Quint Mitchell 01 - Matanzas Bay

by Francis, Parker

  “My parents won’t be back from their cruise until Wednesday,” she said in a throaty whisper. “I was thinking maybe we could drive over to our beach house this weekend. Just you and me.”

  He fell back against the door, dramatically clutching his chest.

  “I don’t believe it,” he said, before quickly adding, “Why wait? If they’re away, let’s play tonight.” He pointed toward the big house where spotlights illuminated the shrubbery and driveway.

  “I’m sure my sister will appreciate that,” Jillian said. She was the youngest of four girls—two of them were married, and one in college, but now home for the summer. “Besides, the beach house is private and so much more romantic, don’t you think?”

  Atmosphere wasn’t a top priority for Quint at the moment. Any bedroom would accommodate the fantasies he’d been conjuring the past few weeks.

  “Well, are you interested or not?”

  “What do you think?” he said, trying to slide his hand under her skirt. “How about a preview of coming attractions?”

  Jillian pushed his hand away and crossed her legs, pulling the skirt primly over her knees. “Not now. We don’t want to spoil the big moment, do we?” Jillian patted his hand as she might placate a pouting child.

  Quint liked this girl, but he wanted to tell her she was driving him crazy. Instead he said, “Sure, I was only kidding. What time shall I pick you up?”

  “Will your parents let you go if—you know? Spend the weekend alone with me.”

  “My parents are busy people. I don’t like to bother them with every little detail.”

  Jillian leaned over and kissed him lightly on the mouth. “That’s good. You can pick me up at nine Saturday.” She slipped out of the car and walked to the front door of her house.

  Quint watched her walk away, admiring the curve of her calf and the delicious bounce of her hips. Each step she took rocketed bolts of testosterone into his teenage bloodstream, and he knew this weekend would be the best in his young life.

  At home that night, Quint told his mother and father about Jillian’s invitation to spend the weekend with her parents at their Guilford beach house on Long Island Sound. Bending the truth this way gave Quint a slight twinge of guilt, but parents didn’t need to know everything their kids did or they’d never allow them out of their sight.

  “Got a problem, son,” his father said, closing the legal file he’d been reading. Robert Mitchell, still called Bobby by most of his friends and business associates, took off his reading glasses and stood. He was a big man with an athlete’s build that had softened over the past few years as his hairline receded and his waistline thickened

  Quint shifted his eyes from his father to his mother. “What’s the problem?”

  His father moved several steps to the settee where Quint’s mother sat. “Your mother has decided to accompany me to New York City for my conference this weekend.” He placed a hand on his wife’s shoulder and rubbed it affectionately.

  Quint remembered his father mentioning the conference at dinner last week, but this was the first he’d heard about his mother going along.

  “That’s cool,” Quint said, “but what’s the problem?”

  “Have you forgotten your brother? Someone needs to take care of Andrew.”

  Quint had forgotten. His mind raced, searching for a way around the roadblock his father had thrown in his path to orgasmic heaven.

  “Maybe he can go with you. You know, a nice family outing, see the Empire State Building and Statue of Liberty.”

  His father and mother exchanged glances before his father shook his head. “Sorry, big guy, not this time.”

  “What about Marlie? She can come home for the weekend, can’t she?” His sister was in summer session at college, and hadn’t been home in more than a month.

  His mother spoke up, “Marlie needs to study for a couple of tests. I spoke with her earlier today and she’s pretty stressed out about her economics mid-term.”

  “Can’t she come home and study?” Quint’s dreams of a fantasy weekend were crumbling before his eyes. “I do it all the time.”

  His mother smiled at Quint’s desperation. “Think about it, son. She’d have to be on the road for more than seven hours coming and going. That’s seven hours she could be studying.”

  He couldn’t think of an answer for that and hung his head, trying to imagine what he would tell Jillian.

  “I’ve got an idea,” his father said.

  Quint wasn’t sure he wanted to hear his father’s idea. “What?”

  “Why don’t you take Andrew with you? It’s a huge house and Andrew will enjoy a weekend at the shore. I’m sure Sam and Betsy won’t mind.”

