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Explanation

By: wcuddyf



An Explanation

If you have read some of my earlier stories, you know my husband and I have a rather unique agreement when it comes to extra-marital sex. I like it, and he permits it, only if he knows about it in advance, and I fill him in on all the details, blow by blow (no pun intended). 

From the very beginning, we have had a great sex life, and still do. Fantasizing and verbalizing about, and during sex, was always a turn on. After a few years it became more difficult for me to articulate sexy scenarios to tell my husband while we were having sex, an aspect of our sex that stimulated and motivated his sexual response. Most were variations of actual events that had occurred before we met. I had a fairly active sex life before marriage, and with some imagination, I could exaggerate those old experiences to make them more dangerous, and exciting than they were. 

After a couple years, five or six stories, slightly modified every time I tell them were beginning to loose their effect. It was my husband who began pressing me for more tales of my past sexual exploits. I assured him he had heard them all, much to his chagrin.

One night, lying in bed I was stroking his cock, telling him about on of my exaggerated sexual adventures when he said. "We are going to have to come up with some new sexual experiences."

"I've modified and enhanced every notable sexual encounter I've had, including creating a couple that never existed. I am out of stories." I said. "I have taken half a dozen or so that actually happened and expanded each till I have about twice that many, but I don't know how to expand on them further."

"Forget those. You have to have new ones." He said, with some excitement in his voice. "Yes, we have to find new sexual experiences for you. Making up stories is fine, but I know when you are straying too far from what really happened. Despite your best effort to make it exciting and sexual; made up stories lack the small details, the little incidental recollections that bring it to life." He paused, as he gave it some more thought.

Turning toward me he said. "I want you to start having actual sex with others. I don't mean I want you to go to a bar and pick up strangers. I want you to have sex with men we know. Men we can agree on." I could tell from his tone of voice he was serious.

"Look. We both know you not only enjoy sex, but you are good at it. We also know your outgoing personality, has led to some close calls with some men when they interpreted your friendliness as flirtatious. And we also know you are a flirt."

I laughed, saying. "Sure I have had men hit on me, but I didn't think I did anything to encourage it."

He looked at me with a doubting expression.

"Well, maybe I did provide some encouragement. I do like the attention, and I have told you about every guy that has hit on me." I paused. "I guess I am a bit of a flirt now that I think of it. Seems I am approached at almost every party we attend. I must be doing something to encourage it. Probably some psychological flaw in my make-up that causes me to sub-conscientiously, conscientiously, or intentionally encourage men to verbally or physically treat me or approach me sexually. I am never offended, and it probably shows."

It was that night we began to discuss how I could have extra-marital sex that would not jeopardize our marriage, and from my husband's point of view, enhance it. I know it sounds weird that a man could possibly consent, no, not consent, encourage his wife to have sex with others. 

I had a number of reservations: mostly about jealousy; how it would affect our relations with men I had sex with later; how I would keep these affairs physical; how it might affect our reputations if word got out, and a few more. 

Most of those concerns would be handled by jointly planning each encounter. Not down to the details of what would happen, but that we would create an environment where, with a little luck, and good timing, it was likely to happen. There would be no restrictions on what was done. The whole purpose, from my husband's standpoint, was the retelling of the encounter. To quote Shakespeare (I think), "The devil is in the details." It was those details that turned him on. What I wore what I did and said each step of the way toward the seduction, where it happened, what happened, how it happened, what was said....everything. 

It was this joint planning that resolved most of the major concerns. There would be no sneaking around, no lies. 

As for how it would affect our relations with the parties afterward, we agreed that is should only happen one time with any individual, and, even though we were the instigators and plotters, it had to come of as if the "target" were the initiator, and my succumbing to their advance was a fluke, partly brought on my alcohol, perfect timing, and the seductive skills of the "target". 

It was okay to flirt or otherwise encourage the sex; it was just not be the result of my initiation. I could go along with it, but it could not appear to have been planned. There was to be no talk or suggestion of a relationship or reoccurrence. I had to come across as the seduced, when in fact, I was the seductress....

After many discussions, and much reservation, I finally agreed. I must admit, I was a little concerned. Did my husband's willingness to let me have sex with others indicate he no longer wanted me, or loved me? I personally felt I could keep this sexual experiment from becoming emotional because I love my husband, and would not do this otherwise. Up till then I had never been unfaithful or had any desire to be. Sure I enjoyed the sexual tension of flirting, and having men make sexual comments, or perhaps inadvertently touching me, or finding ways to adjust my clothing or stance to give someone a glimpse of my tits or pussy, but it was all for my gratification. 

While that put me at ease in my part of this grand scheme, I did not fully understand why he would want me to do this. So before I gave my final consent to the plan, I need an explanation.

Here's what he told me:

It was no secret we both like not only the act, but the mental aspect as well. He is very liberal minded when it comes to sex, there is little he won't, or hasn't done, tried or said. I am pretty much the same. Some of my past sexual experiences were somewhat promiscuous, some were done where there was some danger or risk of discovery, one or two were with married men where the attraction was physical, not emotional, which required a lot of secrecy and spontaneous sex when and where the opportunity presented itself. As a result of my telling him of these acts, he began to feel I had a strong sexual side and attitude, much like his, and unlike most women. I could and have had sex many times for the sake of sex. This was so foreign to his preconception of what women were about, this retelling my sexual experiences in such detail, allowed him insight of me, which I probably couldn't or wouldn't divulge. It was his way of getting in my mind. Understanding what I'm thinking when seeking sexual attention, or participating in sex, almost making him a part of it. 

He said he was more interested in what is going on in my mind, than what is happening. He doesn't want me to just tell him I sucked so-and-so's cock; he want me to describe how I felt before I did it, how I did it, how so and so felt and responded, and how that affected me. He wasn't interested in having sex vicariously through me, as some latent homosexual or impotent entity, he wanted, by pressing for every detail, me to reveal, and relive my innermost thoughts and emotions I probably had never analyzed or contemplated before.

Honestly, the retelling of the actual sexual experiences I had, in minute detail, not only brought back intense feelings and memories, but caused me to mentally go back in time, and almost physically relive the event. It's one thing to say, "We met in the parking lot behind his office, and I gave him a blow-job in the car." Even if that is my initial recollection, when I try to relive the event, and describe everything that led up to it, I reveal a mental and psychological part that says more about me, and who I am sexually, and what I think sexually. Just how open minded and sexually malleable am I. What is my motivation and what are my limits, if any. What are my innermost, secret fantasies? It is by telling and recounting these events in minute by minute detail that gives us both new insights about who I am, and what I am really thinking. 

And so, it is with this understanding of our relationship that I tell the stories I do. If my husband's desires are indicative of some underlying psychological problem, he deals with it, and so do I. I would never have come up with this deviant pattern on my own, and was reluctant, but I love my husband, do not consider my acts as cheating, nor do I have any long term emotional ties to the men (and women) with whom I have sex. The adventures have be satisfying to both of us, and to the best of my knowledge, no one has been hurt in the process. If this does not meet with your approval, you do not have to read further, or any of my stories. Perhaps soon he or I will lose our interest, and resume a more 'normal' lifestyle, but for now it works. 

Explanation



Explanatory Notes for the 'Eros Collection'

I believe it is unfortunate that words of explanation are probably necessary before the average person can even begin to understand the motivation behind my 'hobby' - which many would describe as, 'weird', or perhaps even 'perverted'. But as they probably are, here goes...

Since a teen-ager one of the various human traits that has always both annoyed and deeply disturbed me has been hypocrisy. I sincerely believe it should have been included in the list of the very worst of sins.

This is not the place to go into the many guises it takes in the everyday activities of politics, religion, or indeed so many other areas of our various societies - nor how it overtly or covertly undermines so very many aspects of our individual lives. However, the anger and frustration I have always felt about those and many other effects was undoubtedly one of the early motivations behind the start of the creation of this work.

Think about it - most societies not merely tolerate, but revel in blood and death. Battles, and its 'heroes' are honoured long, long after - which in itself may not be really too terrible, but - every single day our media both stokes and satisfies the probably underlying blood-lust with graphic stories and images of other dramatic, and no less gory acts of violence or misfortune. And, as if all that were not enough, even our producers of purely fictional stories are encouraged to seek ever more 'realistic' ways of satisfying this apparent craving.

Now, whilst it is not to my taste, I don't object to it being somebody else's. But, given the ever-increasing flood of violence and death, I do - and always have done - strongly object to, and have always been bewildered by, the self-same society frowning on the use of similar techniques with sex...

If, as seems the case, homo sapiens is driven by what appear to be the inherently basic characteristics of aggression and greed, it is also driven by the other life forces - the need to survive, the need to reproduce. So we eat, we drink - and we have sex.

A graphic description of people maiming or killing each other is O.K. A graphic description of people eating and drinking is too. But a graphic description of people having sex, is pornography - and, even in supposedly enlightened societies, should be banned, or if not that, then at the very least, constrained or censored. If from time to time and place to place none of those, then at the very least such material should be considered 'not nice', 'not for those with more refined tastes'.

As a somewhat infamous lady in this country once said - 'Please explain!'.

So, the work - that I think of as the 'Eros Collection' - is both a protest against the hypocrisy of the all too blatantly prevailing double-standards, and my small contribution to what I hope will, maybe, one day become a quite acceptable art-form.

Whereas some people use the euphemism 'Erotica' when describing this genre of writing - I much prefer to call a spade a spade, and think of my work as being 'Romantic Pornography'.

The stories have plots, some of them quite creatively intricate, all of them hopefully reasonably rational. There is occasional humour, sometimes just a small touch of sadness. And there is love, many of my characters actually 'live happily ever after' - after all they are works of fiction!

But there is lots, and lots, and lots of sex. And in great detail!

Whilst some of this may appear at first glance to be purely gratuitous, just there to provide yet more masturbatory opportunities for the reader - and after all exactly what is so wrong about that? - there is some 'serious' intent.

What effects may our societies themselves have had in shaping an individual's proclivities as to what and how they each like to do the various things they do?

What previous experiences motivates an individual's particular desires or preferences? What events in our childhood, youth, or even adulthood shape and mould our reactions and responses to various types of stimulae?

What images are conjured up when anticipating making love to somebody? What memories - or even dreams - of previous encounters come back to mind?

What flashes of thought might go through the mind whilst a person is having sex? Are they always thinking of the one they are with, or perhaps those thoughts are in reality sometimes about another?

What actual memories are recalled later? Just how vividly is anyone able to recall the actions and sensations experienced when having sex?

I have tried to use some of my character to explore these and several other related questions.

However, I should make it clear that the entire body of work is pure fiction, there are absolutely no autobiographical details in it whatsoever. 

That is not to say that some of my own traits, attitudes and feelings do not show through, they would be impossible to bury completely. So it is all very 'straight' sex. An occasional touch of bondage is included, but nothing that could be considered even close to S & M. There is a little female to female, but no male to male sex. And there are not even any of the more bizarre, though none the less relatively harmless sexual activities.

So for many it would be considered extremely 'mild', and perhaps, even boring.

However, it is graphic, 'hard-core', and is so on purpose, for the reasons above.



Explanation of Love 01



*Author's Note: This is a long one; it will be broken into 3 installments.

Do not ask me when the next one is coming; it will come out as soon as Literotica approves it.

As always, thank you for reading my stories. 

Chapter 1

Paula Lambert looked carefully around, around the parking lot in the rear of the Dead End Bar.

Seeing no one lurking in the area, she pressed the key fob and heard her car chirp pleasantly.

The twenty three year old woman flung her long strawberry blonde hair back out of her eyes, again checked around herself, and then got into her BMW 390E Convertible.

She closed the door quickly and hit the electric lock button. Then she casually threw her shoulder bag onto the passenger seat.

Darlene had once laughed at how cautious Paula was, until one drunken customer had followed her and accosted her in the parking lot. Ever since then, Darlene also practiced the 'Better Safe than Sorry' approach.

At seven thirty, the sun was just now making its descent into the horizon. Being mid April, it was warm enough, so once she pulled onto Highway 27, Paula pressed the button and lowered the roof of the car.

Swinging onto Highway 19, she paused for a moment, and then decided to splurge, to completely ruin her diet.

"I've been a good girl," she said out loud as she pulled into a slot of Clark's Drive-In.

She'd had a chef salad for dinner, with the house vinaigrette dressing, no croutons. Lunch had been one of Kirsten's concoctions; herb chicken breasts, skinless.

"Damn it, I deserve it," she smiled.

She watched the three girls as they skated back and forth, dressed in their skin tight tee shirts and short red shorts. 

A very slender brunette whizzed past, very large chest made all the more obvious by the snug top she wore. The girl looked at Paula's car with interest, and then continued to her customer's truck. The brunette hooked a tray onto the window of a truck, made change for the customer, and then skated over to Paula.

Paula was watching a blonde skate past. The girl seemed to be a little older than the other two servers; the large breasted brunette and the other girl, a blonde, appeared to be in their late teens, whereas the long haired blonde looked to be in her early twenties.

The younger blonde studied Paula's car with interest, but was laden down with empty trays.

The older blonde flashed a crooked smile as she skated past Paula, then skidded to a stop and collected a tray from a customer's car.

"Hi welcome to Clark's, ready to order?" Debbie Dublachon chirped brightly.

"Hi, yeah, I'm waiting for her," Paula said, pointing to the blonde as the woman skated backward past them, balancing the tray.

"Okay, I'll let her know," Debbie said pleasantly.

"Thanks," Paula smiled, not really knowing why she didn't just give the young brunette her order.

The other blonde skated toward Paula's car, but Paula heard the brunette say, "She's one of Terry's friends," and the blonde found another car.

Paula watched the brunette skate leisurely over to the older blonde, intercepting the blonde as she spun around several times.

Paula smiled as Terry looked over at the car, then flashed another crooked smile and rapidly approached the car.

