Her Hometown Daddy Page 2

  Gathering the tools up in their arms, they headed back down the stairs. As they did so, Lisa checked out the rooms on the other side of the house: auntie’s sewing room, uncle’s study, and the guest room. Once back in the kitchen, they stepped into the pantry, the space under the stairs, and here they paused. Before Lisa could ask, Drew used his elbow to nudge a coat hook on the wall. It turned, there was a click, and a trapdoor dropped open before them.

  “Holy shit, Drew! What the hell is that?”

  He grinned at her. “Caught you by surprise, eh? Just a little gizmo I cobbled together. So much better than the old ring in the floor you had to pull up, wouldn’t you say?”

  “That’s putting it mildly. Damn, dude, remind me to have you outfit my house someday. I always wanted a place with secret passages and trapdoors.”

  “And a painting where the eyes move?”

  “You know me soooo well,” she shot back, bumping him with her shoulder.

  He nodded and headed down the stairs, still old and creaky, and just as dusty as she remembered. Once again he had to duck to fit, and they came to the cellar. Standing there, slowly turning around in a circle, she took the whole place in and was amazed. It was an old cellar, essentially nothing more than a hole dug in the ground with raw earth encircling them, but she still loved it. It was a childhood memory. She and Drew and their friends had crawled around down here, dug into the soft clay, and cut trenches for them to play in.

  “Wow, the place looks great!” she said, setting the tools down on a large work table. “What, you call in a crew to get rid of your dad’s junk?”

  He laughed, adding his armful to the pile. “You’re not that far off. Had a mega yard sale. Got rid of a ton of stuff, almost literally. I kind of had to start here; it’s going to be my workshop.”

  “How’s that going, got a lot of work?”

  “More than I can handle. I’ll be busy through the end of the year, minimum.”

  “Way to go. I always knew woodworking would work out for you. You’ve got your dad’s talent and your mom’s hazel eyes.”

  He blushed. “I… um, I have to get to work.”

  “Oh, sure, and I have to see about a job.”

  “You don’t have one lined up? Lisa, it’s awfully late in the season to be looking.”

  “Relax, my man, one glance at my obvious ‘talents’ behind the bar and I’ll land a plum position.”

  Tilting his head to look at her back, he grinned. “Yes, well, you might want to cover that behind. You got two blushing cheeks peeking out there.”

  In an instant, she had four. “Um, yeah, good point. I’ll change and get going.”

  Mounting the stairs, each stretch to her thighs making her wince in painful delight, Lisa returned to her room and slipped off her shorts. Standing with her back to the full-length mirror, she outlined those delicious red handprints on her cheeks. Her black panties, barely more than a thong, gave scant coverage, and thus she was able to thoroughly inspect the damage. The sting was incredible, the lingering heat seemed to burrow into her flesh, and the pulsation in her pussy drove her wild. If she’d had time, she would have stripped down and rubbed one out. However, work before pleasure. She took a quick selfie over her shoulder and focused on the important matter at hand: she needed a job!

  Dumping out the stuff from her backpack, she sifted through her things, mulling over what would work best. She settled on her leggings/yoga pants that looked like super tight jeans. They’d show off every curve without embarrassing her, and thus she was sure to find a job.

  Setting off back down the hill, she passed the harbor and came to the main part of town. The village had a classic wheel spoke pattern to its narrow roads. She came in from the north (twelve o’clock, so to speak). At the center was the old fountain and park benches, and roads went off at three, five, seven, and nine. The nine o’clock road was where she turned her attention, as it was where the restaurants, bars, and lounges were located, and they were in the process of getting ready for the season. The others were the shops, hotels, and inns, and the beach area. Not places where salaries were known to be substantial, at least not for a lowly service person such as her.

  Hiking on over to the street, she popped into the first place she came to: The Golden Lobster. She remembered it from her childhood, one of the fanciest restaurants she’d ever seen, and a place she had always dreamed of one day being able to afford. Dinner there would run the average diner a minimum of thirty bucks a plate. The place smelled like money, and she knew it would be a great place to work. Not only was it the first place tourists saw, the wall facing the street was a series of huge picture windows. People passing would see the fine food and great drinks, and thus be enticed to come in.

