Finding Francesca

My daughters friend Francesca is one of those lovely quiet women who underestimates her own beauty. She has been a loyal friend to Delia since the two met at university. Delia is twenty-three and the spitting image of her late mother, Nessy. Vanessa died to leukemia two years ago. One day she was feeling run down, the next she went to hospital to get some blood tests and never came home. Three weeks later she was dead.

Francesca was a wonderful support for Delia through her grief and I think that's what makes them so close now. She's slightly older; I don't know her exact age but she's older than Delia. Perhaps her relative maturity, combined with her fierce loyalty is what solidifies their friendship. She is also the most spectacularly beautiful woman I have ever seen naked. No offence, Nessy. Let me explain how I came to this evaluation.

I work in a soulless accounts department. It pays bills and crushes my will to live quite reliably. Today, the power went out unexpectedly after an afternoon thunderstorm, so 'oh the eternal horror', we were told to pack up and go home early. Being Friday, you can understand my absolute heartbreak at leaving the computer terminal.

Except outside... Despite the recent deluge; the fierce winds and carnage, in the wake of the storm the temperature has returned to what it was this morning. Now, it's just muggy as well as bloody hot. I put on my helmet, tied my briefcase to the pillion seat of my bike and thumbed the ignition. Thankfully, the lining of my helmet soaked the rivulets of sweat that tried to run down my forehead into my eyes.

They reckon every twenty kilometres an hour makes for minus one degree's Celsius of windchill. My calculations tell me that at legal speeds that will still only drop the temperature by five degrees or so. I live about thirty kilometres out of the city in a little town called Peak Crossing and enjoyed the ride home and the slight reprieve from the crushing heat and humidity.

On arriving home, I parked in the garage, picked up a black garden bucket, stopped at the fridge and filled it with six beers and ice. Then I went directly to the pool area. The power was out locally as well, so the air-conditioning was going to be no help, but the landscaped pool seemed like the best option.

Poolside, I stripped and dipped. That's what privacy fences are for. I felt pretty safe, but still a little schoolboy skinny dip naughty. Delia usually stays at Francesca's place on campus on Friday nights and comes home some time Saturday afternoon after waking up from clubbing. I took a beer from the bucket and found my favourite spot to chill; under the water feature in the deeper end. It's shaded by palms and offers relent from the sun that beats down brutally.

Two hawks circled high above in the still ominous cloudy sky. I watched them hunt and my mind drifted with them as my body cooled. My beer was almost empty when I was startled by the sound of the screen door opening and closing.

Looking up, I almost spoke in welcome as I saw Francesca step out on the tiles. She looked hot and pissed off, so I sipped my beer and watched her pull her hair out of its bun. Her father is Asian and her mother Italian, so her hair is this dark straight cleopatra cut waterfall that she combs now with her fingers.

Then my beer freezes at my lips as I see her glance left then right then rip her blouse straight up and off. Now I've seen her in her bikini on weekends when she visits with Delia, but standing there struggling with the clasp of her simple black bra, I'm struck frozen by the tan lines and swollen breasts that press above the cups. The cups that suddenly fall away, discarded to the tiles.

Francesca wipes her hands under her breasts scowling at the sweaty weather and lifts them and squeezes them, then stretches her neck. They're large but pert with youth and she must feel it in her neck. Her skin is that wonderful olive tan that she works hard on, but her breasts are a lighter latte colour, crowned with nipples that are very long and hard.

From her backpack she pulls a red bikini top and settles her breasts into its cups after tying it and clipping it closed at the back. Lifting them and assembling them correctly with her hands she smiles and then I almost drop my beer when she hooks her fingers in the waist of her leggings and pulls them and her knickers down quickly over her knees and then pulls each foot free.

Lifting the leggings, she uses them to wipe her tummy and legs clean of sweat and throws them to fall with her blouse. I watch as she cocks one knee to the side and fuck... She takes a finger and curls it into her vagina. Her shaven vagina. She seems to dig around a bit, she's not masturbating, then draws her finger to her nose and sniffs.

Satisfied apparently, she pulls a pair of matching bikini bottoms from her bag and pulls them up over her long legs to settle them in place and flick the back properly with her fingers to un-wedgie it. She's a very tall girl and the journey of her bottoms up her legs seemed to take forever. I watched every inch, memorising the length and shape of her legs.