  Quint toed a mauve flower on the Oriental rug wondering what to say next. He wished he never had this conversation in the first place, but now he didn’t have a choice. “I don’t know,” he managed to say. “Maybe they’re having some of their friends over, and—”

  Bobby Mitchell smiled at his son. “Come on. I know you think he’s going to get in the way of your fun with Jillian, but there are plenty of things to keep him occupied. It won’t be a problem.”

  “Why don’t I call Betsy in the morning and make sure it’s all right?” Quint’s mother chimed in.

  “No, that’s okay,” Quint said quickly. “I’m sure it won’t be a problem. I’ll talk with Jillian later and she can clear it with her parents.”

  ***

  The LeBlanc’s beach house was located at the end of a quiet road on one of the exclusive fingers of land poking into Long Island Sound. The house had all the amenities of the good life, a private beach, swimming pool, boat dock and spectacular views of the water. While he’d enjoyed all of it in past visits, none of these currently held any interest for Quint who had his eye on the four bedrooms.

  Jillian had been put off when he called to tell her about his younger brother, but he explained that there was plenty to keep Andrew busy outside while they rested inside. Plus, after Andrew fell asleep Saturday night, they’d have a good six or seven hours to do whatever they wanted. More than enough time to work out his frustrations.

  “Man, this place is cool,” Andrew announced after romping through all of the rooms. He found a stack of games on a bookshelf next to the color television set, and began rooting through them. “Look, Dudley, they have Monopoly.” Andrew had insisted on taking the giant cat with him. Dudley was ensconced on the back of the couch keeping a sharp eye out for anything that looked like food.

  “Yeah, bud, maybe we’ll play a few games later tonight,” Quint said. “Did you put your suitcase away in the bedroom?”

  “Uh huh.”

  Andrew had close-cropped straw-colored hair, their mother’s tiny turned-up nose, and dark brown eyes that twinkled like they held the key to a storehouse of mischief. Losing interest in the games, Andrew ran to the bay window and stared at the blue waters dotted with sailboats. A Sunfish with red and blue sails was anchored on the beach next to the house. A kayak perched beside it.

  “Do you think we can go sailing?” Andrew asked, looking hopefully at his brother.

  “Maybe after lunch. Jillian has a couple of bikes in the storage shed, and there are some neat trails if you’d like to go exploring later.” A protected land trust surrounded the home, warding off encroachment by developers, and offering picturesque hiking and biking trails through the woods and along the shore. Quint remembered hiking the trails with Jillian when they were only a few years older than Andrew.

  “That would be cool. Will you show me?”

  “We’ll see,” he said to Andrew. “I was up late last night and might want to take a nap after lunch.” Quint and Jillian exchanged glances. She shrugged and eyed him coolly. Her displeasure with him wasn’t making this any easier. Neither was her outfit. Jillian had on a pair of shorts so short and so tight he wondered why the button didn’t pop off. She’d tied her loose-fitting T-shirt into a knot exposing her navel and Quint thought about the drive to the
beach house when he’d drifted onto the shoulder of the road because he couldn’t take his eyes off her crotch.

  “How about a peanut butter and jelly sandwich?” Jillian asked, moving toward the kitchen.

  Andrew whirled away from the window and ran after her. “Sure, and do you have any Oreo’s? I love Oreo’s.” He stopped suddenly, trotted back to the living room and grabbed Dudley from the top of the couch. The cat’s copper eyes lasered its displeasure and a low growl rumbled in its throat. Dudley weighed nearly a third of Andrew’s sixty-five pounds, and the boy’s arms encircled the cat’s middle clutching it against his chest.

  He stopped in front of a family portrait of the LeBlancs that included Jillian and her three sisters. “Hey, when are your parents getting here?” Andrew yelled after Jillian who was already in the kitchen.”

  Jillian hurried back into the living room, shooting a deadly glare at Quint that would have made Dudley proud. “They were held up and won’t arrive until tomorrow,” she said.

  “That’s right,” Quint added, prodding his brother in the back. “Now get in there and wash your hands. You’ve got a big day ahead of you and you’ll need your energy.” He smiled at Jillian hoping this held true for him as well.

