Chapter 12

As planned, Mary joined Grace and me for tai chi at dawn. I use tai chi to meditate, which means that the slow-motion moves performed with grace and combined with proper breathing allow me to relax and look inward. I didn't meditate that morning. I fantasized. Some might argue that fantasizing is a form of meditation because to fantasize one looks inward. They'd be wrong.

Watching two beautiful women wearing bikinis move slowly and gracefully as they searched for their centers produced a fantasy that gave me an erection. When we finished the form, I had not found my center. I didn't care. I didn't ask the ladies if they'd found theirs.

Grace eyed the bulge in my sweat shorts, gave me a grin and said, "Mary, I think our boy needs some attention. DNA can't be discounted, not with the obvious task before us, so it's up to you to provide the attention he so obviously needs."

"I drew the short straw, huh?" Mary said.

Grace giggled. "So to speak."

Argh!

Grace looked at the lightening sky. "It's a nice day, not too hot, not too cool. I'll leave the two of you out here and ask Little Bundle if she'll help me fix breakfast."

I looked at Mary and raised an eyebrow.

She grinned. "It is a nice day," she said as she moved against me, put one arm around my neck and kissed me thoroughly while she fondled my hard-on with her other hand. "And it's about to get better," she whispered in my ear.

I glanced toward the French doors that led to the family room and the kitchen beyond. If we had an audience, I couldn't see her, which became academic when Mary reached into my sweats and stroked my extended cock with her hand.

Interesting, I thought ten minutes later.

I wasn't sure what steps we'd taken to put us in the position we were in, but I appreciated where we'd arrived. Mary was standing bent over at her waist with her head resting on one bent arm, and that arm was resting on the patio table. I was standing behind her, and my waving hips, as opposed to a clenching ass, were driving my cock into Mary's cunt with full, smooth strokes. Mary had her head on one arm, because the hand attached to the other arm was busy between her legs. I couldn't see, but I'd wager that she was using three stiff fingers in tight, little circles on her clitoris.

Her ass was magnificent.

She climaxed before me, but seconds later, I roared with pleasure and jerked her ass back against me as semen spurted, taking the rapturous sensations of my orgasm to the tops of my ears and the tips of my hair, flooding the rest of my body with pleasure en route.

A few seconds later, I found a chair and collapsed. Semen still dribbled out the end of my cock, and I could see more of the thick, white liquid puddled in Mary's glistening, swollen and gaping pussy. She looked over her shoulder at me and grinned.

"Couldn't stay on your feet, huh?" she said.

I chuckled. "Nope. You did me in."

After Mary left to get ready for work, I helped Grace clean up the breakfast mess, which offered an opportunity for some chitchat with my big sister.

"Who tends Little Bundle while Mary works?" I asked.

"A neighbor lady who has a baby boy of her own," Grace said. "She's stuck at home with her baby; one more baby isn't that much more trouble, so her babysitting services are cheap and gives her some money of her own. It's a win/win situation. I met her. She's a born nurturer, Brent."

"Checked her out in person, huh?"

Grace looked sheepish. "Yeah."

"I'm glad you did, or I'd have probably stuck my big nose in where it wasn't wanted. Mary told me she had a crap job, but that's all she told me."

Grace said nothing.

"You're going to force me to ask, aren't you?" I said.

"Ask what?" she said with a giggle.

"Mary's job, what does she do; where does she work?"

"She's a receptionist for a law firm."

"When did she buy her car?"

"During your painting frenzy."

"Then I assume her insurance check arrived."

"Yep."

"She says she's going back to college in the fall. ASU, she said. What's her major? Do you know?"

"Sure. She's my friend. We talk to each other. Way back when, she wanted to be a doctor, but with the arrival of Little Bundle, the years needed to become a doctor made that dream impractical. Besides, with all that's happened, her dreams and needs have changed. She's mapped out a double major, Brent: Business Management and East Asian Studies. She hopes to follow up with an MBA from an international school of management like Thunderbird. I have a question for you."

"What?"

"Why are you asking me these questions when you could get the answers from the source?"

"Because I'm in catch-up mode. A lot happened during my hiatus. Are you still writing every day?"

"You bet. Wanna help plan and co-host my Second Annual Book Burning Party?" she said with a teasing grin.

"Do I get to read this one before it goes up in smoke?"

"Nope."

"You're shy of annual by a lot of months. Quarterly Book Burning Party would almost fit the time frame."

"An unimportant detail. You didn't answer my question."

"I'd be honored to help you plan and co-host the party. Have you picked a date?"

"Yes, the 27^th of August."

"That's my birthday."

"Uh-huh. Clever of me, huh? Two birds. One stone."

"I like it. We'll burn your book instead of playing Pin the Tail on the Donkey. Wanna go looking at boats with me today?"

"Boats?"

"Yeah, cabin cruisers. Now I'm back among the living, I thought I ought to live a little. Josh Randall and Jane Wilson enjoyed fishing. Randall fished streams, though. And Jane's boat was a pirogue."

"Pirogue?"