Her hips flare beneath her waist and her bum; my god; Sports Illustrated style perfection. I swallow a hard lump in my throat and develop a very hard lump in the water and watch as she looks curiously at my black bucket.

Walking towards it, she stops. She frowns hard at the bucket and the pile of my clothes beside it, then looks back inside the windows to the house. She shrugs and takes a beer, opens it, lifts it to her lips and her eyes to mine where she finally sees me in the darker part of the pool at the back.

Both of us are frozen with our beers to our lips. Her in embarrassment. Me in awe. Her arm starts shaking, her bottom lip folds in and her chin quivers then she drops the beer in the bucket and runs crying inside.

Fuck.

Moments later my phone starts ringing from my trouser pocket, so I swim my silly erection over toward that side of the pool and fetch it from my pants.

"Dad?"

"Delie darlin?"

"What the fuck is going on? Fran rang me in tears. All I can get out of her is something about you being naked and her fingering herself. What the actual, Dad?"

"Oh god Delie," I shake my head and tell her the story and that I'll, "try going in to talk with her."

"That's actually pretty funny Dad, but I bet she's fucking scarlet. I forgot to tell you we were coming home this arvo. She finished early cause the power was out on her campus. I'll be there in thirty minutes or so. Good luck. Be gentle. Who am I kidding? You're a teddy bear. Love ya Daddio."

"You too kiddo."

I had the forethought to bring a towel with me, so I wrap that around my waist and collect two new beers from the bucket. Hell knows I needed one.

"Fran darlin?" I hold out a beer to her. She looks up with her red eyes and grimaces, taking it from me. "Can we talk, hon?"

She nods and sniffs.

"I'm sorry love, I got home early and didn't expect anyone. Through the week I don't bother with clothes. I'm sorry you had to be mentally harmed by the dad bod."

Opening her beer, she just shakes her head and cries some more. I stand to find the girl tissues and she says, "I'm sorry you had to see what you saw."

"Trust me darlin, no creepy, but you have not got a fucking single thing to be sorry for." I hand her the tissues. "You're absolutely stunning. I think I'll frame that mental image."

"Haha..." It's wonderful to see her smile through her embarrassment. "Thanks Mr Br-"

"Fran, we've had this talk."

"Sorry Paul." She finally makes eye contact. "Sorry about the... ugh, the finger thing. I wasn't you know..."

I shrug. I really don't know. If any man tells you he really knows what chicks are up to ninety percent of the time, he's full of shit.

"My... god... my periods are due and I..." She's crying again.

"Fran, I was married for twenty-three years and I have a daughter. I understand your embarrassment but really wish you'd give yourself a break. We all do things in private that other people wouldn't necessarily understand."

"That's not it. I just... It's you... I didn't want... Not you to see... Not you."

I have no idea what she's on about or what to say so I just sit and drink my beer and watch her shoulders bob in time with her sobs.

"Paul?"

"Yeah darlin."

"Can I have a hug?" She looks up at me with big brown eyes and I smile and open my arms.

We've hugged before; hello and goodbye. Not like this though. She climbs on my lap sideways and puts her face in my neck and her arms around my shoulders.

"Thanks for not being a creep."

"Come on Fran, you're like a second daughter to me. Delia's older sister or something. Thanks for not being totally grossed out by the old dude skinny dipping."

"You're not old." I think she says into my neck. It's mumbled so I just rub her back as she settles.

The door explodes open at that moment. Delia is one of those people who cannot do a single thing quietly. She is a short pixie of a thing that bounces from one spot to another like a fairy flitting and throwing glitter. Except the glitter is noise and the fairy, is a little blonde lady with a potty mouth.

"There you perverts are! Come on Franster, girl talks. Why are you flashing my dad, ya fucking wierdo?"

They are both laughing as they huddle off down the hall.

In a pair of boardshorts now, I take another six pack and some more ice out to the pool. The house is sweltering. The afternoon is still and heavy with the building of more weather. Though cool where the water caresses me, the rest of me still sweats and I drop every few minutes to wash it away.

I'm still picturing those tan lines and breasts. Her perfect breasts with their long nipples. Her slight waist and those hips and fuck... They're both coming back out for a swim and now I've got an erection.

My Delia's a pretty girl. She looks a lot like Nessy did. I watch with pride as she flashes her big blue eyes at me in her little black bikini and says, "Sorry Dadster, no free shows this time." Forcing an immediate deep blush to Frans face.

