Jimmy Has A Fun Day At The Pool With His Aunts
All names have been changed.
Doris had planned a perfectly dignified afternoon: lemonade, a comfortable chair, and absolutely no getting her hair wet.
At sixty-seven, she considered these reasonable conditions for attending her sister’s poolside lunch.
Florence, sixty-eight and older by a margin she mentioned whenever convenient, had other plans.
“You could at least put your feet in,” she said.
“I put them in yesterday.”
“You watered your geraniums in sandals.”
“Water was involved.”
Their nephew Jimmy surfaced at the edge of the pool, laughing. At nineteen, he had discovered that visiting his aunts meant eating enough for three people and refereeing arguments that had started before his mother was born.
“Which one of you wants to judge my dive?”
“Neither,” Doris said.
“Both,” Florence said.
His dive produced a tremendous splash and very little diving.
Doris lifted her lemonade just in time.
“Four out of ten,” she announced.
“For technique?” Jimmy asked.
“For missing my drink.”
By the time lunch was ready, Jimmy had dried himself and wrapped a white towel around his waist.
It sat low on his hips, its folded end securely tucked in.
His impressive abs gave both women a tempting excuse to linger, their bashful smiles doing little to disguise their wandering eyes.
“Those deliciously hard abs of yours are making it terribly difficult to behave. I hope you won’t tell your uncle Harold I said that,” Doris teased, her cheeks turning pink.
Florence giggled. “Agreed! You can hardly blame us for looking when you make it so tempting, naughty boy!”
She fanned herself, laughing, “And here I was, hoping to be a proper lady today. Goodness, Jimmy! I’m feeling very warm! I’d better take a quick break before things start happening too quickly!”
Giving Jimmy a flirtatious wink and a suggestive smile, Florence went inside for sandwiches while Doris settled into a wooden lounge chair beneath the flowering hedge.
Jimmy approached carrying her forgotten reading glasses.
Then Doris noticed a tiny tattoo on his lower abdomen, just above the towel’s waistband.
She narrowed her eyes.
“James.”
He stopped.
Nobody called him James unless paperwork or trouble was involved.
“What,” she asked slowly, “is that?”
Jimmy glanced down.
“Oh. My tattoo.”
Doris sat upright.
“Your mother let you get a tattoo?”
“I’m nineteen, Aunt Doris.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
From behind them came Florence’s delighted voice.
“Let me see!”
She set the sandwiches on the table and joined the inspection.
The tattoo was a little grinning devil, scarcely bigger than a coin.
Doris stared another moment.
Then recognition struck.
“Oh, you didn’t!”
Jimmy’s smile widened.
He had.
When he was small, Doris had called him her little rascal. Every birthday card she sent included the same ridiculous drawing: two pointed devil horns, a round face, a naughty wink, and a crooked grin.
He had brought one of those cards to the tattoo artist.
Florence pressed a hand over her mouth.
“Doris, that’s your drawing!”
“My terrible drawing!”
“My favorite drawing,” Jimmy corrected.
For a moment, Doris couldn’t answer.
She remembered a boy in muddy shoes, arriving with broken toys he believed she could fix. Now he stood beside her, grown tall enough that she had to tip her head back.
“You sentimental little nuisance,” she said.
Florence was already reaching for her phone.
“Stay there. Your mother needs to see this.”
Jimmy chuckled.
“Mom’s already seen it. She came to the male revue I performed in.”
Doris’s eyebrows rose.
“She did?”
“Three different nights over the past two months.”
“Three!” Doris turned toward her sister. “Florence, did you know about this?”
Florence suddenly became interested in straightening the sandwich platter.
“Well… I went last Saturday.”
“You went?” Doris sat upright. “And why wasn’t I invited?”
“It was a last-minute arrangement!”
“You had time to arrange transportation, but not to telephone your sister?”
Jimmy grinned. “I’m staying out of this.”
“You’re already in it,” Doris informed him. “Now you owe me a kiss on the cheek, young man!”
Jimmy bent down and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek.
She smiled at him and giggled.
“Good boy! Or should I say… naughty boy?” She gave him a playful wink, then pointed at the tattoo. “You are wearing my little rascal, after all.”
“Exactly as charged,” Jimmy said.
Doris leaned closer, wearing a wicked grin. “So, Florence, my dear sister—did Saturday’s entertainment leave anything to the imagination? Is he… big?”
Florence smiled wickedly, leaned closer, and said in a stage whisper, loud enough for Jimmy to hear, “Big isn’t the word, girl. He’s huge!”
Doris drew in a quick breath and murmured, “Oh, my God! No wonder he’s such a bad boy!”
She looked up at Jimmy and gave him a playful smile. “Bad, bad boy!”
Doris, becoming noticeably excited, whispered, “Did any of you venture backstage to see him, or did you suddenly decide to be respectable?”
Florence winked. “All six of us went to say hello, one by one. Some took considerably longer than others. Mindy took the longest and came back glowing.”
Doris squealed her approval. “Oh, my God! That’s so naughty!”
“And tell us, young man,” Florence asked, “now that Mindy is the topic of conversation, did your mother behave herself the first night she saw you dancing nude at the male revue?”
“I plead the Fifth, ladies. Mom made me promise never to tell anyone who wasn’t already there. I’ll just say this… those backstage rooms keep more secrets than the Mafia. What happens backstage stays backstage,” Jimmy teased.
Florence exchanged a startled look with Doris. Both women gasped, then raised their eyebrows at each other.
“Oh, I recognize that grin, young man! Your mommy gave you something to smile about, didn’t she?” Florence said with a knowing giggle.
Doris gasped, a shocked look on her face. “Oh, my God! Has our sweet little sister been enjoying some forbidden pleasure? Be honest, young man! How naughty was she on that first night?” She dissolved into mischievous giggles.
With a smug little smile, Jimmy simply said, “Very, very naughty.”
Doris gasped again, looking even more titillated.
Florence smiled wickedly. “Oh, my God! I bet Mindy was a very, very bad girl! Here—eat a sandwich before you give your aunt Doris any ideas about performing for us right here, poolside!”
“Too late,” Doris giggled. “I already have a song in mind.”
Jimmy accepted a sandwich.
“Should I warn the neighbors?”
“They’ve heard her before,” Florence said. “They know when to close the windows.”
Doris swatted at her sister’s arm.
“Take your photograph, you dreadful woman.”
She leaned closer to Jimmy and pointed at the little devil on his lower abdomen.
“Make sure you get my masterpiece.”
Jimmy rested his hand affectionately on her head, just as she used to do to him.
“Try to look like a respectable aunt,” Florence instructed.
Doris burst out laughing, and Florence snapped the photograph.
She held out the phone so they could inspect it.
“You’ve cut off his head, and I’m pointing at his naughty little devil tattoo!” Doris exclaimed. “Respectability is very questionable at the moment, sis!”
“What?” Florence said. “The important faces are both in it.”
Doris looked again: her own delighted grin, and that silly little devil.
Then, with a sly wink and a giggle, she asked her sister to send her a copy.
To be continued…
All names have been changed.
