Chapter 12
"We usually nap in the afternoons down here. I hope you don't mind. Believe me, it's wonderful for ulcers and blood pressure."
Helen was speaking as the four sat in deep canvas chairs around the pool. She looked lazy, heavy-lidded, and so did Scott. Well they might. Each had put in a strenuous early afternoon.
Jim stared at them, feeling a bit lazy himself. After all, he'd had a couple of ejaculations himself and, although he knew he could take more, a little rest wouldn't hurt. He glanced over at Joyce. Her face was a mask, but he couldn't tell if it were a mask of stoic despair or one of hidden contentment. She was changed, he knew that. And he knew that he, himself, had also changed.
Scott said, "Helen's right. It's part of the unwinding...."
He stopped when they heard the car. It squealed out in front of the sprawling house. "Ah," Helen said. "The kids at last I was beginning to worry. They were running around in town."
They waited and a minute later a young girl and a boy bounded out into the patio. There were greetings, kissing and then introductions. They were good looking youngsters. The girl was Darla, a teen-ager and a junior in high school, doing very well, her father said with pride. She was young and sort of vampy, much like her mother-her step mother, Jim reminded himself. After all, Scott's children were only about 15 years younger than his second wife.
Darla looked brainy and also a bit bored. She might be an imaginative thing, Jim surmised as he looked her up and down. Already he was eyeing women differently, studying their bed potential almost automatically. She had a good young body, heavy in the knockers, slim hips. Her eyes were a strange light blue which gave her an almost mystic look.
Kenneth English was a senior in school and he was built much like his father, but not so heavy and minus the potbelly. He had the tanned skin and the sun-bleached hair of the surfer, and he was about three inches taller than his father. When Jim saw Helen looking at her stepson he saw a light in her eyes that was not too different from the light he'd seen when she'd looked at Jim.
Jim pursed his lips in thought. So, they were a swinging family. It was obvious. Ken went straight to his mother, Darla straight to her father. The girl squatted at his side and Scott stroked her shining brown hair. Then he was lazily rubbing her back, coming far down with his hand, almost to her ass. When she suddenly stood his hand slipped across her bottom with a playful pinch along the way.
The stepmother was kissing her stepson on the cheek, while his hand trailed into her lap. Jim could have sworn it rested right on her cunt. She wore only a bikini-another bikini, this one green, because the white one had been pretty well ruined.
They went on talking and soon the children, restless and anxious for activity, ran off. They were back in a few minutes, diving into the large pool with whoops, splashing and ducking one another. Jim thought he saw them doing some stroking and pinching just under the surface, but he wasn't certain.
"God, this weekend is going to cure me of what ails me," Scott blurted with a mighty stretch. "How about another drink?" He poured from a giant pitcher of martinis, filling glasses all around. Jim could already feel them and he knew Joyce could, too. Neither was much of a drinker.
"And what ails you, darling?" Helen purred at her husband.
"Tension. That damned office. Jim knows what I mean. Here a body can relax, do as he pleases. He can be a physical fitness buff or a sack time nut. Either way, it's good for the bones and the muscles."
"Have you had any exercise yet?" Helen asked him.
"Some," Scott said in an off-handed fashion. He was idly watching the children and he turned to look at Jim. "How about you, James, my boy?"
"I feel good. I've had some activity. Not a hell of a lot."
He felt Helen's slightly hurt gaze swing quickly to him and he smiled at her. She understood his understatement and she smiled back. Scott seemed to be reading her smile and so did Joyce. Everybody was smiling at everybody else, nodding and purring.
But there was a tension and only one tension. It ran between Jim and Joyce. The Englishes were in tune with each other, sorted out, in the groove. Even the kids seemed to have it all together with their parents. But Joyce and Jim hadn't solved all their problems-not yet.
"Well." Scott was stretching again and he climbed to his feet, looking slightly like a hairy bear in his swimming trunks. He beckoned to his wife. "Come along, dear. Time for our naps, or we'll turn into pumpkins at midnight tonight."
