PIT 2/23: Fireworks

Points In Time

Westlake Village, California

July 4, 2009

7:40 PM

Missy, obviously the elder had pale blue eyes

and dull red hair evenly entwined with white

strands. Her face lined with the wrinkles –

especially her upper lip showing a lifetime of

cigarette smoking. Mona, possibly five or six

years younger, also had pale blue eyes and

red hair also showing heavy upper lip

wrinkling.

At one time Missy and Mona may have been

considered as pretty, but at this time both

appeared to have had a lifetime of hard

living.

"You guys like a drink, or something?”

"No, thanks…” I said “....got to get to the far end to grab a place to drop anchor.”

“Best place to see fireworks is at the far eastern end of the lake...”

Somehow naturally paring ourselves, I took hold of Missy’s elbow to help her down the railroad ties as, moving closer, Missy put her arm around my waist…

Mona a few years younger and a bit faster then her sister, her arm withing Milts arm for balance, making it to the boat a few seconds sooner– Milt steadying the boat held it closer to the dock as Mona, then Missy, releasing my waist stepped aboard.

Figuring her height to be five seven or so, a glance at her backside as she stepped aboard telling me carried herself straighter than the aged appearance of her face showed.

Eighteen feet in length, six feet in width the boat has a heavy blue canvas cover, white leatherette covered cushions running the circumference of the boat. ‘Aft’ there is the counsel with instruments showing how much power is left in the four, twelve volt rechargeable marine batteries, the ‘fore’ and ‘aft’ lever, the tape deck and ‘helm’. Forward there is a four foot long, built in ‘side leaf’ table to comfortably sit four people but room enough to seat six people.

Paring themselves to Milt and me, Mona followed my friend to the table where he would begin the process of expertly concocting our ‘adult’ beverages.

Knowing I would be heading to the counsel, Missy seated herself on the ‘port – left’ side alongside the counsel as I released the half hitches on the two dock cleats and, pushing off as I stepped aboard, we drifted into the northern channel.

Sitting behind the counsel, pushing the lever to pick up speed. You ladies ever been around the lake?”

Inching a bit closer to me. “No. Not yet.”

“We been around the world.” Mona laughed.

Not knowing if I should take this sexual innuendo as a sexual innuendo “Okay…” I said, “...let’s do it now.”

Muted Fourth of July music coming from a half dozen different directions, knowing it would take about a half hour to get to where we wanted to go, I steered westerly, thinking we’d round Westlake Island.

At the table, by sight and feel expertly pouring eight ounces of ‘Beefeaters’ into the coffee pot – a trick I’d learned at Elysium to keep every thing steady on water as well as on a lumpy blanket. Then taking a double hand full of ice cubes from the ‘Igloo’ he dropped them into the coffee pot, put the lid on the pot and shook it briskly for about thirty seconds,

Four coffee cups – another trick, to keep from spilling I has learned at Elysium – Milt’s ‘Elmer Fudd’ and my ‘Bugs Bunny’ along with ‘Road Runner’ and ‘Wiley the Coyote’ cups for Missy and Maud lined on the table, Milt expertly poured exactly two and a quarter ounces of extremely dry martini's into each cup. Spilling the ice into the lake, “Olives?” he asked,sliding the ‘Road Runner’ cup to Maud, and leaning to the side and stretching, he handed “Bugs’ to me and ‘Wiley’ to Missy.

“Sure.” Maud said, as Milt dug into the Igloo to find a plastic container with the toothpicks…

The gentle movement of the boat. Rousing, yet muted music coming from all around. The balmy nigh…

Two drunk women.

Two drunk men.

Four newly found friends enjoying the peaceful darkening evening...

Breaking the solitude…

“ ‘Shit’...” Maud said “...this is one fucking good martini!”

Enjoying the close contact,inching a bit closer to Missy. “One thing Milt’s good at, is making marines.”

Having no idea how many margaritas they had drunk before running out of mix, or how many gin and tonics they had before Milt and I pulled up to their dock. In need of some answers.

“You buy the Place next door?”

“No...” Missy answered “...we’re renting for six months.”

“Oh. You know the lady that owns, or owned your place, Vickie?”

“’Vickie’? No, but her son is our agent and when his mother died so suddenly , he didn’t know what to do with the place or all her stuff, so asked if we’d like to kind of, uh, vacation in Southern California for six months…”

“Ans as we we’re kind of between places…” Mona said “...until our place on Phoenix becomes available…”

“And as ‘Judd’… Vickie’s son is only charging us a grand a month…”

Standing, stretching her arms, “It’s really beautiful here an we’re glad we met you guys.”

Catching the slight wake of the boat before us, throwing Missy– drunk as she was slightly off balance, and being the gentleman I was, my hand ‘accidentally’ slipping through the bottom of her ratty old sweat shirt came in contact with warm flesh ans with a very soft, very long hanging tit.

Whether too drunk, or numb to my touch, or possibly simply not caring, sitting again… the weight of her tit overflowing my hand I, simply enjoying the warmth and softness, made no attempt to remove it from beneath Missy’s ratty old sweat shirt… And neither did she.

“Missy…” Milt questioned “...you said that Vickie’s son was your agent. “You two in show business?”

Laughing, “ ‘Show business’?” Sliding from her side of the table to Milt’s side. “Guess you could say that.?”

Swishing the olive. Popping it into her mouth. “Me an’ my sister…”

Leaning closer to me, my hand still beneath the sweat shirt, still cradling her heavy tit.

“We’re… or ‘were’ strippers.”

