Frey Palter was twenty-six years old, devilishly handsome, and he lived in the home of his parents that was located in the Anaheim Hills of California among significant major league sports figures, executives, musicians, and politicians. Frey maintained his lifestyle by acquiring properties, turning them into “Old Folk’s Homes” and then selling them to hospital corporations just as his father had done. It was brilliantly unglamorous and profitable. Frey Palter had moved his own parents into such a facility.
Frey was the boyfriend of Jazmyn who worked in the Siliconex Quality Control (QC) Lab with me. Jazmyn’s family was wealthy and she did not have to work in a laboratory and yet she chose to do so in a cute effort at independence.
Call me Nathan.
Siliconex made silicone prosthetics, primarily breast implants. When first I was hired into the Siliconex QC Lab I was required to spend a month in Production alongside the Technicians to learn how breast implants were made and thus understand what might cause flaws for which the QC Lab would be looking. Most of the Technicians were young women all of whom were gowned in special jumpsuits and wearing hairnets and gloves.
The silicone breast “skins” were made by carefully hand-dipping various breast-shaped molds into proprietary fluid silicone using a shaft handle in order to acquire a thin layer of fluid silicone, all the while being vigilant not to allow formation of tiny bubbles or ripples. The shafted breast molds resembled enormous lollypops. Those silicone covered molds then were cured upright on their shafts in an ultraviolet ray oven. Ultimately these “skins” were peeled off of the molds and filled to their volume and shape with either water or gelatinous silicone. Samples of those prosthetic breasts were then “spected” (tested to specification) with such devices as tensile (tension) machines that pulled them like taffy until they ruptured. Finally they were sterilized on carts in big walk-in chambers, using Ethylene Oxide gas. Ethylene Oxide gas is an irritant, it is carcinogenic, and in pure form it is explosive.
The Production Technician who was assigned to me as a mentor was Tori. Tori had an unavoidable personality and a fierce work ethic derived from her second-generation Polish family. She was audibly critical of any dawdling co-workers. She had what they call a thick athletic body but she was very feminine and I thought she was alluring. We became friendly by discussing the online soap operas that were piped into the work area sound system. All the ladies in the room listened and discussed episodes as they marched among their duties. It was fun, actually. I laughed to Tori that after a few weeks I was actually “hooked” on those soap operas.
Tori would smile and sweetly say, “Seeeee?” and so we flirted. But I already had a girl friend. And Tori already had a boyfriend.
Tori was responsible for taking samples to the QC Lab for testing and as part of my training I accompanied her. She would bring the breast implant samples to Jazmyn and so I learned that Tori and Jazmyn were good friends. I think that Tori respected Jazmyn’s effort to be independent in her life, even though Jazmyn was sheltered and naïve. I think that Jazmyn was drawn by the gravity of Tori’s boldness. Jazmyn was tall, slender and gentle.
Jazmyn said to Tori, “I really had fun last night.”
I had to ask, “Where did you guys go?”
Jazmyn smiled and while still looking at Tori she pronounced, “Polka dancing!”
Tori said to me, “You bet’cha Polka dancing. Not easy, is it, Jazmyn?”
Jazmyn confirmed to me earnestly, “That was the hardest work-out I’ve had in a long time,” and then she laughed and danced a little waltz and hopped a little jig, singing, “Hippety hop, to the barber shop, To buy a stick of candy…,” reciting a poem of which the rhythm hinted at the Polka.
Frey Palter had showed up at our lab early one Thursday afternoon to pick-up Jazmyn.
Introducing Frey to me Jazmyn said, “You two have something in common: you both play guitar.”
Frey raised one eyebrow, “Oh, yeah? Come to my place tonight and we can jam. I have a collection of guitars, keyboards, and drums.”
Jazmyn said with pleasant conspiracy, “Tori will be there.”
Suddenly I felt a little guilty and I quickly reminded myself that, after all, I was taking my girlfriend to her family’s cabin this Friday night. And after all, I was just going to jam with Frey and probably party. A little.
Frey added, “Bring your swimming trunks.”
Jazmyn said, “I’ll give you directions. This will be fun.”
