Breeding Shirley The Trophy Wife
- 2 years ago
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SophomoreChapter 17: Shirley Breaks The News free porn video
We slept late on Tuesday morning and went downstairs to discover a note from Suzanne saying she had ridden to work with John because they were going to pick up their new cars after work. We were to drive her car.
Ned must have heard the garage door open. He came downstairs and filled us in on what was really happening with the cars. My car was being traded in.
"John decided to let them have the limo too. We seldom use it any more; besides, it's seen better days."
While I was sorry to know my four-year old car was being traded in, I was pleased with its replacement. Suzanne's car was a 1987 Mercedes 560 SEC Coupe, dark grey with leather interior, a sunroof and power all around.
"It's hardly broken in," Ned said as we got in the car. He was standing next to driver's door, looking like he wanted to say something else. I rolled down the window.
"Sammy, did you get a chance to talk to John?"
"Not yet, but I will," I assured him.
"I know you will."
"Hey, are you guys going to Alice's wedding?"
He smiled and nodded. "Yes, but we'll have to leave early. Tonya's going to baby-sit, but this is the first time we've left the baby with anyone."
"Good, maybe I'll have some news by Friday."
"There's no rush. I don't know if Penelope will be interested. I haven't said anything to her."
Shirley waited until we were on our way before asking anything. She was dressed for the office, wearing a plaid skirt, a white tennis sweater with red trim that I had given her, and knee socks. Her hair was spun into a bun at the back of her head, making the locket chain look tiny against her long, bare neck. We were wearing our raincoats, but I had chosen to wear jeans and a sweatshirt.
"What was that about?"
"I suggested that Molly may need to cut back on her work schedule and Penelope may want to fill in. Ned agreed that it would make sense, but I didn't know he was this keen on the idea until just now."
"What makes you think Molly wants to retire?"
"I didn't say she should retire. What I'm suggesting is that she cut back."
"You really haven't thought this through, have you?"
I nudged the accelerator and felt the powerful engine respond. The steering wheel fit my hands like the smooth skin of a beautiful woman's hips. I was in control, making her purr. In the windshield I could see her reflection but which one was it? Karen Parker grinned back at me, but it was Sheila Evans' eyes that were simmering with desire.
Shirley's voice made the woman's reflection vanish. "Sammy?"
"I was just thinking what a fine ride this is," I said, remembering what a fine ride Karen and Sheila had been.
"Betsy won't allow anyone else in her kitchen. She and Molly have words every time a tool is put away in the wrong place. I saw it happen time and again when I was here last summer."
"Betsy's getting along in years too. They're both going to have to retire someday."
"Who's going to tell them they're being replaced with a younger woman? You?"
I had driven Suzanne's car before but this was the first time I was driving it as the owner. What should have been a joyful occasion was turning into an argument with my girlfriend and she was making some valid points.
"I believe Molly's having trouble climbing the stairs. She may want to cut back. There's no harm in suggesting the idea to John," I said as I pulled into Suzanne's parking spot.
"It's more complicated than you think, Sammy. People don't like being reminded they're getting old. Molly's a proud lady. I wouldn't want to be the one to suggest that she cut back and I don't think Mr. Oldham will want to do it either."
I opened the door for her and followed her to the elevator.
"She can't work forever, no one can," I said as we rode the elevator to the sixth floor.
"I can see that you're determined to stick your nose where it doesn't belong. Please remember that I warned you when this backfires."
The elevator door opened and we stepped out. "See you at lunchtime," I offered.
"Think about what I said," she smiled, touching my cheek with the back of her hand as we went our separate ways, Shirley to sales and me to engineering.
While I knew she had a point, I was determined to find out if Mr. Oldham would entertain the idea of Penelope taking over part of the housekeeping duties. I had promised Ned that I would inquire about it and owed him an answer, even if it was not to his liking.
Tom Pierce gave me an overview of the projects in progress and left me alone to study the plans, changes to the plans, and the correspondence regarding the changes. There were three buildings in various states of completion. I paid special attention to the Atlanta building because of the trip Mr. Oldham and I would be taking during my Christmas break. In fact, I spent the entire morning reading the correspondence and discovered the reason for the trip; the Atlanta building was in danger of never being built because of land issues.
Shirley met me in the cafeteria and we talked about what we had done that morning, our visit to Cromwell the next day, Suzanne desperately wanting the announcement of her engagement to appear in the newspaper, Thanksgiving dinner at the club, and Alice's wedding. We talked about everything except our disagreement that morning over my attempt to replace Molly with Penelope.