"Hi, um, Debbie said you were..." Terry Dayton said.

"Okay, first off, where do you get your hair done?" Paula interrupted.

"Do it myself," Terry admitted.

"Really?" Paula asked, voice a squeal. "You're kidding!"

"Um, no, no ma'am, I do it myself," Terry admitted.

"God it's so perfect!" Paula praised. "I've gone to Miss Helena's, down to Emily's, in DeGarde? I've even gone over to Waggamon's and I always hate how they do it."

"Um, yes ma'am," Terry swiveled back and forth on her skates, trying to maintain her balance.

"Okay, give me a small um, oh, what the hell, make it a large butterscotch sundae, okay?" Paula said, looking at the lighted menu.

"Whipped cream, nuts, cherry?" Terry asked.

"Absolutely," Paula smiled.

Paula admired Terry's rear end and muscular legs as the young woman skated away, and almost applauded as Terry easily leapt over the wooden bench in front of the restaurant door.

She smiled as the other two servers skated around, showing off for each other and for the customers. In terms of physical attributes, the slender brunette had the blonde beat; her chest was quite sizable. But the blonde was more daring in her maneuvers. 

"I keep telling them, 'quit showing off; you're going to fall and bust your asses' but they don't ever listen to me," Terry smiled as she hooked the tray to the door of Paula's car. "Eight fifty six, please."

"Oh my goodness; I can't eat all of that!" Paula laughed.

"I'll go get a spoon and help you," Terry joked.

"Uh huh," Paula smiled and handed Terry a twenty. "Better hurry back if you want any of it."

"Okay, eight fifty six from twenty is..." Terry recited as she prepared to make change.

"Keep it," Paula smiled and dug her spoon the mountain of whipped cream.

"Um, ma'am, this is a twenty," Terry said.

"Uh huh, I know," Paula nodded and smiled as she shoved some more of the sundae into her mouth.

"You're giving me an eleven dollar tip?" Terry asked.

"Why not?" Paula asked. "Better hurry back with that spoon if you're going to help me with this."

"Um, thank you," Terry squeaked.

She stood, uncomfortable, and unsure, until a car honked, letting her know that they wanted the tray removed so that they could go.

"Thanks again, ma'am," Terry said and skated away.

Paula savored each sticky, gooey spoonful and was surprised when she found herself scraping the last of the light brown butterscotch from the bottom of the glass dish.

"You were supposed to help me eat that," Paula pouted when Terry skated up to collect the tray.

"Oops, maybe next time," Terry smiled.

"Now I'm going to gain fifty pounds and it's your fault," Paula said.

"Maybe two or three, but I seriously doubt if you gain fifty pounds in one night," Terry smiled, grabbing the tray.

"You work every night?" Paula asked.

"No, usually Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday. Saturdays I do the lunch shift," Terry said.

"Okay, see you later," Paula said, started her car and carefully backed out onto Highway 19.

She turned onto Highway 52, and then almost immediately turned onto Louisiana Drive, just past the car wash. Six blocks further, she turned left onto Kennedy Road and drove past the driveway to her condominium. She pressed the button to raise the roof of her car, and then began backing into her garage. With a final look around, Paula then lowered the garage door again.

Once the door was all the way down, Paula grabbed her shoulder bag, got out of the car and entered her kitchen. Only one "meow" greeted her; Courtney Love, her calico cat, jumped down from the counter.

"You know you're not supposed to get up there," Paula fussed.

Clint Eastwood, her orange tabby came in at the sound of Momma's voice, but as usual, Janet Jackson, her nearly solid black cat was hiding.

"Oh, I suppose you think you want some dinner, huh?" Paula asked the two cats.

She opened the pantry and Courtney jumped onto the counter again.

The cat squawked as Paula quickly squirted her with a spray of water from a plastic bottle, but jumped back down off the counter.

"Uh huh, didn't see that one coming, huh?" Paula laughed, then quickly dumped three small tins of food into three small bowls and set them on the floor of the kitchen.

The smell of food did the trick and Janet made an appearance. Only one paw was white, the rest of the cat was a glossy black.

"Uh, hey, Ms. Jackson? No 'hello' for your Momma?" Paula fussed.

The cat didn't pause in her approach to her food dish.

"Fine, fine, bitch, be that way," Paula said and took her shoulder bag to the small laundry room.

She dumped her clothing from her day's work into the washing machine, added the khaki cargo shorts and denim halter top she was wearing, and then dumped in a scoop of laundry powder.

Now nude, except for her four inch heels, Paula skipped upstairs.

She saw the message light blinking on her answering machine and wondered, again, why she even had a land line. The majority of calls she wanted to get came through her cell phone. That was the number she gave to people she wanted to talk with.

The first message was a sales call; a recorded voice told her she could now reduce her monthly bills by half by switching the balance of her credit cards to their card.

"Can't switch any balances if I don't have any," she smirked and deleted the message.

The second call was from her mother, Sherri Lambert, shrilly demanding that she call them and reminding her that it had been quite a while since she last talked with them, or had stopped by to see them.

"And, THAT'S why I have a land line," Paula said and deleted her mother's message.

She debated with herself for a few moments, then shrugged and picked up the cordless phone.

"Hello, Sherri, what's up?" she asked when her mother answered.

"I really wish you wouldn't call me that," her mother complained bitterly.

"Oh, okay, bye," Paula said and hung up.

A moment later, the telephone rang. Paula let it ring three more times, and then answered.

"Yes?" she sang out musically.

"You really hate me that much?" her mother shrilled into the telephone.

"Sherri, I'd have to care about you in order to hate you; so, what's up?" Paula asked lightly.

"I was going to invite you over this Sunday, for pot roast," Sherri whined.

"Ooh, pot roast. You do make a mean pot roast," Paula agreed. "So, what's the occasion?"

"There have to be a reason?" Sherri asked.

"With you? Yes, of course there does. Sherri Lambert doesn't do anything that doesn't have something in it for Sherri Lambert," Paula said easily.

"Or maybe I just miss my daughter," Sherri said.

"Nah, that's not it," Paula disagreed. "So, what is it? Why are you inviting me over? And making my favorite meal?"

"I told you; I just want to see you," Sherri simpered.

"Nope, I'm not buying it," Paula said. "But thanks for playing; we have lovely parting gifts for you. Next contestant pleases."

She hit the 'End Call' button on the cordless phone, put it back on its cradle, and kicked off her shoes.

Paula did not answer the phone when it rang and Sherri did not leave a message when the machine picked up. Sherri tried twice more and finally did leave a message the third time the machine picked up.

"Fine, be that way," Sherri huffed.

Paula walked over to her desk and started her computer. Amber said she wanted a new cd, something a little nastier. The password prompt popped up and Paula rapidly typed her password out, and then pulled up her list of music.

She had the list arranged alphabetically by artists, but she could also search alphabetically by album titles.

"Yes, perfect," she muttered and pulled up her first selection.

In moments, Paula had selected eight songs from her extensive library and started burning them onto a blank disc. The total play time was thirty minutes and twelve seconds.

She nodded in satisfaction; another ten dollars easily made.

Cheryl Nguyen, an attractive Asian American, had asked her to design a 'belly dancer' costume and Paula was very nearly finished. Looking at the black gauze leggings, she almost wished she had thought of the costume for herself. But, she knew, the minute Amber, or Tita saw it, they'd want one too and that was another sixty dollars each.

Tita was actually Conchita Saurez, a twenty one year old Latina beauty. She did not buy any music from Paula, preferring to bring in her own music, all Spanish. But she seemed to go crazy for Paula's costume creations.

Thankfully, Tita and Amber were the same size so it made her job a little easier.

With a final run through on her sewing machine, Cheryl's costume was finished. Paula hung it on a soft hanger, and then pulled a black plastic bag over it.

Paula looked at the clock and sighed. It was already one o'clock in the morning.

In her bed, two of the three usual suspects were waiting. Janet was nowhere to be found. Paula brushed Courtney off of her pillow and lay down.

As soon as she turned off the light, Janet made her grand entrance, leaping onto the bed and demanding a corner of Paula's pillow for herself.

"Bitch," Paula said affectionately.

Chapter 2

Terry smiled as she saw the pearl white BMW pull up and stop. She quickly carried the tray of food out to a customer's car, collected the payment and thanked the customer for the two dollar and nine cent tip, then skated over to Paula's car.

"Hi!" Paula squealed and Terry smiled a little wider as she greeted the nameless customer that had given her such a large tip the week earlier.

"Hi," she agreed.

"Listen, I want a banana split, okay?" Paula said.

"Nope," Terry refused with a shake of her head.

"What?" Paula squealed, surprised. "What do you...? You can't tell me 'NO!'"

"Uh huh," Terry said. "I give it to you, you eat it, and then blame it on me that you're getting all fat and stuff, so, 'Nope,' you're not getting a banana split."

"Listen, you," Paula said, hooking a finger inside of the waistband of Terry's shorts, pulling Terry closer to the car. "Get me a banana split, on the double, or there's going to be some real trouble, you hear?"

Terry felt an electric shock ripple from her head to her toes the moment Paula's long red fingernail touched her bare belly, softly raked down, and disappeared inside of her shorts.

"Trouble, huh?" Terry managed to squeak out. "What kind of trouble?"

"Real bad trouble," Paula husked and wiggled her finger back and fort a couple of times then pulled her finger out of the waistband.

Terry backed up a few feet, never breaking eye contact with Paula's green eyes.

"Nope," Terry repeated and laughed out loud when Paula made a grab for her.

"Fine, fine, be right back," Terry said and skated away.

Paula watched as two other servers skated around, waiting for a new customer, or for a current customer to finish with their tray. The blonde was a very athletic girl and performed some pretty fancy footwork.

"And, seven forty four," Terry said as she hooked the tray to Paula's car.

"Here; I promise I won't blame you for all the weight I'm about to put on because of this banana split," Paula smiled, handing Terry a twenty dollar bill.

"And seven forty four from ..." Terry intoned.

"Keep it," Paula said, digging her spoon into the mound of strawberry ice cream.

"Ma'am, that's..." Terry protested.

"Mmm, this is so good," Paula said, ignoring Terry's protests.

"Thank you, ma'am," Terry said and skated away.

Kizzy almost ran into Terry as she caromed out of the restaurant, tray laden with four burgers and four root beer floats. Terry held her breath as Melinda barely avoided Kizzy as the blonde came out of a spin.

"She'd have hit her, I'd have bounced her ass out of here," John Clark said, scowling at Melinda.

"Before or after Kizzy killed her?" Terry asked.

She skated out to grab a new customer; the girls were all paid hourly wages, but tips made up a large part of their take-home pay.

"Hey, Hoser," Melinda complained as Terry passed her at a high rate of speed.

Terry took the order and smirked as Melinda quickly gave her the finger.

"Stick that finger out like that in front of customers again and I'll break it off, you hear?" John barked at Melinda.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," Melinda grumbled, then brightened as her boyfriend's car pulled in.

Terry brought out the order, then doubled back to see if her high paying customer was finished with the banana split yet.

"This is soooo good," Paula sighed as she scraped the last of the melted ice dream from the bottom of the glass dish.

"Glad you liked it," Terry smiled.

"Of course," Paula smiled mischievously. "Now I'm going to gain fifty pounds and it's all your fault."

"Hey!" Terry protested. "You said you weren't going to blame me for that!"

"I lied," Paula shrugged.

They chatted for a few moments more, then Terry took the tray off of the door and Paula started her car.

Three hours passed by quickly; Clark's Drive-In was pretty busy, thanks in part to the warmer weather and thanks in part to the later sunset.

"Woo," Melinda said as she pulled her skates off of her feet and put her tennis shoes on.

"No kidding!" Kizzy agreed.

"You been doing this, how long Terry?" Melinda asked as Terry slipped on her canvas sneakers.

"Since I was sixteen so almost eight years," Terry smiled as she dug her car keys out of her pocket.

Terry stuck the key into the ignition of her battered Chevy Malibu, praying that the nineteen year old car would behave tonight. Last night, she'd had to wait for Tommy to shut everything down before he would come out and help her. It had been nearly twelve o'clock before she'd gotten home.

Terry drove down Highway 27. As she passed the Dead End Bar, she did glance over at the cinderblock building.

The cars that lined the parking lot were slightly upscale; her car would have looked out of place among the SUVs and luxury sedans. True to what Paula had told her, there were no motorcycles out front.

"You're a dancer? At THAT place?" Terry had gasped when Paula told her what she did.

"Yes, at THAT place; what's wrong with that place?" Paula asked.

"All those nasty ass bikers?" Terry asked blue eyes still wide with shock.

"Oh no, no, no!" Paula laughed. "No, Terry! We got rid of them! Miss Rosy? She's the owner? She started feeding cops for free, got rid of all those greasy old bikers!"

Somehow, Paula had ferreted out of Terry the fact that her birthday was on Friday.

"Oh, you HAVE to come to the Dead End!" Paula had demanded. "That way, when it hits midnight, I can be the first one to wish you a happy birthday!"

"Oh come on; that's so silly!" Terry had smiled.

"Please?" Paula had begged, running a fingernail on Terry's abdomen between the hem of her snug tee shirt and short red shorts.

Although she didn't promise she would, Terry knew she probably would go to the Dead End Bar. She rarely went out, having very little money to splurge on herself, but surely a birthday warranted a little splurging. She was off on Friday, due to it being her birthday, so didn't have to worry about getting up the next morning. Waking up early that morning.

Terry opened the door of the Section 8 house she and her aunt lived in. She wrinkled her nose in distaste; the smell of marijuana, spilled beer, and greasy food, probably fried chicken, was overwhelming.

She did not turn on a light; having no desire to see the carnage of another of her aunt's nighttime ritual, or the hordes of cockroaches claiming their part of the leftovers.