I was already beginning to sense what a “babe-magnet” Frey must have been all his life. I imagined the little girls in his school yard following him as if he were a little Pied Piper.
I had been the little boy in the schoolyard sandbox throwing ants into the ant lion pits.
That evening I rang the sonorous doorbell of Frey’s house and Jazmyn opened the front door, saying brightly, “Hi, hi, Nathan. Come on in.”
Jazmyn was wearing a bikini top and short pants. She noticed my sweeping glance, of course, while she asked me innocently, “You brought your swimming trunks, right?”
I smiled and pinched my pant hips, pulling them laterally, and making a goofy curtsey I said, “I’m wearing them underneath.”
Jazmyn tilted her head and asked, “How will you get home dry?”
I answered, pumping my eyebrows up and down like Groucho Marx, saying, “Commando.”
Frey Palter’s house was a spacious Spanish style ranchero hacienda that paraded over his property in adobe and brick. All the doors and passageways were arches.
Frey was in the hotel-lobby-sized living room talking so some guy wearing sunglasses of all things. Right in the middle of the room was a circular fireplace that looked like a peasant’s oven. I think the wood smoke somehow must have been drawn down inside the “oven” to prevent anything but that sweet wood aroma from roaming freely into the living room.
In one far corner were electric guitars, basses, keyboards, and drums arrayed as if a band were on a break and due back in fifteen minutes. Frey turned his head toward me, winked and subtly raised an index finder in greeting, calling over to Jazmyn and me, “Give him the tour.”
I never knew that bedrooms and bathrooms and a kitchen could be like apartments in their own right.
Finally, the kitchen sliding glass door opened into an enclosed patio the walls of which were long open-air adobe archways that viewed the pool, the sea of lawn, the vegetable and herb gardens, and the fruit trees. I saw Tori strolling among the fruit trees.
There was a big flat-screen television up on one wall of this patio and the other three walls were accompanied by long leather couches strewn with colorful blankets. And in the middle of this patio “environment” was the spacious sunken contoured hot tub. All around me there was a romantic cast iron, leather, and candle ambiance. If this patio were all there was to a house of mine I would have been ecstatic. The appellation “babe magnet” occurred to me again and I wondered how to say it in Spanish.
Frey and “Joe Sunglasses” joined Jazmyn and me in the patio enclosure. Frey introduced the guy to me, saying, “Nathan, this is my oldest friend, Corey,” and then matter-of-factly, “He’s blind,” and Corey shrugged.
I said, “Hey, Corey, cool,” and I reached out to shake hands and then realizing how clueless that looked I immediately felt stupid, stupid, and then stupid again. But Corey extended his hand directly into mine.
Corey tipped his head back and said, “Welcome to Frey World. Nathan, you play guitar?”
I nodded to him in another nascent gaff but then I spoke up quickly, “Yeah, you?”
Corey grinned, “I play everything.”
Frey interjected, “How about some drinks? Jazmyn?”
Jazmyn was already approaching with a pitcher of blood red concoction and a tray of glasses, “Sangria, everyone?” and then she called out to Tori who was still among the fruit trees, “More Sangria, Tori?” I swear I caught the flash of Tori’s eye. I got a little flare of guilt in my solar plexus and I turned quickly to accept my Sangria from Jazmyn, thinking this will extinguish that.
The doorbell then sounded around us like the tolling of a distant church bell. Jazmyn set her drink down and went to discharge her appointed duties as the hostess for this evening.
Corey asked wittily, “For whom does the doorbell toll, Nathan?”
I commented, “Cool doorbell.”
Corey continued, “It tolls for thee, Nathan.”
Frey said, “Hanna.”
Frey confessed to me as if he were discussing an investment tip, “Hanna is my old girlfriend. She drinks too much but we are still friends. You’ll like her.”
I blurted, “And Jazmyn in cool with that? I mean, it’s none of my business…”
Frey said simply, “Jazmyn is cool with me.”
Corey nodded and said, “And Hanna is cool with everything.”
