Julio's face cracked into a broad grin as he delivered my second videotape back after working his technical magic on it. "You got any more of this family to seduce, Sharon?" he asked, after passing me the package.
"Maybe, maybe not," I laughed, pouring him a cold beer, "you'll see it all develop, I hope. How's my latest filming efforts?"
Julio sipped on his Dos Equis and nodded positively. "You've done very well," he said, "the quality of the film is fine, the colours are great and the voice recording is pitch perfect. I dunno what you plan on doing with this stuff, Sharon, but it sure as hell makes me randy. Ever thought of a role in the porn movie business?"
I built myself a lovely big margarita and sipped on the salt-encrusted rim. "Don't be silly, Julio, I'm far too old for that sort of thing," I told him.
"Nonsense," said Julio. "You and the lovely lady β what's her name, Stella? - you're both made for porn. You both look around early to middle 30s and the porn industry has young babes coming out of its ears. You'd be surprised at the number of punters who love to see a video starring what they call 'a more mature woman'," he told me.
I took another sip of my margarita and smiled: "Well, the punters are going to be disappointed, I'm afraid, Julio."
When my video expert had gone, I rushed into my entertainment room and slipped the cassette into the machine and sat back to watch my "performance" with Stella.
I could see what Julio was driving at β this was really raunchy stuff. Well, if the sight of two, busty, well-built, attractive women getting it on is what you describe as raunchy.
The pictures were vivid, in great colour, and the magnificent little spying machine Julio had installed in my bedroom had faithfully recorded every word Stella and I had spoken in crystal-clear clarity.
But now it was time to move on. There was still Stella's gorgeous young blonde stepdaughter to be trapped in my wicked little web. How to go about it? The part on the tape where Stella informed me that she thought her stepdaughter "fancied me" gave me an idea or two, but nothing concrete.
Just then the phone rang β and then one of my ideas fell into place.
"Hi, this is the number you dialled," I said and as soon as I heard that sexy, husky laugh, I knew it was Stella.
"Hi darl," she said, "look I want you to do me a favour, and knowing you, you'll jump at it."
"Shoot," I told her.
"Well, this Friday ZeeZee has to go to the fuckin' Cannes film festival and for a surprise, he's taking me along for the ride," she said.
"That'll be lovely," I told her.
"Oh, I don't know, it will mainly be my disgusting old husband perving the birds on the beach or trying to chat up some horrid little starlet," said Stella.
I nodded, fully aware of where ZeeZee's "perving" had got him in my planned web so far.
"Sorry, Stella," I said, "but where does that involve me?"
"Well, Stazee's put on an awful pouting period and moaned that she's going to be neglected and left alone, and all her friends are airheads and all the boys simply want to lay her, and I said β and please tell me to butt out if you're anti this idea β but I said I'd have a word with you and see if she could stay with you for a couple of days, while we're gone," said Stella.
I nearly let go a whoop and a holler, but I restrained myself and said that Stazee was welcome at my place any time.
Restraining myself, but in a voice which I knew betrayed my excitement, I told Stella: "I'll look after her in my own inimitable way, darling. Trust me!"
Stella's laugh was wicked. "I'll let you see how things develop," she said, and I almost laughed aloud, if only she could appreciate the pun in that remark!
"It's time Stazee found out that there's more to sex than young boys trying to get into your pants," said her stepmother.
"When I was a teenager that's
all
there was to sex," I joked.
"Right," said Stella, "I must fly. I have to ransack Rodeo Drive for new outfits for Cannes, we've only got two days before we jet off."
For Stella the two days would have flown, but for me they dragged interminably. Finally, on Friday morning, Stella rang: "We're off to LAX right now. Stazee's out at the library doing some research, or something, I've given her your number and she said she'd call as soon as she got back home. Ciao!"
To pass the time until her Stazee's call, I put on one of my teeny-weeny bikinis and lay out on the recliner, with a book and a whopping great big margarita for company.
I'd hardly opened the book β all about the 1906 San Francisco earthquake β when the phone on the poolside table rang. I picked it, praying that it would be Stazee. My prayer was answered!
Her youthful, "Isn't life great?" voice was loud but stunningly sensual.
"That bikini you've got on is
so
fuckin' sexy," I heard the 18-year-old inform me.
"Really, Stazee," I said, with a chuckle in my throat, "it's very rude to perve on your next door neighbour. I presume you are perving, wherever you are?"
"Look up at my bedroom," laughed the blonde bombshell and I saw her. She appeared to be wearing only a bra and panties β both in vestal virgin white β but she looked sensational.
I waved to her and said: "Why don't you grab a bikini and get over here. You're staying for a few days, aren't you?"