They qualified for Section 8 due to Terry being an orphan (her mother had died in an automobile accident when Terry was thirteen; Terry had never known whom her father was) and Aunt Janette Dayton's mental illness.

She quietly walked past her aunt's door, grateful to hear only one snore coming from the woman's bedroom. She entered her own bedroom and finally did turn on a light. She shut the door and locked it before stripping out of her Clark's Drive-In tee shirt, sweaty bra, and her red shorts. She did glance around quickly; one time, one of her aunt's 'Boyfriends' had hidden in Terry's closet, coming out as Terry was sliding her thong panties off of her legs.

That was also the reason she locked her bedroom door; just because she only heard one person snoring did not mean there wasn't a man lurking in the house. Her aunt had a bad habit of getting drunk, stoned, and horny and did not have any qualms about who she invited in to have sex with her. Or, she got drunk stoned, and hungry. There were several fast food places within walking distance of the house and her aunt would stagger down to one of the fast food places, pick up greasy take-out food, and often would pick up a strange man along the e way.




Explanation of Love 01



Terry shrugged on her tattered old robe, picked up her dirty clothes, and unlocked the door.

In darkness, she was able to find the laundry room, and dropped in the shirt, bra, and panties, along with socks and other whites from the hamper.

The tiny shorts were dropped onto the pile of blue jeans.

Terry flicked the light switch for the bathroom and cursed out loud; the light was not working again. She then felt around to make sure that no one was in the dark room with her. Satisfied, she then shut the door and slid the slide bolt shut. The door lock did work, but was very easily jimmied open, as one of Aunt Janette's 'boyfriends' had found out.

In total darkness, Terry washed away the day's sweat. She then carefully shaved her legs and underarms, then rinsed the shampoo out of her long hair. She put a dollop of conditioner into her head, and then slowly worked the conditioner into her scalp, then out, portion by portion. 

The water was cool by the time she rinsed her hair clean of conditioner. She toweled off, made sure her robe was secured, and then opened the bathroom door.

Again, there was only the one person's snores coming from Aunt Janette's room, but Terry still made sure the bedroom door was firmly locked before shrugging out of her robe and pulling on a clean pair of panties and a long nightgown. Her Aunt liked the house to be cold; their electric bill was often around three hundred dollars a month. But, they only paid a portion of that; the State of Louisiana picked up the bulk of that expense.

Terry brushed her hair until her hair was very nearly dry. Then she shut off the light, crawled into her bed, and went to sleep.

The blaring of a television works Terry out of a deep dreamless sleep. She could also smell coffee, which meant that Aunt Janette was in a good mood.

She pulled her robe on over her nightgown, just in case there was 'company' this morning, and left her bedroom.

"Ooh, I need to get me that," Aunt Janette said, watching a television commercial for a tempur-pedic mattress.

"Chiropractor said you need plenty support; that don't give no support," Terry said, pouring herself a mug of coffee.

"But it's like sleeping on a cloud!" Aunt Janette said, parroting the commercial.

"And then I got to put up with you whining how your back is killing you and I'm the one's got to take you back and forth to Doctor Babineaux and got to listen to you go on and on about how he smells funny, and..." Terry said as she dug out a box of cereal.

"And you can get financing from Johnson's; I wonder if they got it there," Aunt Janette said.

"I'm sure they do," Terry said, sitting down after pushing aside last night's fried chicken box. "But what's wrong with your bed now?"

Thankfully, another commercial blared and Aunt Janette forgot about her 'need' for a new mattress.

She finished her breakfast, transferred the clothes from the washing machine to the dryer and dropped her shorts and blue jeans into the washing machine.

They had bought the washer and dryer on time from Johnson's a few years ago and still had several more payments to make.

Johnson's was where the poor black and Latin community of DeGarde, Bender and Baylor Lake bought their furniture and their appliances. Even though she was white, Aunt Janette, living amongst the poor blacks and Latinos of DeGarde, shopped where they shopped, went to church where they went to church, ate what they ate, and thought like the poor minorities thought.

"Ooh, look at that," Aunt Janette said, watching a commercial for a cell phone.

"Uh huh," Terry said, gathering up the garbage from the table and the counters, dropping everything into the nearly full garbage can.

"Remember you got to sort those cans from everything else," Aunt Janette called out.

"Uh huh," Terry said, already sorting the cans.

"If we all do our part," Aunt Janette said, reciting the numerous commercials and other blurbs regarding climate change.

"Uh huh," Terry said and dragged the bag out of the can.

She twisted off the ends, and then dumped the bags outside onto the porch.

Aunt Janette did not look up from her daytime talk show as Terry walked through the living room. Terry did look over and frowned. Her aunt was wearing the same sweat pants and tee shirt she had been wearing the day before, and the day before that.

Terry had inherited her looks from her unknown father. Where she was blonde haired and blue eyed, Janette and Janice Dayton had been brown eyed brunette twins. Terry had been blessed with long legs, tight abdomen and tight backside (helped by all the skating she did) and slightly small sized breasts. The Dayton twins had been cursed by thick legs, thick middles and monumental breasts. 

Janette and Janice had been pretty women, but the beauty was covered by nearly two hundred pounds of excess weight. It still amazed Terry that Aunt Janette was able to get men to come home with her. But, she was aware; most men would stick their dicks into anything warm and wet.

More out of habit than anything, Terry locked her bedroom door, and then searched her closet.

Terry gave a quick search of her closet and screwed up her face; what does someone wear to a strip club?

She decided on a pair of relaxed fit blue jeans and a nice top that did emphasize her chest, but was not slutty. She dug out her favorite tennis shoes and then fished out a bra and panty set that she only wore on the few times she had dates.

"I'm going, I'm going," Aunt Janette grumbled as she waddled down the hall.

Terry wasn't sure whom her aunt was talking to. Aunt Janette often argued with herself.

She heard the bathroom door close, and then heard the shower start. 

Terry put her clothing into a tote bag; the bag had come with Aunt Janette's purchase of sixty or more dollars of make-up; make up that her aunt did not use.

Since she didn't have to go in to work until four o'clock, Terry did a little housework, and then fixed herself and her aunt a quick lunch. Finally, it was close enough to four o'clock, and she could get out of the house she and her aunt shared.

Terry did not tell her aunt she would be out late that night; her aunt had never noticed when Terry came or went, or even where Terry went. When Terry was in school, she was absent so often that she had to repeat eight grade and was in danger of having to repeat tenth grade when she made the decision to simply drop out of school altogether.

Chapter 3

"Hey!" Paula cried out when a nervous Terry walked into the Dead End Bar.

"Hey!" Terry called back, relieved to see a friendly face.

"So glad you came!" Paula said and gave Terry an affectionate hug and kiss directly on Terry's lips.

"Uh, yeah, yeah," Terry said, a little surprised at the kiss.

Paula had come into Clark's Drive-In twice and was acting as if she and Terry had been the best of friends for years.

"Here, come here, hey Amber! This is my friend Terry. Terry, this is Amber," Paula said, pulling Terry over to the bar.

"Hey," Amber said and poured herself a beer.

"That's Cheryl up there dancing," Paula said, pointing toward the stage. "Soon as she gets off, Amber's up, then I'm next; you hungry? Want anything? On Thursdays, its pork chops but we also have burgers; our burgers are the best, oh, and wings, you like wings?"

"Right now? Just a coke, okay?" Terry smiled.

"That's it?" Paula asked. "Oh! We also got salads! Kirsten just added a five pepper salad; it's pieces of chicken and got red and green and yellow peppers and jalapenos and banana peppers... Yum! I just love it!"

"Right now, I just want something to drink," Terry smiled as she perched on bar stool.

"Mandy, this is my friend Terry," Paula introduced a small woman that stood behind the bar.

"Mandy and her husband run the place at night; Miss Rosy's at home taking care of her grandmother," Paula explained.

"What can I get for you, Terry?" Mandy smiled.

"Just a coke, please," Terry said.

"I want some wings," Paula said.

"Extra crispy," Mandy said before Paula could say it.

"You know it!" Paula giggled happily.

There was polite applause when Cheryl finished her set and more polite applause when Amber strutted out to 'Physical' by Nine Inch Nails.

"Okay, now, you got to help me eat these," Paula demanded when Mandy put a plate of chicken wings in front of her, still smoking from the deep fat fryer.

"Hey; you must be Terry, the birthday girl," Cheryl smiled as she sauntered over.

"Uh yeah, Cheryl, right?" Terry asked.

"The one and only," Cheryl smiled. "Hey, where do you get your hair done? I love it!"

"Does it herself; believe that?" Paula answered.

"No way!" Cheryl said and snagged a celery stick off of Paula's plate.

"Hey, bitch, give that back," Paula demanded.

"Come get it," Cheryl smiled and stuck the celery stick into the waistband of her skirt.

"Ew! Now it's all sticky!" Paula said.

"Oh no you didn't!" Cheryl gasped.

"Cheryl, got one for the Hurricane Room," Tom Begnaud, a large man said. "He's in one."

"And that's Tom; he's Mandy's husband," Paula said, dunking a wing into the blue cheese dressing. "He's the manager when Miss Rosy's not here."

Terry looked up at the man. He was obviously in his late forties or early fifties. Mandy, his wife, didn't look old enough to be working behind the bar. He stood at least six feet, four inches and had broad shoulders, a barrel chest, and substantial sized legs that strained against the jeans he wore. Mandy didn't look as if she reached the five foot tall mark and certainly didn't look like she weighed one hundred pounds.

As she passed him to put a mug of beer on the counter for a customer, Tom affectionately swatted Mandy on the backside. His meaty paw covered Mandy's entire backside.

Mandy squealed and gave her husband a loving pinch as she took the customer's money to the cash register.

"Let me guess, short guy? Kind of bald on top?" Cheryl smiled and finished crunching on her celery stick.

"Uh huh," Tom smiled.

"Damn, these are good," Terry said, gnawing on a wing. 

"I told you," Paula said.

"But don't worry; I won't touch your celery sticks," Terry smiled.

"Oh no, you want a celery stick, help yourself. I just don't want Cheryl putting her nasty hands all over my food," Paula said.

"Just for that," Cheryl said and reached out with a finger and touched the wing Paula had in her hand.

"Ew! Now it's all sticky!" both Paula and Terry chorused.

Paula put an arm around Terry's waist and hugged her close as they giggled.

"Fuck both of y'all, you hear?" Cheryl smiled as she strolled away.

In minutes, Paula and Terry had reduced the pile of chicken wings to a pile of bones.

"Damn, those were good," Terry said.

"Yeah, hit the spot, huh?" Paula agreed, and then hopped down from the stool.

"I'm up next; don't go nowhere, okay?" Paula said and gave Terry a quick kiss directly on her lips.

Again, there was polite applause when Amber finished, dressed in only pasties, very skimpy thong and four inch heels. She gathered up her clothing, scooped her tips from the heavy glass container that was perched at the lip of the stage, and dashed off-stage.

A moment later, 'Alive and Kicking' by Simple Minds started and Paula walked onto the small stage. She moved slowly, sensuously to the slow, sensuous intro of the song, teasing the few men that leaned close to the stage.

She smiled as a man dropped a twenty dollar bill into the tip jar, and then peeled her top down, to expose a black strapless bra.

"She's so good; I could just kill her," Cheryl piped up, taking Paula's seat at the bar.

"Um, hey, um, let me ask you something," Terry said, leaning close to Cheryl.

"Yeah?" Cheryl said, pulling her eyes away from Paula's performance.

"Um, not that I'm, not that I got anything against them, but is she, is Paula gay?" Terry asked.

"Paula?" Cheryl laughed. "No, not that I've ever noticed. Why? Are you?"

"No!" Terry denied quickly.

"Too bad; I was kind of hoping you were," Cheryl shrugged.

"What? Really? Why?" Terry asked.

"'Cause I'm sick and tired of Peggy's shit," Cheryl spat, losing her smile. "Fuck, every God damned penny I make here, letting them gross ass mother fuckers put their nasty ass hands all over me? And all she's doing is sitting at home shoving it all in her veins? Need to get the fuck on out of there, that's for sure."

"Sorry to hear that," Terry commiserated.

Every meager penny she made at Clark's Drive-In seemed to be swallowed up by Aunt Janette's thoughtless spending sprees, fast food and beer binges, or half ounce bags of marijuana.

"Better smile; Paula sees you not having a good time, she'll take it out of my ass," Cheryl said, digging a friendly elbow into Terry's ribs.

As if Paula could hear Cheryl, she looked over at Terry. Terry smiled and waved to Paula. Paula smiled and blew Terry a kiss.

"I hate you," Cheryl said.

"What?" Terry squealed. "Why?"

"I'm all in love with that bitch for years; all you been doing is giving her some ice cream?" Cheryl complained good-naturedly. "That's it. I hate you."

"Fine; I hate you too," Terry said.

"Uh huh; you haven't even seen what I got you for your birthday," Cheryl said and hopped down from the bar stool.

"Amber, that's enough," Tom said forcefully when Amber tried to pour herself another beer.

"Fuck, feet are killing me," Amber complained, hoping to cajole another beer out of Tom.

"Take some aspirin," Tom snapped.

"Ass hole," Amber grumbled.

"What? I can send your ass home, know that?" Tom snapped. "Tita lives two minutes away, said she ain't doing nothing."

"Oh wow!" Terry said as she watched Paula suspend herself upside down on the pole onstage.

"Makes me dizzy just looking at that," Mandy agreed as she poured some liquor into the blender.

"I mean, I've heard, you know, jokes about pole dancing and stuff," Terry said. "So that's what that is."

The dismount was a feat in acrobatic skill; Paula put her hands on the floor, and then pushed away from the pole, to land on her feet.

As she straightened up, Paula looked to see if Terry had seen the fancy maneuver and smiled proudly as Terry applauded her.