Tori appeared beside me nonchalantly and I said, “Hey, Tori,” while she proceeded to light my guilty fuse again as she replied, “Hey, Nathan.” It was in the subtle music of the way she said it. It made me firm with myself, if you know what I mean. So I took a long drink of Sangria.
Jazmyn was still the perfect hostess, leading Hanna to us and announcing to all as if presenting a debutante, “Hanna has come.”
Frey quipped, “Not yet I hope.”
Hanna winced with a defensive smile and quickly reached for a glass of Sangria, muttering, “I love Sangria but I hate that the name means ‘Blood’.” She was a red-head who was what they call “slender with assets” and I mentally quoted the catalog number of the appropriate Siliconex prosthetic breast that matched her.
Jazmyn asked Hanna sincerely, “How is it going?”
Hanna lowered her drink and replied, “It can always be worse.”
Corey teased, “Now there’s the spirit!”
Tori then raised her own Sangria, “Here’s to Better,” and we all took a drink.
Frey clapped his hands once and rubbed them together, saying, “All righty, then. Dudes, let’s jam. I set up the tape machine. Jazmyn, you take the ladies swimming. We’ll all hook up here in the patio later, OK?”
An hour later Frey, Corey, and I were sitting in the living room around the central fireplace, still drinking Sangrias, listening to the taped playback of our jazzy improvisation session. I could hear the girls outside splashing in the pool. I glanced out the window and saw Tori dive in head first.
I turned back to Corey, saying, “Man, you really have a different way of playing, dude.”
Corey was bobbing his head, “Yeah, yeah, man, I hear what I’m going to play before I even play it.”
I sat forward, “Wow that is so deep, man. When I play or listen to music I see geometric shapes in my head. I think geometrically.” Then I wondered if Corey knew what a geometric shape was, adding, “If you know what I mean.”
Corey observed, “I remember geometric. I lost my sight to a brain tumor when I was a kid, but I remember. You can’t go as far out by conceiving geometrically; you can’t get as abstract with all those rules of points and lines and angles.”
Frey slung his arm around my shoulders, saying, “Nathan, you sound like an Eric Page the way you hold and bend those notes, making them cry.”
I nodded, ridiculously flattered, saying, “Hey, thanks, man. I finally figured out that the lead is a voice, not a sewing machine.”
Corey laughed, “Now that is surreal.”
Jazmyn came into the living room in a wet bikini and rubbed against Frey, asking like a little girl, “Don’t you want to come out and play?” and Frey nuzzled her cheek. He said to Corey and me without looking at us, “Gentlemen, man your swimming trunks,” then he put his arm around Jazmyn and drew her away with him into the hallway and toward the master bedroom.
Corey pulled his shirt up and off unabashedly and then pulled his shoes and socks off using his feet. He dropped his trousers and was finally standing there bulging in his underwear, hands on his hips.
I recovered from my surprise and said to him, “Just a second,” and I disrobed down to the swimming trunks that I was wearing. Corey took my wrist and I guided him into the enclosed patio and then out toward the pool.
The pool area was illuminated with only the glow from the house. The water was agitated with ripples of starlight as Tori swam laps in her pink bikini. Hanna sat cross-legged in a puddle of water on the decorative concrete pool deck drinking Sangria and watching Tori. Hanna wore her ample white bra and tight panties as a swimsuit. Her attire was all but transparent with soaking.
Corey wound up sitting beside Hanna with his feet dangling in the pool.
I had dived-in and swum a few fast laps to relieve the giddiness in my solar plexus. I had ended up in the deep end with Tori, treading water, chatting and joking; both of us chasing the glisten in each other’s eyes.
I went for it.
What was the harm? My girlfriend would never find out. Tori wasn’t going to tell her boyfriend. I blame the Sangria.
I kissed Tori hard, pushing her up against the side of the pool, grasping the deck on either side of her. Tori locked herself around me in a coil tight like an octopus. Her skin felt so smooth and cool; I must have felt hot to her. We gyrated. God help me, I really was in the deep end. I know for sure that my tongue was, anyway. I wanted to grab the globes of her bottom but I couldn’t let go of the deck without sinking.
