Bacon...

Friday morning, Gayle woke up a little sore and without his usual morning woody. He didn’t notice that, but he did know he needed to pee. Pulling back the covers to get out of bed, he made another discovery. He had slept in the nude, not his usual thing at all.

What the heck had he been doing last night? He didn’t have time to figure out the answer to that. He needed to get upstairs to the bathroom quickly though so he grabbed the robe he found hanging in his closet and put it on, belting it around his middle and scooting up the stairs to the guest bathroom in the parlor.

He didn’t see anyone on the way, but he did notice the dawn colors through the front windows. Apparently, he was the first one up this morning. He did his business, noticing that his toes still had polish on them. Damn, he kept forgetting to get some polish remover and take the girly color off his nails.

Today for sure, he told himself. Remembering to put the ring down—the girls sometimes used this bathroom—he started back to his room. The grandmother clock on the mantelpiece gave the time as a quarter till six (it was a very old-style clock), but now he heard someone in the kitchen, running water and making a quiet racket with pans.

Miz Frankie’s bedroom was on the other side of the kitchen where she had a private entrance to the house, also used by her outside assistants. The two local girls who helped her in the mornings had probably already arrived and were getting ready to make breakfast.

His tummy growled discreetly. Maybe if he went back to his room and got dressed, he could come upstairs and cadge a bit of food before the seven a.m. official breakfast time. A roll or something. With butter and that English marmalade that came in the eight-sided jar. His mouth watering, he hurried down the stairs to his underground retreat without anyone seeing him, still naked under his robe.

His room had eleven drawers, two deep ones in the bottom of the wardrobe, one shallow one in the side table, four in the lowboy chest and four in the desk. And none of them contained his clean underwear. He could have sworn he had put a stack of clean boxers and t-shirts in the second of the lowboy drawers, but they weren’t there, even after he had rechecked twice.

They weren’t anywhere else he could find either. None of the other drawers and not lying on any surface in the room, not even on top of the armoire nor inside his folded and put away duffel and suitcase. A third search turned up an unopened package of underwear, all right, but they were tighty-whities, not the colorful, looser boxers he preferred. Had his mother included those in his packed luggage?

But he’d taken long enough looking for his boxers, and he was hungry. Nothing for it, he thought, opening the package and slipping on the briefs. At least, they fit. Plus, they were the softest, nicest feeling pair of underwear he’d ever had on. Go figure. Maybe he’d be switching permanently from boxers?

He quickly pulled on a pair of slacks and a thick, long-sleeved t-shirt and headed up to try to talk Miz Frankie into a pre-breakfast snack. Once again, he forgot totally about his painted toenails.

Walking into the kitchen, he greeted the house mother. “Good morning, Miz Frankie.”

“Well, aren’t you up early, Gayle,” the woman replied, sliding a tray of buns into one of the ovens. The two other women looked at him and giggled. “This is Nadine and Opal. They help me in the mornings. Ladies, this is Gayle, our basement boarder. He’s probably here to try to charm us out of a snack.”

All the ladies wore gray and white striped smocks over black skirts and flowered aprons over the whole ensemble. They had their hair up in nets while they worked and Opal wore big yellow gloves as she scrubbed at something in the sink. Nadine was a tall black woman and Opal a petite blonde.

He grinned at them. “I wouldn’t turn it down, but is there anything I can help with?” Gayle had never considered himself particularly charming, but it didn’t hurt to put a little effort into it.

Frankie put a finger to her cheek, thinking. “I suppose there is,” she motioned toward a door in one wall. “Go in the pantry there and bring in one of those five-gallon bottles of water. Then you can replace the empty one in our fountain here.” She pointed to the water dispenser device in the corner, which sure enough had an empty five-gallon bottle inserted in the top.

“Sure thing,” Gayle agreed. He grabbed the empty and carried it with him into the pantry where four full bottles and three empties sat against a wall under one of the cabinets. Another large door there led outside to a concrete porch where deliveries were made for the house.

