. “Willie’s upstairs,” Max muttered.

Frances nodded and headed upstairs with her son, bringing her bags along.

Meanwhile, Max and Marisol were getting to know each other, starting with Marisol letting Max vent.

“Your mother is a piece of work,” Marisol stated at the conclusion of the venting.

“Why do you say that?” Max asked.

“Because of what you said?” Marisol tried.

“I think it’s more than that. What has she been up to?”

“Being with William has upset you enough.”

“Whatever. Why stop being honest now? I know you’d like to be with the reunion between Uncle Harry, Aunt Peg and Cassy.”

“They haven’t been with him for a while and I have,” Marisol said.

“See? Honest. And why would a beautiful woman like you, not much older than me, be with an old fart like my uncle?”

“Like I said, he’s not an old fart. What about you?”

“What about me?”

“A beautiful young woman like you must have a whole slew of suitors.”

“The challenge is finding a guy taller than me,” Max chuckled.

“Any success?”

“I was seeing a guy who could look me eye to eye,” Max smirked.

“A boyfriend?”

“A collaborator more like. I tried the boyfriend thing early on in my sexual history, but the summer got in the way of that. Both of us had affairs or whatever and decided to call it off the next fall. After that, an occasional boning.”

“Boning?”

“You know, a quick fuck, nothing serious. Occasional because a girl’s got to watch her reputation. This year I worked on a multimedia project with a boy. I actually thought he was gay, but he just ended up shy around girls. I made sure the sex part was just temporary, although I think he might have been bi anyway.”

“How about you?”

“What about me?”

“You interested in girls?”

“I don’t know. You?”

“I’ve been with them. I enjoy men more, but ... You never experimented?”

“I’ve always been a tomboy who hung out with boys, so something like experimenting with girlfriends never happened.”

“But you’re curious?”

“More the idea doesn’t repel me. You offering?”

“No,” Marisol laughed. “That’d be a slippery slope with my employer which you basically are, unlike...”

“Unlike?”

“Shit.”

“Cassy?”

Marisol sighed. “Please don’t shoot the messenger, and I hope I’m not going to mess up your mind.”

“My mind’s already messy. You should see some of my work.”

“I’d love to.”

“Later. Cassy.”

“Fine. Your mother basically hired her to catch your father red handed.”

“As in...”

“Fucking her.”

“Shit. And did it work?”

“It did because she recorded it, but when your mother came home for a surprise visit, she caught him in bed with another girl.”

“Why would my mother do that to herself?”

“She’d been suspicious for a while and wanted proof.”

“And my mom never cheated? Hollywood doesn’t have the best reputation.”

“Not with men.”

“Holy shit! Is that why you were asking about me being bisexual, like it runs in the family?”

“I don’t know if that’s a thing, but I guess so.”

“So Cassy ... is she up there as much for Peg as Harry?”

“Peg’s actually more into women than her, but yeah.”

“So Mom didn’t just hire Cassy for my dad?”

“Nope.”

“Holy shit!”

“Sorry.”

“No. It’s actually cooler she’s been with women instead of men, except that asshole Willie. I mean, I don’t know, there’s something a lot more invasive about penises.”

“There definitely is,” Marisol laughed.

“If Mom’s been into women ... and she tends to stay at Melissa’s ... and I met Melissa’s driver...”

“Imelda,” Marisol nodded.

“Who definitely checked me out last time we visited ... Holy shit!”

“You can’t tell anyone.”

“Movie stars in the closet, I get it. I just never thought Mom was one.”

“What about your brother?”

“Definitely straight. All he thinks about is girls. He’s even gone the macho route to interest them. Before getting slammed by puberty, he really was a bookworm, but he’s kind of a Machiavellian cunt. I think he was around nine when he announced he wanted to become president. Who the fuck would want that? It’s bad enough the way the internet prays on famous people, something I actually admire about my folks in their ability to negotiate those treacherous waters and kept us kids out of it too, but president? You’d have to be a complete narcissist or some kind of idiot true believer to want to take up that shitty role. You’d definitely have to think a lot of yourself to even think that’d be a good idea.”