The strains of Roxy Music's 'More Than This' faded as Paula quickly gathered up her clothing and the several dollar bills from the tip jar and scurried off-stage.

Mandy hit the button on the blender, whipping the several liquors and ice into a froth.

Paula strode rapidly to the bar, still struggling into her clothing.

"And, ten, nine, eight..." Paula counted down and laughed as the digital clock behind the bar flipped to 12:01. "Happy birthday, Terry!"

"Thank you," Terry smiled.

"And, here you go," Mandy said, squirting a dollop of whipped cream on top of a frothy drink. "One birthday cake martini!"

"Oh my God!" Terry exclaimed after taking a cautious sip of the funny looking drink. "That's the best thing I've ever had!"

"Let me see," Paula demanded and took a sip of the drink. "Ooh, Mandy! Give me one!"

"Not your birthday," Mandy said, setting her jaw firmly?

Terry put her arm around her new friend.

"Here," she said, holding out the glass.

"Thanks," Paula said, sticking her tongue out at Mandy.

Ready for another one?" Mandy said, grabbing the glass after the two women had finished sharing it.

"Yeah, God that's so sweet!" Terry said as Mandy poured more of the blender's contents into a fresh glass.

"Paula, got one in Hurricane Room Two," Tom said.

"I'll be there in just a minute," Paula said, Jumping up and reaching over the bar.

She pulled a bright red box from behind the bar and handed it to Terry.

"Look, I know we just met, so I really don't know what you like but I really hope you like this," Paula said.

"Oh, Paula! You didn't have to get me anything!" Terry exclaimed.

"Come on, open it!" Paula urged.

Terry recognized the box as coming from Babbage's Department Store; she had bought a few of their boxes to gift wrap items that had actually come from the second-hand store next to Johnson's.

She doubted that Paula ever had resorted to this trick. Whatever was in the box, she was sure, had come from Babbage's.

She opened the box and gasped as she pulled out the pale pink silk camisole top and matching panties and matching short robe.

"Happy birthday," Paula said and again kissed Terry directly on her lips. "I love you."

"Love you too," Terry said, still gaping at the beautiful items.

"That is very nice," Mandy agreed as Terry carefully folded the apparel and closed the box.

"Here, happy birthday," Amber smiled as she gave Terry a small box.

"Oh, thank you!" Terry said. "You didn't have to!"

"Wanted to; hope you like it," Amber smiled. 

"Oh! I do like this!" Terry said as she pulled out the small bottle of Light Blue perfume by Dolce & Gabbana. "I mean, I've never had any, but I love the way it smells!"

"Happy birthday," Amber smiled, gave Terry a one arm hug, and then searched the dark interior of the bar for a face that would buy her a drink. 

She saw her target, a scrawny middle aged man that was staring intently at Cheryl as Cheryl flipped the hem of her faux leather skirt up to reveal a matching faux leather thong underneath. Even as she walked toward the man, though, Amber continued to scan the crowd, looking for a more suitable prospect.

"And this is from Tom and me," Mandy smiled as she slid a hastily wrapped package to Terry.

Tom shrugged his shoulders and gave Terry a half-smile, indicating he knew nothing about it.

"Now this is ridiculous!" Terry protested. "Y'all didn't know it's my birthday!"

"Actually, yeah we did," Mandy smiled. "Paula came in and made me look up how to make that birthday cake martini."

Terry opened the box and found two small tasseled pasties and a thong that had 'Dead End Bar' silk screened running vertically down the thin strip of material.

"Woo hoo!" Terry laughed, delighted. "Don't know where I'd wear this, but thank you!"

The scrawny middle aged man ordered a beer and a Tom Collins. Mandy quickly made the cocktail, and then poured a fresh draft beer.

"And," Mandy said, hitting the button to whip up another batch of birthday cake martinis.

Terry remembered drinking one more birthday cake martini, remembered sharing one with Paula, even vaguely remembered kissing Tom and Mandy, Amber, and Cheryl good night, remembered Cheryl's playful little laugh as she tried to slip her tongue into Terry's mouth. 

Terry remembered Paula putting her into the passenger seat of her BMW, lowering the roof of the car. She remembered the warm night air as it blew gently, causing her long blonde hair to trail behind her as Paula drove the expensive automobile.

She remembered sweet, soft kisses, then sleep.

Chapter 4

"Hey Birthday Girl!" Paula cheerfully greeted Terry.

Terry opened her eyes and smiled, despite the headache and overwhelming thirst.

Here, bet you could use some..." Paula said, holding out three Tylenol and a glass of ice water.

"Thanks," Terry said.

Paula climbed into the bed and stretched out next to Terry. Terry popped the three tablets into her mouth, took several gulps of the water, and then looked for a place to put the glass.

"Here," Paula said, taking the glass from Terry's hand and putting it on the nightstand.

"Thanks," Terry said again.

"Welcome," Paula said and combed fingers through Terry's hair.

Paula's light green eyes stared intently into Terry's light blue eyes for a long moment. Her happy smile grew, and then she leaned her face close and gave Terry a soft kiss.

"Like pancakes?" Paula asked, still combing her fingers through Terry's hair.

"Yeah!" Terry said.

"And strawberries and bananas?" Paula asked.

"Uh huh!" Terry said emphatically.




Explanation of Love 01



"Oh, and bacon? And eggs?" Paula went on.

"Oh yeah!" Terry agreed.

"Good. Kitchen's downstairs; better get busy," Paula said.

"What?" Terry laughed.

"Just kidding; I've got the griddle out getting hot right now," Paula said and gave Terry another kiss.

"Um, where's the bathroom?" Terry asked.

"Right there," Paula said, pointing to a door. 

She clambered out of the bed.

"See you downstairs," Paula said, scampering out of the bedroom.

Terry noticed that, even in her bare feet, Paula walked as if she were wearing heels. Her toes and balls of her feet touched the floor, but her heels were elevated.

She also noticed that Paula wore a pale pink camisole top and matching thong panties.

She looked down at herself and saw that she was wearing her camisole top and panties. Her short robe was casually draped over the foot of the bed.

She slipped into the robe, and then found the bathroom.

After urinating, she did a quick search, found a bottle of mouthwash and quickly availed herself of the gold liquid.

"Eggs over medium all right with you; I really don't know a whole lot about cooking but..." Paula cheerfully greeted Terry as Terry entered the kitchen.

"That's perfect," Terry agreed and watched as Paula placed an open ring onto the griddle.

The griddle hissed as Paula used a soup ladle to pour pancake patter into the open ring. Paula silently counted to three, then pulled the ring up, put it back down on an empty space of the griddle and again filled it with pancake batter.

"And, watch out..." Paula said, then quickly grabbed a spray bottle and squirted it in the direction of the small kitchen table.

"Ha!" Paula crowed as Courtney yelped, but the cat got off of the table.

"Damned cat," Paula laughed as Courtney ran out of the kitchen. "Coffee's right there; help yourself."

Moments later, Paula slid the eggs, bacon, and pancakes onto two plates.

"And..." she said, pulling the glass lid off of a sticky mix of sliced banana and strawberries. "Put this on top of the pancakes; it's sooo good."

"Eat up; you're going to need your strength," Paula warned.

"Oh?" Terry asked, spooning the strawberries and bananas onto her pancakes. "Why's that?"

"I still haven't given you your birthday spanking, that's why," Paula smiled and spooned the remainder of the gooey fruit onto her pancakes.

"Come on!" Terry laughed. "What? That's so silly!"

"It'll be an extra one for every time you argue with me," Paula said firmly. "How many I'm giving you anyway?"

"Um, ten," Terry said.

"You are not ten years old!" Paula laughed.

"Twelve?" Terry suggested, stuffing a huge bite of pancake into her mouth.

"Let's see," Paula said, grabbing Terry's purse off of a side table.

"I'm twenty four," Terry said, grabbing her purse out of Paula's hand.

"And you get an extra one for arguing with me," Paula said.

"You are not spanking me," Terry said, leaning close to Paula, putting a menacing cast to her face.

"Yes I am," Paula said, mirroring Terry's face.

"No, you are not," Terry said, leaning closer.

"Yes I am, but I promise, you'll love it," Paula said, putting her forehead against Terry's forehead.

"No you are..." Terry said, but Paula kissed her quickly.

"Eat, eat," Paula said and picked up a piece of bacon.

She offered the piece of bacon to Terry, and fed the bacon to her.

"Love the pancakes," Terry said.

"Thanks; Kirsten showed me how to make them," Paula said. "Add a little cinnamon to the batter; really gives it a little pizzazz, you know?"

Terry finished her breakfast and picked up her plate.

"Just put that in the sink; dishes in the dishwasher are clean," Paula offered.

"Oh, um, okay," Terry said and put the dish into the stainless steel sink.

She looked out the window and saw a row of condominiums across the street, distinctive in their pale grey brick and wedge wood blue trim.

"Oh, hey, these are them Lambert Condos, huh?" Terry asked, looking around the kitchen with renewed interest.

"Yeah; this is three oh eight," Paula agreed, putting her dish into the sink.

"Me and my Aunt Janette drove around here when they were first starting on them," Terry said. "Then when they was just about finished, we walked around in a couple of them; this one of them two bedroom or three bedroom ones?"

"It was a three; had Paul knock down a wall and expand my bedroom and closet," Paula admitted and grabbed Terry's hand. "But, you're trying to get out of what's coming to you."

"Come on, Paula!" Terry laughed.

"And that's one more for arguing with me," Paula laughed.

"Come on, Paula," Terry laughed, but let Paula pull her back to the kitchen table.

"Put them mitts on that table," Paula ordered.

Terry did, bending over almost at a right angle.

Paula stood behind her; Terry felt the hem of her short robe being pulled up and tucked into the sash. Her thong panties left most of her buttocks exposed.

"One," Paula said and delivered a soft slap to Terry's muscular right buttock.

"Two," she said and gave the other buttock a soft slap.

"Ooh, own, oh, ouch, Paula, you're killing me," Terry said, giggling.

Paula delivered the remaining twenty two slaps with equal tenderness.

"Now, two extra, for arguing with me," Paula said and gave two quick, stinging slaps.

"Ow!" Terry laughed, the unexpected sharpness of the final two jolting her out of her enjoyment of the tender touches.

"And, one for good luck," Paula said and bent over and softly kissed Terry's left buttock.

"And one to grow on," Paula said and gave the right buttock a kiss.

"See?" Paula said, pulling Terry upright. "Told you you'd like it!"

"Just you wait until its YOUR birthday," Terry warned.

"Five days away," Paula laughed.

Then she pulled Terry into an intimate hug. She pressed her lips to Terry's lips, and then slowly, gently licked Terry's lips, forcing Terry's mouth open.

Mmm," Terry moaned into Paula's mouth.

She clutched onto Paula tightly, sure she would fall over if Paula suddenly released her.

Terry had kissed girls before, playing silly games with other girls at sleep-overs, or when one of the girls managed to steal a bottle of alcohol from their parents'. Those times, though, she had felt strange and one time, she actually felt sick, repulsed by it.

Kissing Paula, however, did not feel strange or repulsive. It felt warm, loving, and gentle.

"I love you," Paula admitted when she pulled her mouth from Terry's.

She ran a loving hand through Terry's full tick mane of hair, her green eyes smiling into Terry's blue eyes.

"I uh, hey um, look, not that I'm, Paula, are you gay?" Terry stammered out, confused.

Paula laughed a musical tittering laugh.

"No," Paula smiled happily. "I love me the cock too much to be gay."

"Then why are you... I mean..." Terry stammered.

"I don't know," Paula admitted, giving Terry another quick kiss. "Really? I don't know. I just know, first time I saw you at that Drive-In, I just felt this real attraction, something electric, you know? Then you and me got to talking and..."

She affectionately rubbed herself against Terry.

"I don't know, Terry," she admitted again. "I just know, I like you a whole lot."

She looked back into Terry's eyes

"That's not a problem, is it?" Paula asked, concerned.

Terry smiled her crooked smile and kissed Paula.

"Now, let me see what Amber and Cheryl got you,' Paula said and grabbed the large box off of the side table.

"Oh, I completely forgot about that!" Terry said and looked as Paula wiggled the lid off of the Babbage's box.

"That little slut!" Paula laughed when she found the bottle of perfume.

"What?" Terry asked.

"This is the same perfume she wears!" Paula laughed. "She's been after me for months, wanting to move in here, wanting to live with me. See, I let Kirsten stay here for a couple of months and ever since them, Amber's been all like 'why you won't let me stay with you?' 'Why you won't let me crash at your place?' Then she gives you the same perfume she wears so I'll start liking it? What a slut!"

"I'll just give it to my Aunt Janette," Terry offered.

"Let's see," Paula said, and put a small amount on Terry's wrist.

She then brought Terry's wrist up to her nose and took a sniff.

"Nope; you're wearing this. "Smell," Paula said, bringing the wrist to Terry's nose.

"Mmm," Terry agreed.

"So, um, why you don't want Amber here?" she asked after giving her wrist another sniff.

"Because Amber is nothing but a fucking user and I can't stand fucking users," Paula snapped her beautiful face curling into a hateful mask.

"Oh," Terry said.

"Aw, bet these'd look great on you!" Paula said, pulling out the Dead End Bar tassels and thong.

"Yeah, I'll try them out for you," Terry laughed.

"Oh my God!" Paula squealed. "Oh, let me guess! Cheryl, right?"

Terry put her hands over her mouth as Paula pulled a strap-on dildo out of a package.

"Even has the batteries already it, ready to go," Paula said.

"Oh my God!" Terry gasped.

Terry blushed a hundred shades of red. Paula giggled and turned the vibrating shaft on.

"Hey!" Terry cried out as Paula playfully touched the dildo to her belly.

The buzz of Paula's dryer slightly broke the spell.

"Your clothes are dry; there's an iron in the laundry room," Paula said.

