People Watching At The Party

With that he wandered to greet the guests as they arrived. We seated ourselves in the shade of the big tent and indulged in some people watching. Since most of the guests were of her parent's generation, we weren't disturbed for quite some time as guests greeted one another.

"That's old Mr Barnes, a terrible bore who owns a paper mill that pollutes miles and miles of watershed. He is very active politically trying to keep from installing anything to cut his profits along with his pollution.

"The lady in red is Mrs Dexter-Farnsworth, addicted to Good Works and Charity. A pompous old tart but she does accomplish some actual good works. Don't let her talk you into volunteering for anything no matter how trivial. You'll be on her list for life if you do.

"Then there's old McDavitt, one of the few people left who actually owns a bank all by himself. Passed down from grandfather to father to son, it is still barely viable in a very small town. His son got religion and takes the Biblical injunction about interest personally. Old McDavitt will probably sell his interest in the bank to one of the big boys when he retires, and another piece of Americana will bite the dust."

"You certainly have some characters hanging around your family," I observed.

"Just wait until Betty Jean gets here. She's a virulent women's libber but she has more money than god and spends lots of it at Dad's various businesses so he has to be nice to her. They have a lot of fun running the same arguments every time they meet. Almost as choreographed as a bullfight. She waves a red flag, he paws the ground and charges, she dances out of the way and then do it all over again until he's pricked full of holes.

"She doesn't kill him off, though, or there wouldn't be a next time. They'll sit down and try to out-drink each other and cuss the general dilapidated state of the world.

"She's sure to seek us out when she finds out we're engaged. I don't know if she'll think it's a blow for women that we are getting married or a travesty of the male-dominated patriarchy that we have to conform with the outdated strictures of marriage. Then again, if she knew who you really are it might just confuse her so much she will join my father in getting blotto by sundown.

"What an exciting way to spend an afternoon."

"Speaking of excitement, you're about to experience firsthand what it's like to get chatted up. That's Phil Barney headed toward us. He tried valiantly to date me in high school, but he's about as boring as his father. His pickup lines haven't changed since high school, either, which may account for why he's still single.

"Why Aida, long time no see. Who's your friend? Was your father an alien? Because there’s nothing else like you on Earth!"

"Hello Phil. My friend is my fiancée, Lori Cooke."

"Your what?"

"Fiancée, Phil. The woman I'm going to marry.

"No shit?"

"If you need to shit, I'd recommend the outhouses over behind the bar."

"You're going to marry a woman?"

"That's right, I'm marrying another woman."

"But why?"

"Because I love her. Besides, she's a great fuck."

I have never seen a guy shut down faster than Phil after that line. Score one for our side! We were left alone for a while after that. We switched to iced tea, which approximated the color of the whiskey that had started to flow rather freely.
 

It happened gradually, but we found ourselves on the periphery of half a dozen men, wheeler-dealers all, discussing some rather detailed plans to vertically integrate a business. I found myself with some firsthand proof of how men tend to discount women as anything but secretaries and eye-candy. We were completely ignored as they revealed sensitive competitive details.

Now this is just what I was paid to do - spot the flaws in a plan and offer suggestions to resolve the problems before they occurred. Finally, I couldn't keep my mouth shut any longer. I rose and went over to the group.

"Hello boys," I butted in. "I think you could use a little advice before you get too far into your planning."

You would have thought a rabid dog had just risen to its hind legs and started speaking."

"Now little lady…"

"Oh come on," I said scornfully, "cut the little lady crap and start thinking. You're talking a technical industrial product here. Getting in on Web sales could be a good thing, but if you cut out your current distributors to save a few bucks in commissions you could be strangling your own growth. If you depend on only Web sales your customers have to come to you; your reps are the people that can find you new markets and expand the business. Sure, have a Web presence, but make it a co-equal to the rep network.

"Next, you're completely ignoring supply chain issues. Sure, you can get it cheaper if you make it in your own plant, but what happens if that one plant has a problem? You're screwed until the problem gets fixed. Just look at the auto companies, thousands of vehicles sitting on lots waiting for the computer chips to make them run. If you're going to depend on just-in-time suppliers then you'd better be sure that you have more than one supplier or you could be shut down in a hurry.

