Chapter 2: Pool Party

That Saturday dawned bright. I was up early taking care of a raft of last minute details, pleased that I could do something for Susan to make up for all the things I'd done to her.

Susan's best friend was Jamie Kellogg, who lived about a half mile away; they were both in the same homeroom at the middle school. Jamie's mother, Linda, a tall, full-figured blonde, had volunteered to help me deliver the dozen teenagers to the Cineplex to watch an animated feature called "Ice Age."

"My daughter found a kindred heart in Susan," Linda told me. We had returned to the house to sip tea in the shade by the pool and to await our chauffeur duties later. I was still unused to the Arizona weather and was wearing jeans and a blouse; Linda was much more comfortable in thigh-length shorts and an elastic top that ran from her shoulders to midriff.

"Oh?" I asked.

Susan didn't talk much about her other friends. School in general, but not the personalities. I'd heard a lot about Jamie, though. The two of them frequently studied together at one house or the other. Jamie was about five six, as blonde and blue-eyed as her mother, and showing early signs of being as buxom.

"Jamie wants to be a cheerleader next year when she starts at Scottsdale. She has a cousin on the squad there; Gail has been talking Susan's ear off about what a good time she is having, all of the activities she participates in besides cheerleading. Now, Jamie says Susan wants to go out for cheer too. I think my daughter has infected yours with the cheerleading bug."

I explained my own history and Linda nodded.

"It wasn't quite that bad for me." She ran her hand over one of her breasts, hefting it. "These started growing in sixth grade; by the time I got to high school they made it hard to deal with in any sort of athletic activity that required bouncing around." She grimaced. "So I made sure I married a guy from a long line of small breasted women. Dennis stayed with me long enough to get me pregnant, then moved in with a guy he'd gone to college with. More his type, if you get my drift."

"Oh." Not much you can say about that.

"He told me once, that all his life he'd wanted a family where there were boys, boys, boys. I came from a family with all girls, he came from a family where there were only girls; he took Jamie as a sign from heaven as to what was coming and bailed. I wished him happiness, but it didn't work out for him." She sighed, met my eyes. "He's got AIDS, he won't come near either of us; stupid lunk. We both still love him."

"My husband worked in the World Trade Center." As effective a way as any of ending conversations about departed husbands.

"Sorry," Linda told me.

All I could do was shrug. "Sorry" and "Sympathy" were words I heard too often; meaningless perfunctory words that excused people from having to actually face what it meant to lose your husband.

"So, our daughters are best friends. That's a good thing," Linda said, trying to ease the silence that followed.

"I'm glad. Susan is very outgoing and I'm... well, I never was. Since Roger died, I'm pretty much of a loner."

"That's not good. You should get out, get around." She glanced at me. "Of course, that's me talking. I suppose it's different for everyone."

"I'm still adjusting to it; I know it sounds silly seven months later."

"It's not silly at all! I saw those pictures that day; Dennis called and told me I had to watch." She looked at me apologetically. "It was awful. I didn't watch for very long."

"Awful," I agreed. "The President of the company Roger worked for was one of six survivors of more than four hundred employees. He told us that only five others from the entire company had survived. Five clerks had been downstairs on break, getting bagels and having a smoke. He was out of the office, at a meeting that day. None of the people who'd been in the office have been identified. He told us that the Mayor and police chief had told him that the people above the crash site were atomized in the collapse."

I managed to keep back the tears. "Atomized," I spoke the word softly, not the scream that featured so prominently in my dreams in the five months since that meeting. The President of Roger's company had become a gaunt shell; how do you adjust to your entire company vanishing? And that you survived?

Linda was silent for a long moment, and then sighed. "It's a very good thing our daughters are best friends."

The moment passed, the world seemed to brighten a little.

After we'd brought the girls back from the Cineplex, Linda asked if I needed help with anything.

I shook my head. "One reason I agreed to this: teenagers are getting to the point where they are self-sufficient, they also can entertain themselves. Susan has been a pillar of strength and fortitude; she deserves this."

Linda laughed. "Oh, I remember entertaining myself a lot when I was thirteen! I didn't need friends! Not that friends weren't nice too!"

I blushed, remembering my own, shy, hesitant explorations. They had been few and far between, until I'd met Roger. Then I'd seriously made up for lost time and opportunity. If I wasn't with him, I spent time dreaming I was.

Linda left; the girls started splashing the water out of the pool.

I sat in the kitchen, tea glass in one hand, and a book in the other. Was that maybe part of it? I'd had a happy, full sex life and now that was gone too, along with Roger. I hadn't really thought about sex since that day. There had been too much shock, too many tears, and entirely too much upheaval in our lives.

