SUMMER HEAT... so much going on (Part 161y)

SUMMER HEAT… so much going on (Part 161y)

… and she was! It was just a little past 5pm when I pulled up the driveway. She’d only been home for a short while and was taking clothes off the wash line. I walked out to see her and I could tell she had something she wanted to tell me. I watched as she took a look at where the girls were playing and seeing that they were occupied motioned for me to follow her to the other end of the line. I had no idea what she was up to but followed along. At the far end were clothes that I recognized as Barbara’s. There were a bunch of panties and I thought it really strange that she’d take me to see them. But it wasn’t just the panties but a pair of shorts that she was after. I didn’t say anything and let her be the one to speak. When she turned around to face me I could see what I would call a smirk on her face. She grabbed a pair of panties and then pointed to a pair of khaki shorts. I still had no idea what was going on in her mind.

Slowly, she explained that when she went down to the basement to start the wash she found a pair of shorts and a pair of panties right on top inside the washing machine. When she went to sort the clothes into like piles (whites with whites… colors with colors) she noticed there was a stain in the crotch of the shorts. She said she didn’t make anything of it because it wasn’t all that large but when she touched the panties they were a bit damp. When she held them up to look at them she said she was shocked to find that they’d been wet and more than once. As soon as I heard that I knew where she was going with it… but I didn’t interrupt, wanting to hear her thoughts. She was now holding the pair of the Lollipop panties she’d taken from the line and pointed to a place half way up the back and said that was a far as the stain went. By now I was trying to keep from smiling. I knew if I did she’d want to know why and I surely didn’t want to tell her of my discovery from the previous Sunday. Then she looked at me and asked if I remembered her telling me about a comment that Phyllis had made to her in which she indicated that she thought Barbara might be wetting on purpose. Biting my tongue to keep from making it too obvious that I, indeed, did remember, I nodded affirmatively. I truly wasn’t expecting what came next.

She wanted to know what we should do about it. With that, I did laugh and Elle didn’t take it all that well. She wanted to know what was funny about Barbara’s wetting. I think I took a deep breath before I started talking. I definitely remember being somewhat stern when I reminded her that we were not Barbara’s parents and, as such, had no right to get involved. There were two more points I wanted to make and I don’t remember which came first. One was to point out that she (we) didn’t know if the situation she’d just described was a case of deliberate wetting or a true ‘accident’. The second was that even if it was a case of wetting on purpose, what harm was there in it. I asked Elle if she’d seen any stains or evidence of wetting other than the sheets on her bed. I don’t think she answered but I made an emphatic point of saying that she wasn’t to broach the subject with Barbara and asked her to acknowledge that she wouldn’t. It took a few seconds before she mumbled an “OK”.

I was in the process of changing my clothes when the phone rang. It was right next to the bed so I grabbed it surprised to hear Barbara’s voice. She was calling to say she wouldn’t be joining us for supper as she was going out with her father. He’d spent the long weekend with Phyllis and his other kids near Philadelphia and just gotten back. Barbara said she wanted to hear how her sister and brothers were doing so he suggested going to dinner. I’d barely gotten the phone back in the cradle when it came to me that we (Elle and I) were free for a while. Now, what to do with the time?

It didn’t take Elle long to come up with a suggestion. I’d mentioned that Elle had been exposed to golf and was anxious to pursue it. We’d gone looking for the par three course only a short time ago and when we found it also met the owner, a wizened old man, who’d given us free passes to try it out. Elle knew exactly where she’d put them and as soon as the supper table was cleared we were off. I still couldn’t believe the location… just off a small creek with marshes all around. Naturally, the kids weren’t thrilled because the only thing they could do was walk around with us. It wasn’t quite the blind leading the blind but it was close to it. I’d taken a few lessons and knew something about the numbers on the bottom of the clubs. I knew the larger the number the shorter distance the ball would go (if you hit it). I stepped up to the first tee and have no idea how far it was to the flag (or hole, if you want to be specific). I swung away and hit the ball… solid… but it didn’t go up in the air. I subsequently found out that what I’d done was to ’skull’ the ball. I had no idea where it went. I think it was the third ball that finally went into the air. Elle stepped up and promptly hit one to right in front of the green. She was holding true to form as the best female athlete from her high school class.

After many lost balls (thankfully, all were used balls given to Elle by one of her friends) we reached the seventh fairway. We’d only seen a few people ahead of us but we were so slow they soon disappeared from view. The seventh hole was one I’ll never forget… for a number of reasons. First off, the guy who built the course did something that you couldn’t even think of today… he’d trucked in dirt and laid it out over the marshland. We both hit off and, for a change, weren’t looking for the balls we’d just hit. Walking down the fairway it was like we were sort of walking on a big pillow because you could feel yourself going up and down, ever so slightly, as you walked. When we got near the green I could see a ball up near the flag. The other one was just on the edge of the green. I figured with the way I’d been hitting balls that the one by the hole was Elle’s. It wasn’t. I had about a three foot putt. The only part of golf that I had any experience was in putting, having had my grandfather teach me when I was about ten or eleven years old. I sank it and had my first ‘birdie’. I was excited and when I looked back at Elle she was sort of doubled over. The kids were picking weed flowers that lined the fairway so they were basically unaware of Elle’s predicament. As I walked towards her I looked at my watch and we’d been there for a while but I didn’t think it had been long enough for Elle to push her ‘limit’ as far as time between bathroom visits.

I’d almost reached her when she just squatted down and as she did I felt the bulge building in my pants. She wouldn’t look up at me but I never took my eyes off the stream of pale yellow that was exiting the back of her shorts. They were also a pale yellow, a new pair for her, and I knew the results would probably not be very noticeable. She stayed in the squatting position for quite a while . It was Kaye yelling that she wanted to go home that finally prodded her to get up. She knew I was waiting to ‘inspect’ and inspect I did. I’d been right… the wetness blended in nicely to the color of the shorts. Elle started to walk off but I told her she had to at least finish the hole because, like me, it had been her best shot. She gave me a ‘look’ but went and got her putter even though from where the ball was it wasn’t the right club. I stood there and watched her stroke the ball and then followed it’s path right into the hole. Unbelievable! (153)

To be continued…