"Next, what happens if you end up on the wrong end of a new technology? Remember Kodak? Biggest film supplier in the world. They invented digital photography and the big boys in the company gave it away because they made their money on selling film and paper. How far did that get them, eh?"

Well, those good-ole-boys were shocked senseless that a mere woman could come along and knock holes in their plans like a woodpecker picking bugs out of a dead tree. For that matter, if I had an axe with me I could have chopped them down like cordwood.

"I think you boys better get some professional advice before you go too much farther. You have some good ideas, but some of you have been reading those glossy magazines that tell you how to increase your business in three easy steps. You do know those things are just vehicles to sell advertising, not give real world advice?

"Think it over for a bit. Aida, I think it's time to see what's on the buffet, all this thinking has made me hungry."
 

"Lori, that was priceless!" Aida gushed as we sat at a picnic table with full plates and full glasses. "They didn't know what hit them, and my father was as shocked as the rest of them. I just love a dominant woman."

"Even if she isn't all woman?"

"You're a woman where it counts and a man when it counts. I can't tell you how much it means to me that you would go so far for me."

"I think I'm doing this for me as well. You may have brought out something in me that I was missing."

"You're not… having second thoughts or anything?"

"Actually, the second thoughts are how I will miss being Lori when Monday comes."

"Oh, my!"

"But I shall live in the now and not the past or future. And right now these heels have got to go. My feet hurt."

"Poor baby. I wouldn't mind switching to flats myself, we've made our first impressions."

"Then let's clean our plates and go up to our room."

"Maybe a foot massage?"

"I just can't wait to get my hands on your body."
 

The house was strangely quiet after the bustle of the party. Aida showed me the back stairs - servants should not be seen or heard by the Lords Of The Manor - and we crept up them in bare feet. I wasn't kidding about my feet hurting in those stilts. We reached the first landing and Aida put a hand on my arm. "Hear that?" she whispered.

I listened and there soon came a distinct moan. I recognized that moan because I had heard one much like it when Aida was getting ready to climax.

"That sounds familiar…" I whispered back.

Her only answer was a wicked grin and before I could stop her she was creeping up the stairs to see whence the sound emanated. Prurient interests aroused, I followed her. The moan was soon joined by a rhythmic slapping.

Peeking around the corner we saw a sight that is burned into the overloaded synapses of my brain, never to be erased or removed. Her mother, all two hundred fifty pounds of her, was bent over the back of a conversational grouping, her too-short skirt flipped up over her back and panties pooled around her ankles with one of her breasts swinging where it had escaped her bodice. Behind her was a gentleman, not her husband, with his pants pooled around his ankles and and the tails of his white shirt flapping around as his enormous cock was plunging repeatedly into her mother.

Right there in the open area overlooking that monstrous entrance foyer.

I was frozen in shock. Aida simply reached into her purse and extracted her cell phone. With a few taps she started filming the action.

I doubt that that mini-movie would have any commercial value - porn stars seldom belong to her mother's weight class - but there was a look of grim satisfaction on Aida's face as she captured her mother bucking away while her paramour kept pumping until he grunted and froze, buried deep within his lover.

Aida stopped her camera and whispered "I guess we're going to have to wear these shoes a while longer."

We retreated to the back stairs and left the scene of the crime. When we had settled in a quiet and remote spot, I just looked at Aida and said "That was one of the most surreal experiences of my life. Why the hell did you want to capture it on video?"

"Blackmail, my dear."

"With your mother?"

"You bet. I have been waiting for the other shoe to drop all afternoon. You can be sure that my dear mother will be taking me to task for the impropriety of marrying another woman. Think of the scandal, the moral outrage, the effect on her position as a pillar of the community. She's very good at moral outrage. You should see her at the county legislature, lecturing them on whatever foolish crusade she's currently heading."

"And when she gets going full steam ahead you haul out the cell phone and play the video."

"You bet your ass! I'm going to really enjoy her reaction."

"Remind me not to piss you off ever again. You can be lethal, woman."

"You bet your ass!"
 

So we left the house and circulated around the tent. Actually, it hadn't been quite as deadly as Aida had predicted. Even if her parents were not my favorite people, they did seem to know some interesting folks in addition to the moneyed slobs.

I was approached by several women who had seen my little lesson in business management and they were very curious as to who I was and how I had the nerve to take on all the so-called leaders of industry. Naturally I couldn't tell them that I did such things every day of my working life, after all Lori Cooke was not the one employed at my firm. I think I learned as much about being a woman from these casual conversations as I could have in some formal course in woman 101.

