Chapter 70

FLORIDA

They saw a Wal-Mart on the outskirts of town and Fred pulled into the lot. He wanted to pick up another folding camp chair for Brenda. Also, she needed to go shopping for clothing and personal essentials. All she had were things borrowed from the other women. As soon as they entered the store, he told the women he would meet them back at the RV, and that seemed to please them. All four ladies kissed him in front of the watch display before they parted, which produced big eyes and a frown from the woman behind the counter. Fred knew they were deliberately putting on a show, but he certainly didn't mind. He winked at the sourpuss and headed for the sporting goods department.

Twenty minutes later, he had his purchases stowed and had looked up the number for the campground. After reserving a slot, he turned the TV on and caught up with the latest news. Later, he was awakened as the women noisily came back inside the RV.

"We got Brenda started on a basic wardrobe until we can find a mall with some decent clothing stores," Carla said as she slid onto the couch beside him, deliberately banging her hip into his.

As Brenda walked by, Carla grabbed her hand, dragging her down onto Fred's lap. "Kiss your husband so we can get started to the campground."

Brenda did, with enthusiasm, sliding her butt around on his lap to feel the lump forming there.

"We picked up some chicken. We're going to have grilled chicken, mashed potatoes and slaw for supper. That sound okay to you?" Audrey asked as she settled into the seat across from them.

Fred looked at her over Brenda's head. "Sounds great, as long as there's a lot of it. Oh, I called the campground and reserved us a spot for tonight. I told the guy we wanted off by ourselves."

Jessica plopped down on the couch on the other side of Fred, pulling his hand to her breast as she did so. "Just because I make a little bit of noise..." Everyone started laughing, "Uh, well, we don't always have to be off by ourselves. I'll try to hold it down to a dull roar."

"Those high notes you hit would never be considered a 'dull roar, '" her mother laughed.

"Well when Brenda does her feedback thing during our orgasms, we all..." Jessica suddenly stopped. "Uh, I guess that isn't going to happen anymore. Sorry. I didn't think, Brenda."

Brenda snuggled to her husband for a moment. "I'm going to miss that, too," she quietly said.

Fred tried to lighten the mood, joking about all the Wal-Mart bags, but the good mood still felt a bit contrived a few minutes later as they pulled out of the lot, this time, with Audrey riding shotgun.

Ten miles down the road, they had no trouble finding the campground. Fred stopped at the office and paid for the night. Using the map given to him by the owner, Fred found their spot on the far back side. As soon as he came to a halt, Audrey was out the door to begin their hookup.

"Baby, you don't have to do that," Fred complained when he got to the back.

"Hook up the water hose," she laughed. "I'll get the other. I might as well do the things I'm familiar with. It's been a long time since I've been on a farm, and I know nothing about ranching, so I'll have to be taught what to do when we get to Colorado. Besides, this ol' southern girl will be freezing her ass off in all that snow, and probably having to run back to the house to warm up all the time."

"Well, that makes two of us southerners to do that, but I was already getting a little accustomed to the cold. And remember, Brenda, uh, well, her new body, that is..."

"Talking about me behind my back already?" Brenda said as she walked up.

Fred grabbed her and pulled her to him. "Nope, just telling Audrey that she wouldn't be the only one not used to the cold when we get back to Colorado and the mountains."

"I've always hated cold weather," Brenda said. "Now show me how to do this, Audrey. The dealer went over it when we bought the rig, but I'd like to learn from someone who really knows the quirks."

Audrey gave a little wave with the back of her hand that Fred read as, "Scat. We need to talk." Grinning, he walked over and opened the compartment that held the camp chairs. Setting them up in the late afternoon shade of the tall pines, he pulled out his cleaning equipment and went about getting the grill ready to go.

As darkness settled into the campground, Fred used the tongs to move the chicken from the grill to the big platter Jessica had brought him. Glancing around him at motion he noticed out of the corner of his eye, he saw a bat streak past at the edge of the light cast by the lantern. Odd, I could swear I heard a high-pitched squeal as that bat flew by way over there. Yeah, right. I'm fucking hearing bats now, he scolded himself.

Walking the few steps to the picnic table, he set the platter down as Audrey brought out a big bowl of creamed potatoes. Smiling, she pecked him on the cheek and said, "Carla is finishing up the gravy and Jessica will be out with the slaw in a second. We have some yeast rolls, too. Do you want honey with the rolls?"

Fred rubbed a hand over her shapely ass. "Yeah, that sounds good."

"I'll be right back with the iced tea. Sit. We'll be ready to eat before you know it."

A few minutes later, after a short prayer of thanks from Brenda, they dug in. They talked about their trip, then what had happened at the hospital. Jessica giggled, "Doctor Harris never stopped smiling the whole time we were at the restaurant."

"Can't blame him. He said he hadn't dated any since he and his wife divorced. Long time to go without pussy."

"Well, his wife did the same," Carla said.

"Did without pussy?" Fred chuckled.

Jessica, since she was next to him, whacked his arm for her mother.

"No," Carla laughed, "Did without dick, Smartass."

"Well, I could certainly sympathize with her, if it was pussy she had been missing. If the Good Lord made anything better, he kept it for Himself."

Jessica didn't know whether to hit him or not, so she just kissed his cheek instead.

A moth flew by the lantern, and the bat Fred had heard earlier dived at the insect, the bat's flight coming within inches of Fred's face. The women shrieked, flinched or ducked, but the bat was gone almost before they could react. Everyone started laughing except Fred. Carla, frowning, reached over and touched his hand. "What's wrong, Baby?"

