(As always a sincere thanks to my editor
"larryinseattle"
without whom my stories would be nothing more than simply a cluster of words.)
*****
This was the only house that Jerry had ever known. It had been built by his great-great-great-grandfather, Jeremiah, who he was named after. It stood high on the cliffs overlooking the ocean and one of Jerry's favorite pastimes was to climb up to the 'Widow's Walk' on the top of the house and look out over the water.
It had always been a warm, loving house filled with laughter and good times. Unfortunately, that all changed when his mother disappeared while taking her sailboat out for 'a little spin around the bay' as she'd referred to it.
The day had started out bright and sunny but Jerry soon saw ominous black clouds rolling in from the East. He tried to contact his mother on the radio to warn her but before he could, the clouds swept over the small sailboat and it disappeared into the darkness.
His father had called the Coast Guard who sent a rescue boat to look for her but they'd been forced to turn back when the storm became too dangerous. When it was finally over, the search began and her sailboat was found laying on its side on the small stretch of beach below the house. They searched for his mother for another three days before stopping and telling his dad they were listing her as "Missing - Presumed Dead".
After that, it was if a shadow had fallen over the house. His sister moved out after a few months and found an apartment several hundred miles away, saying she never wanted to see the ocean again. His dad ran away too, in his own way, by burying himself in his work. Many times he'd be gone until late in the evening leaving Jerry alone to wander the halls and property in search of something that he couldn't quite put his finger on. Days turned into weeks and then into years as he searched for 'that something' without success.
It wasn't until two years later that he noticed his dad slowly begin to change. Instead of being withdrawn and depressed he actually seemed like his old self at times. When he asked his dad about the change, he only got a smile as an answer. That was until the day his dad brought Brittany home.
Brittany ... how does a 19 year old describe one of the most beautiful women he'd ever seen? She looked vaguely like a younger version of the model, Adele Stephens. She stood 5-foot, 6-inches tall and her skin was a golden-brown from all the time she'd spent working on the glass-bottomed tour boats that took people out to see the local shipwrecks. Her hair was a sandy-blonde that hung over her shoulders in long, loose curls and her eyes were a brilliant deep-water blue that seemed to twinkle like the stars in the night sky.
She was wearing a white, sleeveless top that was tied under her bust, highlighting her breasts and the darker shade of her areola and nipples. That and the pebble-sized lumps at the front of her top left little doubt that she wasn't wearing a bra. Her waist narrowed and then flared out to a set of full, rounded hips that were barely covered by her low-rider shorts and her legs were long and toned. The fantasy image of her was heightened by the fact that she was wearing a pair of wedge-style sandals that laced up over her calves and red lipstick with matching polish on her fingernails and toenails. As if to highlight her beauty, there was a white lace choker around her neck with an ivory and onyx cameo broach.
"Hi," he stuttered as his father introduced them.
"Hi, yourself," she replied as she wrapped her arms around him and gave him a hug. "My friends call me Brit."
He blushed as the front of his cut-off jeans began to bulge from the feel of her barely-concealed nipples pressing against his bare chest.
She must have felt it too as she whispered softly in his ear. "Don't worry. I have the same effect on a lot of men, including your dad."
He laughed, nervously, as they pulled apart and his father led them into the house.
After that, Brittany was like a member of the family. She spent almost every free moment with the two of them, so it wasn't surprising when one morning he found her sitting at the kitchen table having a cup of coffee. It was obvious from the fact that she was wearing one of his dad's button-up shirts that she'd spent the night.
"Morning."
"Hey."
"I hope you don't mind," she said, indicating the way she was dressed. "Your dad had to go into work early this morning and I didn't really feel like leaving in the dark again."
"Ahhhhh. So you and him ...?"
"Yeah," she blushed. "We've spent the night together a couple of times but I usually leave before you get up."
"Why?"
A questioning looked covered her face. "I'm not actually sure. Your dad seemed to be embarrassed or maybe he wasn't sure how you'd feel after your mom and all. Then again maybe it was because I wasn't sure how you'd feel."
"Ahhh."
"I mean, you and I are closer in age than your dad and I, so I didn't want you to think I was a 'gold digger' or something."
"Hey, whatever works for the two of you is okay with me," he finished as he grabbed a breakfast bar and left. What he didn't say, and thankfully she hadn't noticed, was that he had a hard-on that felt like it was made of iron from the sight of her sitting there in that shirt and the idea that she probably wasn't wearing anything underneath.
He quickly went to his room and, after wolfing down the breakfast bar, jumped in the shower. The cool water did nothing to remove the fantasy images of her body that swirled through his head as his hand ran up and down his hardened shaft.
"What the fuck?"
he thought.