I think what surprised me most was the easy scorn so many of the wives and help-meets of my parent's generation had for their hubbys, combined with an acceptance of having to manipulate the guy when he got out of line. The whole inequality thing didn't seem to bother them too much, they just took it as a part of life and ran with it.

I came to realize that I wasn't 99.44% pure in my own attitudes toward women, either. I suppose an ideal is what we strive for but never quite reach. I resolved to use my experiences as Lori to make Lauren a better man.

The other major topic of conversation was me getting married to Aida. Now that got a lot more interest. Once again, there seemed to be a division by age. The older set were sometimes shocked, sometimes bemused, sometimes curious. The younger set were far more accepting. Listen to me - in my early thirties and talking about the younger set. I must be getting old.

The usual question was a variation of why? The usual answer was simply because we're in love. I tried my best to stress that it was mutual, not I love her but we love each other. Those with the nerve to ask about sex got an enigmatic smile and a version of try it, you'll like it.

That line went over better with the women than it did the men. Go figure.
 

It was getting near sunset when Aida cut me out of the herd and said we should swipe one of the cars and go watch the sunset together. Not a bad idea, so we headed for the garage only to be intercepted by her mother towing a young man in her wake.

"Christ!" my love exclaimed. "That woman just does not get it. Want to bet if she's going to interest him in you or me?"

"Do you think he has his registration so I can determine make, model and cash value?"

"You aren't thinking of giving him a test drive, are you?"

"I think he wouldn't be satisfied with what I have under the hood."

"Funny… I appreciate your horsepower."

"Aida! Just a minute," called her mother.

So we waited until she came puffing up. The guy with her looked really embarrassed.

"Darling, I wanted you to meet Kirk here. He's such a lovely boy." Yeah right, boy. The guy had to be in his late twenties, just like us. "Kirk, this is my daughter Aida and her friend."

"Mother, will you give it up? This my fiancée Lori, as in we are engaged to be married. Note the ring?" She waved her hand at her mother. "Note the matching ring on Lori's hand? You can stop shoving every unattached male you meet into my path."

"But darling, you…"

"But me no buts, Mother. I'm taken.

The poor guy looked really embarrassed now.

"I'll tell you what. We'll take Kirk off your hands and let him off the hook. We were just about to go cruising and take in the sunset. Want to come along, Kirk?"

"I don't know…"

"It's OK, Kirk," I said. "You look like a nice guy and that's good enough for me. We can let Mrs Gabriel cling to the false hope that you can steal her from me on a romantic sunset drive in the hills."

Aida took one arm, I took the other and we led the poor man to the garage. Aida decided the Porsche 911 Carrera S ‘Centro’ was the car she needed to drive off her frustrations.

Now I'm certainly no expert in sports cars, but even I know that the name 'Porsche' can easily be translated to 'obscene amounts of money' in just about any language. Since this was the first car I had ever seen with the steering wheel in the middle, I knew it had to be way out of my pay grade, and those serious seat harnesses made me wonder what I was getting into.

I give my love full marks as a damned good driver, but I think I left my heart and San Francisco and my stomach in Milwaukee the way she took those curves and slammed the shifter around. I looked across at Kirk and he was looking rather pale; I suspect he was thinking how lucky he was that he wasn't going to be getting romantic with Aida.

We finally topped a hill where she hit the brakes and swung on to a small dirt road. How that low-slung dirt-rocket made it over the bumps is purely a mystery, but we ended up at an overlook just minutes before the sun sunk below the horizon.

It took a couple of minutes before I could be confident of remaining upright, but the shakes subsided and I didn't give a damn if my panties were exposed crawling out of the back seat. Kirk was in no condition to notice. In fact, I had to give him a hand before he could stand up straight. I'm glad the drive helped Aida to relax, but I think Kirk and I absorbed all of her tension and then some.

Nonetheless, the sunset was beautiful and Kirk turned out to be a nice guy when he could speak coherently. We did have something in common - he was constantly bombarded with his parents trying to get him married off. Once he figured out we were a lesbian couple - we weren't going to correct that impression - he admitted he was gay and his parents were deep in denial.

On the whole, I really appreciate having parents who aren't living in a dream world.