"Yeah, the Cajun version of a dugout canoe, definitely not comfortable for long periods, thus my idea of a cabin cruiser instead. You know, galley, head, staterooms, the whole nine yards. The few times I went boating I enjoyed it. Does a cabin cruiser and a slip at Lake Powell appeal to you?"

"Yes! What a good idea!"

Monday morning, the courts decreed that I was henceforth an adult. Uncle Sam flew in for the hearing and stipulated to the court that I was capable of handling life as an adult, including my own financial affairs, so I made peace with him. We'd never be close, but he was my mother's brother.

That afternoon, I opened my own bank accounts, obtained a Visa debit card, and established a substantial line of credit based upon my earnings and deposits, which included the $1,000,000 insurance money held by the executor of the estate pending the outcome of the guardian issue. I cut a check to Grace for the money she'd loaned me and to reimburse her for the legal retainers and fees she'd spent on my behalf.

"What did you do with your insurance money?" I asked Grace when I handed her the check. "Checking account, savings account? What?"

"I invested most of it," she said. "Pete helped me. He wouldn't let me invest in his deals, though. Too risky, he said. He introduced me to a stockbroker friend of his. After Pete reviewed the portfolio his friend suggested, he made a few changes, and then gave it his blessing. I put $500,000 in stocks and bonds. Then Pete introduced me to a real estate agent, and I invested $300,000 in various real estate transactions, mostly land, again only after Pete gave me the go-ahead. I paid the legal fees to fight Uncle Sam and loaned some of the proceeds to you and Mary. The rest is in the money market and my savings and checking accounts. Mary paid me what I'd loaned her as soon as she received the proceeds from her father's insurance policy, and with this check, I should probably invest another $100,000 somewhere."

"How are your investments performing?"

"Don't know. Haven't checked."

I hooted with laughter. "Hoo boy! You're a trusting soul."

She shrugged. "Pete said I'd drive myself batty tracking the investments, so I set up quarterly meetings with the stockbroker and real estate agent, and I'll make adjustments then, if needed. Pete said he'd monitor them on a monthly basis. That's all well and good as long as Pete and I are dating. When that romance goes south, I suppose I'll need to become more active, but frankly, Brent, I don't understand high finance."

"I'm no different. Mom didn't think I'd go to college. She was wrong. I'm going to college, not as an art major, but to learn how to take care of my money so I'm not required to rely on conmen, shysters and bad money managers. In the interim, how about introducing me to your stockbroker and real estate agent?"

"All right. Pete likes you. If you ask him, he'll probably do for you what he did for me."

"I'll ask him, then. Well, to prove that judge made a serious mistake declaring me an adult this morning, the first thing I'm going to do is spend, spend, spend."

Grace laughed. "You're going to buy that boat aren't you?"

"Yep."

Grace and I had shopped for boats Friday and part of Saturday and ran into a problem. Slips at Wahweap Marina at Lake Powell were difficult to come by, but a yacht broker pointed me at a used Sea Ray 340 Sundancer that came with a slip. On Sunday, Grace, Mary and Little Bundle flew with me to Lake Powell in a chartered single-engine airplane to check out the boat. It was a beauty.

"Wanna partner?" Grace said.

I grinned. "You bet."

"Can we close on the boat by Friday?"

"Don't know. Probably. Why?"

"Pete's flying in. He could join us on the shakedown cruise. Mary, too."

"I'd planned on more than a weekend," I said.

"Me, too. Pete and Mary can fly back to Phoenix on Sunday, and you and I can continue the cruise, and fly back on the following Sunday."

"Perfect. Does Pete know anything about boats?"

"Don't know. Why?"

"We'll need someone to teach us how to handle the boat. Jane Wilson's skill set with a pirogue won't cut it."

Grace laughed. "You've got a point."

"As new owners, we can rename the boat, Grace. I think you'll agree with the name I've chosen, but if you don't, too bad."

"What name?" she asked, looking a little peeved because I was throwing my weight around, I assumed.

"Sweet Rose," I said.

Tears sprang to her eyes. "After Mom?" she said.

I nodded.

"Perfect," she breathed.

Tom Burger, our instructor at the Ben Avery Shooting Facility, recommended the Springfield, Inc., Model 1911A1.45 semi-automatic pistol. "The base cost for the 1911A1 is around $450," he said. "Except for three-dot sights, throated barrel and lowered ejection port, the weapon is pure GI, with a trigger pull that will have you wondering why you bought it, but the problems inherent in the factory weapon are fixable and inexpensive to fix. After firing a couple of hundred rounds to break in the pistol, some adjustments are usually advisable. The need for trigger work and a new recoil spring is universal, as is the replacement of the original barrel bushing with a match-grade bushing. You might want a match barrel, but if you get decent groups with the factory barrel, leave well enough alone."
I looked at Mary; she looked at me and said, "What did he say?"
I shrugged. "Beats me."

Burger laughed. "Do you want to spend around $600 total for a good target pistol or go custom for $2,500 to $3,000?"

"Oh," Mary said. "I'll go with the cheap one."

We filled out the paperwork to buy the pistols, and I handed him my new debit card to pay for them. Being an adult in the eyes of the law had its advantages.