“Those things weigh about fifty pounds, full, and are a bit much for me or most of the smaller girls,” Frankie said from the kitchen. “Nadine can manage cause she’s tall, but it ought to be easier for you.”

“Easy enough,” Gayle agreed. He brought the full bottle in, set it on a counter, removed the plastic tear-away cap, and had it inserted back in the fountain in less than two minutes.

Frankie handed him a glass of milk and a toasted and buttered roll. “Thanks, Gayle,” she said. “You saved us some effort. Now get out of here before I give you an apron and put you to peeling potatoes.” The other ladies giggled again.

He fled, munching happily on the roll and draining the milk glass in one long gulp. No marmalade this time, but the milk was bonus, he thought. Leaving the glass on a paper coaster on the dining room table, he crossed through the parlor and went back to his subterranean digs to read, get fully dressed and wait for the real call to breakfast.

He didn’t hear the ladies in the kitchen talking about him.

“No shoes, and did you see his toes?” Nadine chortled.

Opal’s giggle was higher pitched. “He’s cute, even without the pink toes. Maybe we should have had him stay and open a few jars for us.”

Frankie laughed. “He’s going to fit right in here.”

* * *

Downstairs, Gayle didn’t need an alarm to tell him it was time for breakfast. Several rapid sets of footsteps descending the main stairs alerted him.

While putting on his socks, he’d noticed his painted toenails again. He determined to deal with the problem this morning. Surely, one of the girls would have some polish remover he could borrow, he thought. But how to ask for it in a non-embarrassing way?

The parlor was full of giggling housemates when he emerged on the ground floor. A few were dressed smartly for class, sensible shoes, modest skirts, and pretty blouses. The rest of the girls wore more casual clothes, not having any Friday classes to attend. Some were even in shorts, long legs on display.

Gayle stood at his door a moment, just enjoying the view, wondering a bit if it would ever become a humdrum part of his day. I hope not, he thought.

“What are you grinning about?” Charlie challenged him, stopping at the bottom of the stairs. She was one of the girls wearing shorts, khaki walking shorts with big pockets. Her yellow blouse was tied at her waist, and she had her blonde hair up in a ponytail. She wore no make-up, but her fresh morning face didn’t need any.

“Oh, nothing. Just congratulating myself on my good fortune,” Gayle turned his grin her way.

“Oh, ho,” Charlie grinned back. They each took two steps toward the dining room, moving closer to each other. Close enough that Charlie’s quick hand got a dig into Gayle’s ribs before he could react.

Startled, he let out an “Eep!” and tried to grab her hand but she was too quick for him, pulling it back and dancing away giggling.

“Luck, huh?” she teased. “Maybe it’s destiny?”

He blinked, not understanding. Was Charlie flirting with him? He’d better be careful how he responded, coming on to one of the girls could get him kicked out of his draft shelter. Still grinning, he just shook his head and moved toward the breakfast table.

Laughing now, Charlie followed him.

He took the same seat at the table he’d used before as Frankie and Nadine brought in platters of eggs, baskets of rolls, and sizzling trays of bacon.

“Lucky, huh?” Charlie repeated as she landed in the seat beside him. She reached out and snagged a slice of bacon. Nibbling on the morsel while sitting sideways on her chair, she examined him as if his luck might be visible. “Feel lucky enough for a round of mini-golf?” she asked.

Gayle didn’t know where to look. Charlie was right there, facing him and the way her blouse was tied, he could see the lace of her bra peeking out along with a good expanse of cleavage. He tried to look past her at the basket of bread on the corner of the table.

Charlie continued nibbling until half the bacon was gone, then she waved it at him and around their end of the table. “Mallory, Ash and I are going to play some putt-putt. Wanna make a fourth?” She chomped on the end of the bacon, then winked at him, waiting for his reply.