  A short man who Lisa recognized as Ken, the owner, came out of the kitchen in front of her.

  “Yes, miss, can I help you?”

  “I’m looking for work as a bartender. You need someone for the whole season?”

  “Well, I…” His voice trailed off as his eyes played up and down her frame.

  It helped that she turned slightly to give him a profile view and shot of her ass. Smiling, she turned back to face him and inhaled deeply.

  “I make a mean margarita. Care to… taste?”

  He licked his lips. “To be honest, I had a couple of guys in mind, but… let’s see what you got.”

  He nodded to his right, toward the bar, and she turned and headed to it. L-shaped, the top was beautiful sandstone, the liquor was all top of the line premium stuff, and the equipment the best of the best. There was even a cappuccino machine. Oh, she’d love that. Her hands moved on their own accord, easily falling into the routine of mixing and preparing the drink. Ken sat on a bar stool, and in a trice she presented him with the final concoction, lime wedge and salt perfectly positioned on the glass’s rim.

  He checked his watch. “Less than a minute, not bad,” he said, and took a sip. “Nice flavor, not too heavy on the sour mix, and what’s that other flavor I detect in the background?”

  “Dash of Cointreau I slipped in. I find it adds to the delight of the experience.”

  Ken proceeded to quiz her on a number of cocktails: long island iced tea, old-fashioned, mojito, and other types of margaritas. Then some general bar knowledge and techniques, and finally proper bar etiquette and customer interactions. After all, keeping the guest happy, safe, relatively sober, and up-selling them to premium liquors was what the job was truly all about. Finally, smiling broadly, he sat back in his stool.

  “I’m sold. Girl, you’re hired. Damn, I didn’t even get your name.”

  “Lisa Downs,” she said.

  His jaw dropped. “Lisa… Downs? Not the scrawny little kid who used to help her dad deliver lobster?”

  She grinned. “The same. I grew up.”

  “I’ll say,” he said, and then slapped his own face. “What am I saying? Jesus, my daughter, my youngest daughter used to babysit you! Oh, now I feel old.”

  “Now, now, Mr. Hall, it’s okay. I still think you’re pretty spiffy.”

  “Uh-huh, but not as cool as I once was, right?”

  “Well…” she said slowly, grimacing.

  He laughed. “It’s okay. What, you got some college hunk pining for you?”

  “Um…” Her voice trailed off as her butt muscles twitched. That lingering sting was still caressing and poking her nether regions. “I’ve got a man in my life.”

  They spent the next hour sipping cappuccinos and catching up on old times. Lisa positively boiled with sexual excitement. Sitting on the high hard barstool drove her wild. Her feet didn’t reach the rung, which meant her full weight (modest as it was) thrust onto her sore cheeks. It was incredible! Ken gave her the details on her schedule: five days a week, four to midnight, Wednesday to Sunday, which was the coveted slot, as it avoided the slow days and gave her the weekend (the best days). They went over the specialty drink menu, she got her uniforms, and then they reviewed the menu. She’d need to kno
w it to be able to answer guests’ questions while they waited for a table in the bar.

  “Wait a minute, Mermaid Tail? Island Caviar? What are those?”

  Ken chuckled. “Little jokes. My daughters came up with a whole fantasy menu for the restaurant back when they were little. Each of those is their favorite item.”

  “Awww, Mr. Hall, you old softie.”

  “Come on, cut out the formal stuff. I was Uncle Kenny for a long time. Ken is fine.”

  She smiled and nodded. “Ken it is.”

  After that, she headed out, her uniforms bundled under her arm.

  Yeah, nailed it, got a job at the first place I tried. Oh, I’m good. Now to check out the old place.

