The hula dancers brought the kids on stage and taught them how to do the hula dance. Well, they taught Norma’s great-grandkids how to dance. Konani’s grandkids already knew how. Still, it was so fun watching them try to wiggle their butts and move their hands at the same time. In the spirit of the party, I convinced Norma to join them. She waved me off, but I took her hand and led her to the stage. My plan backfired though, when she insisted that I stay and dance with her. Konani’s mother joined us on stage, and George joined us, though I think that was more to flirt with one of the cute Hawaiian dancers. Even our unflappable, always proper butler, Charlotte, joined us onstage after a lot of coaxing. It was too much fun watching her awkward attempt at dancing.
After everyone had eaten their fill, and just as the kids began to get restless, two men dressed in island skirts and carrying a Tiki tribal drum walked on stage beating a deep, lively tune. They were joined by two Fire Dancers, also dressed in island skirts with grass leggings hanging from their knees. They carried batons with one end on fire and twirled them so fast that it drew pictures in air. The kids were mesmerized. Truth be told, so was I.
Afterward, Melinda paid one of the guys to teach her how to twirl the fire baton and I held my breath, as much from the fear that she would burn herself as from how sensual she looked behind that blaze of fire. I was getting as hot as the fire on that baton.
The last event of the luau was a special treat for the kids. A man walked up and stood in front of the stage dressed in a bright red Hawaiian floral shirt, red shorts, pointy shoes and a matching hat. He had a red cloth bag over his shoulder. He introduced himself as one of Santa’s elves and said that Santa had sent him to find his watches. I laughed as the kids hid their watches behind their back.
“Mr. Elf?” Norma Junior stood up hesitantly. “I have one of his watches.” She turned and pointed at Melinda. “She made me take it.”
The twins jumped up and yelled simultaneously, “Me too!”
I laughed so hard I almost fell out of the chair.
Melinda shouted at the elf. “Don’t be a scrooge. Let the kids keep the watches.”
I joined in and we all were shouting don’t be a scrooge.
He held up his hands and shrugged. “I guess Santa won’t mind. In fact, I’ve collected a few other things that he left behind and I’m sure he’d want you to have them too.” He opened his bag and handed each child an unwrapped toy. It was a wonder to see their mouths gape open and their eyes twinkle with surprise.
Melinda and I had spent hours in a toy store last week, looking for toys in our kids’ age ranges. The store manager showed us his best sellers, and that’s what we bought. We’re planning to give them something new each day of their visit. I have to admit, it’s really fun to spoil the kids and watch them get so excited over a new toy.
But the best part was Melinda’s reaction to all the gift giving. By the time we retired for the evening, she was so hyper that our lovemaking was a gift unto itself. Of course, the fact that I was wearing a hula skirt, a lei around my neck, and nothing else, and lithely dancing the hula, helped a little I’m sure.
Can We Talk? – Norma Shelby, and Norma Steward, Billy Steward
I overheard Norma Junior and Billy talking as they played in the foyer of my suite, and it concerned me enough that I asked to them to join me on the settee. The last time they visited was also the first time I met them, and it was in the rundown apartment I used to live in. Chris was my neighbor at the time, and she and Melinda got to meet them. They were only there for two days on Thanksgiving and weren’t around the girls that much, so they apparently were not aware that my girls were lesbians.
They came bouncing in and sat on either side of me.
“So, children. Are you having a good time?” I asked, patting their knees.
“Yes, ma’am,” they answered in chorus.
“The girls are very generous, aren’t they?” I asked.
“Man, they sure are,” Billy said happily.
“This is the best Christmas I’ve ever had,” Norma Junior said cheerfully.
“I’m so glad you’re enjoying yourself,” I said. “Have you ever seen a couple like Melinda and Chris before?”
“Sure, on television,” Norma Junior stated. “It’s, um, kinda different in person though.”
“How so, child?”
“Because they kiss like girls,” Billy interjected.
I chuckled. He was right, of course. “It’s not the kissing that matters, Billy. It’s the love behind the kiss. Melinda and Chris love each other very much. Have either of you kissed someone who wasn’t your parents, yet?”