I don’t know how long Tori and I were merging in the pool when I heard Jazmyn and Frey standing above us, Frey laughing down, saying, “Well, we can’t throw water on them.”
I could hear that Hanna and Corey were in the patio hot tub. Hanna was calling out loudly, “Come on, Fre-yyyyy. Turn up the jets. More bubbles.”
Frey put his arm around Jazmyn and looking down at Tori and me he said, “Come along you two. You’ve been very naughty and you know it.”
Jazmyn giggled, “Your punishment is to be boiled.”
Then Jazmyn, Frey, Tori and I slipped single-file down into the cauldron of the contoured sunken hot tub, joining Hanna and Corey, taking places along the perimeter seating as Hanna amused herself with the sound of her own voice, chanting, “Boy-girl, boy-girl, boy-girl.” The churning water swirled, blooped and hissed. It was dark in the patio enclosure except for the soft golden glow of four candles undulating on the four patio walls. Of course, there upon the hot tub deck was the ubiquitous pitcher of Sangria. We drank and chatted.
Frey asked me, “Nathan, do you have investments?”
I answered half-jokingly, “Just an investment in myself.”
Corey retorted without looking at me, saying, “Now there’s a Bull (Shit) Market.” He was listening closely to the slouched Hanna’s dreamy reactions to his unseen hands,
Frey was not distracted, “Do you intend to work in the lab forever?”
I answered defensively, “Nooo. No. No, of course not. I’ve been reading this great book by Peter Drucker called The Practice of Management. Believe it or not it’s really interesting. I think I’d like to move up into management.”
Frey warned, “India and China are taking your lab jobs at half the salary.”
Jazmyn responded in solidarity with Tori and me, “Frey, don’t say things like that.”
Frey leaned back and closed his eyes, saying, “It’s true. Any book-learnin’ job can be exported. Only service jobs like janitors and maids can’t be exported.”
Corey joined-in again, saying, “Or maybe Old Folks Homes.”
Frey grinned and nodded, saying, “The only way to make a lot of money in the future is to start-up and to own a local service business.”
I looked at Frey and admitted, “Some guys have the knack.”
Hanna sat upright suddenly and said loudly, “Fuck business! Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. This is a party,” and then whooped loudly, “Whoo-Hoo!” as she poured herself another full glass of Sangria. Her tight wet bra was nearly invisible against her skin.
Frey studied Hanna and then looked long and hard at all of us before saying cryptically, “Alright, I think it’s time we guys said ‘Hi’ to the girls.”
Frey then took Hanna’s arm gently and she all but floated to the center of the hot tub with him and stood waist deep in the froth. Frey then held Jazmyn’s hand as if in a courtly dance to the center of the hot tub. Frey gestured and Tori arose and waded to the center of the hot tub. Frey then pressed the girls back-to-back. For a moment I thought that Frey finally must be drunk and silly.
Jazmyn and Tori lowered their eyes and seemed a little nervous. Hanna closed her eyes and raised her chin and seemed to stand at attention.
Frey reached behind Hanna and undid her wet bra with a few snake-swift movements, sliding the bra off of Hanna’s arms. Hanna stood there with her eyes still closed and her spellbinding assets loosened.
Frey then untied Jazmyn’s bikini top and he tossed it onto the deck with Hanna’s bra. Tori let Frey untie her bikini top but she pulled it off and tossed it onto the deck herself.
Frey waded back around to Hanna and kissed her left breast, “Hel-lo,” and then lingered on her right nipple, saying, “Hel-lo.” Hanna with an aching look reached to run her fingers quickly through Frey’s hair.
Frey moved away and beckoned me as he waded around to Tori. He turned his attention to Tori’s girls, saying, “Hel-lo. Hel-lo”
I looked into Hanna’s eyes as I approached. She turned her head as if looking out toward the fruit trees, but she did not resist. I kissed her ample left breast, whispered, “Hello?” and then found myself lingering on her right breast, “Mmm, Hello.” I felt a shove. It was Corey. I moved around to Tori as Corey fastened himself to Hanna in turn and Frey alighted on Jazmyn.