Helen didn't look quite as anxious for a nap as her husband did, but then she had 10 years on him. So she smiled with raised eyebrows at Jim and Helen, and then she laughed. "My old man isn't what he used to be."
"Like hell," Scott rasped and he slapped her on the bottom as she got up. She squealed and they began to walk off. "Jim, Joyce, please make our house your house for the next couple of hours. Swim, nap, hike on the desert-anything you wish."
Then they were gone and Jim and Joyce were left with the children and the pitcher of martinis. They refilled their glasses and drank, feeling even tipsier by the time the teen-agers pulled themselves from the water.
Darla and Ken stood over them, shaking water from their beautiful young bodies, then drying themselves with huge rough towels. Jim couldn't keep his eyes off Darla. She was coltish in her young awkwardness, beautiful in her body and incredibly appealing in the way she moved and smiled and spoke.
Jim also noticed that Ken had checked out Joyce. His eyes had moved up and down her bikini-clad body and he seemed to like what he saw. Jim wondered if these kids, at their tender age, were already swingers. He would have bet they were and the possibility of some personal involvement came over him. He felt his penis stir inside his bathing suit and he crossed his legs. A hard-on would be a son of a bitch to hide.
"You work at the bank," Darla said to Jim. Jim nodded. "Cashier."
"Good job for a young guy," Ken blurted. "Dad must think you're pretty good."
"I hope so," Jim said easily, but he felt somewhat offended by the teen-ager's manner. He was putting himself up equal with Jim because he was the son of the boss. "Are you going into the bank after school? Perhaps you'll be working for me-until you become vice president, of course." He shot his words out with some force.
Ken seemed to get the message and he backed off at once, lifting his hands deprecatingly. "Heck, no. I'm more interested in science. I'm not sure what kind. Believe me, Mr. Babcock, you won't need to worry about having me underfoot at the bank."
"I'm going to work as a teller next summer, though," Darla gushed. Her voice was sweet, quite low, thoroughly delightful
"Now that, I like," Jim said with a laugh and he looked over at Joyce. She wasn't laughing so much, except when Ken glanced at her, too. Then she pretended to be enjoying herself-for his benefit.
Jim heaved himself to his feet. "I think I'm ready for some sack time. Come along, dear." He lifted a hand to Joyce and she took it, also getting up from her deep chair. Jim could feel the martinis more and he knew he'd sleep like a stone. He could also feel the booze-induced passion. Sure, why not? A piece of ass and a long nap. Good for the muscles and bones, as Scott would say.
The youngsters stood aside as they paraded off the patio and Jim could feel their eyes following them. Now what the hell could those kids be up to?
They walked slowly down the long dark corridor until they came to their room. It was the first time they'd been alone together since their arrival at the desert home and Jim knew that each had learned many things, things which would need to be resolved between them.
In the bedroom their things had been laid out and hung up, by the maid Kitty, no doubt. Jim flopped on the bed in his swimming trunks, but Joyce elected to remove her bikini. She slipped into a loose pair of pajamas while he watched. He enjoyed looking at her body, but she didn't make it easy for him, as she often did. She kept her back half toward the bed and he had to be content to admire the curve of her buttocks.
Then she lay down by his side, carefully keeping a foot of distance between them. It was warm in the room and they needed no covering of any kind. Jim knew they hadn't lost all of their inhibitions, or they would have stripped themselves before bedding down.
He waited for several minutes before he asked his first question. "Um ... How did it go with you and Scott after I left the study?"
"You should know the answer to that, strong man. He did as he pleased. I can assure you, the $100 a week will be forthcoming."
"I wasn't wondering about the money."
"Then why did you give me to him, for kicks? I saw you sitting there, practically masturbating." Her voice was bitter.
He felt put upon at once. "What about you? Christ, he drove you out of your mind. Don't try to tell me you found the whole episode repulsive."
He listened to her shallow breathing. Good God, his head was swimming. They were half drunk. "All right, I can't lie about that. But I'm a woman, after all. When a man does those things to me I must respond." She was silent for thirty seconds before she spoke again. "Where did you go?"
