The End of Summer
Authors: Alex M. Smith
The End of Summer
Book #1 Richard series
By Alex M Smith
Text copyright © 2012 Alex M
Smith
All Rights Reserved
We
were heading back from the Hamptons after a weekend of sea and sun away from
the city, slowly pushing our way through the evening traffic. It was a typical late
August Sunday evening, and everybody was going back to the city. I was sitting
all alone in the back seat of the BMW 3 series convertible. Joe was driving
and Lyn, his girlfriend, was sitting next to him.
Lyn
took off her sandals and put her legs up with her feet hanging out in the
breeze. She was wearing a light blue sleeveless dress. She had the most
beautiful toes I have ever seen. She usually wears a toe ring, but she removed
it to get a perfect tan. All of her body had a uniform, beautiful bronze color
after three trips to the Hamptons. I never saw her swimming or even taking a
dip in the ocean. The only use of her bikini was to wear it when going to and
from the roof to sunbathe in the nude.
She
was five foot five and slim with a slightly round butt. I adored her medium-sized
breasts and almost always exposed cleavage. I used to watch her through my
window, climbing to the roof in the morning while I was still in bed, her dark
blond hair flying in the light breeze, covering her beautiful face, and raining
down her back. Each step she took caused her breasts to bounce slightly as she
climbed up the white ladder. It was a beautiful morning view.
Once
I went up to hang out with her and Joe, and I was surprised to see her lying down
on her stomach, in the nude. Joe was sitting beside her reading a book and
casually caressing her back with his finger. I immediately ducked and started
climbing down the ladder. I was about to escape unnoticed if it were not for
one of the three beer bottles slipping from me and breaking on the cement below.
Joe came rushing and he saw me picking up the broken glass off the patio. He
didn’t suspect that a few seconds earlier I was looking at his girlfriend’s
bare ass.
“Why
are we stopping?” Lyn said as Joe pulled over on the side of the road.
“I
wanna take a leak.”
“Where?
On the side of the road?”
“Relax.
I will go behind that rock. No one can see me.”
“I
gotta go too,” I said, as I climbed out of the car straight from the back seat.
“Careful,
man, you will scratch it,” Joe shouted at me.
“I
can see your cocks,” Lyn shouted.
“Take
a picture,” Joe replied.
The
whole trip from the East Hamptons to the West Village took us around two hours,
but we were already late. Lyn’s mom was coming in from Connecticut at around
six, and she didn’t have a key to Lyn’s place and it was already six thirty.
“My
mom is gonna kill me.” Lyn snapped, furious at Joe making us late.
“Richard,
can you hand me my bag, please?” Lyn said impatiently, reaching back to me. She
took the bag, opened it, and started looking inside it. “Damn, I can’t find my
key.”
“How
can you find anything inside that bag?” Joe asked sarcastically as he was taking
the last turn, one block away from her apartment.
“I
must have left it at your place. Can we go get it?” Lyn was not asking but
just telling Joe what he should do, as usual, and expecting that he would do it.
“Now
you are telling me that? I can’t make a right turn here. I have to go down three
blocks, and then turn right. It will take us fifteen minutes. Why didn’t you
fucking check before? Why do you keep things till the last minute? You always
do tha…” Joe was going to continue, but Lyn slammed his face with her bag and
told him to shut the fuck up.
We
pulled over next to Lyn’s building. It was a pre-war four-level townhouse,
converted into one bedroom apartments. It had a nice, well maintained, classical
look. In front of it, on the third step, sat Lyn’s mom, wearing a long white
summer dress. She looked beautiful. I only met her once, more than six months
ago during Vanessa’s funeral. We didn’t talk much back then. I guess we were
all in shock, and no one was in the mood for talking, but I remember how sexy
she looked in a black dress. She looked too young to be a mother of a nineteen
year old girl.
“Here,”
I said to Lyn and gave her a key. She looked at me with a surprised look on
her face. “I fixed your stove, remember?”
“Thanks,
mwah,” Lyn replied, blowing me a playful kiss, then she turned towards her mom
and said, “Mom, you look gorgeous. Sorry I’m late, but you know Joe is a lousy
driver.”
Joe
got out of the car first and greeted Lyn’s mom. “Mrs. Brooks, so nice to see
you.”
“Joe
darling,” she said and gave him a kiss. “How are you, sweetheart? I missed you
this summer. You didn’t come visit us in Connecticut?”
