On the Beach Ch. 15
Muriel plays matchmaker. There’s girl-girl, MM, MF and of course incest. Consider yourself warned.
Any errors that remain I managed to slip past LarryInSeattle.
Enjoy. Helpful comments appreciated.
“William, honey come up here and help me with the pizza would you?”
Muriel’s request results in a series of hoots and hollers from his siblings.
“William? Uh-oh, somebody’s in a heap of trouble,” Mark razzes.
“William, be a deah and hep me with these greezzy ole pizza pie boxes,” Jill intones in her best southern belle drawl.
“Jill, you making fun of my accent?” Muriel calls down to the pool as Bill makes his way toward the stairs to the deck. “Your momma can still spank you, you know.”
“No she won’t,” Jill retorts. “She knows I might like it.”
Meg shakes her head at her daughter. Her father stifles a smile.
“What do you mean, you might like it?” Jim asks, giving her his best lecherous look.
“Ask me later, big boy,” she growls.
“If that was supposed to be Mae West, it sucked,” Mark tells her, eyes closed and face tilted to the sun.
“Meanie head,” Jill pouts. She proceeds to destroy the pretense of irritation by splashing across the pool and jumping in her brother’s arms. He hears her coming in time to step away from the wall, preventing her from scraping her knees on the side of the pool. Instinctively, his arms go around her waist.
“What are you doing?”
“Swing me around, like you used to.”
“You were like, I don’t know, 5 then. You only weighed like 50 pounds. And you weren’t naked back then.”
“Are you calling me fat?” Before Mark can answer, Jill splashes water in his face. He glares at her. She smiles. He drops to his butt, dunking them both. When they surface, Jill squeals and sputters in delight. Mark’s hands are still around her waist. He lets the water cascade over his face. Jill puts her hands on his shoulders and pulls herself close. She kisses her brother quickly on the lips as her legs leave his hips. Her pussy slides over his dick as she stands.
“I want you to know the best part of this weekend, apart from Jim finally manning up enough to stop ignoring me, is knowing you don’t dislike me.”
There isn’t a hint of jest in her voice.
“No, sis. I’ve never disliked you,” Mark tells her. “And I’m happy to know I was wrong about you not liking me.” He leans, kisses her softly, and steps back to rest against the side of the pool. From the pool steps he hears his mom sniffling. “See what you did, sis? You made mom cry.”
Jill sticks her tongue out at him, her own eyes shining. Jim opens his arms and she settles in against his chest.
On the pools steps, Ben raises one arm and Meg leans in under it to rest her head on his chest.
Mark, momentarily on his own, looks over his shoulder at the house, wondering what Muriel is up to with his brother. He’s not worried, not in the least, but he suspects she’s up to something.
“I was thinking we’d eat down by the pool. The ocean breeze has been keeping the mosquitos inland. It looks to be turning into a beautiful twilight.”
“Sounds fine by me,” Bill assures her. “As long as stuff doesn’t start to blow in the pool.”
Muriel nods. “I think we should leave the pizza inside, nothing stops the damn flies. Everyone can grab a paper plate and what they want to drink.”
“Floors going to get wet.”
Muriel nods at her young friend. “That is a flaw in my plan now, isn’t it?” She gives a single jerk of her head. “You’re right. The pizza will be in boxes. We’ll set ’em out on the table on the deck. We can throw some beer and soda into a cooler and I’ll bring down a bottle of wine from my place. I got plenty of plastic cups. We won’t have to worry about glass around the pool.”
“I’ll stick some of our beer in. It’s in cans,” Bill agrees. “Ours is down by the car. I’ll go grab it.” He looks around the room. “I thought I left my shorts up here,” he mutters to himself.
“Don’t worry about it, honey. It’ll take Jim a bit to fix up that many pizzas. We’re at the end of the road. Unless, you see someone taking a walk, you’ll be fine to go down and get the cooler. Shoot, if anyone does see your bare ass they’ll probably consider themselves lucky.”
Bill shrugs and turns toward the front door. Muriel stops him. “Bill, I keep that freezer chest full of ice. It’s locked but the combination is 1,2,3,5. Throw some ice in the cooler would you, honey?”
“No sweat. The first four primes isn’t a very safe combination you know,” he adds.
“No but it’s a very safe neighborhood. And aren’t you clever.”
Bill shrugs and this time when he turns, Muriel lets him go. She taps her front tooth with one thumbnail. Her timing might be off but in the end she won’t let a little thing like that stop her. For the first time in hours she’s not worrying about what to do about Mark. She finds that comforting.