Fred refused to answer her, just picked up his tea glass and drained the last of it, then sat staring into the darkness.

Carla frowned. "Fred..."

"I heard the bat," he interrupted.

"Yeah, I heard its wings as it went by, and I heard it squeak," Brenda said.

Fred looked around at the women. "No. Not its wings; not its little squeak, either. I heard the fucking bat. Fuck, I guess its sonar. I heard the fucking bat, and it was loud. An intermittent high-pitched squeal. I can still hear him, or her or it, or whatever the fuck sex it is. I can hear it right now," he finished, trying to look high into the darkened trees about the picnic table.

Jessica stared at her mate. "I don't remember much of what we studied about bats," then hesitantly, "but I do remember reading about their high frequency pulses, and they're way above what the human ear can detect. Some guy hooked a microphone to an oscilloscope. He said the sound they emitted was very, very loud, and it was a good thing we couldn't hear it, or we would be constantly annoyed by it when bats were around."

Fred looked back up into the trees, using his ears to follow the bat's darting. "He's coming back," he calmly said just before the bat made a second pass near their table, then darted upward. Fred put his hands over his ears and quietly said, "Shit."

THE RETREAT

Supper at the retreat had been a loud affair, everyone talking and laughing — except Jeff, who appeared stressed just to take part in the conversations. Most seemed to want to ask him questions. (Alesha was out with Jessie, so they could now talk freely with each other.) Questions about what Jeff had done off-planet. Questions they had already asked one way or another before. He tried to keep his answers civil, and thought he had succeeded until afterward when Dave walked by, stopped for a second to squeeze his shoulder and say, "If you need to talk about it, you know where I am."

Jeff started to deny that anything was wrong, but Dave had already begun to walk away. Later in the hallways, Jeff passed Diana, who rubbed her hand over his side and asked, "Know where my mother is?"

"It's not my job..." he started to snarl before he stopped himself.

Diana spun around to him, putting her arms around his waist and looking up into his eyes. "What's wrong, Baby?"

Jeff let out a breath. "I ... don't know. I'm just uptight for some reason."

Diana, some recesses of her mind always a little fearful that what she had done with Jack would come back to haunt her husband, looked at him. "Is it something I've done? I love you my mate. Whatever it is..."

"No," he interrupted. "No, you have done nothing. It's just me. I don't know what's wrong, but it has nothing to do with anything you or any of my wives have done. I think I'm going to go lie down and take a nap. I couldn't sleep last night, and this fucking feeling is driving me nuts."

Diana squeezed herself to him, making sure her braless breasts pushed into his chest the way he liked. "Why don't you have Little One check you out? Maybe there is something a little wrong with you."

"No, I don't want to interrupt her hibernation and whatever she's doing to herself. Besides, I feel fine; it's just something bugging me. Almost like I've forgotten something that I need to do. I'll think of it sooner or later."

"Maybe you just need a good blow job," she smirked up at him. "I could always use another half-cup of semen. I've heard it's good for the skin," she kidded.

Jeff swatted her on the ass. "How's it going to do your skin any good with my stuff in your belly?" he laughed. "Besides, your skin couldn't be any more beautiful, and you know it. But I do appreciate the offer. Now go find your mom. We'll get around to the blowjob a little later. I love you, you know."

"I know," she said, looking up at him again. "And I love you, too. Just chill out. You'll figure out what's wrong."

Jeff had just kicked back in his favorite recliner when Frank Wainwright walked into the living room. Stopping to put a couple more logs on the fire, he took a seat beside Jeff. "This place is going to be a beehive later in the week. The wedding planner and her staff will be here Wednesday. The guests will start coming in Thursday morning. Of course, the wedding planner and Margaret have been on the phone almost constantly for the last few days, as I'm sure you know."

The men sat quietly for a few minutes, then Wainwright looked over at Jeff. "Diana is still insisting that she and her sister-wives will clean the rooms and serve the meals while our guests are here. Dave and his wives say they're going to be part of it, too, but we still have time to change this to a church in Saint Louis if you want."

Jeff grinned at the executive beside him. "Do I detect reticence on your part, or is it a bit more like scared shitless that you're getting married?" Chuckling, he continued before Frank could answer him. "Now you damn well know we would be insulted if you didn't have your wedding in this fabulous building you built. And besides, I'm looking forward to being a butler or bellhop, or whatever the women decide I'll do."

"But this is your home. We can hire..."

"No, Frank," Jeff interrupted with a laugh. "As far as your guests will be concerned, this will still be your place, just like it used to be. And besides that, it is indeed your home, so we're not really lying about anything."

"Jeff, I appreciate that, but your wife has ordered monogrammed everything with the interlocking MM. And Margaret knows this..."

"So, tell your guests you named the retreat Matthews Mountain because the first people to own the mountain were named Matthews — us. I may not own the whole mountain, but I damn sure own a good part of it. You named the retreat after the name of the mountain. Screw it. They won't care, and probably won't even notice, anyway."

Wainwright sighed and sat quietly for a moment. "Yeah, I guess I'm getting into this too much. Better to sit back and let the women worry about the details. But shit, I want it to come off like your weddings did — without a hitch."

"So? It will."

"Yes, but some of these people are rich. Some old money, and worse, some new money."

"In other words, you're trying to tell me that some of them are assholes, right?"

Wainwright chuckled. "Dyed-in-the-wool, my Prime. Dyed-in-the-wool. Oh, most of the rich wouldn't normally give you or your wives any grief. But if they think that your wives are serving staff, some of them will act as if your wives don't even exist. They will talk in front of them while they critique this place and everyone in it, the staff included. That might be a little hard for your younger wives to swallow."