“I
will make it for Christmas.” Joe replied.
“Santa
baby” Lyn whispered to Joe as she was going to welcome her mom, who she hugged
and kissed.
“Nice
tan, Marilyn,” Mrs. Brooks said while holding her daughter’s hand and stepping
back to look at her.
“We
were in the Hamptons. It was great,” Lyn replied. “You should come with us
next weekend.”
“Your
dad will be here in a few days,” her mom said.
“Dad
is coming to New York?” Lyn seemed surprised.
“I
will tell you all about it later, darling.” Mrs. Brooks turned her attention
to me. “Richard,” she said as she walked closer to me.
I
was still leaning against the car as she called my name. I was taken by the
view of her and Lyn. They looked like sisters. When she came closer, I stood
up straight and took my hand out of my pocket to shake her hand. She opened
her arms and gave me a hug, and she kissed my cheek. The kiss landed just
under my right ear.
As
she pulled away, she looked at me and said: “Would you be my date tonight?”
“Maaaaaaaaaaaa!”
Lyn screamed at her mom. “Knock it off! Come on! The guys were leaving.”
“I’ll
pick you up at eight, and we will go dancing,” I replied in a teasing tone.
“Good
I brought my dancing shoes,” she replied.
“You
are grounded tonight,” Lyn said in a serious tone but jokingly.
Mrs.
Brooks laughed, looked at Lyn, and said, “Lighten up, little girl I was just
kidding.” She gave me a wink.
I
winked back and smiled and started thinking what a delicious fantasy it would
be if it came true. Lyn cut my fantasy short as she pulled her mother up the
stairs as fast as she could. “Bye, guys. See you tonight. We are still going
for dinner and drinks, right?”
“Definitely,”
I answered.
“Hey,
let me help you with the bags,” Joe offered.
Lyn
just shook her head. I climbed into the back seat as I watched Lyn and her mom
climb the steps leading up to the front door. Joe looked at me and said: “You
have keys to her apartment?”
“Drive,
dude,” I said, ignoring his question.
“What
would you want her keys for? Don’t tell me you sneak into her room and put on
her underpants, you pervert?” Joe said, while ignoring the road and looking
straight at me trying to break me down.
“My
name is Richard, and I love wearing woman’s panties,” I said, and we both
laughed.
As
soon as Joe dropped me off, I took a shower, and I dressed in a t-shirt and jeans,
took my iPad, and went out for a cup of coffee. Five minutes later, I was just
across the street from Starbucks at Hudson Street. I stood outside, trying to
resist the urge to keep walking on towards Grove Street. The sweet evening
warmth wrapped around me, reminding me of Lyn’s mom’s hug and kiss. Her scent
lingered on and on and I was so tempted to see her again. Not knowing what I
was really doing I kept walking towards Lyn’s house.
It
is never a bad idea to take a walk to nowhere in this part of town. It’s a
village within one of the busiest cities in the world. It gives you a sense of
relief from the craziness of city life. In the early seventies, my parents met
in the village, and they lived together somewhere on Christopher Street. Both
were artists. My dad was a photographer, and my mom was a playwright. They
were not looking for fame and fortune, but somehow they got both. They never
got married, even after I was born: “Marriage complicates things,” Dad told me
later. I don’t blame them; it’s their life after all.
When
I was born, they moved to a bigger house. It was both a home and a studio for
their work. So many models, actors, writers, directors, and all kinds of
artists used to frequent our home. Mom used to give writing and acting classes,
and sometimes her class would only consist of a young handsome actor.
I
had my first kiss in that house. I still remember it as if it has just
happened. I was only fourteen. Camille was a young French model who was cast
for a perfume advertising campaign for a well-known international brand. She
was only sixteen at the time, and her mom accompanied her from Bordeaux to New
York for the campaign and to LA to film a small role in a teenage movie as a
French exchange student gone wild. Mom was in London at the time. She was
invited to attend the opening of a new play written by one of her colleagues,
who was also one of her lovers.
One
day, I came back from school and saw that the red light above the door was on.
Every time the studio was occupied, my dad put a red light on to spare him the
embarrassment of someone walking in on some nude models. The studio had two
doors, one at the back, which opened directly to the street, and another one which
led to our kitchen. A couple of times, a nude model wandered through that door
into the kitchen by mistake, thinking the door led to the changing rooms.