Owen’s ankara escort car practically knows its own way around Kill Devil Hills. That’s good; he’s not paying much attention as he drives. He’s trying to figure out what the fuck is up with Jim. The fucker knows he needs the money, so why is he telling him to knock off after this delivery? Fine, this customer is great tipper. Big deal, it’s a couple hours until they close. Sure it’s quiet but a couple more deliveries is another 5-10, hell maybe more, bucks in his pocket.
Owen knows Muriel, sort of. You can’t grow up here and not at least know of Muriel. She’s damn near a legend. He doesn’t believe most, if any, of the stories he hears. When she’s come into the shop she’s a lot nicer than most folks. She’s a helluva lot nicer than the occasional tourist that wanders into the pizzeria. Not that any of that matters, none of that puts money in his bank account, which the only thing that matters if he wants to go back to school in the fall.
His mind thus occupied, at first he doesn’t notice the naked man leaning over the freezer.
Bill doesn’t hear the car at first, he’s head first in the chest freezer, which, he’s discovered is hardly “full” of ice. There is one twenty-pound bag, side ripped open, frozen to the bottom of the freezer. He’s prying at the bag, wondering if it would be easier to bust the chunks of ice loose or to pull what’s left of the bag free, when he hears the telltale crunch car tires on crushed oyster shell. He considers running for the shelter behind the wood grill that hides the storage area from the street and decides “fuck it”. Whoever it is, the pizza guy he imagines, will have already seen his pasty white ass, damn if he’ll run like a school girl.
He hears the engine die. The goddamn ice will not budge. He hears a car door open and then close. Footsteps crunch, then grow silent as the walker reaches the concrete slab.
Owen takes a moment, making sure he’s actually seeing what he’s seeing. There’s no question about it. A naked man is leaning into a freezer, damn near falling in it. Having confirmed his initial impression, Owen expands his evaluation. It’s definitely a dude. He’s got a nice ass. The way he’s leaning into the freezer exposes his balls. They look to be nice heavy balls. They don’t hang very low, so the dude is either cold or he’s not that old. What he can see of the guy looks nice enough. In his current position, the dude’s muscle definition is hard to assess but Owen sees no evidence that the guy is grossly overweight.
The dude paused for a second when Owen pulled into the driveway. Owen is sure the dude knows there is a car behind him. He considers flashing his lights at the guy but decides against it. This is a very interesting situation. Up until now, he’s decided the stories about what happens to pizza delivery guys is just bad porn but now, looking at a naked dude’s ass, he wonders if maybe those stories might hold a grain of truth; he can hope so anyway. The sight of a naked dude, damn near upside down in a chest freezer, might not seem all that extraordinary to some, but to Owen the sight is most definitely not part of the expected chaos of life on the Outer Banks during the summer season.
He gets out of the car. The dude doesn’t move. Owen is sure the guy isn’t dead; he’d seen him move. Maybe he’s afraid it’s a cop behind him or maybe he’s frozen in shame. He smiles to himself. That’s pretty good, frozen in shame.
“Dude, you okay? You like stuck or something? You didn’t put your tongue on the side of the freezer on a triple dog dare did you?”
Triple dog dare? At least the interloper had good taste in movies.
“Nah, can’t get this fucking ice free. It looks like it’s been in here since Muriel bought the place,” Bill replies without looking up. “You the pizza dude, bro?”
“That’d be me,” Owen replies, looking over Bill’s shoulder, trying to see his face. “You want a screwdriver or something to bust it up with?”
“Fuck yeah. Should have thought of that. There’s probably one back there, in one of the drawers. You mind looking?”
“No need. I got one in my trunk. Be right back.”
Bill hears nothing for a second then the sound of footsteps on crushed shell. He straightens. There is no point he can see in continuing to pry and jerk at the block of ice taunting him from the bottom of the freezer. Besides, he wants to get a look at the pizza dude. He turns and rests his butt against the side of the freezer. The cold air on his back feels strangely hot.
The pizza dude is about his height and thin. He’s blonde, hair short on the sides with a top-knot. Normally, Bill would have scoffed at the top-knot. He had a visceral distrust of hipsters but this guy didn’t carry himself like a hipster. For one thing he wasn’t wearing a tee shirt bearing the name of some unheard of indie rock douches. Nope, the tee shirt was adorned with the cover from Pink Floyd’s “Dark Side of the escort ankara Moon”. Cut off jean shorts and flip-flops, the heel of the left one held together by red duct tape, completed the ensemble. Bill didn’t bother to hide his appraising look. He’s being bold, lacking the energy and inclination for facades and games. Besides, he’s horny as fuck. He’s gotten plenty of sex but he can’t shake the feeling it’s partly pity sex.
