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The chips weren't quite as crisp as they would have been earlier, and the fish's batter was stuck like glue to the butcher's paper. After few minutes, dressed haphazardly, our girls came out and we all ate our slightly soggy fish and chips together. They were looking like they were feeling guilty about something. Gae and I ignored it all and just ate the food. Stale chish and fips are vastly improved by additional lashings of dead horse and ginevar, especially when they're stale.*
Next morning I took both girls to school, while Gae went home to find something more appropriate to wear. What she was wearing last night was designed and worn specifically for rapid ease of removal.
Kim said, "You know, don't you, Pop?"
"I know what, Kimbo?" It just proves she's female.
"About Marilyn and me."
"Last night I told Gae that one of the things I have issues with about women, is that instead of saying something like, 'Pop, Marilyn and I are now lovers, and we are really enjoying it;' what I get instead is a hundred-question guessing game with no possible way of guessing the answers. If you had said the latter to me, I would say to you both, 'That's nice, girls. Would you like a bit more private time, or would you like to do it in the loungeroom watching TV to keep me company?'"
In the rear seat there was absolute silence. The rear-view mirror told me that Marilyn was covering her face with her hand wishing that she could fall through the floor and disappear. I kept my mouth shut.
"Pop, Marilyn and I are now lovers, and we are both really enjoying it."
In the rear-view mirror Marilyn was hiding her eyes with one hand, and punching Kim in the upper arm with the other. Her face was scarlet with embarrassment.
"That's nice, dear. What do you feel like for tea, tonight?
"Aw, I was going to say the loungeroom, watching TV."
"That's up to you two; it would be all right by me. Homework first might be a good idea though. After you have made love, so you will be a bit calmer, or after doing your homework? I think: homework, prepare and eat dinner, then watch TV with me while you play around. Pork chops and mashed spuds all right for both of you? I'll buy some Granny Smith apples on the way home and make some apple sauce. You two can string some beans."
It worked out exactly that way, except that Gae was with us and I was diddling her under the skirt of her dress, and Marilyn sat on Kimbo's lap as she was diddled. Gae was wearing another mini sundress, and Kim insisted that Marilyn be the only naked one in the room, so a production was made of it. Marilyn almost died of acute embarrassment, but she also came often with little squeaks and whines. Gae peeked at them all evening and there was a wet spot on the lounge beneath where Kim sat, which sort of stuck out like dog's balls on our faded burnt-orange coloured lounge.
There wasn't anything like little squeaks as Gae came. Watching the two girls while I diddled her clit made her come often and noisily into my mouth as she kissed me. At a few points they were coming in tandem. I was wet in that spot under Gae, saving that part of the lounge from staining. I would much rather have everything out in the open and accepted than creating unnecessary issues which should not exist.
"Pop?"
"Yes, Kimbo?"
"You do realise that I'm not a lesbian, don't you?"
"I thought you were two best friends experimenting, Honey. I think you might be a bit young yet to decide if you are one way or the other, or maybe a bit of both. Whatever you become will be fine by me."
"I think a bit of both. But it's no secret that boys don't think I'm pretty. Girls don't, either."
"I do, because the real you inside is 'Miss Australia'. Even if that's so, don't shame yourself to prove anything."
"I don't understand, Pop. The more I embarrass Marilyn, the hotter she gets."
"Put a dog clip on her nipple."
"What?'
"I don't know, it's just an educated guess. Next time we get together watch how that affects Gae."
"Oh!"
Gae had a week of nights, then another week of dogwatch, then another five days off. Her next shift after that would be two weeks straight of day shift.
Gae discovered she disliked sleeping alone. Her current abode was a rental where the lease terminated in about a month. She began 'the hundred-question guessing game' until I grumped at her. Then she asked outright if Marilyn and she could move in here when her lease was up. The oddness of the question was that Marilyn had nearly lived here permanently for months, as it is still the case that we were Gae's fall-back when her schedule clashed with how the rest of humanity actually existed. Nurse's schedules even clash with other nurse's schedules!
I said I would like nothing better, as I didn't like sleeping away from her anymore.
She groaned, pushed her face into my neck and said for the first time, "I love you, John."
She said that a lot from then on, and I thought I may even have begun to believe her. How do I really feel? My chest feels like I have halfway eaten a lead weight every time I see her. I'm beginning to hate 'doggy shift' as she sleeps all day and is having her morning when I'm finishing work. Then she works nights, right when I need the comfort of her loving warm body, as selfish as that makes me sound.