“Does he want to save the world?”

“More like rule it,” Max laughed. “But mostly he just likes the idea of it. So tell me about you and how you ended up here.”

“It started with your uncle being the best lover I ever had. And then ... Let me show you something.”

“Okay.”

Marisol led Max into Tom’s office. She found the weird old journal of Nathaniel’s pretty easily, the portrait of the tragic Indian prostitute still bookmarked and showed Max the picture. “Harry’s writing a screenplay based on the life of the guy who made this journal. She’s an important character in it, not a long role but important.” Marisol turned the pages, eventually showing the Indian as victim.

“Holy shit!” Max turned back to the portrait. “You do kind of look like her.”

“Harry thought so.”

“With a much better body.”

“Thanks,” Marisol giggled.

“So he wants you in his film?”

“I haven’t any acting training, so Harry’s sort of guiding me as well as your mom. With your mom heading back to work after the weekend, I’m hoping Harry will keep working with me.”

“Mom mentioned he’s a talented actor.”

“He definitely is. I got to watch him work actually earlier today. Which makes me realize what a long day it’s been.”

“Me too. Thanks for telling me all that shit. I’m glad you’re here.”

“Me too.”

They headed upstairs to their rooms. Once Max’s door closed, Marisol snuck over to the sunroom, hearing the moans of two women before seeing them, Peg riding Harry’s mouth while Cassy rode his cock. When both Cassy and Peg came, Marisol watched things switch up, Harry fucking Peg from behind while Peg munched on Cassy’s cunt. Marisol stripped naked, sat on a chair, and masturbated, cumming about the time Harry finally came inside Peg, the other women cumming at least a couple times each.

“Marisol,” Harry murmured. “I’m a bit tapped out.”

“Go take a shower or something,” Marisol grinned, and when he pulled out of Peg and off the bed, he hugged and kissed her. “Go,” she insisted, and crawled to where he’d been, eating cream pie out of Peg’s pussy. When Peg came again, she murmured, “Tapped out too,” and headed out the door.

Marisol crawled atop Cassy and shared Harry’s cum with her while they tribbed. “Your turn,” Cassy decided and kissed her way down to Marisol’s cunt, staying there until Marisol climaxed. “Come on,” Cassy said afterwards. “We have to wake up early tomorrow anyway.”

They dressed and headed to the maid’s room to sleep, getting kisses along the way from Peg and Harry exiting the bathroom, Harry’s genitals hidden by a towel as was Peg’s tits and genitals.

By breakfast the next morning, everyone but Marisol and Cassy gathered in the dining room, the two serving also joining in in the end, Cassy had given Marisol a complete tour of the place, showing where everything was and explaining the duties. They would share the work that weekend.

After breakfast, Francis drove William to his private jet. She didn’t take any longer than needed, obviously having enough intimacy with him for the time being.

“Welcome home, Mother,” Max greeted her sarcastically. “So great to see you.”

Francis froze, assessing. “I’m going back to bed,” she decided.

Upstairs she found her bed stripped down to the mattress and Marisol opening a bay window. “I was going to air the room out,” she explained.

“Could you make the bed?” Frances asked impatiently.

“Of course.” And as she made it she asked, “Harry said you might actually have a position for me with your underprivileged kids thing, as an assistant or something. I’d be up for volunteering even.”

“Hm? Oh. Later perhaps? I really am exhausted.”

“There’ll be guests coming.”

“I’ll make my grand entrance once I’ve had some more rest.”

“Yes Ma’am,” Marisol chuckled.

“Frances is fine.”

“Yes Frances.”

By the time Marisol finished, Frances had stripped naked except for her panties and put on a long sleep shirt. “You can close the windows,” she said.

“Okay.”

Marisol secured them and the door behind her when she left the bedroom. She found Cassy opening the windows in the sunroom, the bed stripped. “Frances is a bit of a prima donna as a boss,” Marisol commented.

“Honestly, I haven’t got a lot of experience with her that way,” Cassy responded. “Mostly as lover and some confused jealousy. You up to cleaning the bathroom?”

“Of course.”