Pizza dude smiles as he holds out a screwdriver. He has a good smile. Dimples, enhanced rather than hidden by a carefully tended beard that’s more reddish than blonde. Blue eyes. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Bill tells himself he absolutely will not get a hard-on in front of this guy.
He takes the screwdriver. Pizza dude leaves his now empty hand extended. Bill takes it.
“Owen, pizza delivery man and savior of those in need of ice chipping. Nice to meet you.”
As Bill shakes his hand, Owen let his own eyes wander.
Owen likes what he sees. Naked dude doesn’t appear to be freaking out about being caught naked by a stranger. He doesn’t seem embarrassed by his lack of clothes or about giving Owen the once over. Owen’s spidey sense begins to tingle. He tells himself to fucking relax and not to make the mistake of saying too much too soon.
“Bill, Bill Casey,” the naked man tells him. His handshake is firm. “We’re, my family and I, are renting from Muriel. She asked me to get some ice for the soda and beer. You guys are faster than she thought I guess.”
Owen shrugs, wondering. Jim was being all weird about sending him over here, telling him to knock off for the night after delivering. Had he and Muriel been scheming? He wouldn’t put it past his boss and if the stories about Muriel were even half right, he wouldn’t put it past her. Planned? Serendipity? He doesn’t give a shit at the moment.
When Bill leans back into the freezer Owen leans in as well. He lets his arm touch Bill’s
“I see what you mean, dude. That ice looks like it could have come off the deck of the Titanic. Screw freeing up the bag. It’s all ripped to shit anyway. Bust off some chunks; best you can do.”
Bill nods and chips at the block of ice, aiming for spots were the shape is a slightly more cubish and slightly less amorphous blob. Owen rests beside him. His arm is warm. Bill tries, with limited success, to concentrate on breaking up the ice and not on the heat of Owen’s skin.
He manages to connect with just the right spot and several small to medium size chunks of ice cascade to the floor of the freezer. Owen moves enough to put a hand on Bill’s shoulder.
“Nice one, excellent,” he says as he gives Bill a congratulatory pat.
His voice is easy but inside he’s a mess. He’s berating himself, pissed. He told himself to relax, go slow, yet here he is practically falling all over the guy. Fucking idiot.
When Bill turns, he doesn’t look pissed or unsettled.
“Thanks. I’ll get the ice. You mind running the pizza up to Muriel?”
“Mind? Dude, it’s my fucking job.”
Bill smiles at that. “I thought you were the savior of those who need ice?”
“That’s my super hero gig. Pizza delivery is my cover.” He holds a finger to his lips and gives an exaggerated shush. “Don’t tell anyone. It’s a secret.”
Owen returns to the car, retrieves the four pizzas and tries not to bounce his way up the stairs.
Bill breaths a soft sigh of relief as Owen leaves his side. His dick had started to get hard. The fact that Owen had made a point of helping, and touching, made him suspect the guy might not be totally freaked by seeing him sport wood. On the other hand, maybe he was just a naturally friendly and helpful pizza guy.
He starts to fill the cooler with chunks of ice as Owen bounds past. The smell of the pizza causes his stomach to growl. He hears the faint slight off-key doorbell chime. When he glances up, Owen is looking at him. Bill looks back.
The door opens.
Muriel does a little jig of celebration when she hears the car pull up. The timing couldn’t be more perfect. She resists the urge to go peek out the window beside the front door. Instead, she goes to the patio door. She doesn’t want to holler. She catches Meg’s attention and beckons her with broad sweeps of one arm. Meg stands, and saying something to the others, climbs out of the pool and heads for the deck stairs.
Muriel hurries to the hall closet, fetches five towels and hurries back to the deck. She hands Meg one and sets the others atop one of the small tables. As she turns, Meg puts a hand on her arm.
“Muriel Dyer, what are you up to? You’re jumping around like a kid on Christmas morning.”
Muriel smiles at her friend, at her lover. “You’ll see. I don’t want to jinx anything,” she says as she touches her knuckles to the wooden table, “but I may have out done myself this time.”
She rushes back inside and busies herself setting out the old Corel ware plates and utensils. ankara escort bayan Meg joins her, toweling off her hair. The doorbell rings.
“Come on!” Muriel whispers excitedly, grabbing Meg’s hand.
“I’m naked, Muriel!”
“Oh pish posh. Come on,” Muriel snaps and begins to drag her friend toward the front door.
