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ACT ONE - Friday
•Try to play along if you can, if you like. After Daytona clicks on the radio, click the YouTube player AND the video and...enjoy. Lol.
Since I stripped the audio from the vid to avoid any potential copyright stuff it won't be as precise, and will depend on which one your browser loads faster and your own clicking timing. But still, silly, but WORTH IT!
It does go on for a bit, but the rest of the story is sync'ed to where it ends. I didn't nix the audio at the place where the video ends–why would I–but it is unlikely you'll be able to scroll fast enough to actually keep pace with the song. At least you will have heard what was...heard. (There are some other links strewn about but those are bonus bits, not part of the story like the things with the play buttons.)
• Punctuation is deliberate, as always. Some lyrics are sung out loud, some are just coming from the radio.
•ACT ONE is supposed to be a Friday-Saturday-Sunday deal, one after the other, but, eh, it's my birthday and I'll post if I want to 😁
That does mean this one's a bit one note (pun somewhat intended) without the rest. It's still the sole reason that the whole shebang/prelude/prequel exists.
General warning: Pixels doing occasionally unpixelated things.
Specific warning(??) for RESPECT: Racialised undertones are just tones here. (Well, not here here, but overall race, religion, class, gender, etc. are always dimensions of characterisation, to varying degrees, and possibly of plot. Extremely unlikely to ever be 'the theme,' however.)
Now, onto a laid-back Friday afternoon in June, circa 2005.
*Click*
“R.E.S.P.E.C.T.”
“Find out what it means to me”
♫R.E.S.P.E.C.T.♫
♫Take care of TCB♫
♫ Sock it to me ♫ Sock it to me♫
♫ Sock it to me ♫ Sock it to me
♫ Oh! A little respect♫
♫ Sock it to me ♫ Sock it to me♫
♫ Sock it to me ♫ Sock it to me ♫
♫Oh yeah, just a little respect♫
♫ I get tired...Keep on tryin’♫
"Tell 'em, Aretha! Truth is truth!"
"You’re runnin’ outta fools...And I ain’t lyin’!”
♫(Ree, ree, ree ,ree, ree, ree, ree, ree) Respect when you come home♫
Daytona's hip shaking slowed as the song wound down.
She remembered her sandwich and reached for the knife to finish off what she was doing before the anthem came on.
♫Or you might walk in and find that I'm gone…♫
“Miss me, Beech?”
♫I gotta have (Just a little bit) A little respect (Just a little bit)♫
“You are afraid of me?”
He chuckled behind her ear. “Very well. I can work with fear,” he said, slowly sliding his free hand with
his loosened silk tie upward. It would look well fitted around her neck...this unexpectedly delicate neck.
“I can work wonders with fear.”
“In your dreams, Rich Mann. Don't think I won't stab you with this butter knife if I have to. And draw blood, too.”
He laughed again and spun her around, relieving her of her ‘weapon’ of choice – well, of circumstance – and tossing his tie* aside.
Free from the noose of respectability politics...for the nonce.**
*tossing aside all the ties that bind, perhaps...almost
**Daytona is, of course, never free of respectability politics,
not even theoretically. But she's learned, as Rich has, how
to work it to her advantage, and even to enjoy the process.
**Daytona is, of course, never free of respectability politics,
not even theoretically. But she's learned, as Rich has, how
to work it to her advantage, and even to enjoy the process.
“You didn’t forget our appointment, did you?”
“Of course, not. I was just making myself some lunch. Would you like a sandwich?”
“Certainly not. I did not come all this way for bologna.”
“Good, because we’re fresh outta that stuff around here.”
“Indeed. Too classy for such common fare to whet your appetite.”
Daytona shook her head. “You are much too much sometimes. Has anyone ever
told you that? Or do they all just say ‘yes sir’ to whatever comes out your mouth.”
“They do. If they know what’s good for them. You don’t have to.”
“I don’t intend to.”
Oh, La Beech, La Beech, La Beech…
“All right. We’ve established you don’t go for bologna,* so, uh, what were you making?” he asked, nodding at the half-buttered bread behind her.