I
took a slice of pizza from the fridge and opened the studio door just a little
bit to be able to look inside. I instantly saw flashing lights and a couple of
figures, one of a woman and one of a man watching my dad as he was
photographing someone. Guessing the scene was safe enough for me to enter and I
would not get grounded for seeing a nipple or bare ass, I entered. Then I saw Camille
under the bright studio lights. She looked perfect, a young girl wearing a
white dress. She looked like a Greek goddess.
They
all turned to look at me when I came in because, clumsy as I am, I stepped on
something that made a loud noise. My dad was distracted and gave me an angry
look before he introduced me to everyone, then Camille told her mom something
in French, and her mom explained to us that Camille was hungry. Dad told her
to go with me to the kitchen and told me to fix her something to eat. Her mom
said that she was not hungry, and the executive from the ad agency had to go.
Camille and I went into the kitchen, and Dad came behind us to make sure that
the door to the studio was closed.
I
took the rest of the pizza out as Camille sat on the kitchen stool. I offered
her some Coke, but she said no. As we were eating, she saw that there was an
open bottle of red wine at the end of the kitchen counter. She stood up, got
herself a glass and poured some wine into it, tasted it, and poured some more.
She looked at me and tipped the bottle, offering me some. I nodded a yes. I
had never had wine before, but I was afraid of doing something that might
embarrass myself in front of her. She was French with French habits, and I
didn’t want to look too American and unsophisticated to her.
I
poured the Coke into the sink, and Camille poured wine into my glass. She said
“
Santé”
and took a sip. I did just the same. It had a nice taste, not
at all as I thought it would be. We finished eating, and I showed Camille
where she could wash her hands. As I was standing behind her, I noticed that
she was still wearing the Greek dress. It was white, loose, and a little
transparent. When she bent over the sink, I was able to see the outline of her
panties. She was not wearing a bra either. She looked behind her and saw me
checking her out, and my eyes were fixed on her ass. She smiled and continued
washing her hands and face from all the makeup she had on.
We
grabbed our glasses off the kitchen counter, and Camille noticed the red light
above the studio door. I told her it means that whenever it is on, Dad was
working, and I can’t go in. Her eyes sparkled, and she smiled a naughty smile,
as if she knew the real reason behind the red light. She told me that she
thinks that my dad and her mom were doing It, and we should take a peek and
watch. I knew that she was most probably right, but I told her that Dad will
kill me if I opened that door.
I
went into the living room and sat on the couch. Camille hesitated for a moment
, then came and sat next to me. She stretched out her legs on the glass table
in front of her. She was barefoot and was wearing a gold anklet that made
sound when it touched the glass. She was sitting close to me, and our bodies
were touching. I felt the heat of her body against mine. The sheer fabric of
her dress was draped across her body now, and I could see the peaks of her small
breasts. I watched her as I sipped some more wine and a smile escaped her
lips.
Just
like that, she turned and quickly kissed me on my lips. A short and studded
kiss that lasted a few seconds only. She moved back, looked at me, and kissed
me again. This time I was ready to kiss her back. It was my first real kiss.
We put the glasses on the table and kissed again, the taste of wine mixed with
our breath and wet lips, and then she stopped, took my hand, and said, “Follow
me. Let’s go take a peek.”
We
slowly opened the door to the studio. It was a heavy door but was designed not
to make any noise when opened or closed. The moment we peeked in, we knew what
was happening inside. We instantly heard moans both in French and English.
Camille’s mom was bent over some prop columns they were using in photo-shoots.
Dad was behind her with his trousers down to his ankles and his shirt off.
Her
mom had big breasts and a round ass, and her pussy was glistening. I stood
there watching with my jaw dropped down to my knees. My dad bent down behind
her and started licking her pussy. She was moaning, “
Oui, oui, Nick, comme ça.”
She started touching her breasts as they dropped down, and her moans were
getting strong. The scene got me so excited, and I was getting harder as I
watched. Camille was standing in front of me, and I was leaning against her.
Our bodies touched, and I was sure that she felt my hardness pressing against
her.
I
gathered some courage and lifted my hand that was at my side, and l placed it
on her hip. Slowly my hand made its way up to her breasts. As soon as my hand
touched her nipple, she sighed and turned around to face me. She leaned against
the door closing it while still facing me. I leaned forward and started
kissing her again, this time with more confidence. She parted her lips, and
our tongues touched for the first time.