  Lisa strolled along the other streets of town, taking in all the old shops of her youth. There was the bakery, famous for its apple fritters and the arcade with the old-fashioned pinball games. She wondered if they were still a quarter to play. She’d have to check. Then there were the inns and B&Bs. Some had undergone makeovers over the years, but they were all still the same places. Yes, nothing much had changed on Shadow Island. She finally came to the beach. While it was too early in the season and too cold to go swimming, she did slip off her sandals and stand in the soft sand. There was something about it, the feel of the tiny grains between her toes, the warm embrace to her arches that made all her stresses melt away. It was as if a valve had been opened in her body and every bit of trouble was drained out of her. She closed her eyes, inhaled, and held out her arms. The gentle onshore breeze tossed her hair about. The coolness was refreshing, the salt air made her tingle, and there was the lingering heat behind her. All the sensations blended to rebuild her soul. Never in her life had she felt so good.

  No, that was a lie. She used to feel this way back when she lived here. Her eyes snapped open and she frowned. Bah, sentimental hogwash! I don’t need this place to feel alive. This island is the past, my past, and I intend to embrace the future.

  Lisa headed back to the house, this time weaving her way through the back streets. She smiled as she strolled along. The old places hadn’t changed a bit; even the trees seemed the same. It was as if she was ten again and running out to play with Drew and all their friends.

  But mostly Drew.

  Walking along, barely aware of where she was going, she seemed to slip back in time. She could almost feel herself shrinking, everything around her becoming larger until she truly was a little girl again. Her heart soared into the clouds above as she felt the total freedom of youth. No cares, no responsibilities, and pain was a skinned knee. She giggled to think of how she and Drew used to play doctor, and he would fix such things. It had been the innocent version of childhood. He was so gentle and caring. He would have been a good doctor.

  She stopped and blinked when she realized the sunlight was warming her face. Looking around, she saw that she was on the old dirt road that ran along the pond. Of all things, A Christmas Carol popped into her head. She thought of Scrooge speaking of how he could walk to his old school blindfolded because he knew the way so well. It seemed she was the same way; her body knew the way back to the house without being told. Then she noticed one change to the old place: the road was now paved. She couldn’t help but feel a twinge of regret. Yes, it was safer, cleaner, and it cut down on the dust, yet somehow it just didn’t feel right.

  Shouts of glee caught her attention and she turned toward the pond. Little heads bobbed up and down. Stepping into the soft grass that separated the road from the top of the pond’s bank, Lisa could look down the gentle slope to the shoreline. A group of kids were playing along the bank. She smiled; they were right next to the big old corrugated metal pipe that drained into the pond.

  Oh, the happy times Drew and I and the gang spent there. Looks like they’re doing the exact same things we did.

  Two boys, maybe about eight were studying the pipe. She wondered, were they contemplating climbing inside or building a dam across the opening? She and the gang had done both. The pipe never had more than a trickle running through it, so it wasn’t really dangerous. It was more the thrill of the unknown. Besides, their mutual friend Jimmy had double-dog dared her to do it, and such a challenge could not go unanswered. She remembered Drew waiting for her at the other end. You’d have thought she’d won a marathon or something the way he’d hugged her and picked her up. They’d both gone home covered in mud and gotten royally good scoldings about playing in the dirt. Of course they didn’t tell their moms how they really got so dirty.

  Then there had been the dam. She couldn’t remember who had the bright idea to block the pipe, but they’d done it, and diverted the water into a basin they dug next to it. It had become a calm spot to sail boats made of scrap wood, twigs, and tissue paper. After all, it was just a little water, what could go wrong?

  They found out.

  While the flow was just a trickle, over time that little bit of water added up, and their little civil engineering project had a major impact on the homes across the street from the lake. The yards began to flood! It wasn’t the volume, it was the elevation. Their little dam raised the level of the creek up about a foot, which was enough to send water cascading over all of their lawns. The owners complained, down came the dam, and the search for the guilty began.

  Lisa had sweat bullets worrying about getting caught. Then Drew once more showed his noble streak. He came forth and confessed to being responsible. Of course, the adults had been a bit incredulous that he’d acted alone. After all, it was common knowledge that he hung out with the other kids in the area. Thus began the questioning. That was the longest day of Lisa’s life. They’d hung out at their secret clubhouse and contemplated their fate. Lisa had to laugh remembering their wild child thoughts as to what was being done to Drew to make him talk: the rack, hot coals, the lash, and Jimmy was sure they’d use some sort of mind meld or truth serum to extract the information. In the end, he’d held firm and bore the punishment alone: community service cleaning up around the lake and grounded for two weeks.