"Clothes? What clothes?" Terry asked.

"What you were wearing last night," Paula said, opening the door to the laundry room.

Terry did use the iron, then sniffed her arm pits and decided that she didn't really need a shower at that moment.

Standing in the kitchen by herself, Terry again looked at the strap-on dildo. She figured out that the two nylon straps that ran horizontally went around the waist and cinched together in the back. The one vertical strap joined the two straps in the back, after running between the wearer's legs.

She cinched the appendage on, pulled the nylon straps to tighten it and looked around. A distorted reflection of herself in Paula's stainless steel refrigerator made her laugh.

Paula skipped down the stairs, dressed in tank top, khaki shorts, and high heeled sandals. Her long reddish blonde hair was done up into a simple pony-tail.

"Mmm," Paula said, walking into the kitchen.

Terry jumped and reached to unclip the harness. Paula sank to her knees in front of Terry, and put the head of Terry's 'cock' into her mouth.

Terry watched, eyes wide, as Paula slowly, sensuously took inch after inch into her mouth, until all eight inches were hidden from view. Terry could feel her excitement dampening her panties. Paula reached up and put her hands firmly on Terry's hips and slowly pulled her face off of the dildo. With a final loud 'slurp' the cock popped free and Paula giggled.

"EW, Terry, go wash your cock; fucking thing tastes like a condom," she said and got to her feet.

"Man, how'd you, you got the whole thing in your mouth, Terry was breathless.

"Yep," Paula smiled and gave Terry a quick kiss. "There's soap and shampoo in your bathroom if you want to take a quick shower; oh, hey! When do you have to go in?"

"Don't, traded with Debbie, took her Tuesday so I could have today off; it's my birthday," Terry smiled.

"Oh, hey, so you have tonight off?" Paula asked.

"Uh huh," Terry said, unhooking the dildo and putting it back into its package.

"Go, go take a shower," Paula said.

"Why? I stink?" Terry asked, again sniffing her armpits.

"No, not yet," Paula smiled.

She picked up the strap-on dildo's package and read the description.

"Wonder if this thing's waterproof," Paula mused out loud.

When she heard the shower start, Paula dug out her cell phone and made a few phone calls. She then skipped upstairs again, and went into her bedroom. Playfully, she pushed the bed, causing Janet to glare contemptuously at her.

She opened her closet, looked around and nodded her head in satisfaction. She did have a cute dress and wonderful shoes for the evening ahead.

She heard the shower stop and skipped into the guest room

Terry came out of the bathroom, running a brush through her long hair.

"Blow dryer's in the cabinet," Paula said, admiring Terry's round breasts, light brown areola and fat nipples, slightly defined abdomen (from years of skating, Paula assumed) neatly trimmed thatch of blonde curls, and muscular legs.

Paula noticed that Terry's areola crinkled and Terry's nipples hardened the moment Terry's eyes saw her. Paula smiled happily.

"Don't use them; hate the way they leave my hair," Terry said, comfortable to be nude in front of a woman that was still virtually a stranger to her.

"God, you're so beautiful; I'd kill to look like you," Paula sighed as Terry bend over to pick up her panties.

"And I'd kill to look like you," Terry admitted.

"Trade you," Paula joked.

"Deal," Terry said, pulling the panties on.

Paula lay down on the bed and watched as Terry sat on the edge of the bed, brushing an brushing her long hair.

"Um, you, how'd you learn to you know, put that whole thing in your mouth like that?" Terry asked.

"Easy," Paula said and playfully hooked a finger into the waistband of Terry's panties. "I'm a whore."

"No, really," Terry said, looking over her shoulder at Paula.

"Really," Paula said, snapping the elastic waistband. "I'm a whore."

"What?" Terry asked, shocked.

"I started dancing at Elegante, in Elgee," Paula said, tracing a fingernail up Terry's side.

"Don't," Terry shifted away from the fingernail. "I'm ticklish."

"When I was eighteen; see, my parents were all like 'we're not putting a roof over your head if you're not going to straighten up and act right,'" Paula said, affecting a deep voice. "So, I moved in with a friend. Then they said, 'Guess you don't need us to pay your tuition since you don't need our help.'"

She again snapped the waistband of Terry's panties, and then tried to worm her finger into the leg band of the French cut garment.

"So, the friend I was staying with was dancing at Club Paradise; really? She was a hooker; I didn't know she was on meth until she tried to get me to fuck her dealer, but she was making really good money dancing, but I wasn't going to dance at Club Paradise, or Fantastic's and I damned sure wasn't going to dance at Mickey's or the Dead End," Paula went on, running her finger over Terry's soft skin. "Mickey's in Kimble is right next to Hotel Acadiana, hmm, I wonder why a strip club's would be right next to a place that rents rooms by the hour. So I went to Elgee and really liked Elegante; the outside's nice and clean, it's in a good neighborhood, cars outside aren't all up on blocks and stuff."

"But, why'd you want to move out in the first place?" Terry wanted to know, giving one final stroke to her long hair.

"We had these neighbors, lived right next door?" Paula said, rolling over and laying on her back, staring up at the ceiling. "I'm all in love with Jimmy, really wanted to marry him and all that shit, you know, writing stuff like 'Paula and Jimmy 4ever' inside of little hearts, you know? But I was a fat little kid and he didn't look twice at me.

"Aw," Terry said, placing a comforting hand on Paula's arm.

Paula grabbed Terry's hand in both of hers and pulled Terry closer.

"Anyway, I buy this bathing suit; looking back on it, I can't believe my mother even let me buy it, thing barely covered my ass, had to shave my pussy, tits all hanging out. And, all that fat hanging out too," Paula said.

Terry lay down next to her, touching Paula's shoulder with her free hand.

"Anyway, Jimmy comes over to swim, ignores me, doesn't even notice me in my new bathing suit, and tries real hard to impress my big sister, Rhonda. Of course, I'm heartbroken, but just swim around, trying not to let anyone see," Paula continued, bringing Terry's hand to her lips and kissing it.

"I can't believe you were ever overweight," Terry said softly.

"Fat. I was fat. Not overweight. Overweight means you've got ten or twenty pounds to get rid of," Paula corrected. "I was fat; probably eighty or ninety pounds more than I am now."

"No way!" Terry gasped.

"Anyway, I look up, and there's no Jimmy, so I go back inside, go looking for my mom, need to have a good cry, need my mom, right?" Paula continued. "My mother's nowhere in sight, so I go to her room and there she is. And there's Jimmy, laying on top of Sherri, pounding his itty bitty meat in and out of her super hairy twat."

"Wait, who's Sherri?" Terry asked.

"My mother," Paula said bitterly.

She again kissed Terry's hand.

"Well, at least now I know it's not me being all fat that's turning Jimmy off; Sherri's carrying at least a hundred and fifty pounds extra," Paula said. "So I run to my room and I'm crying and Ron comes in and tells me I'm running around naked and he's drunk as a skunk and..."

"Who's Ron?" Terry asked.

"Supposed to be my father," Paula said, closing her eyes.

"Oh," Terry said, rubbing her free hand up and down Paula's arm.

"Anyway, he's yelling at me about my bathing suit and next thing I know, his drunk ass is on top of me and he's fucking me and I'm screaming and crying and Sherri tells me it'll be all right and I'm like 'he raped me!' and Sherri's like (again Paula affected a deep voice) 'I always wanted my dad to be my first,' and I'm like 'but I didn't! I didn't ask for this, you sick bitch!' And she gets all mad at me for calling her a sick bitch, so soon as I can, I take my G.E.D. so I can start college; I know I need college to get the fuck out of that house. Both RJ and Rhonda are just sitting around, sponging off my parents; I'm sure Ron's fucked Rhonda a couple of times since he's drunk most weekends but that's the last fucking thing I want is to be like them, so I go on a hell of a diet and really start paying attention to my Karate classes; this shit's for real this time," Paula went on.

"I'm sorry," Terry said softly as she saw the beginnings of tears squeezing out of Paula's shut eyes.

"Anyway, because every fucking minute I can, I'm gone, Ron and Sherri get all snotty; want me home; just can't stand it one of their kids can actually think for themselves and that's when they start all their shit and I'm like 'see ya, bitch!' which really winds them up and Sherri's so sure when they cut off the money that I'll just come crawling back but, guess what? There is actually a way for people to earn a living that doesn't involve Mommy and Daddy," Paula said.

She brought Terry's hand to her lips again and kissed it. Terry used one of her fingers to trace around Paula's lips. 

Paula opened her moist eyes and looked over at Terry. Terry's own eyes were also moist, listening to her friend tell of the horrors of her adolescent.

Paula playfully bit down on Terry's finger and smiled softly.

"I love you," she whispered.

"Love you too," Terry whispered back.

"Anyway," Paula said and looked up at the ceiling again. "I walk in and Vince; he's the owner of Elegante, he tells me (again Paula affected a deep voice) 'you're a little on the heavy side but hey, what the fuck, huh? Some guys like their women with a little meat on them, right?' and doesn't even ask me if I'm old enough, just tells me what time to be there, what's expected of me, you know, what I can and can't do and everything."

Paula smiled at the memory of it. Terry, seeing the smile, again began to trace Paula's lips. Paula bit down on Terry's finger.

"Ow!" Terry giggled.

Paula gave Terry's finger a loving suck, and then pulled the finger out of her mouth.

"So that night, I go on; they're playing some horrible song and full volume but I'm dancing around and I'm taking off my clothes and I'm real nervous and then I think to myself that Ron and Sherri would probably shit on themselves if they could see me doing this shit and suddenly I'm not nervous anymore," Paula said. "Song's over and I'm out of there like my ass is on fire and Vince is laughing his ass off and tells me (again Paula affected the deep voice 'Fuck, kid, you still got twenty more minutes!' But Lisa comes up and she's got a bunch of money and she tells Vince (again in deep voice) 'Leave her alone, ass hole; she did great,' and hands me all the money that was in the tip jar. I completely forgot about the tip jar; see, they can't touch you; Louisiana law, right? So, customers put your tips in the jar at the edge of the stage, but I'd left it out there so Lisa was real sweet; she could have pocketed it and I would have never known."




Explanation of Love 01



Paula rolled over and looked into Terry's eyes.

"There's fifty nine dollars in my hand and Lisa's tells me I'll do better next time and I'm thinking 'Bull shit! This is one of my text books right here! Better? This is good enough!'" Paula smiled at that memory. "And next thing I know, Vince tells me I've got a guy in the Champagne Room wanting a private dance. Thank God for Lisa; Vince just tells me do whatever I want, but Lisa's the one tells me check first, make sure it's not a cop, fifty dollars to spank his money, hundred if he wants a blow job, all that stuff. Tells me not to work too fast; the longer you make a guy wait, the more he's willing to pay for it."

Paula sat up, looked at her watch, and then scurried off the bed.

"Come on; I'm going to be late for my Karate; I'll take you to your car," Paula said.

Terry hurriedly dressed and followed Paula down the stairs.

"Tonight, you got a nice little dress? Tonight, we're taking you out to eat, okay? Oh, hey, your Aunt Janette? You don't think she might have any plans for your birthday, huh?" Paula said as she started the car.

"Doubt it; she never has in the past," Terry shrugged. "But, Paula, you don't have to do that, really. You're already done plenty."

"But I want to," Paula insisted.

"Okay," Terry shrugged. "Yeah, I got this really cute little black dress; I couldn't believe they had it at the GoodWill; better believe I grabbed it!"

"But you know, after I worked there a while, I really learned the tricks of the trade," Paula continued her tale. "Continued to diet, continued to exercise, and continued to lose the pounds. Sucking cock? First time I sucked this guy? I almost threw up. He thought he was choking me; he was so big, but actually I was choking on the taste; latex condoms taste like shit; even those stupid flavored ones. Dumb ass gave me an extra twenty bucks for it. But pretty soon, I'm learning how to take it all the way down; guys love that shit. And Sherri and Ron are all like 'and just how you paying for all of this?'"

Terry smiled; Paula's deep voice was amusing to her.

"Don't know how he found out, but Ron shows up at Elegante and even coughs up the bucks to get me in the Champagne Room. That night, I'm dressed up like a super slut cop; instead of pasties, I got these two toy badges covering up my nips and I've got this little baton and I'm doing all kind of nasty stuff with it; God, they're just loving it, even Vince is all like 'Gave me a fucking stiffy doing that shit!' So I walk in and Ron's all like 'Hello, Paula; bet you didn't think we'd find out about this, huh?'"

Terry didn't smile at the deep voice this time; Paula's voice had taken a very hard edge.

"And I just smile and tell him if he even moves his hands off the straps, see, they got these straps they're supposed to hold onto and I told him if he even takes his hands off the straps I'm going to assume he's going to try to rape me again and I will break every bone in his body," Paula was practically spitting the words out now. "And he's all like 'It wasn't rape; you were begging for it,' so anyway, I start the music and get moving and I'm telling him all about all the cock I'm fucking and sucking and how big they all are, much bigger than his little pee-pee and then I'm fucking myself with my little baton and I can see the wet spot on his jeans so I really ramp it up and I shove the baton up my ass and I tell him to watch, tell him to look at the big black cock fucking his little girl's tight little shit hole; that was the first time I ever put anything up my butt before and I don't know, maybe it's because it's fucking Ron all up, but it's really turning me on and get this shit, mother fucker leaves me five hundred dollars tip. Believe that shit?"

They pulled up behind Terry's car.

"I'm so sorry," Terry said softly.

She softly touched Paula's face. Paula turned and looked at Terry. Terry leaned forward and softly kissed Paula's lips.

"What time you want me ready for?" she asked.

"Huh? Ready... Oh! Reservations' at seven; I'll pick you up at six thirty, all right?" Paula said.

"Okay," Terry agreed.