"How do you think Suzanne will take it if we go back to school on Saturday instead of Sunday?" she asked as we left the cafeteria.
"It depends," I laughed.
"It depends on what?"
"It depends on how many people see the announcement, how many people congratulate her and how many go gaga over the ring. If the announcement doesn't make it into the newspaper I wouldn't dare ask if we can leave early."
"Do you really think that's the reason we're having Thanksgiving dinner at the club?"
"It may be to give Betsy the day off but I suspect it's because she wants to show off that ring," I laughed.
We were leaving the cafeteria when I saw a blond with short hair that I thought I recognized.
"Hello, Miss Pennington," the guy sitting with the blond said as he rose to his feet.
"Hello, Marvin," Shirley said, "Sammy, this is Marvin. He works in..."
"H.R.," I finished her sentence, extending my hand. Marvin was about three inches taller than me. He was very serious, but didn't say anything about our exchange of email.
"Aren't you going to say hello to me, Sammy?"
The voice was familiar. I turned to Shirley and we said, "Wanda?" in unison.
"This is all that's left of the old Wanda," she laughed, holding one thumb up for us to see. The nail was painted black.
Shirley was the first to recover. "Are you working here now, Wanda?"
"I'm in the Finance department, working on spreadsheets, nothing too taxing."
"Wanda's way too humble. She's doing some fine analytical work, Mr. Oldham," Marvin said. He was still standing.
"Please sit down and finish your lunch, Marvin. It's nice to see you doing well, Wanda," I said, taking Shirley's hand and saying goodbye to the couple.
We were both anxious to go back to work and didn't comment about seeing Wanda and Marvin together.
I studied the Atlanta file all afternoon and made copies of the most telling correspondence. Tom Pierce said the project was on hold because one of the landowners was being unreasonable. Two parcels were under contract but the project couldn't begin until the third parcel was secured.
"I understand your dad is taking you along to see if you can change the old bird's mind," Tom Pierce said.
"The old bird?"
"The owner is a widow. She's being unreasonable because she knows we can't build without her parcel. It's only an acre but it's right on the highway, making the other two parcels land-locked without it."
"What's the old bird's name?"
"Mrs. Holly Collier. Her husband was a badass real estate tycoon. We hear she's trying to follow in his footsteps by employing his underhanded tactics."
This sounded interesting. I wondered why John Oldham was taking me along to meet the old bird. Wanting to be prepared, I made copies of everything else in the file.
I also wrote an email to Cassie asking if she knew when her family was going to move to Atlanta. Talk about underhanded tactics; in a round about way, I was asking a thirteen-year-old how serious the Atlanta land problem was. If she wrote back saying her family's move was being postponed, it was pretty serious.
It was still misting when we left for the day, and every swish of the windshield wipers gave me a different image. One moment Karen was grinning back at me and the next Sheila's open mouth was gasping for air.
Shirley's voice broke the spell. "Do you want to talk about it, honey?"
What was she saying? Call it stubbornness on my part, but I knew I was going through with my plan to phase Penelope in as the Oldham housekeeper. I also knew I didn't want to have another discussion with Shirley about it.
"Not really."
"I've been thinking about what happened yesterday and I believe we need to talk about it," Shirley persisted.
"Oh, that. I thought you liked it."
"I did. That's what I wanted to tell you. For a minute I thought you might stop. I don't always mean what I say. Do you understand?"
"I think so. You like it when I assert myself, regardless of what you say."
"I liked what we did yesterday. That's all I'm going to say about it."
"Which would you prefer, being surprised or being told what I'm going to do in advance?"
She didn't answer and I became so engrossed with watching the windshield wipers that I let my mind wander. Swish, Sheila's mouth was open as she watched me, waiting patiently. Her skin felt soft and responsive. Swish, Karen grinned back at me, waiting patiently. Swish, Sheila's tongue licked her lips. Swish, Karen's grin faded.
"It depends," Shirley finally spoke; making me realize it was the steering wheel that felt soft, not Sheila's skin. Shirley was grinning, sheepishly.
"What does it depends on?" I asked, looking to see that she was taking the combs out of her hair.
"I like to be surprised, like yesterday. I like spontaneity."
"Does that mean you don't want to know what I'm going to do tonight?"