  The sounds of splashes brought her attention to the other two, a boy and girl, the boy standing at the shore. The girl was dashing into the pond, water splashing everywhere. She went out to about knee-high depth, stopped, and thrust her hands into the water.

  “Got ‘em,” she cried, hoisting a small jug aloft.

  Lisa chuckled again. They were catching minnows. Once again, another blast from the past. Oh, the number of times she and Drew did the same. He used to say that was why he ‘loved’ her. She was the only girl he knew who’d catch minnows, cut bait and go fishing, and not care that she came home head to toe filthy and smelly. Granted, he’d said it when he was ten, so that’s why she put the qualifier around that word, the big L. Still, it had meant a lot to her at the time. Now… well.

  She tried to put such feelings out of her mind. Drew was cute and all, but he was like the island: her past and she was determined to embrace the future. Turning on her heels, she headed home. She enjoyed the scent of honeysuckle hanging in the air and the slight aroma of manure. What a thing to relish! Yet, in moderation, when just a hint of it hung in the air, it wasn’t so bad. The homes in the area all had modest gardens, some even had chicken coops, and thus a little fertilizer was to be expected.

  Approaching the house from the rear, another memory came to her. She wondered, was it still there? Moving to the back porch near the door, she grabbed one of the floor boards. It was still loose. She grinned and pulled it aside, and then the one next to it. There it was, their old ‘engine.’ Back when the porch was their ship, spaceship or station, submarine, and countless other things, this was their engine. Lisa knelt down, relishing the lingering sting in her ass, and just looked at it. There was the old cooking pot Drew’s mom had given them, the empty soda cans and bits of wire, and their power crystals! It was a tall jar with some of those ‘magic crystals’ Drew bought one year. Lisa and he had watched them grow when he’d put the secret formula in some water, filled the jar with it, and the
n dropped the tablets in. Lisa laughed to herself and shook her head.

  God, what simpletons we were back then. Ah, what the hell, we were kids and I’ve got to admit, it was fun. Hmm, I wonder if Drew remembers that this is here. Maybe I’ll spring it on him later.

  Replacing the boards, she headed inside. Banging and thumping told her he was working down in the cellar, probably on another woodworking job. Reaching back with both hands, she pinched her cheeks hard, and kept a hold of her flesh until her eyes grew watery. There was a slight amount of fire, but nothing like before, nothing like what Drew stoked within her. She was due another spanking come morning. She had to wonder: could she entice him to do more?

  Chapter Three

  That night they sat down to a pleasant dinner, which Lisa cooked. While they ate, they talked, and Lisa told him about her day.

  “Congrats on the job, girl. Man, that’s fab.”

  “Thank you, my man,” she said with a grin. “So, how about we go out to celebrate? What’s there to do around here off-season? Any of the clubs open yet, or does the town pretty much roll up the sidewalks at sunset still?”

  Drew shrugged. “You know this place. Although, since Memorial Day, a couple of bars do stay open to like ten or midnight, depending on how crowded they are.”

  “Hmm, not much to deal with. Yet, we can still get wasted. Come on; first four rounds are on me.”

  “Oh, I don’t know if I should. I’ve got a lot of work to do tomorrow.”

  “Drew, chill out. Life’s too short to worry about work. Just this once, please. Remember, starting tomorrow, I’m a working girl. Wait, that didn’t come out right.”

  “I get what you mean,” he replied with a chuckle. “Okay, because it’s you, Lisa, we can go for a while.”

  “Awesome! Come on, my man, let’s hit it while we’re young,” she squealed in delight, jumping to her feet.

  As they were both going to drink, they elected to walk rather than use Drew’s ‘car,’ his little electric cart. It was almost laughable to see him in it. He was so massive and it was so tiny. To Lisa it was like a clown car. So, they strolled down, and she was struck by his reluctance to take her hand.