Terry cringed, but gave Paula her address and directions to the house she and Aunt Janette shared. If Paula recognized the address' locale, she did not indicate it.

They shared another soft kiss, and then Terry got out of Paula's car. She smiled as she put the gifts she'd been given onto the passenger seat of her car; Aunt Janette would most likely be mystified at the strap-on dildo and scandalized at the pasties and thong from the Dead End Bar.

"Johnson's said they don't have that mattress," was the greeting Terry received when she entered the house.

"They say when they might get it?" Terry asked Aunt Janette, not remembering anything about a mattress.

"No; and that girl was rude to me," Aunt Janette whined.

Chapter 5

Over Aunt Janette's constant complaints, Terry did a thorough house-cleaning and even replaced the light bulb in the bathroom.

"You using too much of that stuff," Aunt Janette complained as Terry added a few capsfull of pine disinfectant to a bucket of water.

"Using what the bottle says," Terry argued.

"I use half that and it's fine," Aunt Janette lied.

The bottle had been under the kitchen sink for fourteen years and had not been moved since Janice's death eleven years earlier.

"I will next time," Terry promised and finished, with running commentary from Aunt Janette, cleaning the house.

At five o'clock, Terry folded her clean uniform and Aunt Janette's second pair of sweat pants; Aunt Janette was wearing her first pair. She then left the agitated woman to settle down in front of her television set.

'I Was a Teenage Stripper' was the topic of discussion of one of Aunt Janette's talk shows; Terry wanted to laugh.

"Strippers ain't nothing but whores anyway," Aunt Jeannette declared.

Terry wanted to come to her friend's defense, but by her own admission, Paula was a whore.

Terry searched through her closet, found her little black dress, found her high heeled black pumps and carefully scrutinized her three pair of panty hose and found two of them did not have urns in them yet. So, she decided to wear the natural hose.

She worked her long hair into a shower cap and quickly cleaned the smell of cleaning solution off. She used her razor and a fine toothed comb to trim down her pubic hair, and then shaved her legs and underarms again. She had shaved them yesterday, and normally went one or two days between shaves, but this was a special occasion. And the dress she was wearing demanded it.

She rarely wore make-up; skating and carrying trays of food was hard work; make up would soon be sweated off. She did take little time to apply foundation, a light blush, a little eye shadow, and pale lip gloss.

She then applied Amber's perfume to her pulse points. She laughed, remembering hearing that some celebrity said she put perfume in her pubic region. With a giggle, she dabbed a fingertip of the fragrance to her blonde curls.

The dress was not intended to have a bra worn underneath so Terry didn't bother with one. She giggled to herself as she thought briefly of wearing the tassels underneath. Then, slipping on her shoes, she left her room.

"What you all dressed up for?" Aunt Janette asked, pulling her eyes up from a rerun of an old sitcom.

"Friend's taking me out to dinner," Terry said.

"Oh," was Aunt Janette's only response.

Terry perched on the edge of the couch so that she could see the driveway.

Aunt Janette laughed inanely at the television and Terry sighed in relief as Paula's BMW pulled up to the house.

"My friend's here," Terry said, getting to her feet.

"Okay," Aunt Janette said, not looking up.

Paula felt good, felt clean physically, emotionally, and spiritually. It had done her good to go to the studio.

Master Yaggamaki had noticed that his star student was viciously lashing out at the heavy bag, giving the equipment brutal, savage kicks and blows.

"Miss Lambert!" he barked.

"Yes, Master Yaggamaki?" Paula snapped.

"Miss Lambert, sit!" Master Yaggamaki ordered.

She did so; refusing him was not an option.

"Before you hurt yourself, before you hurt someone else, please, please let us do our breathing, let us do our meditation," he urged, then sat down next to her.

She sat for several minutes, and then attempted to rise. He put a firm hand on her shoulder and pushed her back down.

A few moments later, she tried again to rise and again, he forced her back down.

"Now, let us do our forms," he finally said.

Master Yaggamaki had been correct; after meditating, forcing her breathing to normal, then the mindless repetition of the forms, she was able to let her anger and her bitterness go.

After a light lunch, and a nice long soak in her whirlpool bath, she felt cleansed.

Paula got out of her car and heard a door slam. She looked up and smiled happily as Terry came skipping out of the crumbling, ramshackle house.

"Hi," Terry happily greeted her.

"Hi, wow, you look great!" Paula said and gave Terry a quick kiss on the lips.

Without being bade, Terry twirled so that Paula could see all of the dress.

"I take that back; you don't look great," Paula said and hit the key fob to unlock the passenger door.

"What?" Terry screeched.

"You look stunning," Paula said.

"You look great too; what'd you do to your hair?" Terry said, skipping around the car.

"Tried what you did this morning; no hair dryer, just brushed it until it was dry. Like it?" Paula admitted.

"Love it," Terry said.

"You said you go in early tomorrow?" Paula asked, peering over the roof of the car.

"Yeah, ten thirty," Terry said. "Get off at four."

"Listen, go get your work clothes and your skates," Paula urged. "You can spend the night and I'll take you to work in the morning, okay?"

"Okay!" Terry readily agreed.

Terry ran, as best as she could in the unfamiliar high heels back to the house. Paula walked up and looked around the house with interest. It was obvious that, other than the occasional yard maintenance, the owner of the property had done little to maintain it.

Lambert Condominiums had a sixty percent occupancy rate, but even on the units that were empty, Paula had a cleaning crew go in once a month to dust and vacuum. The grounds were maintained daily.

It wasn't entirely the landowner's fault, Paula reasoned. The occupants of the house also needed to shoulder some of the responsibility. But Paula knew that very few that rented ever took pride in their dwellings.

Carmen Davis, her real estate agent, had asked her once about renting the few empty units, but Paula had steadfastedly refused to entertain the idea.

"Mrs. Davis, if they can afford twelve hundred a month, then they should be able to afford to buy it outright," she said.

Terry again skipped outside, clutching her shirt and shorts. She skittered to her car and plucked the heavy skates out of the passenger seat.

"Here," Paula said, unlocking the trunk of her car. "Put them in here."

Terry did, and then looked at Paula as Paula reached in and put the skates on their sides.

"Don't want them rolling around," she explained. "You know they'll just wind up all the way in the back and then I'll just have to crawl in there to get them."

"Ooooohhhh!" Terry said slowly, nodding her head in agreement.

"So, where are we going?" Terry asked as Paula started the car.

McDonald's," Paula said.

"Then why'd we had to get all dressed up?" Terry asked.

Paula saw that some of Terry's sweetness came at a price; she was also a little slow.

"Why not?" Paula asked.

"Oh, okay," Terry shrugged.

"Oh!" Terry gasped when Paula pulled up to Radcliffe's, the expensive restaurant in DeGarde. "I've never been to this place!"

"It is the very finest in French cuisine; even better than Henri's in Elgee," Paula said, handing her keys to the valet.

"I tried to get a job here; they were so rude," Terry whispered as the doorman opened the door for them.

"Terry, you're not the right kind to be working here," Paula tittered.

"What? What do you mean?" Terry asked as they approached the maitre'd.

"Terry, only gay men work here," Paula smiled and gave the maitre'd her name.

"Ah yes, Ms. Lambert! Yes ma'am, right this way; your party's already here," the man simpered as he guided them into the plush dining area.

Terry saw two men, both dressed very well in tailored suits, rise to their feet as they approached.

"Hey!" Paula happily greeted them both with hugs and kisses.

"Sonny, Michael, this is Terry," she introduced Terry, who suddenly felt very shy and wanted to hide behind Paula.

Both men were very handsome, both men exuded confidence; both men would have never looked twice at her, other than to tell her they wanted onion rings instead of French fries.

The maitre-d seated them and walked briskly away.

"I hope you don't mind but I ordered a DuMount Blanc," Sonny commented. "The last time we were here, you had pheasant and I happen to know that the DuMount Blanc goes very well with the pheasant."

"Thank you; that was very thoughtful," Paula smiled.

Terry listened as Paula, Sonny, and Michael discussed wines, and then switched over to stocks, real estate, zoning regulations and politics. Her head hurt by the time their waiter was asking for their order.

"This is my first time here," Terry confessed to the waiter.

She felt more of a kinship to the waiter than to the three companions at the table.

"May I suggest..." Matthew said, and then launched into a discourse of the various French dishes on the menu.

"That does sound good," Terry agreed, thoroughly baffled.

Matthew could have said "I'll have a plate of fried skunk and a gravy of raw sewage brought out to you," and Terry would have agreed.

"Please excuse us," Paula asked after Matthew left the table.

Terry followed Paula to the restroom. The moment the door shut behind them, Paula hugged Terry close.

"I am so sorry," she murmured to Terry.

"About what?" Terry asked.

"I really should have taken the time to talk with you about the food here; I should have made sure you were a part of the conversation; I feel like a total bitch right now. This is supposed to be your birthday, it's your party, and I'm ignoring you," Paula admitted, and kissed Terry softly.

"But Paula, they're your friends; you can't just ignore them and worry about me," Terry objected.

"But it's YOUR party!" Paula said.

"Listen, as long as we're here," Terry said and opened the door to a stall.

"Part of the problem is Sonny," Paula confessed as she checked her make-up.

"What do you mean?" Terry asked, flushing the commode.

"God, every time I get around him!" Paula giggled. "He gets my pussy so fucking wet!"

"Which one is he?"" Terry asked.

"The blonde one," Paula laughed.

She brushed a lock of Terry's hair aside.

"Guess I got a thing for blondes," she said and gave Terry another kiss.

"Guess I do too," Terry smiled, tugging a strand of Paula's strawberry blonde hair.

Again, the men politely got to their feet and assisted with the chairs as the women sat down.

"And here we are," Matthew said, putting down the three plates; Michael had declined to order escargots.

Matthew stood attentively by Terry's side.

"Please, let me know what you think of it," he nodded to the plate.

Terry cautiously tried one of the morsels and nodded in satisfaction.

"Very good," she smiled up at Matthew.

"Ah, good!" Matthew smiled in genuine pleasure.

"Damn, Terry!" Sonny laughed. "He never seems to care if I like my escargot!"

Michael topped off her wine glass and she nodded in thanks. He smiled warmly at her.

"Paula called me, said she had someone she just knew I would just love to meet," Michael said. "Paula has never been wrong in anything she's told me before."

"And?" Paula asked.

"You're batting a thousand," Michael admitted.

Each course was brought out, and as each course was served, Matthew waited for Terry's approval before leaving the table.

More wine was ordered and Michael grew more attentive to Terry as each glass was consumed.

"We're going back to my place," Paula whispered as they waited for their cars to be brought around.

"Okay," a slightly drunk Terry agreed.

"I think Michael has really taken a shine to you," Paula whispered.

"He's cute," Terry agreed.

"And rich," Paula threw in. 

"Who cares about that?" Terry asked.

"You know what? You're right; who cares about that?" Paula smiled and handed the valet a five dollar bill.

Michael smiled a little sardonically when Terry did not respond to his Porsche.

"New?" Paula asked him as he handed his valet a twenty dollar bill.

"Picked it up lat Friday," Michael smiled proudly.

"And hasn't shut up about it since," Sonny agreed, folding his six foot three inch frame into the passenger side.

Paula put her hand on Terry's thigh as she drove to her condo.

"Listen, I'm going to take Sonny upstairs; I've been wanting his ass all night," Paula admitted.

"Okay," Terry said.

"But I don't want you to feel like you have to do anything with Michael; I don't think he expects anything either," Paula went on.

"I like him; he's cute," Terry said.

"I mean, just because I'm a whore, you don't have to be one too," Paula went on.

"I know, Paula," Terry said, getting a little irritated. "God, I'm not stupid!"

"Never said you were," Paula hastened to reassure her friend. "Just that, I mean, we've been drinking; was that some good wine or what? And I know, sometimes when I'm drinking, I'm an even bigger whore than ever."

The foursome entered the condo through the front door and both Sonny and Michael complimented Paula on the large painting she had hanging over the couch.

"Thank you; it's a Ganozzo," Paula smiled. "He's this artist out of New Orleans. Total stoner but very talented."

Terry could see that both Michael and Sonny had been in the condo before. Her deduction was confirmed when Michael looked over at the calico cat.

"Hello, Miss Courtney; have you been a bad girl lately?" he asked.

"No," Sonny affected a feminine voice, speaking behind his hand. "Janet's the one been getting into everything. She's the real bitch around here."

Paula laughed, cuddled up close to Sonny and craned her head up for a kiss.

Paula put on some soft music and told everyone to have a seat. She then disappeared into the kitchen.

Terry was unsure of what to do. She'd been on dates with men before but all of her previous dates had consisted of sitting in the living room, smoking a few joints, then going from the living room to the bedroom, fucking, and then kissing them good bye.

She sat on the edge of the couch listening and nodding politely while Michael and Sonny talked about a baseball team.

"And here we are; black for Sonny, two creams for Michael, and two cups of real coffee; don't worry Terry, I only spit in Sonny's and Michael's coffee," Paula said, putting a tray down on the coffee table.

"You spit in mine?" Sonny asked.

"Of course," Paula said, sitting close to him. 

"That's why it's always so sweet," Michael said, taking a sip of his.

Terry relaxed again, now that Paula was in the room and enjoyed her coffee. Paula pulled her into the conversation, asking her opinion on various topics, and nodding as Terry spoke. 

Then Paula set her empty cup down on a coaster.

"Listen, it's late and I'm going to bed," Paula announced, reaching behind her and unzipping her dress. "Now, I can have one, two, or all three of y'all join me."

She dropped her dress to the ground, stepped out of it and picked it up.

Three sets of eyes looked on as she casually stood, nude, her large breasts capped by pale pink nipples that were crinkled and hard. Her blat belly flared into her swelling hips, her navel was pierced and adorned with a large gold hoop. Her orange pubic hair was shaved into a small heart that did not cover her swollen pussy, did not mask the excitement that oozed out onto her smooth, muscular thighs.