Camille
took my hand and took me back to the couch. She made me sit, and she sat on my
lap. She felt very light, and I put my arms around her and held her tightly. She
leaned forward and started kissing me again. As we kissed, my hand found its
way back to her breast, small but firm, and her nipple was getting harder as I
touched it. The dress that she was wearing was hooked together at the
shoulders. Camille reached and unhooked it. One side fell down, and then she
took my hand that was on her breast and moved it away. One side of her upper
body was fully exposed to me. I stopped kissing her for a moment and leaned
back to take a look at her. My heart pounded more and more as I saw her bare
breast eight inches away from my face. It was so beautiful and tempting, and
her nipples were half erect and light pink. I moved my hand to touch it, but
Camille stopped me and placed her finger instead on her nipple. She made
circles around it and looked into my eyes. My breathing became heavier, and my
desire for Camille was boundless. She took her finger off her nipple and
placed it on my lips. I leaned forward, my lips one inch away from her pink
nipple. I hesitated for a moment, then I gave Camille’s nipple a kiss. I
moved back and went in again, and this time, I opened my mouth and took her
nipple in my mouth. As I closed my lips over it, I heard a light moan escaping
Camille’s mouth. Then she pulled away and a squeaked an
ayy!
She
leaned forward again and kissed my lips. I knew that I might have bit her
nipple as my sucking became more vigorous. Our lips unlocked, and I was now
ready to try again. As soon as my lips touched her nipples again, I heard a
voice coming from behind us.
“
Camille,
que faites-vous?”
the voice called.
Camille jumped off me back to
the couch and quickly re-hooked her dress. Her mom was still standing at the
studio door but was obviously furious. My dad was not there. She came towards
us, and I stood up and walked away from her. Camille stayed seated without looking
up at her mom. As soon as her mom came closer, she noticed the glasses, took
one of them from the table and smelled it.
“
Du
vin aussi? Pute”,
she said to Camille and took her hand, lifted her off the
couch and led her through the door to the studio. Immediately, I took the wine
glasses and poured them in the sink and rinsed them. Dad came out, asking what
had happened. I told him that Camille’s mom saw us kissing. He shook his head
and didn’t say a word.
Five
minutes later, Camille and her mom came out of the studio door, and after they
said a few words to my dad, they left. Camille turned around and winked at
me. She was so sweet. That experience made believe that a French Kiss is only
real as long as you kiss a French girl.
I
never saw her again after that day. I only kept a couple of pictures from my
dad’s archive, and Dad and I never talked about what happened. Over time, Mom
and Dad grew farther apart, spending less and less time together in the house.
When one was in, the other was out working and vice versa. I knew that they
were not going to be together like before, but I enjoyed the brief moments that
we were a real family.
“Excuse
me, how is Bleecker go?” A Japanese tourist stopped to ask me for directions, cutting
short my trip down memory lane.
“You
go straight and then right.” I replied with both words and hand gestures, to
make sure he understood. I watched him walk away while thanking me with the
traditional bow and saying, “
Arigato
”.
I
kept walking, with every step getting closer and closer to Lyn’s house, and I
knew I had to make a decision soon. I had to go up there. I had to see her
mom. I didn’t look up as I passed Lyn’s building slowly. I wouldn’t dare go
up. Really what was I thinking coming here?
“Richard…Richard.”
I heard someone call my name. I stopped and looked back. Behind me there were
a couple of guys delivering furniture, and I was sure that the voice I heard
was a woman’s voice.
“Richard…
up here,” I looked up and it was Lyn’s mom calling me from the bedroom window.
She had a lit cigarette in her hand. “Lyn doesn’t let me smoke inside. Where
are you going? Come up.”
Her
elbows rested on the window sill, and she was leaning forward. Her breasts
were squeezed together, and their top half was exposed. Her hair was wet and
laying on her right shoulder. I was looking at her with a desire that I had
never felt before. Her light blue eyes glistened, and her smile was so sensual
and exciting. Everything about her was attractive, even in the way she held
her cigarette, in the way she blew out the smoke out of her lips. For me, the
most sensual thing was the way she looked at me. It was not the look of the
mother of my friend. It was a look that I have never seen in the eyes of Joe’s
mom or Vanessa’s mom or any of my friends’ mothers. Mrs. Brooks was different
in all ways possible.
My
fantasy lasted a fraction of a second and I said, “I was going to grab a
coffee.”
“Great,
I’ll come with you.” She put out the cigarette and called to me. “I’ll buzz
you in. Come up I need a minute to put something on,” and she went inside.