The sex we can have at any time whether we are alone or not, but I miss the cuddles! I have never actually felt this way before. I thought I'd had it with Brenda, yet now I realised that I only knew the starting. My bitterness over the loss of someone who wasn't worth spitting on had been misplaced. I had to have faith. Life's a gamble and if I don't gamble, I can't win the prize. If I lose the gamble ... I really don't want to contemplate that possibility. If I'd've felt this way as I did about Gae when I was over there, I seriously doubt I would have acted in such a stupid manner.
I played with Gae's nipples until it looked like she had .303 bullets on her breasts. I told her to take her tee shirt off. She slipped it off while watching our daughters obliquely. She said that she didn't want Marilyn to think she was a slut.
I whispered into her ear, "You are a slut, Gae. You're my slut; only I can use you."
I placed a dog clip on each of her nipples. She gushed all over my lap and squealed, loudly.
"If you're not my slut, you can take the clips off quite easily. If you are my slut, you will hold your cunt open so I can place a clip on your clitty, and Marilyn and Kim can watch." My erection was inside her vagina, our union barely covered with an ultra-short denim miniskirt.
She stuck her face into my neck, undid the zip on the side of the skirt, and lifted it over her head, tossing it towards our room. She glared at the girls, daring them to comment, then held her vulva open to display her clit. It was a quarter-inch long, white swelling, surrounded by red inflammation, so the black dogclip, a tiny one, fitted in nicely. Gae wrapped her arms around my neck and kissed me, pushing her mouth hard against mine. She pushed her tongue inside my mouth, then came, and came, and came. I had to carry her to bed; she was unable to walk since her legs no longer operated, and she came some more. I impressed Kim with my guess on how Gae would react.
"Say it loud so our horny little girls will hear. What are you, Gae?"
"I'm your slut, John."
"What will you do my slut?"
"I will do anything you say, anything at all, except have sex with another man. I'm your private slut! I love you, and am proud to be your slut."
"Goodnight, ladies. Friday tomorrow, Kim! Make sure your slut is wearing panties. I don't want to see her vagina in the rear view again, even though the boys at school will undoubtedly complain. Marilyn, obey your mistress as your slut of a mother obeys me. If you're really good I will allow Kimbo to put dog clips on you, too. Good night."
Marilyn then came loudly enough for us to hear in the bedroom; she must have liked that idea. In bed I left the clips on: I was still inside her from the lounge, her legs wrapped around my waist, and she was enjoying our harmless little game of pain and shame.
Next morning on the way to school I had to remind the girls that it was only a game. It was to be played away from the public eye, and was definitely for home consumption only. Kim then removed the extra-thick marker pen from Marilyn's bottom, and I reminded her to wash it.
♫
Kim, Marilyn and I were spread around the lounge room, which looked like a Boy Scout's paper collection depot. Gae was due home in half an hour. I was collating the second form yearly exam results, and then was going to start on third form. Kim and I were singing Otis Redding's version of Sitting on the Dock of the Bay - our music operates on a different level to our minds; the only thing that stops us is if our mouths were otherwise occupied.
Last night my erection was filling Gae's greased anus, Marilyn was kneeling between Kimmy's knees and noisily licking, while the rest of us were all watching MAS*H. Well, maybe Gae wasn't. She could have been a little preoccupied, being a titch anal-centric. Maybe Marilyn either, from her point of view of having her vision blocked. Meanwhile my mate and I were singing Hank William's Your Cheating Heart; then Roy Orbison's Pretty Paper and Crying; and Patsy Cline's Walkin' After Midnight. Like I said, at a different level.
Anyway, this afternoon Marilyn passed me a sheet of paper while I was in deep concentration, trying to not give the wrong kid the wrong mark. I would never be forgiven for that. Um, Lonesome Me, then Kiss An Angel Good Morning, leading to Gordon Parsons' and Slim Dusty's, A Pub with No Beer for a giggle. The paper had on it, written in Marilyn's mousy scribble, what looked like a poem. I glanced at it then finished the listings. Then I looked at the poem again.
It was simple, and quasi-erotic. It emotionally told about a girl's love, which was fated to end. She knew that, before it started, but needed her lover's body for warmth and company. It had a title of Temporary Company on top, then I realised that it wasn't a poem but a song, complete with a repeated refrain. It would be almost as long as A Whiter Shade of Pale, but at least this made sense.
I could hear in my head a tune which would tie the thing together, but it wasn't one I remembered hearing anywhere before. I stopped singing and Kim looked up at me in surprise. I can't read music, or play a musical instrument; you need fingers on your left hand even if it was just to hold the thing still, and you can't strum with your elbow. Kimbo put down her pen, closed her exercise book and rubbed her eyes.
I moved to sit beside her and hummed the small melody from my head which seemed to go with the words naturally as she read it, then we played with how a word, and a note, could be stretched, to lead into the next line without the need of a breath. I marked those two lines, which were to be joined in red pencil.
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