“ ‘Strippers’!”Milt said, thinking what I was thinking, I thought: We’ve hit the jackpot!

“Yeah…” Mona said, taking a sip of martini. “Been doing the act it since… Thinking…

“Since ‘seventy two’.” Missy said.

“Since ‘seventy-two?” figuring, “That’s thirty-seven years! How old are you? Uh, if you don’t mind me asking.”

Milt and me and the ladies completely soused, and becoming friendlier by the minute… maybe even by the second.

“Me…” Missy said, squeezing my hand above her sweat shirt that was beneath her sweat shirt holding her tit “...I’m seventy-two.”

“And this..” I asked Missy “...uh, Vickie’s son was he your…”

“Nah!…” Thinking she knew what I was going to ask, which I was “...Judd ain’t no pimp.”

“Yeah…” cuddling against Milt “...an’ I’m ‘sixty-seven’.” Mona said as, finishing the last of her last two ounces of ‘Beefeater’ martini “… got any more of this here stuff in that coffee pot?”

“No, but I can brew some up.”

“Mitch, you want another?”

“No, I’m driving.” Wondering what a seventy-two year old pussy might feel like, or more likely taste like.

“Missy?”

Holding her empty ‘Wiley Coyote’ cup

forward. “Yeah, me, too.”

“Never thought strippers needed an agent.”

Although, really, I never thought of

strippers.

Approaching the far eastern end of the lake,

there had to be at least thirty of our little

boats milling about, attempting to find some

area where they would not be bumping into

another drifting boat as all watched for

fireworks.

“Never thought we needed an agent either, until Missy and me came up with a special act, and then’ when Judd saw us.”

“Our last name;s ‘Murphy’.”

“Missy and Mona Murphy’?”

“Yeah. We were billed as ‘The Stripping Sisters, Missy and Mona, Murphy’.”

“An let me tell you…” Missy said “guys ‘love’ looking at real red-head pussy.”

“An’ big natural tits.”

“Yeah, and it ain’t only guys...”

“When Judd came along, he helped wit the act and we even became personal with the audience.”

“Ohhhh!” Mona yelled as the first rocket of the night arched above the Thousand Oaks Mall.

Turning in the mild breeze, I gave the motor and helm a jolt to bring the boat back into position as the malls display of rockets increased.

“ ‘Personal’?” Milt asked. “What do you mean by ‘personal’?”

“We ain’t whores!”

“No, we ain’t whores…” Missy declared “...we’re, uh, ‘entertainers’.”

“Yeah…” Beneath the table, Mona’s hand had found Milt’’s cock. “...an’ like I was sayin’, it ain’t ‘only’ guys that like looking at real red head pussy, pretty soon we had many gals as guys lookn’ an’ talkin’ to me’nMissy.”

“What do you mean…” I asked “... by ‘talking to you and Missy’?”

Moving slowly, doing my best to avoid neighboring boats as our flotilla drifted by lake front homes firing their own fireworks.

Missy’s hand on my crotch… Actually Missy’s hand was beneath the seam of my shorts searching for my cock. But sadly I was too drunk it help her find it.

Going along with my question. “Judd gave us ideas what to say to the audience staying in the ‘Murphy’ thing of ‘whatever can go wrong will go wrong’.”

“So we’d just stand onstage, doing a little jig with our tits – an’ you can see…” again squeezing my hand holding her still hidden tit “...I ‘got’ tits.”

“Those in’a audiencess…” Mona slurring her words “...would ask us stupid questions and going along with ‘Murphy sez’ , we’d throw dumb…”

“...An’ funny answers back at ‘em.”

“And you’ve been doing this for thirty-seven years?” I asked incredulously.

“No, we retired seven years ago because…”

“How long, do ya think guys wanna see …” lifting her ratty sweat shirt, by the light of fireworks I could see – blue veined and hanging heavenly onto her lower stomach “...tits like this?” Missy asked.

Not showing us…

“Or gray pussy hair!” Mona added.

The boat gliding. The night still balmy. Patriotic music still playing. Fireworks still shooting. Having no idea how Mona’s hand is doing in the search for Milt’s cock, Knowing that Missy’s search for my cock is ‘literately’ coming up empty-handed.

“So where do you go from here in six months?”

Draining her second ‘Wiley Coyote’ , Missy placed the cup on the counsel.

“Once Judd came along Missy an’ me started making pretty good money an’ in the eighties…”

“In the eighties there was a real slow up on real estate. Especially in the Phoenix area, so I asked my son..”

“You’ve a son?”

“Yeah…” giving up the futile search for my hidden cock, moving her hand from inside to my bare knee “...and grand kids, too.”

“Never thought of strippers having grand kids.”

“Me, too…” Mona said “...I’ve a granddaughter.”

Going on with what Missy had been saying.

“There was a major slow down in the real estate market in the eighties, so I asked my son…”

“Who’s a real estate salesman…”

“Yeah. So I asked him to be on the lookout for a ‘very’ well priced duplex for Mona an’ me somewhere in the Phoenix area so we can be closer to the kids…”

“That’s where you’ll be going, to Phoenix?”

“Yeah. And Daniel… Dan’s my son…” Missy said “..an’ he found us real deal an’ …”

“We been renting both units since, so it’s almost pair for.”

“An’ in six months the lease will be up for the last family living there, so…” Mona said “...Missy’n’me’ll go home.”

“An’, Mitch,I wanna tell you…” putting her hand onto my outside cheek, moving my head closer to hers. Whispering directly into my ear, “grandma’s still like to fuck.”

Next PIT 2/24: Day After