The group came to another outdoor seating area. Amy led them through a short array of tables, some of which were occupied although most weren't, and past a few outdoor, umbrella-shaped heaters, until they came to a table with two young women. It took both men a moment to recognize their own daughters, as their transformation was as complete and remarkable as Amy's. Their daughters had changed their hairstyles, wore atypical clothing, and even exhibited a more mature and sophisticated demeanor.
"We thought you'd gotten lost out there." Heather said, as she stood up and vacated her seat.
Across the small table, Rochelle also stood up. Both daughters took in what their fathers were wearing.
"The pimps are here." Amy announced.
Both daughters chuckled at the designation.
"The black pimp will sit here and the white pimp will sit over here." Amy directed.
Knowing it was all part of the act, Spencer went over to Heather's side of the table, while Tom stayed near Rochelle. As the two men settled onto the wide chairs their daughters had just vacated, they noticed only a total of three seats around the table. Out of habit, Tom nearly got up to pull two more chairs, but Amy got in his way.
"Sit, sit, sit." The blonde insisted.
"Waiter." Heather called out, stopping a worker in his tracks. "We'd like five beers. A lighter ale would be fine."
The waiter came over and checked Heather's ID, nodded, and walked away.
Tom nearly blurted out a query as to how in the heck Heather had gotten away with it, since his daughter was only eighteen. The lingering threat of Amy's slap, however, kept him quiet.
Expecting the reaction, Heather tossed the driver's license onto the table, where Tom could reach out and scoop it up. It had Heather's picture on it, sure enough, with a false name and address. Officially, the card stated that Heather was twenty-one. The counterfeit looked in every way, shape and form just like the ID Tom had in his own pocket. For good measure, Rochelle and Amy produced fake IDs of their own. Knowing the waiter would come and card them, the girls tossed them on the table, too.
Spencer reached out for Rochelle's, but he scrutinized it only briefly, as if holding the ID too long might result in a slap heading his way. He tossed it back on the table. "You cats did a good job on those. As a matter of fact, you cats look like you're doing a good job on everything."
"We're good at it." Amy said. "Let me tell you about the dress sandy cat is wearing. This is a strapless sequin dress. It has silver sequins over gold sheath. It also has a straight neckline just like my dress, and it fits close to the body. Won't you do a turn for us, sandy cat?"
The cloth clung to Heather's pronounce curves, both men noticed. Since Tom was an Ass Man when he wasn't happy being a Tit Man, he couldn't help but suspire at the way his daughter's big butt looked in it.
"Have a seat, sandy cat." Amy motioned.
This threw Tom off for a moment, as Amy had directed Heather toward Spencer's chair. Sure enough, Heather went and plopped her big butt right on Spencer's lap. Even Spencer looked surprised. This caused Heather to give him a light slap on the cheek.
"Well, you didn't think I was going to sit on the floor, did you?" Heather flirted.
Tom watched as his daughter made her self comfortable, even going as far as leaning into Spencer's shoulder and hoisting an arm around his neck. Her juicy breasts were only inches from Spencer's face.
"Black cat, step over here and into the light." Amy made the request.
Rochelle walked over.
"Black cat is wearing an ivory and gold strapless dress, more of a party dress really, but not entirely inappropriate in this setting. It has a sweetheart bodice with an alluring cutout in the back, and what is known as an A-line mini skirt. Take a turn, black cat, before you take your seat."
Rochelle made a soft pirouette, showing off her exposed upper back, before she went over to where Tom was sitting. As Spencer watched, the black girl arched her back to round her ass out for Tom, before she slipped onto his lap.
The two fathers were staring at their daughters, and at the man across from them. Before anything else was said, the waiter returned with their beverages. He did pause to examine the IDs left on the table, but a quick glance at the two men was all he needed to approve them. As soon as the cargo was set down, off the waiter went in another direction.
Heather reached out for her beer and a second for Spencer.
"This is a rather interesting situation we have here, pimp." Spencer said, which set all three girls to laughing.
Tom didn't know what to say. His daughter was sitting on Spencer's lap! What the hell was that all about?
"Oh, I'd say it's going to get a lot more interesting than this." Amy said, as she moved her chair over to where she could keep an eye out on the other tables. "So, my pretty kitties, should we go with a red light, green light warning system, or alternate turns, or what?"
"I'll defer to sandy cat's decision." Rochelle said.
"Why thank you." Heather replied. "The light system is fine, and let's see if we can get away with short, alternating turns."
"Check." Amy said, as she scanned across the small courtyard. "We've got the waiter on the move. He's heading back into the service door. And, three, two, one, green light."
Heather reached down for Spencer's free hand. The teen set it directly on her breast. She lifted her neck and arched her back, further prodding her breast into Spencer's fingers. Across the table, pangs of resentment streaked through Tom.
"Red light." Amy said. "The bastard waiter's out again, carrying dishes. Keep your cool, kitties. He's dropping off; he's dropping off. Now he's pestering the next table over."
Tom used the moment to reach out and grab his beer, which he took a quick swig of.
Amy kept up her surveillance. "Waiter's on the move, on the move. Black cat... you are... go."
Rochelle had to wait until Tom lowered his bottle, as his other hand was pressed behind her. The black girl took the free hand and also set it on one of her breasts. Once in place, she used her hand to rub Tom's hand against her.
"How we doing over there, pimp?" Spencer's voice came across as irritated as Tom was feeling. "You getting a good handful?"
What was Tom supposed to say to that?