The kitchen timer went off and I started on dinner. Susan had wanted pizza and I'd vetoed that. I'd suggested spaghetti and Susan had vetoed that. The previous owner of the house had a built-in barbeque a short distance from the pool; I'd never barbequed anything in my life, although I remember my dad doing it often enough when I was growing up.

I got the charcoal going, put on some hamburgers, hot dogs, and some chicken legs to cook on the grill. I quickly learned that chicken wasn't as easy to barbeque as hot dogs or hamburgers; the fat dripped and kept catching on fire. Finally I put the chicken off to one side, and that seemed to work, although the cooking time on the chicken went up quite a bit.

But it was something the girls were used to. They sat outside on the deck with the two picnic tables pushed together, talking and having a good time, as much, it seemed, as they'd been having in the pool.

I had lemonade, soda pop and tea for them to drink; I was surprised to find out that tea and lemonade were more popular than the soda. I had to make some more.

You never think so prosaic a task as carrying pitchers of tea and lemonade can change your whole life. It happened to me. Since that moment my life has never been the same.

One of the girls stood up from her chair. She stretched, actually a classic full yawn, her back arched, her arms above her head, mouth wide open. She was wearing a modest two-piece suit, but modest or not, my eyes were riveted to her breasts, and her twin, very erect, exceedingly visible, nipples.

I didn't quite drop the pitchers of tea and lemonade, but it was a close thing. I set them down next to the ice bowl, trying to control a welter of emotions and hormones that had surged through my body. I turned and retreated back to the house as quickly as I could manage.

I sagged against the refrigerator; suddenly emotionally spent. "Too much sun, I guess," I muttered to myself. That and Linda had brought up the subject, one that I had spent overlong thinking about ever since. I couldn't believe that I'd been sexually aroused by a teenage girl. Nor was it easy to accept how much I'd been aroused in that brief second. I laughed at myself. What had I thought earlier? That it had been too long? Oh baby! Had it ever!

My heart returned to normal, my breathing slowed as well. I decided I really had spent too much time in the sun.

Later, a couple of the girls helped bring in the serving plates, silverware and the like, and then helped me load the dishwasher. The girl who'd yawned was one of them.

I cautiously glanced at her out of the corner of my eye. I was pleased and relieved that my body and hormones remained calm. That, and her nipples were no longer erect. I started the dishwasher chugging away and turned around.

She was there, standing looking at me. Everyone else had gone back outside. "I'm Gail Kellogg, the cuckoo's egg today," she said, introducing herself.

I shook my head, not understanding. "Jamie and Susan, the rest of their friends. Eighth grade cheer wannabes." She buffed her nails on the skin of her upper chest. "I, on the other hand, am a junior and assistant choreographer of the Scottsdale squad."

I nodded then, in understanding, Linda had mentioned her niece. "You're a little older than the rest," I said.

"Yep, but I live right, exercise a lot, and look younger than I am."

"You do. I'd never have known unless you'd said something."

"Tell me, Susan's mom, do you have a name?"

"Laura Alban Hunt."

Gail smiled. "Oh, wow! Three barrels! Cool!"

I was startled when she reached out, put a hand on my hip, leaned close and kissed me on the cheek. "Thanks for putting up with us, Laura," Gail said as she drew close. When her lips were near my ear, she added, "I think you noticed something special about me earlier." It was a whisper, and then she pulled back, and smiled broadly at me. "Thanks again."

I nodded, trying not to flush.

There is, I learned that afternoon, a difference between when a man seduces a woman, and when a woman does it. Men like the chase, but they don't like to be kept waiting to find out if there is light at the end of the tunnel. A woman, on the other hand, enjoys the chase for itself, and is far, far more patient. She's still interested in the light at the end of the tunnel, but willing to take her time. And willing to patiently wait to find out if she will succeed.

Later, the party moved inside to the family room. Susan and a couple of the girls put their heads together, and put on some CD's. Half a dozen of them were dancing at any one time, sometimes more. The rest stood around talking, obviously relaxed and comfortable, enjoying themselves. I stuck my head in right after the music started, then again an hour later. By then it was after eight thirty and was dark outside.

Gail motioned to me. Most of the girls were still in their bathing suits from earlier, Gail included.

"Would you like to dance?" she asked.

I met her eyes, wondering if it was a good idea. Still, I'd had a short conversation with her earlier and I hadn't completely freaked out; so sure, why not? And if there was a little curiosity on my part as to what she meant about being special, that was okay too. She was surely talking about something else.

We danced a fast one, and then the music segued to slow. She danced with her arm around me, and I had mine around her. We talked of school and cheerleading, things she was doing, things I wished I'd had done myself, things I hoped Susan would have the opportunity to do.