Explanation of Love 01



She smiled and strolled to the stairs, her five inch heels made clicking sounds as she sauntered across the hardwood floors, then up the polished wooden steps.

"Well, it is getting late; I think I'll hit the hay too," Sonny said, undoing his tie.

"Um, what do you...?" Michael stammered as Paula ascended the stairs.

Terry silenced him with a hot, open mouthed kiss.

"Listen, I don't know a damned thing about stocks, what's a blue chip, what in the hell a portfolio is, y'all were talking about some new zoning regulation and I was completely lost," she admitted.

"I'm sorry, I'll be happy to..." Michael said.

Terry again kissed him hotly and unknotted his tie.

"But fucking? THAT'S something I DO know about."

She unbuttoned a few of his shirt buttons.

"I hope you know something about fucking too," she whispered in his ear, and then bit down on his ear lobe.

"Um, with, I mean, you're joining..." Michael asked.

He was extremely excited, but did not want to presume, did not want to jinx his chances with this beautiful young woman. She had been very quiet the entire evening.

"Coming?" Terry asked as she unzipped her dress and dropped it to the floor.

"Yes I am," Michael agreed, getting to his feet.

Paula looked up when Terry and Michael strolled into the bedroom.

Terry stopped and took a moment to look around. Three of the walls were mirrored; the fourth wall was a stark white. There was a door on the stark white wall; Terry assumed it went to a bathroom or a closet.

The bed that a nude Paula and Sonny were reclining on was suspended from the ceiling by six cables. (Later, Terry would learn that this was a 'floating bed')

Close to the bed was a shiny chrome nightstand. On the other side of the bed was a small stainless steel refrigerator.

Near the chrome and glass computer table was a chrome pole that went from honey colored hardwood floor to stark white ceiling

The room was lighted by recessed lights, which were turned down to a soft illumination.

"Hey!" Paula said happily as Terry and Michael crawled into the bed.

"Hey," Terry agreed and urged Michael onto his back.

Paula resumed sucking Sonny's fat cock, stroking the length of it with a small hand. Terry bent and mirrored Paula's actions.

"Fuck!" Sonny groaned as Paula gave his cock a forceful suck.

Terry jacked Michael's cock, then pulled her mouth off of it and looked up into his glazed eyes.

He was an attractive brunette, with light blue eyes, a strong face. Though not as tall as Sonny, Michael was more muscular.

His cock was six inches, a good thickness, and had a bit of an upward curve to it.

Michael groaned as Terry took his cock in her hand and playfully slapped it against her cheeks.

"Aw yeah," Sonny groaned, watching Terry play with his friend's cock.

Paula redoubled her efforts as Terry spanked Michael's cock with a waggling tongue.

"Damn it, aw shit, Terry, here it..." Michael groaned and shot his first load onto Terry's forehead.

She laughed, then sank her mouth over the head of his cock and swallowed his seed.

"Damn, Terry!" Paula laughed and used a finger to wipe Michael's semen from Terry's forehead. "I never got him coming that fast!"

"You've never done what she just did either," Michael moaned as Terry continued to nuzzle his cock.

Sonny watched as Terry straddled Michael's hips and slid his still hard cock into her wet pussy.

"Hey, um, I'm down here," Paula gave Sonny's penis a hard yank.

"Ow!" Sonny laughed and urged her forward.

"I am perfectly aware of where you are," he assured her as he kissed her passionately.

"Uh huh,' she playfully sulked.

"Tel you what," he said and flipped her onto her back.

Mmm," Terry sighed as Michael's cock thrust into her.

Sonny put his mouth over Paula's pussy and began to suck and tongue her.

"Like that?" Terry whispered in Michael's ear.

"Like it?" Michael groaned as Terry used her vaginal muscles to squeeze his cock. "Fuck! Love it."

Terry felt the orgasm begin to bubble up in her guts and sat up, bringing Michael's cock more in line with her most sensitive place. Then\ he felt Paula's small hand cup her left breast.

"Ow!" Paula cried out as Sonny used his teeth to give a short yank to Paula's pubic hair.

"Hey, uh, I'm down here," Sonny reminded Paula.

Paula laughed and pulled him op of her. He entered her pussy with one long smooth stroke.

Michael groaned and shot his second load into Terry's tight pussy.

"You said you know something about fucking," Terry whispered in his ear.

"I do," he said.

"Show me," she challenged playfully and slid off of him.

She pulled him on top of her and kissed him.

"Prove it," she challenged.

Terry felt the mattress move and reached out to clasp Paula's hand.

Michael was a little muddled; his penis would not become hard, no matter how many times he stroked it. It was drained for the moment. But Terry was looking up at him, her blue eyes questioning.

He looked down at her blonde muff and could see his semen leaking out of her.

He tried to just play with her breasts and finger fuck her pussy.

"You can do better than that, can't you?" she asked sweetly.

Chapter 6

"Wake up, Sleeping Beauty," Terry heard someone whispered in her ear.

She looked into Paula's smiling face.

"You did say you have to go in early today, right?" Paula asked, still whispering.

"Yeah, damn it, I don't want to," Terry groaned.

"Shh, Sonny and Michael are still sleeping," Paula shushed her.

Terry slowly crawled to the edge of the floating bed. Shoving herself out of the bed sent the circular bed swinging and swaying.

"What time is it?" Terry asked as she allowed Paula to pull her to the one door on the white wall.

"Nine thirty," Paula whispered back.

"Damn!" Terry groaned as Paula pulled her toward the large walk-in shower. "Need to pee first.

"Oh, okay," Paula said and let go of Terry's hand.

Terry relieved herself, leaning slightly against the wall. She listened as Paula turned on the shower jets, listened as Paula opened cabinets and closed cabinets.

"Come on, sleepy head," she heard Paula giggle and realized she had fallen asleep while on the commode.

Stepping into the strong spray did wake her up slightly. Realizing that Paula was in the shower with her woke her up more.

"Hey," Terry giggled as Paula began to rub her down with a soapy washcloth.

"Shampoo's right there," Paula pointed to the corner.

"Oh, good, Terry said and bent over to pick it up.

"Hey!" Terry shrieked as Paula pressed a soapy finger against her rectum.

"Mmm," damn Terry, you are so..." Paula said and gave Terry an affectionate kiss.

"The two women kissed for a few moments. Finally, Paula lightly pushed Terry away.

"I can see this was a bad idea," she said easily.

"Why's that?" Terry smiled, lathering up her hair.

"Can't keep my hands off of you!" Paula laughed.

Terry felt a sudden draft.

"I'll be downstairs," Paula said, closing the door to the shower.

Terry did not dawdle in the shower or tarry afterward. She blotted her waist length hair as best she could, give it a quick brush through, then padding down the stairs.

"Clothes are in your trunk," Terry commented to Paula as she padded into the kitchen.

"Put them right there," Paula nodded with her head to a chair.

"Oh! Thanks," Terry laughed and quickly pulled her Clark's Drive-In uniform on.

At ten minutes after ten, she and Paula put their coffee cups into the dishwasher, and walked out to the garage. Paula hit the garage door remote and gave Terry a quick kiss while they waited for the door to go up.

"Aw damn it!" Paula said when they saw that Michael's Porsche had them boxed in.

"Aw, damn, guess I'll just have to take you to work in that," Paula smiled and lowered the door to the garage again.

She smiled at Terry.

"Actually, I've been wanting to give it a spin, I might want one," she confessed.

Terry waited by the door while Paula dashed upstairs to inform Michael that she'd be taking his car.

"He was okay with that?" Terry asked as Paula came downstairs with the keys in her hand.

"Not really; pussy can be a great motivator, though," Paula laughed.

Paula unlocked the car and Terry got in the passenger side.

Paula revved the motor a few times, then quickly backed out of the driveway, threw the car into first, and roared down the street.

"Not bad!" she pronounced as the car easily took the corner at a good rate of speed. "What do you think?"

"Why are you with me?" Terry asked.

"What?" Paula asked, screeching to a stop at Highway 52.

"I mean, come on Paula; last night, y'all were talking about all kind of stuff just went way over my head and I still don't really know what that food was and..." Terry sputtered.

She turned and looked at Paula.

"And I just figured it out!" Terry yelled. "Lambert! Lambert Condominiums! Fuck! You're rich! Why you even want to... What am I doing here?"

"Terry, do you even know what kind of car I drive?" Paula asked voice soft.

"No, I mean, I know it's a nice one, but..." Terry yelled.

"Exactly," Paula said and jammed on the accelerator, whipping the car onto Highway 52, then right onto Highway 19.

"Terry, I pulled up at Clark's and those other two? They looked at my car and both tried to come over to me. You? You skated right by and smiled at me. Me. Not my car. Me," Paula said and raced into the driveway of Clark's Drive-In.

"So?" Terry asked, not comprehending.

"Terry, all those other girls saw was a tip," Paula said. "You came over, looked right at me, not at the interior of the car, or the name on the hood. You looked right at me, talked with me, didn't try to kiss my ass or anything and even argued with me about the tip."

"So? I still don't..." Terry said as Paula pulled up next to Quawanda's Nissan.

"Then the next time I come, you talk with me, joke with me, tell me you're not giving me a banana split," Paula smiled as Quawanda openly admired the car, not even looking at the occupants.

"Uh huh," Terry said, reaching down to grab her skates.

"Anyone else would have assumed they were getting another big tip out of me," Paula went on. "But you? You try to give me my change again."

"It was a lot of change!" Terry argued.

"And that's what I love about you; that's why I just feel so good about you being with me," Paula explained.

"I don't get it," Terry admitted.

"Terry, you can't hurt me," Paula stated. "That's why I love you; you can't use me, you can't hurt me."

"I don't get it," Terry said, face wrinkled in confusion. "Why would I want to hurt you?"

"Terry, I can't explain it any better than that," Paula admitted. "But I love you. Whether I'm rich or not, I do love you."

"Love you too," Terry said and gave Paula a quick kiss.

"Get out, coffee breath," Paula teased. "See you; you said you get off at four?"

"Yeah, four o'clock," Terry agreed, opening the car door.

"Oh, anyone asks you, this is a Porsche Nine Eleven Carrera," Paula said as she revved the motor.

"Damn, girlfriend," Quawanda said as the black sports car raced away. "Who's car was that?"

"Michael's; my date last night," Terry shrugged as she walked over to the bench, carrying her skates.

"Tell him, I give him some of this brown sugar he let me have that car," Quawanda said, watching as the sports car squealed around the corner of 52 and 19.

Paula drove past her street; wanting to really open the car up. She laughed as she flew past The Bargain Bin clothing store, then the skating rink and bowling alley. Just before she reached the Flowers-Lafayette border, she slowed to forty miles per hour, the posted speed limit.

She did obey the speed limit on the way back to her condo, not wanting to have to have a speeding ticket put on her license. She waved to the two Bender police cruisers that passed her, heading west on Highway 52, most likely in pursuit of a black Porsche that had screamed through Bender and Flowers moments earlier.

"Sorry, sorry, Smokey," Paula laughed as she turned onto her street.

Clint and Courtney reminded Paula that it was time for their breakfast. Janet put in her appearance just as Paula put the food down.

Hmm?" Michael murmured as the bed swayed.

"Love your car," Paula admitted, her small hand cupping his balls.

"Yeah?" he asked, waking up slightly.

"I'm the one told him to buy it," Sonny smiled.

"Yeah?" Paula asked. "Well, love your cock."

Paula took the head of Sonny's cock into her mouth while stroking Michael's hardening cock with her hand.

"And love your cock," she said, and then took Michael's cock into her mouth.

"Hey, wheres um..." Michael asked.

"Terry," Paula said, switching over to Sonny's cock. "My girlfriend's name is Terry."

"Yeah, where'd Terry go?" Michael asked, watching as Paula slid all of Sonny's cock into her mouth.

"Work; told you," Paula said pulling her mouth off of Sonny's cock. "That's why I needed to borrow your car."

"Hey, um, less talking and more sucking, huh?" Sonny asked.

"No," Paula said, wiggling over to squat over Michael's hard cock. "Time for you to put that big old cock somewhere else."

"Yeah?" Sonny asked, getting onto his knees.

"Oh God, that's it!" Paula moaned as Sony pressed the head of his cock to her anus.

"Fuck!" Michael grunted as their combined weight pressed down on him.

Paula got more pleasure from the knowledge that she was behaving like a true whore, fucking two men at the same time than she did from the act itself. Michael was out of sync with her and with Sonny. Sonny tried to match Michael's tempo tried to be more in tune with Paula's needs, but Michael did not cooperate very well.

"'Does Not Play Well with others,'" Paula thought to herself as she felt Michael's semen flood into her pussy.

"Fuck, sorry, Baby," Sonny groaned as he loosed his semen into her bowels.

"Need a shower; anyone want to scrub my back?" Paula asked as she wiggled off of Michael.

"Going to drop the soap?" Sonny asked, wiggling out of the bed.

"Probably," Paula smiled. "I mean, you know how slippery it is."

Without Michael's clumsy thrusts throwing them off rhythm, Sonny and Paula managed to enjoy themselves in the shower.

"Damn, I like this," Sonny admitted as he again filled her ass with his semen.

"God, me too," Paula groaned through an orgasm.

Michael was already dressed, sipping a cup of coffee, when Sonny and Paula walked downstairs.

"Man, it's already twelve thirty," Michael complained.

"And?" Sonny asked, pulling his suit jacket on.

"I mean, really? Twelve thirty?" Michael complained.

"Got something better to do?" Paula asked, hefting her breasts.

"Yeah, wanted to see about..." Michael said and watched as Paula put one of her nipples into her mouth.

"Hmm?" she asked, pink tongue licking all over the tightly crinkled flesh.