"Don't think my heart could take it twice in one day. Going to have to up my prescription I think."

"Dickhead." Delia tells me. The two girls help themselves to beer and enter by the steps to hang out in their own little huddle by the rails.

"Dad, come over, I don't want to yell." I swim closer and hang from the side near them.

"Um look. I haven't been home much so didn't get to tell you. I've got intern stuff for the next two weeks. Going to be at Princess Alexandra so Fran and I worked out for me to stay in town at her place."

"Oh... I was looking forward to some company over the holidays." She makes a sorry face at my disappointment. "I... ah. That makes sense darlin."

"There's only the one room though. When I stay over, I usually share with Fran unless..." They both blush.

"Gross kiddo. My poor brain. I don't want to know about hook-ups."

"So, look is it okay if Fran stays here for the break?"

"Paul, I was to go home and visit my parents but they're off to Tahiti on a cruise. I'd love to be able to use the pool and work on my tan and just... I'll help with the house and cook."

"Seriously Dad, you have to try her lasagne. It's fucking insane."

"What's the catch?" I ask.

"No catch." They both reply.

"Then what's the bloody question even. Fran your always welcome, you know that."

"Thank you, Paul. I won't be any bother." She is blushing again, and I have no idea why Delia shoots her a wiggly eyebrow look.

The power came back on around five.

..............................................

Saturdays are bike day. It's like a debrief from a boring work week. The bike gets washed, maintenance gets done, sometimes mods get done. But every Saturday is boy and bike time in the garage and a quick blat through the hills in the afternoon.

As I roll slowly back into the driveway that afternoon with the demons soundly driven from my underpants and the dust well blown out of my mind, I notice Delia at her car, loading two suitcases.

The brakes crackle and the smell of hot engine makes me smile as I remove my helmet. Pushing the old girl into the garage I see Fran carrying some plastic grocery bags out from the house. She smiles and waves at me. "Hi Paul."

"Hey guys, what gives? Looks like a dramatic getaway attempt."

"Oh, hospital rang. They're actually short this weekend and wondered if I could adjust my shifts. Good way to score browny points for an intern."

"Oh damn, darlin. I-"

"I know Daddio, I was looking forward to some fam time too but..." She shrugs and sideways smiles at me. "Franny will look after you Dad. Try not to miss me too much."

"Oh. I sent you an email with contact stuff and things." She says strangely pointedly, climbing into her car. "Now get over here and give me a fucking goodbye kiss like a proper dad."

"Love you, kiddo. Ring hey?"

"Will try Dad."

Fran and I wave her off. I'm watching her car disappear down the road and smiling to myself with pride at my big healthy grown up girl heading off into her own world competently and confidently when I become aware of Fran hugging my arm and leaning into my shoulder.

"She'll be fine, Paul. Don't worry."

She may be, but my trousers aren't. Frans beautiful large breasts press into my triceps and I discover that I might be forty-three but my penis still feels seventeen.

"Come on. Still a few hours of sunlight to soak up." She smiles, not so much up, as beside me. I'm six-two so it's quite the novelty to know a woman who is not constantly craning her neck to meet my eyes. And then I look into her eyes. She's smiling and they shine with something. Admiration? Friendship? Fucks me, she's a lovely kid though.

"Last one in's a rotten egg." She detaches herself and smiles back at me as she wanders inside. God knows I could use a dip. I smell like old leather jacket and sweaty man.

The view is splendid. I reaffirm all my earlier opinions on Fran's physique as we laze around and enjoy the pregnant afternoon. Rain clouds threaten heavily as we soak up a few beers and some light conversation. Mostly... Mostly, I'm reassessing Fran. Having seen her naked, having known her as something other than my daughter's best friend... Having seen her as a woman.

When the first hum of an air conditioner kicking in lets me know the power is back on for the second time today as crews fix yesterday's storm damage, I excuse myself and head inside to tidy up a bit. The place could use a vacuum and there are always things to do.

Tea is fettuccini. Fettuccini and some magic she's done with Asian influences. There are hints of chilli and fish sauce somehow. Garlic and mushrooms; It's amazing. A strange convergence of cultures and flavours that blows my mind. She smiles at my mouth's confusion when I eat and try and process the things happening in my mouth.

"Holy shit." Is the limit of my critique. "Wow." I won't get a part on a cooking show.

"That's the ticket." She smiles. "So, Paul... I am deeply embarrassed."