“If you must know, it was going to be croque monsieur.”
“And were you going to make enough for moi?”
“The thought had crossed my mind.”
*which this time he pronounced baloney rather than Bologna
“Well, let’s hold that thought then. Save it. For after.”
“Wait…Rich, I said wait.”
“Really?”
"This is the side of the house facing all the neighbours."
“You are more paranoid than I!”
It was amusing to notice and make note of, but that was quite enough of that.
"Your nearest neighbour is me – will be me – and you can barely see the site from here."
"I hear it well enough," she said, wandering over to the back door for a peek. "The construction noise must be driving
all the others crazy – you did choose a spot much closer to the rest of them than to me – but nobody's complained."
"I thought you wanted me to integrate into the community?" He picked up that none-too-subtle womanly assurance-seeking that she'd dangled out
there just to see if he'd notice. "Is that not what we discussed? And my surveyor chose the plot from your own list, as you know. Close, but not too close."
True enough, you could barely see the frame of the house going up in the midst of all the grass and trees.
But you could see it, which meant they could be seen as well.
Close, but not too close for comfort? Only time would tell.
"Well, in any case, I'm thinking about zoning now. Never hurts to think ahead. It's my house that's on the billboard.
But with you building a much grander structure now, having it stuck out there in the sticks, with the
farmhouses, is not very forward thinking of us. And it might cause complications with zoning later on, that's all."
"If that's all, then no need to concern ourselves with it now. What's done...is done."
"We are both all in on this...investment."
Just as Rich had her where he wanted her, or very nearly so, Daytona opened her eyes and saw plaid.
"See, didn't I tell you. It's a small town, but it's not a dead town."
"I know, Daytona. But it's probably just my foreman. Not ideal, but if, on the off chance, he did see me, he knows to be discreet."
"Discreet?" Daytona frowned and shifted away. But she didn't want to get into the so-called discretion of his underlings.
They owed no allegiance to her. Now, he was the one sporting that flashy ring, but that, likewise, was no concern of hers.
"I don't know about your foreman or any of that. I think most likely it's that Hatfield jackass coming this way.
What I'm doing or who I'm keeping company with is definitely none of his damn business."
Rich was still far more amused than annoyed by her privacy paranoia.
He watched her draw closed those very sheer curtains at the door – what actual purpose did she think that served?
He watched her close the other curtains in the kitchen.
Not an obsessive, perhaps, but thorough.
Got excited when she turned the music off, but all she said was:
"Instead of just looking at me, you can help and get those other two over by the table while I fix the living room."
He chuckled at the breezy way she assigned him a task. But he obliged.
But now, La Beech, now he was ready to get down to business.
Negotiations were long over. The deal had been struck –
“You coming?”
Cheeky Beech. Was he coming?
What did she think!
"Ah, ah, ah. Not so fast, my voluptuous vixen."
Whoops, can't forget this.
Rich had been fantasizing about this rendezvous for weeks now.
He fully intended to live out every detail of the wild dreams that she inspired!
"You ready now?"
"Oh, no, my dear, the question is: are you ready?"
Because we are just...
...getting...
...started.
Precisely how did she fit all of this in these trousers? The Mann was mesmerized.
They must be tailor made.
Bespoke bottoms for the bounteous beauty's bountiful, bouncy bottom...
Seriously, a whole lifetime missing out on that bounce. That...bounce!
A whole lifetime where no woman like her had ever before even registered on his radar.
He simply was not drawn in by an ostentatious curve. He was not an ass man, at all. Nor a tits man, for that matter.
Naturally, they played their parts. This Mann, however, took a 'whole woman' approach to lust.
And Daytona was a woman complete, that much was assured. She was, indeed, a whole lot of woman to lust.
"You know you're going to have to take the shoes off first. No, the buckle, Rich. Undo the buckle."
Oops, there go my pants, up over my head. Oh my.
Well, hello, Sexy!
“One of us is still wearing too many clothes. Your turn,” she said. “Off with your shirt!”