"In here to change clothes," he uttered.
"For an hour? Admit you were with her," Joyce said.
He thought about denying it, but he wasn't really ashamed. He'd enjoyed it and if they were going to get any lasting benefit from their mate swapping it was time they told each other the truth.
"All right. We were together," Jim said glumly.
"Where?"
"In the linen closet," he shot back. "Good God."
"It wasn't what you thought," he sniffed. 'It was an accident. We stalked in there for a simple and pure reason: to find me a bathing suit. She kept looking and I kept helping her and ... well, pretty soon we got too close. She couldn't help herself. I know that."
Joyce made a sound. "Nuts to that, dear husband. Don't you know when you've been seduced?"
Jim was stunned. "But I did the seducing."
"Tell me just how."
Hesitantly, he related some of the graphic details to his wife.
"You see? She set you up, you poor naive thing. Scott told me she had hot pants for you and that she was going to trick you into making the first move. Apparently things went exactly the way she planned."
Jim bit his lips as he lay on his back, studying the ceiling. Joyce was also on her back, hands folded behind her head, breasts jutting beautifully. He turned his head toward her and admired the profile. In that instant he wanted her very badly.
"You know," he murmured, "there's something to the message they've been giving us. I enjoyed being with Helen, but I loved you more when it was over. I was actually hot for you, Joyce-just like I am right now."
She turned her head and their eyes met. "I know. Scott lectured me all the time he was fucking me, after we were alone...."
"Don't use that word," he snapped.
"Look, darling, if we're going to be sexual realists, successful swappers, we've got to treat sex in a down-to-earth fashion. That means telling it like it is. Scott was fucking me and that's a fact. And he told me about how he and Helen love to have people down here for their swap weekends. They do it in the city, too, but it's more dangerous because of his position at the bank and all."
Jim sniffed. "I can understand that. As I said, Helen was very good and she gave me plenty of ideas, ideas that I can't wait to try on you."
Joyce's giggle was a familiar sound from the past. It was a sound he'd hardly heard from her since their honeymoon. He smiled at her and his eyebrows went up.
"I can't wait, either, darling. I'm not sure all of this is right for us, not yet, anyhow. But I know we've been at least partly straightened out today. I'd like to believe that swapping is good and healthy for our marriage because-and God forgive me for this-I sure as hell like a little strange meat in me once in a while."
"Joyce!"
She was looking at the ceiling again and so he did, too, because they were too embarrassed to look at each other. "That's right, honey. And I've got to tell you something else that's been bothering me. If you can find it in your heart to forgive me, then it won't have been a wasted experience."
He stiffened. "What are you talking about?"
"I've had another ... urn, lover."
"I see."
"I pray you do. It's the milkman, but that's all over now. I felt guilty doing it with him behind your back. I wished many times that we would have been caught and you could have punished me. It didn't work because I couldn't share the experience with you, don't you see?"
Strangely enough, Jim did see. He'd felt the same way when he was shacked up with Sally at the office. If only Joyce could have been watching, he'd often thought, she could be learning, storing away things they could share together at home. "I know," he admitted. "I've felt the same way."
He felt her body stiffen. "You have? Who was she?"
"Sally. At the office. Scott's secretary. She sleeps around a lot."
"So does the milkman. All along his route."
Jim was able to force a brittle laugh. "Maybe we should mate them with each other."
He felt the bed shake as she also tried to laugh. But then they were silent, each very self-conscious. He knew that if they could only relax, now that they had confessed all, they could make it very well together. He waited perhaps ten minutes and then he draped his arm across her breasts.
She sucked in air and let it out very slowly, telling him that she was relaxed and ready, that it was all right.
He was about to wrap his fingers around a breast and begin making love to his wife when the tiny scratching sound came at the door. He rolled to his back at once and they lay side by side, like two Egyptian mummies.
"Quiet," he whispered. "Pretend you're asleep until we know what's happening."
"All right," she whispered.
His body was tingling, but he believed that something exciting was going to happen.