"You don-"

"Shh..." She shakes her head. "Shoosh Paul. I really want to get this out. Okay? Just eat and listen. Maybe have some wine too." She smiles and tops up my glass. The Italian coming out in her, I smile to myself.

"I don't like it. I'm an intelligent, independent and confident woman and I don't like being embarrassed."

"You're certainly beautiful too. I have this great picture hanging on the wall in the wank bank. Oh shit... Too much?" I ask as she blushes and studies her food too hard.

"No..." She chuckles, "Perfectly enough. Thankyou. I just don't like feeling embarrassed. It makes me feel like I have some kind of hang up. Seriously, I was married for three years. I let fuckwit see me naked. I've had boyfriends, they've all seen me naked but for some reason, you seeing me 'au-naturelle' really bugged me. I have suspicions why, but I I'm really thinking hard on it."

"Um... Ok?" I'm trying to process my feelings about this feast still, let alone her admissions and feelings. "This is mmgrh... really good." I nod and want her to know how good.

She waves me aside with her hand. Good try changing the topic, mate.

"You've been married?" I blurt. "How? When? You're like what? Twenty-four?"

"Twenty-nine." She frowns at me, "And it's rude to ask."

She smiles at my chagrin and pats my left hand where it rests on the table.

"You can't..." My head can't do it. What I saw the other day was not twenty-nine. Well maybe it was. But how come? Delia's only twenty-three... I figured.

"You're cute when you're thinking." She giggles at me and tops up my wine again. I frown at the gesture. Where is this going and why does she want me drunk? Who cares, I decide. She's beautiful and I'm enjoying her company.

"So... Do you trust me Paul?"

"I guess so. I've known you what? Three-"

"Four years." She tells me smiling. "I met Delia not long after I split from fuckwit. He has a name, but I've erased it from my memory banks. 'does not compute'." She says in a robot voice.

"Can you help me with this, Paul?" she points her fork at me and makes big round brown eyes at me that plead like a puppy would and drown me in protective feelings.

"With what, Darlin. You know you're like a daughter to me. Ask and receive hon."

"Hmmph..." She shoots sideways eyes at me. "Look. Um the nude thing."

"Mmm whaa?"

"Yup." She smiles seriously across the table at me. "Look, Paul." She seems to gather thoughts from somewhere then launches into. "When I was around sixteen, Mum and Dad took me to visit family in Italy and Spain. I found it really confronting that at the beach, women just wore bottoms. Breasts everywhere and no-one gave a shit. By the time I came home, I found it really weird to put a top on at the beach. So, I think it's just conditioning. Conditioning and environment. But with you it was something different. I'm not sure of it. Just..."

Then she forks some food into her mouth and mulls her thoughts along with it. I don't know what's going on, so I do likewise. My phone rings but I ignore it. I'm off the clock.

"Paul. I have an idea. I spent most of today while you were out riding, on google reading up on stuff and I... god you have to take me for a ride on your bike. How come I never knew you had a bike?"

"Saturday is bike day. You guys don't usually show up till late or Sunday."

"Mmmph... Anyway... I want to get comfortable being naked around you." She says putting some more food in her mouth and letting that bomb just hang suspended above the table.

My fork chatters briefly against my teeth. "Ah..." I push my hair back off my forehead and tug my beard. Neither gesture helps.

"Darlin..." I'm squinting and I try to stop myself, "Darl..."

"Shh..." She taps my hand. "We'll work it out. Like, I have known you forever and you're the sweetest guy, just... I'm not sure why it's such a big deal and then I'm half certain too." Her blush deepens to her chest and her eyes almond openly at mine with little crinkles that tell me she's happy.

I process. Mostly we just relax into random chatter while I process her admissions and ideas. At worst, I decide, I'll have to witness that perfect form again. My dick hardens at the thought of it and as if she has some third eye, clairvoyance thing going on she smiles right back at my embarrassed face at that very moment.

As I pack the dish washer and scrape things into bins and just use the ordinary of the post dinner clean up to calm my somewhat troubled mind, it heads off on its own tilt and I'm thinking of Delia and her first night and her nerves and soon I'm wanting to ring her. Arms grab me around the shoulders and a head taps the back of my neck. She's so tall.

"She'll be fine. You get a cute..." She gestures at her forehead, right between her eyes, "Frown line here, and a little smile when you think of Delie. She'll be fine. Need any help, Paul?" She releases me.