  The day didn’t go entirely the way Quint had envisioned. After lunch, Andrew headed for the sailboat. Knowing it might consume two or three hours of his afternoon, Quint put him off, promising they’d go later. Instead, they splashed through ten games of Marco Polo in the LeBlanc’s swimming pool.

  Jillian’s lime-colored bikini covered only the bare essentials and Quint slid his hands over her smooth skin while Andrew paddled around with his eyes closed yelling Marco. Each time Quint groped her, she would laugh, yell Polo and dunk him. After the tenth game Quint was so horny he thought he was going to burst. He climbed out of the pool, quickly pulling a towel around his waist.

  “That’s enough for me,” Quint said, flopping on his belly on one of the lounges by the pool.

  “Aw c’mon. Just one more game,” Andrew called from poolside, palming a spray of water at his big brother.

  “Don’t you think you can get it up for one more game?” Jillian teased, and joined Andrew in splashing Quint.

  In the end, Quint acquiesced. After another game he boosted himself out of the pool and announced, “Andrew, you’ve got too much energy for me. You’re the world champ of Marco Polo. Now I’m going to take a nap.” He gazed at Jillian, who had lifted herself onto the ledge, leaning forward on her tanned and willowy arms. The afternoon sun glinted off the water streaming over her full breasts compressed between her arms, and Quint ached to be with her.

  “Well, I don’t want to take a nap.” Andrew’s mouth began to shape itself into a pout.

  “Of course not,” Jillian said. Quint grabbed her outstretched hand and pulled her out of the pool. “This would be a good time for you to check out that hiking path Quint told you about earlier.” She handed Andrew a towel. “Here, wipe off and put on your sneakers. Then I’ll show you where the path starts.”

  She pointed to a wooded patch behind the house. “Once you’re past those trees the path curves back along the shoreline. You’ll see a cave cut into the rocks at Pelican Point, and a small beach where the seals hang out in the winter. If you’re lucky you might be able to spot a heron or some egrets or maybe osprey hunting for fish.”

  “Cool. Are you coming with me?”

  Jillian smiled at Andrew, reached out and rubbed his stubbly head. “You know, I was about your age the first time I explored the path by myself. I thought I was so grown up.”

  Andrew nodded enthusiastically. “I can do that. How long will it take?”

  “It depends on how much you want to explore, but I’d say a little over an hour. When you get back, Quint will take you sailing, and then we’re going to my favorite restaurant in Guilford for dinner.”

  Andrew laced up his shoes and took off toward the woods. “Take your time,” Quint called after him, “and be careful around the rocks.”

  Jillian and Quint exchanged looks as Andrew disappeared into the tree line. “Alone at last.” Jillian bent toward him and ran her tongue lightly around his ear. She let her fingers trail over his chest and down his solid abs until she got to the band of his bathing suit. One finger stroked his lower abdomen under the band and his muscles contracted. She laughed at his involuntary intake of breath.

  “Why don’t you follow me, big boy?” she said, gripping the top of his suit and pulling him toward the house.

  ***

  Sixty-five minutes later, a sated and still smiling Quint emerged from the shower. He’d dressed in a clean pair of shorts, slipped on a white knit Lacoste polo shirt, and walked barefoot into the kitchen where Jillian sat drinking a Coke. She swallowed a large mouthful, and licked her lips.

  “That tastes good,” she said.

  He leaned over and kissed Jillian on the mouth, his tongue separating her lips. “Uhmm, I’d have to agree,” he said when he came up for air.

  Quint dropped onto one of the stools beside her. “Heard anything from Marco Polo the explorer?”

  Jillian glanced at the kitchen clock over the stove. “Not yet, but he should be along pretty soon.”

  “Maybe he’ll be too tired to go sailing this afternoon. I know I am,” Quint said.

  “Don’t think you’re going to get much rest tonight, mister. I have plans for you.”

  He groaned theatrically, squeezing his eyes shut, his shoulders sagging. “What is it they say, be careful what you wish for?”

  “As if you weren’t about to die before you got me alone in there,” she said, cocking her head toward the bedroom.

  He popped off the stool and wrapped his arms around Jillian, who had changed into a yellow sundress with skinny shoulder straps. “And I’m ready for another round right now if it wouldn’t scare the hell out of Andrew.”