“Oh, yeah. I’ve swapped gum with my girlfriend before,” Billy stated.
I grimaced at the visualization.
“And I kissed my boyfriend,” Norma Junior added.
“Oh, my. Kissing at your ages?” Suddenly my stomach churned. They’re so young, what if… “Children, have either of you had sex yet?”
“Not me!” Norma Junior exclaimed. “I’m saving myself for Mr. Right, like Mom told me to.”
“Good girl. I’m proud of you,” I complimented her, then turned to Billy. “And you, young man?”
“Not yet. I’ve only gotten to second base so far.”
“I’m relieved to hear that. But I’m curious, why didn’t you go all the way, Billy?”
“She always chickened out so we stopped.”
“And I’m very relieved to hear that. Billy, you know that your body is mature enough to produce babies now, don’t you?”
“I guess I never thought about it like that,” he replied.
“Your girlfriend stops you because something is telling her that it’s not time yet. I’m proud of you for respecting her wishes, Billy. When a girl says stop, you stop, no matter what. Promise me that.”
“I promise, Grandma,” he replied sincerely.
“And, Norma Junior, if it doesn’t feel right, don’t do it. It’s your body, not his. Understand?”
“Yes, ma’am. I promise. Grandma, are Melinda and Chris married?”
“Yes, child, they are.” I answered.
“Cool,” was all she said.
Billy shook his head. “But Grandma, how will they have children? I know that two girls together can’t make babies.”
I smiled at his innocence. “They’ll adopt a child or one of them will be artificially inseminated.”
“That’s so sad,” Norma Junior said.
“Why is that, dear?”
“Because, they should both have babies so they can play together.”
I smiled. Out of the mouth of babes.
Christmas Week – Chris Blackstone-Livingston, and Melinda Blackstone-Livingston, Loretta Steward
So far, this week has been chaotic, energized, exhausting, fun-filled and heartwarming. The kids were getting more and more excited, and Melinda was encouraging that. But then, she was as much a kid as they were. Tuesday afternoon, I had to break up a fight in the game room between Melinda and the oldest boy, Billy. They were squabbling about a video game. Something about which character was better, the Master Chief from Halo or Soap from Modern Warfare. Melinda got a little carried away and dropped the F-bomb. The kids were instantly all over her about her cursing, and I sent her to her room for a time out. A wink and a nod told her it was to teach the kids by example. She went, begrudgingly. After explaining to the kids that you don’t use that kind of language, ever, I joined Melinda in the bedroom. She apologized to me and I informed her that it was the kids she’d have to apologize to. We talked it out and she agreed that she should help set the example. Then we tore all our clothes off and fucked. Irony. You gotta to love it.
Melinda did apologize to the kids, and the oldest boy that she’d been fighting with, told her that his father said that word all the time so it was no big deal to him. Five minutes later, Melinda was on the floor wrestling with the kids. Five minutes after that, she pulled me into the fray and tickled me until I cried uncle. Once I ga
ve in, she leaned over and kissed me. The younger kids hid their eyes and cried “yuck” several times. Thankfully, Konani came in and asked who wanted ice cream. All the kids, including Melinda, scrambled to the kitchen, leaving me sitting on the floor in the middle of the game room. For the first time that week, I remembered what the sound of silence was like. I didn’t care for it.
Melinda’s job was to entertain the kids; mine was to entertain the adults. We didn’t plan it that way; it was just a natural gravitation. But I played with the kids also and enjoyed that just as much. Especially on Wednesday when it rained and we were all cooped up inside the mansion. Everyone seemed to form a clique where they paired off in different parts of the mansion. Norma and Konani’s mother, Akela, bonded over tea and crumpets in the breakfast nook, while Norma’s grandson, Ben, and Melinda shot pool or darts in the game room. Loretta exchanged recipe ideas with Konani while the kids entertained themselves in the game room also. The only area off limits was the ballroom. No one was allowed in the ballroom, including the adults. That’s where Melinda and I stashed the presents, and where we would spend Christmas morning, opening gifts.
