All Characters In This Story Are 18+ Years Old
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Jock McGuinness wrote the small slam score under the 'They' column on his notepad and tallied the rubber. He looked across the table at Mary, then left and right to Isabel and Ted. With a congenial smile and a breezy voice, he announced, "Well, you skunked us THAT time." Just then the Kienzle mantle clock in the parlor set off its hourly Westminster chime.
Jock cocked his ear and listened to the soft following strikes drifting through the open kitchen door. "Ten o'clock and all's well," he laughed, "if we don't look too closely at the score, Mare." He pushed his one gathered trick to the center of the table and sat back in his chair. "That was good bridge, but what say we call it a night? Ted has a trolley to catch... or a long walk."
Mary reached across the table and put her small hand on her father's wrist as he lay down his pencil. "I'm sorry, Papa," she apologized. "I didn't meant to finesse you out of your queen on the opening lead."
"Oh, piffle!" Jock generously disregarded her lament. "It was fifty-fifty... Isabel might have found it herself. 'Fourth best from your longest suit,' is a perfectly acceptable blind lead." He pushed back from the table, stood and stretched.
Edward Trotter, the young mathematics teacher at George Washington High School, stood with him and extended his right hand. "Thanks, Jock," he said. Looking then at Mrs. McGuinness, he nodded and added, "And YOU, Izzy. Supper was delicious, the hospitality was aces..." He paused, dropped his arm lightly around Mary's shoulders as she remained seated to his left, and concluded, "AND the company couldn't be beat!"
Eighteen-year-old Mary blushed at Trotter's compliment and felt a familiar inner tension as his retreating fingertips burned a fiery path across the back of her neck. Isabel rose, smiling, then stepped around the table corner and stood at Jock's side. "You are always welcome here, Ted. We hope to see you often." Directing her attention to her daughter, she continued, "It's still a school night... even for graduating seniors, honey. Say 'good night' to Ted and excuse yourself, please."
"Oh, Mama," Mary protested, "I wanted to walk him to the corner and show him where the streetcar stops."
Jock supported his wife and chimed in with an even, but no-nonsense, tone, "I'm sure he'll manage just fine, Mare. Now, go on and do as your Mama says."
Sighing, Mary obediently stood and moved around to Trotter. "Good night... Teddy." She said his nickname under her breath then returned to her normal voice. "See you tomorrow." She gave him a quick peck on his cheek and etched the wonderful soft sensation and his manly scent into her mind.
"Good night, Mary," Trotter said, with an affectionate air. "Remember, please, at school I am 'Mr. Trotter' and NOT your boyfriend."
Mary kissed him again on the same hot spot on his cheek, not caring that her parents were watching. "I'll remember, 'Mr. TROTTER'... I can be VERY discreet." She looked meaningfully at her father. Running his right index finger along the inside of his shirt collar, Jock scrunched his neck to distract from any other revealing reaction to Mary's coded message.
"Alright, honey," Isabel said patiently. "You've made your point and we all appreciate that Ted... MR. TROTTER... is special in your life. Now, SCOOT, OK?" Savoring her victory, Mary went upstairs while Jock collected the bridge decks and returned them to the parlor.
Mary stripped in front of her wardrobe, carefully putting away her 'Sunday Best', except for her silver silk chemise, which lay bunched in the closet's dark corner, ruined by Trotter's dried cum stains and her father's clutching hands. She picked up the discarded lingerie and carried it to the half-bath attached to her garret bedroom.
After peeing, Mary wiped her cunt while she held the spoiled silk to her nose and smelled Trotter's essence infused with the Arpège perfume she had applied yesterday before their tryst. A warm flowing sensation moved from her pussy to her tummy and back as she clutched the chemise and inhaled.
Mary dropped the used tissue into the toilet and thrust her middle fingers into her not-so-virgin, but, very tight, little twat. Moving slowly at first, with increasing speed as her need developed, she plunged deep while her thumb strummed her little hooded man. She rocked her shoulders side-to-side and moaned. She could almost taste Trotter's cheek where she had kissed him goodnight. Sucking her lips over her teeth, she groaned and came.
Meanwhile, downstairs in the front room, Isabel turned to Jock and said, "Mary DID have a good idea about showing Ted where to catch the trolley and I have a couple of things I want to discuss with him. You have to get up early for work, why don't you turn in?" She brushed her lips over her husband's cheek and planted a sweet kiss on his mouth. "I'll come in two shakes of a lamb's tail."
Jock knitted his brow, but only said, "Alright, dear." Nodding toward Trotter, who was already near the front door, he called, "Really nice meeting you, Ted. You play a mean hand of bridge... look forward to a rematch." When Trotter acknowledged the compliment with a casual wave, Mr. McGuinness headed down the hall to the master bedroom.
Out on the covered front porch, Edward turned to Mrs. McGuinness and said quietly, "Gosh... Izzy... I think Jock's right about me being able to make it from your house to the corner of Oak Avenue and Quinaby Street by myself." He chuckled, reached out his right hand and gave her left cheek a wiggling little pinch. "So, what's this REALLY about?"