She shook her head, making her hair hang loose. "No, don't tell me."
I changed the subject, telling her I had discovered the reason for the trip to Atlanta. "An owner of one of the parcels of land is being difficult."
"How long will you be gone?"
"I don't know. As long as it takes, I guess."
She became pensive and we were entering the garage at home when she spoke. "Sammy?"
Her mouth was open, slightly, reminding me of the way Sheila had looked back at me that day in her kitchen. But Shirley closed her mouth and swallowed, making me forget Sheila.
"Yes sweetie?"
We were parked in the garage but the engine was still purring. Absent mindedly, I turned the key and removed it from the ignition.
"What are you going to do to me?"
"Tonight?"
"Uh huh."
"I thought you didn't want to know," I teased.
"I've changed my mind. I want to know."
We heard one of the other garage doors open, but didn't turn to see who was driving into the garage. I was vaguely aware that a car door was being closed as I began talking.
"We'll go upstairs and you'll put your diaphragm in."
Another garage door opened as Shirley nodded her understanding of my order.
"While we're having dinner you'll use words that begin with the letter D so I know you're thinking of the diaphragm and what we're going to do later."
Shirley nodded. A car door closed and we heard Mr. Oldham and Suzanne talking.
"When we go upstairs to bed you will remove all your clothes, go into the bathroom and wait for me."
Shirley nodded again. We heard the garage doors close and someone knocked on my window.
"Sammy, what's so important. Don't you want to see our new cars?" Suzanne asked.
"If she only knew what's so important," I muttered as we reluctantly halted our discussion and got out of the car.
They were like two kids at Christmas, honking their horns and tuning their radios to the same stations. We admired the cars, but not with half the excitement Mr. Oldham and Suzanne showed.
Suzanne's car was silver with red leather interior. We opened the doors and took long whiffs of the new car smell, looked at the engines and peeked in the trunks. Mr. Oldham's car was black with tan interior. I got in the back seat and playfully pulled Shirley inside with me.
Suzanne bemoaned the fact that it had been raining when she drove her new car home. Ned's car was the only dry one in the garage.
Eventually, Suzanne decided to leave her new car in the safety of the garage and check the newspaper to see if the engagement announcement made today's paper. She read the announcement out loud before deciding she wanted me to go out and buy six more papers. Mr. Oldham volunteered to ride along with me.
This was a good time to broach the subject of Penelope taking over some of the housekeeping duties.
"Have you noticed how feeble Molly is becoming, Sir?"
"We're alone, Sammy. You can call me Dad."
I wanted to laugh. Only a week ago he told me he loved me and for me to call him John, but not Dad. Was he becoming senile? Somehow, I knew he was serious.
"Are you saying to call you Dad when were alone and John in public?"
"No, I've reconsidered and changed my mind. I'm thirty-six years older than you. I think Dad would be more appropriate than John."
He looked at me, waiting for me to say something. "Okay... Dad," I said and watched him smile.
I stopped at a convenience store and ran inside to pick up the papers. When I got back into the car Mr. Oldham was ready to answer my question about Molly and by the time we got back home we were in agreement; provisions would be made for Molly's retirement and Penelope would be phased into the role of housekeeper. What we hadn't considered was how the distaff side would react to the idea.
By the time dinner was over I wished I had never mentioned the idea of Penelope replacing Molly. What should have been a festive occasion turned into a debate, women vs. men and we would have lost if it hadn't been for Shirley being at the disadvantage of having to use words that began with the letter D.
She worked three words beginning with the letter D into every sentence, using disastrous debacle to describe my idea. Suzanne and Mr. Oldham caught on to our little game.
"What's going on?" Suzanne insisted to know when Shirley referred to me as a decadent dense dunce.
Shirley looked at me, obviously embarrassed but yielded to Suzanne's demand. "My depraved degenerate boyfriend is playing a mind game with me. His demand for me to use words beginning with the letter D was designed to make me think of my diaphragm."
This brought an end to the debate. Mr. Oldham cleared his throat and for once, Suzanne was mute.
Shirley wasn't finished. "Do you desire a dish of delicious dessert, dear?" she asked, breaking the tension in the room. We helped clear the table and retreated to my room.
The prelude to our actual sexual activity produced the desired result. Shirley accepted my instructions to remove all her clothes and wait for me in the bathroom, and after a few minutes of anticipation she played my 'driving the fine automobile' game as a willing participant.
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