  She laughed and pushed him away. “I’ll remind you of that at three-thirty in the morning when you’re begging me to let you sleep.”

  In the living room, Quint turned on the TV and ran the channels until he found a baseball game. The Mets were in the middle of a three-game home series with the Red Sox and the Sox were leading 3-0 in the fourth inning. Quint leaned back thinking the Mets were going to get slaughtered. The next thing he remembered was Jillian shaking him awake.

  “Quint, Andrew isn’t back yet.”

  Quint rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. “How long’s he been gone?” He was having a hard time waking up.

  “Over two hours. The trail isn’t that long, ninety minutes max, and that’s if you were walking at my grandmother’s pace and stopped to pick up every rock.” Jillian stood over Quint, a worried look on her face.

  “Andrew’s a real social person. He probably met another kid and they’re playing at his house or on the beach.” He looked at the television and saw that the score was now 9-2 at the top of the eighth inning.

  “I think we need to look for him,” Jillian said.

  “Okay, you’re right.” He forced himself off the couch and found his flip-flops. “Why don’t you go along the shore and I’ll backtrack through the woods? We’ll meet somewhere near Pelican Point. I’m sure we’ll find him pretty quickly.”

  ***

  The temperature had been a warm 83 degrees when they’d been playing in the pool earlier in the afternoon, but four hours later, in the shadows of the woods, Quint wished he’d worn long pants. A shiver ran over his arms, and he hurried through the thicket of black oak and white birch along the narrow hiking path.

  “Andrew, where are you hiding?” Quint yelled, not really believing his brother was still on this stretch of trail.

  Ten minutes later he passed through the last of the trees and followed the path past a patch of waving grasses and small shrubs. A cool breeze carried the crisp smell of the ocean, and he heard the cry of gulls overhead.

  “Quit playing games, Andrew,” Quint yelled, his frustration rising with every step.
Quint pictured his brother playing at another kid’s house, lost in his own world with no idea of the time or the fact that Andrew and Jillian were looking for him.

  Then he remembered the many times he’d disappeared at supper time, his mother calling for him. Now he knew how she felt, and he wanted to take Andrew by the shoulders and shake some sense into him. He also realized he was responsible for his brother, and pin pricks of heat flushed his cheeks as he thought about how he’d deceived his parents.

  Quint skirted a cluster of rocks known to the locals as Pelican Point, disturbing a gull tearing apart a small fish it must have found washed up on the shore. The gull shrieked its displeasure at Quint, and flew away with a ragged and bloody strip of flesh still in its beak. He yelled for Andrew once more, hearing only the cry of the gull in response.

  The sun glinted across the still waters of the sound and Quint stared at the sailboats to see if any of them carried an eight-year-old boy as a passenger. He told himself there was nothing to worry about. Jillian and her sisters had played on this little peninsula since they were younger than Andrew. It was a perfectly safe playground for kids. Despite that, Quint‘s heartbeat increased as a feeling of unease swept over him.

  Where the hell are you, Andrew?

  One hundred yards away, Quint spotted a figure walking in his direction. He recognized Jillian’s sundress even from that distance, and a hot sensation warmed his groin as he recalled their afternoon couplings. He waved at her, but Jillian kept walking and Quint figured she must not have seen him. When she started running along the beach, Quint thought she was running to greet him.

  Jillian stopped alongside a miniature inlet cut into the shoreline, her head down, hands on her knees. He didn’t have time to consider what she might be staring at before Jillian screamed. The anguished cry knifed through the stillness of what had been a perfect summer’s day. Quint felt a cold hand grip his heart, ripping his breath away as Jillian’s scream continued to build and she fell to her knees, holding her face in both hands.

  With great effort Quint willed his legs to move, and he began running toward the spot where Jillian had fallen. His athlete’s legs took control and he ran like an opposing lineman was chasing him, legs pumping, arms churning. He told himself there were any number of reasons why Jillian had screamed, but he couldn’t imagine what they were as he concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other. His flip-flops had flown off his feet after a few steps and his toes dug into the sand. He kept running, cutting the distance down to seventy-five yards, then fifty. At about thirty-five yards he looked up and spotted something lying in the water beside Jillian.