Meg is still trying to pull away when Muriel opens the front door. She feels her face flush at the sight of the very attractive young man standing in the doorway. Behind him she sees Bill. She notes the fact he’s still naked. She also notes the fact that her son’s eyes are on the pizza guy. The pizza guy turns. He’s surprised to be greeted by two naked women but manages to hide the fact.
“Ms. Dyer, here are your pizzas.”
“Don’t you dare ‘Ms. Dyer’ me Owen Brock. Sorry about our state of undress. You got here awfully fast. I’ll make the introductions later. Give Meg and me those boxes and be a dear and help Bill lug that cooler up here, will you?”
Owen shrugs. “Sure, no sweat.”
“I’m going to close the door so the bugs don’t get in,” Muriel tells him as he turns to head down the stairs to the driveway. She closes the door. As soon as it’s closed, she turns to Meg and gives a little squeal of delight. “Isn’t he the sweetest thing you’ve laid eyes on, leastways since leaving the pool?” she giggles to her friend. “And did you see the way he and Bill were staring at each other? Goddamn it, Meg, I’m telling you sometimes I even amaze myself.”
“Muriel, you didn’t? You did, didn’t you? You conniving wench you. What if the young man isn’t gay? What if they don’t hit it off? For that matter, what if he is gay, is interested in Bill but not in the rest of us naked bunch of whachadoodles? Huh, what about that?”
Muriel flaps a hand at her friend. “Don’t be such a dip, Meg. Jesus. Scoot, I don’t want to be standing here all nosy like when they come in. Scoot.”
Ben walks through the patio door as the two women set the pizza on top of the breakfast bar. He can tell at a glance the women are up to something. He shakes his head, wondering if he really wants to know. As if reading his mind, Meg turns to him.
“Muriel is trying to set up Bill with a young man,” she says shaking her head.
“Kidding about what, dad?” Jill asks from behind him.
“Never you mind, just come on in and act normal,” Muriel snaps, once more flapping a hand at them. It’s the exact gesture her grandmother used when she wanted a much younger Muriel to stop being silly, a fact that escapes Muriel.
The front door bangs open. Everyone turns. When Jill sees her brother and Owen, cooler between them, she smiles.
Muriel begins the introductions as calmly as if she were introducing folks at church instead a bunch of nude folks to a stranger.
“Everyone, this is Owen. He works, if that what you can call slaving for Jim, at the pizzeria, which, on pain of death, you are prohibited from knowing about unless you live here year round. Owen, honey, these folks are the Casey family.” Owen dips his head toward the crowd in front of him. He and Bill are still holding the cooler. “Those two over there are Mark and Jim, they’re twins,” she says with a smile as Jim shakes his head. “That’s Jill and these two are their parents, Meg and Ben.
“Boys, set that cooler down. It won’t hurt the floor none. The rest of you all help me carry this stuff down to the pool. It’s too nice a night to be inside. You boys, throw some soda and beer in the cooler and bring it down. Owen, Jim said you was done for the evening. Can you join us, honey? Or are you sick of pizza?”
“You sure I’m not intruding?”
“You’re right, Owen. I’m be awfully bossy in someone else’s house. Y’all okay with Owen joining us for a bite of supper?”
“Of course,” Ben answers promptly. “I got the beer. You boys go on down to the pool. Maybe Owen will want to cool off with a dip before he eats.” Ben gives Owen a rueful smile. “You might have noticed we’re not big on swimming suits but we can find you one easy enough.”
“Thanks, for the invite. It’s very nice of you.” He hesitates and then nods. “Sure, I’ll stay if y’all are sure it’s not too much of an inconvenience.”
“Don’t be silly,” Meg says, giving him a one arm hug, careful not to let her breast touch his arm. “We’ve got plenty of food and we’re all getting a little sick of each other. A new voice in the conversation will be a Godsend. Go on, Bill can find you a suit if you want. I’ll help Ben with the cooler.”
“Come on, Owen,” Bill says, waving him over with one hand. “There’s no point in arguing with them.” He turns to Muriel. “Your freezer combination appears to have been compromised. There was only one, really old, bag of ice in it.”
“Well, doesn’t that just beat all,” Muriel sighs. “I’ll have to change the combination I suppose.”
The two men disappear down the stairs leading to the basement.
Jill looks at Muriel, smiles and gives her two thumbs up.
Mark picks up the pizza boxes. He leans over and kisses Muriel on the cheek. “I assume you planned this,” he says, smiling at her. She nods.
“It hit me all of sudden…” she begins.