“I’m going to go shopping for last minute party things and then start setting up the barbecue.”

“Maybe I should be around for that,” Marisol offered.

“Maybe so, but I was going to show Harry, man of the house and everything.”

“Walter’s only venture into cooking,” Marisol nodded.

“I’d like it if you dusted the guest rooms, open windows, and gave a quick wipe down of the bathroom there.”

“As you wish, Ma’am.”

“I’ll Ma’am you,” Chrissy chuckled.

“Can’t wait,” Marisol giggled.

Chrissy gave her a quick kiss and they both exited the room, with different destinations.

The first guests were Robbie’s friends who biked up from Stillwater, a gang of four, three boys and a tomboy who’d only recently sprouted breasts which Robbie noticed since they all stripped down to their bathing suits, the pool a main reason for their continued summer friendship truth be told.

Harry’s friends, Bob and Dave, arrived next, Bob in the modern version of the station wagon, an SUV, bringing his wife and two teenage boys, 12 and 14, and Dave bringing his girlfriend in a much smaller Honda Accord. The boys immediately changed into their swim suits in their guest rooms. Peg, who served as hostess by default, had opened the door for them and knocked on the office door to let Harry know of the friends’ arrival. Chrissy arrived soon after, and while Harry sat with his old friends and their mates, Peg helped out Chrissy with the bags and the barbecue. Lizzy and Susie, Chrissy’s sisters whom she picked up, headed to the pool.

Bob, very Jewish looking, on the short side, but Dave was even shorter, had a petite gentile wife, reddish hair and green eyes, though she’d converted, and Dave, also Jewish but less demonstratively, also had a petite gentile girlfriend, a blonde former farm girl. Harry had them settle onto the family room furniture and Chrissy brought out a platter of cheese and crackers.

“There’s lunchmeat too,” she told them. “But Harry suggested some of you prefer to be kosher.”

“You can bring it out if the others prefer it,” Bob said.

“I think cheese and crackers is fine,” Harry decided.

“Drinks?” Chrissy offered. “There’s beer, white wine and sodas.”

“A beer sounds good,” said Dave.

“Why not,” Bob agreed.

“Me too,” said Dave’s girlfriend.

Harry nodded.

“White wine for me,” said Bob’s wife.

“Be right back,” Chrissy smiled.

“Don’t worry about glasses,” Harry told her.

“You sure?” she asked.

“Yep.”

“Okay.”

“Your sister joining us?” Dave asked.

“She’s resting,” Harry told them. “She had a long Friday. Luckily I had a short day.”

“You’re an actor too?” Dave’s girlfriend asked.

“So they tell me,” Harry chuckled.

“What’s it like?”

“Not as glamorous as it sounds. A lot of waiting around, and then a bit of repetition. But I’d rather hear about you guys.”

“I’d like to apologize,” Bob said.

Harry grimaced. “About what?”

“I could have kept in contact. We were best friends.”

“Which I fucked up,” Harry said.

“I know Dave kept in contact.”

“For a little bit,” Dave added.

“I didn’t expect nor want it really,” Harry told them. “I fucked up, and didn’t want that fuck up to drag anyone down with me in any way. My life wasn’t in any way like yours. What would be the point? Ultimately it just made you feel guilty about it, hopefully for as little time as possible. I was the guilty one supposedly.”

“I guess I wanted you to know we hadn’t forgotten you,” Dave offered.

“I guess I’d have preferred if you had. But I’m glad Frances kept contact with you. She let me know how you guys were doing.”

“Was there anyone else?” Bob asked.

“Nope, but Frances more than made up for it. She’d visit at least once a week when she was in town. We’d correspond as well, which was actually how this film got to be made.”

“How’s that?” Bob’s wife asked. She sipped on the white wine Chrissy had provided. Everyone else had Leinies Nordeast to enjoy.

“I thought I was going to find out about you,” Harry chuckled. “Give me a second.” He got up and went to Tom’s office, finding the file with his drawings and notes and brought it out. It reminded him he still needed to borrow the drawings he’d given to Merc. He handed the file to Bob’s wife. “Don’t worry about messing up the order.”