Mary objected, saying she'd buy her own gun, thank you very much. I shrugged and let her. "Learning how to shoot was my idea," I said, "so I figured I'd pay your expenses, but if you want to buy your own pistol, be my guest."

"I do, Brent," she said. "Thanks for offering, though."

"Fill out this form, too," Burger said. "That's to attend our eight-hour CCW Permit class."

"CCW Permit?" I inquired.

"Yeah, Concealed Carry Weapons Permit. The course covers a lot of what you need to know like firearm safety, personal protection, types of handguns and ballistics, Arizona firearm laws, use of deadly force, interfacing with law enforcement, and other subjects. It's an eight-hour course."

"I have a new job," Mary said. "I can't take a day off to take that class, not yet."

"There's a Saturday course," Burger said.

"Ah, Mary, not this Saturday," I said. "I'm buying that boat, and Friday evening we're flying to Lake Powell for the shakedown cruise."

Mary looked off into the distance, and finally her pretty lips curled into a soft smile. "Screw the job," she said. "The net after taxes, less babysitting and commuting expenses isn't enough to justify my loss of freedom. Sign me up, Tom."

"Are you sure?" I said.

"Yes. Feeling safe is much higher on my priority list than that crap job." She switched to Cantonese. "Besides, I'm not using my language talents working as a receptionist. I'll look around for a translating job, or even better, work for myself offering translation services to a number of clients."

"Good thinking," I said in Cantonese.

Our first attempts on the shooting range were laughable. Burger was a good — read patient — teacher, though, and kept our spirits high. We improved to the point where we actually hit the target occasionally before our scheduled time with Burger ended and we called it a day.

We bowed, and I struck without warning. The middle-aged Chinese man parried my chop easily.

The Sifu at the Phoenix Kwoon was younger than his counterpart in San Francisco, so he had more stamina. He was, however, slightly less skilled, so I didn't go all out, and for the first five minutes of the cudgel sparring match, we were equals. During the second five minutes, I increased the speed of my attacks and added some confusing aerobatics that left him befuddled for split seconds. I could have ended the match during his confusion, but I deferred the inevitable. The stick fighting was exhilarating, and I didn't want it to end.

That's when Sifu motioned to a student, and another Chinese man attacked from my right. I parried his jab and leaped over the countering sweep, spinning in the air to block Sifu's chop. I backed away, and then charged, feinting toward Sifu, but at the last moment engaging the student instead. I ratcheted up my agility and quickness an extra notch to take the student out of the match by stopping my cudgel an inch from the top of his skull that would have rendered him senseless if I hadn't pulled the strike.

Spinning, I engaged Sifu, increasing my attacking speed yet again, which forced him back. I pressed him, keeping him on the defensive, but he adeptly blocked or parried everything I threw at him until the side of my foot struck the side of his knee. I'd pulled the kick, so I didn't hurt him, but he stumbled slightly. I swung thee unblocked blows, stopping each just before they struck his body, ending the match in my favor.

I bowed first to the student, and then to the teacher, bending deeper for the teacher.

"That was exhilarating," I said in Cantonese. "Thank you."

"You are most welcome," Sifu said in English. "Join me for tea, please."

"I'd like that," I said.

After we'd settled at a table in the student's lounge and each of us had a cup of tea, Sifu said, "Anticipating that my skill would be inadequate, I set up the secondary attack from my student before your arrival. I hope my unilateral effort to make the match more even didn't offend you."

"Not at all," I said and sipped the aromatic green tea.

He snorted disdainfully. 'I should have sent two or three of my students at you, but I trust only one of them to spar without pads."

"I'd be honored if both of you would spar with me again."

"Cudgels, yes. I will not spar without full-body padding with other wushu weapons."

"As you wish. I'd like to meet your student."

He nodded and clapped his hands, not loudly, but the sound carried. The student must have been waiting just outside the room, because he entered, bowed, and sat to my right. Sifu introduced us. His name was Long Chu-yu. He used James for his English given name. I guessed his age at twenty-five. He was an inch or two shorter than my six-one, with a lithe but well-muscled body. I liked his ready smile.

James deferred to Sifu until the older gentleman left us alone, and then said, "That spin in midair while leaping my sweep was awesome. Will you teach me that move?"

I grinned. "That would please me," I said in Cantonese.

"Let's speak English," he said. "English is easier for me."

"Me, too," I said. "My Cantonese and Mandarin are old-fashioned. I learned the languages during a past life in the 19^th Century."

His jaw dropped. "You're shitting me, right?"

"Maybe. Come on, I'll show you how to do that midair spin, and then let's have lunch." Would he agree? I liked him, and I needed another friend.

"Okay, but no Chinese food. I get enough of that at home. I'm in the mood for a juicy cheeseburger and French fries. Would it upset you if my girlfriend joined us?"

"Nope," I said. "I'll call mine and we'll make it a foursome."

I wondered what Agnes would say when I told her that she wasn't my only friend anymore.

Deanna Graham, James Long's girlfriend, was a beauty. She wore her straight brown hair in a pixie cut, and her pale blue eyes twinkled with mischief. She had a soft voice, and her laugh tinkled like tiny bells. She obviously adored James, and he felt the same way about her.