We gave the kids a new present each day and one of the presents that we gave Norma’s thirteen-year-old great-granddaughter, Norma Junior, was a makeup kit. She was so excited and wanted to use it right away, so I invited her mother, Loretta, to join us and we went up to my bedroom where my makeup table was. We spent a few hours trying different looks, talking about the latest fashions and favorite models, and just had a good time. Melinda would come in occasionally, dragging one of the boys in a headlock with her.
“That is so sweet,” Loretta said.
“What’s that?” I asked, staring at my wife’s taut, muscular, mesmerizing butt as she left the room for the second time. “The way she wrestles with the boys?”
“No, the way she keeps coming in here to check on you. My husband used to do that when we were newlyweds, too.”
“Is that what she was doing?” I asked with a grin on my face.
“Well, she certainly wasn’t looking at me or Norma Junior,” Loretta laughed.
“Oh… that is sweet,” I gushed. “If you’ll excuse me for a moment, I, um, need to check on something.”
“Uh-huh,” Loretta quipped.
I opened the bedroom door and stopped. Melinda and the kids had set up a car racing track that stretched the length of the hall. I had to step over the track to get out of the room. Melinda, who was sitting back on her knees, steering a car, looked up at me and smiled.
“Can I see you a minute, honey?” I asked.
She looked at me, then down at the car speeding around the track, then up at me again.
I guess it was pretty mean to ask her to lose the race just so I could kiss her on the lips, but that’s exactly what I was doing, and I was okay with that. She dropped the remote control and jumped up. I gave her a come hither look and she told the kids she’d be back in a little while.
“Ut-oh, she’s in trouble again,” one of the twins quipped.
“Man, I sure hope so,” Melinda retorted.
She followed me down the hall to a large closet where we squeezed in and shut the door.
“What’s up?” Melinda asked as she flipped on the light.
“Nothing, I just need a quick recharge,” I explained as I leaned into her.
“Certainly, ma’am. Do you want a complete overhaul or just have your oil changed?”
“I’d love both, but with the kids in the hallway, I’ll settle for you jumpstarting my battery.”
“I believe that y’all down here in the South would say, happy to oblige, ma’am.”
We kissed, sensually, reminding each other of the taste, the smell, the fire inside us, and then we separated while we still had the willpower to do so.
“Wow,” I exclaimed, “you really delivered. I may need your services often throughout the day.”
“My lips are at your disposal, day or night, awake or asleep,” she replied with a smile.
Christmas Eve – Chris Blackstone-Livingston, and Melinda Blackstone-Livingston, Benjamin & Loretta Steward, Charlotte Riggins, Akela Kalani
Thursday morning, we woke up to something we don’t often see in the South in December — snow. A cold front dropped down from Canada and turned the rain into ice and snow. It’s not unheard of to be blanketed with ice, which is usually all we get here, but a thick layer of ice with two inches of snow on top of it meant that the city would shut down and the people would stay home. The old adage here in Memphis is that if there’s even talk of snow, buy all the milk and bread in the store and prepare to hole up inside for three days. And since it was also Christmas Eve, the streets would be almost completely empty, except for a few rednecks in their four-wheel drive trucks.
A few snowflakes still fluttered in the air, but that didn’t keep us from going outside and playing. That morning, we had sled races using metal trash can lids, because we didn’t have real sleds, and Melinda lost every race. It’s not that she wasn’t fearless, speeding down that hill in the field next to our house. It was because she had a hundred pounds on the kids and it slowed her down. That and she couldn’t get her legs to fit inside the lid.
That afternoon we hitched up four of the eight reindeer to Santa’s sled and all piled in. Norma and Konani’s mother, Akela, sat in the front with Melinda. The kids weren’t the only ones to get presents every day; we also gave presents to the adults. Norma and Akela were wearing new fake-fur coats, with gloves, a scarf and a muffler to protect them against the wind. When we learned that Konani’s mother would be visiting, I realized that she wouldn’t be used to the crazy weather we have here in the South. In Hawaii in December it’s a balmy eighty degrees, so I imagined that she probably didn’t even own a coat. I went back to the store and bought her a coat just like the one I had gotten for Norma.