Tori gave a little push to each breast as I took her into my mouth, “Hello-mmm, Hello-mmm,” and I think she sighed for my benefit. I placed my hands on her hips. She placed her hands on my wrists.
Frey had moved back to the hot tub bench seat to watch the progression unfold. I nervously came to Jazmyn, watching Frey from the corner of my eye. But Jazmyn gently laid her hands on the back of my head and held me against one of her breasts and then moved me to the other breast like I was a baby. I was afraid to linger on her, so I peeled my lips away and went to the perimeter as had Frey. I watched Frey out of the corner of my eye while also watching Corey complete the procession. Be cool, be cool, don’t stare, look around at something else.
I thought to myself suddenly, “The Pied Piper.”
We paired again but now we sat as if we were stitched to our partners, Hanna and Corey, Jazmyn and Frey, Tori and I, each in a tight huddle kissing everything above the roiling water and fondling everything below and breathing steam.
Frey said, “Let’s go inside by the fireplace,” and he escorted Jazmyn out of the hot tub. Hanna followed, swaying. Corey was steadying her from behind. I gave Tori a final kiss and I gestured for her to go ahead of me. The air was a lot cooler than the steamy hot tub. You can imagine how alert were the girls.
Around the circular fireplace were placed three large wedge-shaped cushions covered in soft cloth, equidistant from each other at “midnight, four, and eight”. I figured that Jazmyn had placed them while we were swimming earlier. The unsteady fire was the only light.
Frey and Jazmyn sat down in front of one wedge cushion and then leaned back together. Corey and Hanna did the same. Tori fell back into the third cushion and pulled me down.
Frey turned to Jazmyn and slid his hand down her belly, saying, “Guys, let’s be there for the ladies.” As his hand crossed her border Jazmyn closed her eyes and squirmed.
Corey was trying to pull Hanna’s tight wet panties down off of her hips. He growled and grabbed the narrow section of her panties waist and ripped them apart. She whispered, “Why did you do that?” and spread her legs far apart. He laid his head in her lap.
I looked down into Tori’s eyes and she untied one side of her bikini bottom. I peeled it back and then wandered into her garden with my hand. She arched her back. As I scooched down and laid my head in her lap, I saw from the corner of my eye that Frey had done the same with Jazmyn. We all glanced at each other.
We slurped the nectar of the goddesses with gasping, sighing, and moaning from all of us. The intoxication made my head spin speaking in tongue.
I was startled when Frey called out, saying, “Rolling Thunder!” and he left Jazmyn to approach me on his hands and knees. I saw that Corey had arisen and moved to Jazmyn. Frey pushed me toward Hanna.
Frey, the Ring Master, said, “Gentlemen, let us introduce ourselves to the ladies,” and then said to me with a grin, “No coming, rookie.”
In a conflagration of emotion I saw Frey mount Tori, who was glancing at me. I saw Corey between Jazmyn’s knees. I turned to Hanna next to me. She was waiting. I arrived.
I felt like pagan beast and I let that emotion consume me, pressing into the wilds of Hanna, deeper and deeper.
Suddenly, I heard Frey cry out again, “Rolling Thunder,” and I withdrew, rolling away as Frey approached. Hanna welcomed him inside and wrapped her legs around him and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, holding his head against hers. There were tears in her eyes as she gave a heart-felt performance to her ex-boyfriend. I felt sorry for her.
I had arrived at Jazmyn. I truly liked Jazmyn before all this madness. So I slid easily into her arms and legs. She pedaled her feet. I could hear all three girls getting louder. I was dousing my blazing mind with Don’t Come, don’t come.
I was back home to Tori who was breathing fast. She grabbed me and put me in her place.
Frey gasped, “Gentlemen, bring the ladies home.”
The blood in my head pounded. The pulse of our cries and gasps became one rhythm, rising, pounding, pounding, pounding like a battering ram at the gates of heaven.
In a singular chorus of shrieking Tori, Hanna, and Jazmyn tried to outdo each other. Finally, all of our worlds vanished simultaneously.
I fell apart into the vibrations of the universe thundering and rolling.
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