But before Rich could comply with her commands, Daytona had laid hands to his tie strands
and yanked him down as she sat back, down to eye level, to issue new orders without using any words.
Again, happy to oblige.
“You about ready to take this upstairs, Mister Mann? Hand me my shoes,” she said and
turned once again to take this meeting to the bedroom and once again she was...waylaid.
Oops, there go my drawers...
Oh. My.
One particular gasp of pleasure had her rear up and cling tighter to the banister, and Daytona caught sight of herself and Hamilton in portrait.
This was not a moment where she wanted any real or imagined eye contact with her son! She needed him to take an interest in her professional interests
but knowing too much about her personal business (or where the lines might blur sometimes) was a complication neither one of them would handle right.
Not that she could even fathom his disapproval, but she didn't like to embarrass him.
Still couldn't stop herself from giggling out loud at the thought of him and his fool's-gold-plated trophy wife, especially,
coming home early to find her and Mr. Business himself with his face buried all up in her business!
Giggling was not the desired response, however, so it only made "Mr. Business"
redouble his efforts to bring back the gasps and the moans.
His efforts certainly did pay off, in audible decibels.
But they were audible to more than just him.
Mrs. Joy wasn't exactly a passerby, drawn in just to be a nosybody.
She'd stopped by on her way back to the farm on purpose to have a natter with Mrs. Beech the Younger. They'd become right friendly of late.
She was the only somebody Jenny'd ever had to talk books with and she was so generous with her time and her learnin's and her library.
Miss Sandy had mentioned that she used to knit with her own maw. Likely 'fore she growed up into such a modern young
woman o' the world – but that was only her own speculatin' – nonetheless, Jenny figured that was somethin' she could
do for her. One good turn deserves another. Knit one, purl one. And when she saw the fancy duffel at the door waiting, she
figured she was just in time to catch her before she and Mr. Hamilton left on one of their weekend 'scursions outta town.
But the sounds that she heard!
At first, she was worried...
And then...!
Oh, my. Lordy, Lordy...
"Lordy!"
She was intendin' on leaving the basket for Miss Sandy to find in her own good time. But it was probably for the best not to let on that she was ever here today.
Rich hadn't been able to resist catching Daytona off her guard this afternoon, so he'd deliberately left his bag outside the door.
During an 'intermission' he came back downstairs to retrieve it.
Before he did, however, it seems that catching sight of Daytona's datebook and having a flick through it was something else Rich could not resist.
Not while she was upstairs none the wiser.
And not disposed to much mind anything he did right now.
Daytona was radiating in the afterglow.
Sex in your 20s and 30s? Child's play. (Un)dress rehearsals.
This here was grown folks at play. And it was ahh-mazing.
Rich retrieved what he'd really gone down to get his bag for and dropped it down by the bedroom door.
"That's for me?"
"Oh, don't play coy, Daytona. It doesn't suit you fully clothed and it certainly does not suit
when you're in the nude. Nearly nude. My tie looks good on you. But I think this will look better."
"What is it?"
"Why don't you open it?"
"Rich."
"Precisely. I am. So I can afford to buy you precious gems that make me think of you whenever I've a mind to."
That brought the smile back to her eyes. Her lips were otherwise occupied.
Kinky.
♫If I gave you Diamonds and Pearls
Would you be a happy boy or a girl...
If I could I would give you the world...*
But all I can do
Is just offer you
My Love♫
*those are two separate links in the stanza,
one to the song, the other to the reference
one to the song, the other to the reference
They had already woohooed the day away.
Now comes the night.
Diamonds and pearls were nice. Beautiful even.
They did not compare to what else Rich had to offer Daytona.
♫There will come a time
Where everything will shine
So bright it makes you colour-blind.♫
“Well! Think you got another 'nother round in you?”
“Oh, you better believe it, Beech!”
***
And I have no intention of 'advertising' it anywhere so if you actually found it to read this, well, damn...and how?
But hope you enjoyed this little peek into the, um, complicated past between Daytona and Rich...
Happy Simming!
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