I rode in the backseat with one of the twins in my lap, and the other kids squeezed in beside me. The rest of the adults volunteered to stay behind because there wasn’t any room for them in the sleigh. Of course Melinda happily volunteered to take them on a ride next. The kids looked excitedly at everything, pointing out different things they saw as we slowly made our way down the empty street in front of our house. The road paralleled the river and it felt like I was in a Hallmark commercial, it was so beautiful.
That evening we drank hot toddies— mine was alcohol free— by the crackling fireplace and told stories of Christmases past. Konani, Kate and Baylee-Ann were happy to share, as were the kids and other adults, but Charlotte wouldn’t. I couldn’t tell if that was because of her training, because even though she was off duty, she still remained stiff and detached, or because she had a horrible childhood.
Norma’s family had a tradition of opening one gift on Christmas Eve, so they gave their children each a gift. And of course, as I learned the hard way by the look of complete sadness on Konani’s grandkids faces, we gave them each a gift to open as well. I would liken it to controlled chaos the way the kids tore into their wrapped gifts, but it was fun to watch their eyes light up when they saw what was inside. And those weren’t even their big gifts. The adults were fine with waiting until the morning to open their gifts so as not to take away from the kids.
About two hours after the kids were sent to bed, Melinda and I, along with George, Charlotte, Konani, Baylee-Ann, and Kate, went into the ballroom and began setting everything up, including putting toys together. We would have done it before our guests arrived, but we were too busy shopping and ran out of time.
The red cedar Christmas tree was beautifully decorated if I do say so myself. Looking at the twinkling lights, the sparkling ornaments, and the smell of cedar, I suddenly wanted to make love to Melinda under this tree. I checked, there was room under there. Unfortunately, we only had a few hours to get everything done and still get some sleep before the morning, so I put that idea to the side for now.
We had moved some furniture into the room after the tree was set up,
so that the adults could have something to sit on while the kids opened their gifts, so we each took a toy to assemble and sat down on the couches and chairs and got to work. It was so much fun, drinking eggnog, talking about just about everything. Melinda worked on a four-foot tall Meccanoid G15 KS robot for Billy, I worked on one of the four-foot tall Star Wars VII Stormtrooper Battle Buddy, with three more to go because we got one for each child, and George worked on putting the makeup table together for Norma Junior. I had also gotten her a twenty-four piece nail art set and assorted colored wigs to experiment with. We got the twins light sabers to go along with other Star Wars toys, and for Billy we got an electric guitar with an amplifier and assorted pics.
There was a tap on the door and Charlotte started to get up to answer it when I told her that I would get it. It was Ben and Loretta. But before I could shut the door behind them, Konani’s daughter, Kalea, came in. I never thought to ask them if they wanted to help because they were our guests. But of course they would want to be a part of something that involved their children. I handed them an eggnog and gave them a toy to wrap or put together.
The conversation soon centered on the parents and what they thought of all the gifts. They were worried.
“You both have been so wonderful and giving, and not just to the children,” Ben said.
“But it’s so overwhelming that I wonder if the kids will expect it again next year,” Loretta explained. “We can’t compete with this.”
“Oh, I…” I felt disappointed and a little bit cornered, but they had a point.
“And why should you compete with it?” Melinda asked non-accusingly. “All four of these kids know this is a onetime deal because I spoke with them about it.”
Surprised, Kalea asked, “You did?”
“Yes, I did. I had the same thought that you did, because this had happened before, to my mother. One year when she was on the orphanage’s Christmas committee, she volunteered to play Santa and provide gifts for the kids that year. She went overboard, much like we’re doing now. She was only on the committee for a year, so the next year someone else took over the gift giving duties and could not afford to lavish gifts on the kids as my mother had. They cried for days because they thought Santa didn’t love them anymore. My mother was so upset when she heard about it that she swore never to do anything like that again. So, I talked with your kids before the luau and made sure they understood that this wasn’t going to happen ever again. Although I certainly wouldn’t mind if you wanted to come here every year for Christmas, would you, Chris?”
Christmas Riches (Riches to Rags book 4) Page 5