"Please stop it, Honey; I got to stop off at the office," Sonny said, pressing his lips to the top of Paula's head.

"Yeah, I wanted to check a couple of things at the office today," Michael said weakly as Paula licked her other nipple.

"Come on, Mr. Trahan," Sonny smiled and gave Paula another kiss on the top of her head. "See you tonight?"

"Only if you stop off at the Dead End; I'm working tonight, remember?" Paula laughed and quit torturing Michael.

"Yeah, I just don't get it," Sonny admitted. "I mean, you got all kind of real estate deals going; they give you that rezoning for that Trauma Center; you'll make at least five million; why on God's earth are you stripping?"

"Told you; I'm a whore," Paula shrugged. "Went to school, got my Master's, and went to work at First Union. I'm not even there a week and the ass hole manager, ass hole assistant manager, the fucking C.F.O. and the C.O.O. and two of the teller hit on me. Next job, at Abdul's? Even worse, every department manager there hit on me, couple of the sales people, and about fifty of the customers hit on me and I'm like 'Fuck! Making less than half of what I was making at Elegante! For this shit?"

"Yeah, but you damned sure don't need it now," Michael said, patting his pockets and smiling when he located his keys.

"Like I said, I'm a whore," Paula smiled. "Kind of get off sticking my ass in some old guy's face."S

She kissed Sonny, hugged him, and then gave Michael a peck on the cheek and a hug.

If Michael noticed that Paula was more affectionate with Sonny, he didn't say anything. He just opened the door of the condo and walked out.

Hey!" Sonny argued, putting himself in between the nude Paula and the wide open door.

"Sonny!" Paula laughed, pushing him toward the door.

"You're so sweet," she said, gave him another kiss, and then closed the door behind him.

"Fucking hate other people drive my car," Michael grumbled as he readjusted the seat, the mirrors.

"Uh huh," Sonny said, grateful that his truck was at the office and he would be rid of Michael soon.

Chapter 7

"Um, where's the um, the Porsche?" Terry asked when Paula pulled up in her BMW.

"Sent it and Michael home," Paula smiled.

She pulled out onto Highway 19 and drove toward the 19-27 intersection.

"Decided I better not get one; too tempting. I actually hit one hundred and fifteen on Fifty two before I even realized I was going that fast," Paula went on. "Last thing I need is like a million speeding tickets, you know?"

"Uh huh," Terry agreed and looked over at the Dead End Bar. "You work tonight?"

"Yeah, come with me?" Paula asked.

Terry thought about it for a moment.

"Yeah, why not?" she decided. "Off tomorrow."

Paula followed Terry into the rental home.

Terry was appalled; the clean scent of pine oil disinfectant was gone; overwhelmed by the stench of marijuana, greasy food, and sweat. Hordes of cockroaches scurried away when Terry turned on the light.

Paula said nothing, just followed an embarrassed Terry down the hall.

"What the..." Terry shrieked, turning on the light of her bedroom.

"Aw, hey, bitch, turn that shit off, huh?" a man grumbled.

"That is... Get out of my bed!" Terry demanded.

"Aw, hey Nuh uh, ain't got to be getting all loud and shit," the man complained.

"Sir, get out of that bed now," Paula demanded.

"Tyrone, I done told you, you was supposed be on the couch," Aunt Janette complained, edging her nude bulk into the small room."

Fuck! No one using this bed, why the fuck I can't use it, huh?" Tyrone complained.

"Because it's my bed!" Terry screamed at him as he staggered naked out of the bed, scratching his pubic hair.

Terry did not say anything after Tyrone and Aunt Janette left the room, just sat down on the edge of the bed.

Paula looked around at the meager possessions.

"How long it take you to pack?" Paula finally asked.

"I don't know," Terry said listlessly.

"Get packed; you're not living here any more," Paula ordered.

"Nowhere to go," Terry said flatly.

"Bull shit," Paula declared and grabbed Terry's hand and pulled her off the bed. "Get busy; let's go."

Terry left the bedroom and returned a moment later with a large garbage bag.

Packing was a quiet occasion; there wasn't really much to pack. Some clothing, some shoes. Terry had never attached much sentimental value to anything; anything of value would soon disappear.

"Where's my, there were some boxes, those birthday presents," Terry finally broke the silence, looking around the small room.

"I didn't see any boxes," Paula admitted as she scooped a handful of undergarments and socks out of a drawer.

"Mother fu..." Terry hissed and marched out of the bedroom.

"Hey!" Paula heard 

"That's mine!" she heard, then heard Terry's voice.

"Says 'Happy Birthday Terry' right here; you're name is not Terry," Terry yelled.

"That's mine; I found it!" Paula heard Aunt Janette protest.




Explanation of Love 02



Chapter 8

"Wish Clark's was open," Paula admitted as she ushered them into the kitchen.

"Two o'clock in the morning?" Terry asked sleepily.

"Yeah," Paula sighed. "Only thing I hate about living in this itty bitty town; nothing's open after the sun goes down."

"Uh huh," Terry smiled.

"And it's always so damned hard coming down after a rough one like tonight," Paula went on.

"I bet!" Terry agreed.

"Thank God I got a hot tub," Paula said, opening the door to the small patio.

"You got a hot tub?" Terry asked, peering at the covered box.

"Yeah, come on," Paula said, pulling the cover off.

"I um, I don't have a suit," Terry said.

"And?" Paula asked, already dropping her clothing to the concrete patio floor.

"Paula!" Terry gasped, looking around. "Suppose someone sees us?"

"Stone wall, Paula said, pointing. "And if they do, so what?"

Paula dashed inside for a moment, and then returned with two large towels.

She turned on the jets of the tub, smiled and walked up the small step ladder, then sat in the swirling water.

Terry looked around furtively, then steeled herself and took off her own clothing.

"Damn, you really do have a beautiful body," Paula murmured as Terry rapidly scampered up the ladder and into he bubbling water.

"Oh, this is nice!" Terry sighed.

"Yeah, supposed to seat five, but only if all five are real good friends," Paula said and touched the touch screen. "You mind if I turn the temperature up a little?"

"No, go for it," Terry said, enjoying the feeling of the jets pummeling her gently.

They were seated across from each other, both with their heads lolled back. Moments later, Terry felt Paula's toes touch her foot.

She giggled as Paula's foot slowly edged up her calf.

Paula lazily rubbed her foot up and down Terry's shin, and then disappeared. Then her other foot began to trace up Terry's other calf.

"Quit!" Terry giggled.

In answer, both of Paula's feet came up on the outside of Terry's lower legs and affectionately squeezed in a 'hug.'

A moment later, one of Paula's feet again rubbed up and down Terry's leg, then began trying to come between Terry's legs. Terry instinctively parted her legs a little.

"I love you," Paula whispered dreamily.

"Love you too," Terry murmured.

"Yeah?" Paula asked, insinuating her foot between Terry's thighs.

Terry's head buzzed slightly from the feelings Paula was giving her. Inside, she felt tingly, warm.

"What are you doing?" Terry asked

"Nothing. What are you doing?" Paula asked.

"Nothing," Terry giggled.

"Paula!" Terry suddenly gasped as Paula's big toe rubbed against her pussy.

"What?" Paula asked innocently.

"Quit!" Terry demanded as Paula's big toe rubbed at the top of her slit.

"Don't like my toe playing with your kitty cat?" Paula asked, pulling her toe slightly back, but still between Terry's thighs.

"No!" Terry said.

"Aw!" Paula said. "But my toe likes your little kitty cat!"

"Paula!" Terry giggled as Paula wiggled her toes.

"In fact," Paula said and pulled her foot from in between Terry's thighs.

"I think," Paula said and floated to sit next to Terry.

"ALL of me likes your little kitty cat," Paula said and placed a hand on Terry's belly.

"Paula!" Terry whispered urgently.

"What?" Paula asked, leaning her face close to Terry's face.

"I thought you said you weren't gay," Terry asked as Paula kissed the side of Terry's neck.

"I'm not," Paula said softly.

"But you keep..." Terry protested weakly as Paula softly licked Terry's neck.

"No," Paula said, playfully poking Terry's nose with her forefinger. "YOU; YOU'RE the one keep making me do these things."

"What?" Terry protested.

"I'm not gay," Paula affirmed, nuzzling Terry's ear lobe. "But somehow, I don't know how, but somehow you just really get to me."

"But I..." Terry turned to argue.

Paula slid her tongue into Terry's mouth. Her fingers pressed gently at the back of Terry's head, holding her into the kiss. Her other hand came up and softly stroked Terry's face and ear.

Terry returned the kiss, her hands mirroring Paula's.

Finally, Paula broke the kiss and looked into Terry's blue eyes.

"I mean it," Paula whispered. "When I said I love you, I mean it."

"I mean it too," Terry whispered her voice barely audible over the bubbling water.

"I'm not gay," Paula said, kissing Terry's nose.

"But the whole time I was working, all I could think of was getting home and being with you," Paula said, kissing Terry's eye lids.

Suddenly, the timer dinged and the jets slowly died down.

"We have to get out now?" Terry quietly asked.

"Yeah," Paula said, lightly stroking Terry's face. "Come on."

They kissed for a few more minutes, and then Paula slowly stood on the seat, swung her leg out and stepped down the step ladder.

Terry could see that Paula's nipples and large aureole were hard and wrinkled and that Paula's inner pussy lips peeked out, puffy, purple.

Terry got out and when her feet were firmly on the concrete floor, Paula began to lovingly envelop Terry in a fluffy towel.

"Here, I'll dry you off," Paula cooed.

Terry felt Paula's lips press against her bare shoulder, then felt Paula's teeth bite down on the flesh.

Paula took Terry's hand and pulled her into the condo.

"Ooh!" Terry gasped when the chilled air hit her damp flesh.

"Hurry!" Paula giggled, slamming the door shut.

They scampered up the stairs and into Paula's bedroom.

"Here, quick, get under the covers," Paula ordered.

Terry slid into the bed, which sent it rocking wildly for a moment.

Paula scampered around, lighting several candles. Then she crawled into the bed and wiggled under the covers and took Terry into an embrace.

: God, you're even more beautiful by candle light," she husked and pressed her lips to Terry's lips.

"You keep saying that," Terry said when Paula pulled her head back.

"It's the truth," Paula whispered.

"But you're the beautiful one," Terry whispered and softly stroked Paula's face.

Paula softly kissed Terry's lips. She sucked Terry's bottom lip into her mouth and chewed it lightly. She put her left hand underneath Terry's face, cupping Terry's right cheek.

Her right hand lazily ran up and down Terry's arm. Paula released Terry's bottom lip and softly kissed Terry's mouth again.

"I love you," Paula mouthed, then kissed Terry's chin.

Gently, Paula put her right hand on Terry's hip, rubbing in small strokes. Her lips kissed lightly on Terry's neck.

Paula smiled as Terry let out a small sigh.

She kissed Terry's collarbone, then slid down slightly.

"Ooh!" Terry sighed as Paula's teeth lightly grazed her shoulder.

Paula's right hand traced up Terry's side, along Terry's rib cage.

Paula's right hand reached Terry's left breast just as her mouth encircled Terry's right nipple.

"Oh, God, Paula!" Terry softly protested.

Paula's tongue licked around Terry's hard nipple while her right hand softly stroked Terry's left breast.

Terry's hands came up from her sides. She put her arms around Paula's neck and held Paula's head to her breast.

Paula pulled her left hand from Terry's face and reached down to cup Terry's right breast. She kissed from Terry's right nipple, down the inside of Terry's right breast, to the space where the two breasts pushed against each other, then up to the left nipple.

Paula let out a small groan of pleasure as Terry's trembling hand lightly touched her right breast.

"I've never..." Terry whispered as her trembling hand clumsily stroked Paula's breast.

Paula continued to suckle Terry's nipple while her left hand gently guided Terry's left hand on her breast.

Paula smiled as she felt Terry's lips gently press on the top of her head.

She gently pressed her palms against Terry's breasts, 'drying' her saliva from Terry's nipples. She then tilted her head up and kissed Terry's gaping mouth.

"I have two of them," she whispered, smiling as she grabbed Terry's hands and pushed them firmly against her breasts.

Paula kept her hands on top of Terry's hands, pushing the hands into her hard nipples. She thrust her tongue into Terry's mouth and smiled as Terry energetically returned the kiss.

Paula again slid down slightly and again kissed and licked Terry's neck and shoulders. Terry continued to rub her palms over Paula's heavy breasts, sighing as Paula's mouth touched her hot flesh.

Paula's mouth again encircled Terry's right nipple but her hands now traveled down to Terry's taut belly.

"Oh God, I'm so ticklish," Terry moaned, warning Paula.

"Uh huh," Paula murmured and released Terry's right nipple.

"Oh!" Terry sighed at the loss of Paula's mouth.

The last boy Terry's had in her bed had been clumsy, almost savage in his treatment of her flesh. He'd sucked on her nipple so hard, it actually hurt putting a bra on.

Paula's mouth, however, was soft, loving, and sensual.

Paula's hands were now caressing Terry's hips as her mouth kissed softly on Terry's belly.

Terry combed her fingers through Paula's reddish blonde hair.

Terry bit back a scream as Paula lightly bit down on her belly.

"Oh God!" Terry groaned as Paula's lips again applied feather light kisses on her belly. "Oh God, Paula! I don't know how much more..."

Terry stiffened as Paula's soft lips gave a gentle kiss to her navel.

She felt Paula's hands softly pushing on her legs and slowly parted her thighs.

Terry sucked in a great lungful of air as she felt Paula's soft lips kiss her pubic mound, just where her blonde pubic curls began.

"Oh God, Paula!" Terry gasped as she felt Paula kiss her all over her pubic mound.

"Aaiigh!" Terry screamed as Paula's tongue grazed her throbbing clitoris.

Terry shook in orgasm; Paula just lightly stroked her belly and upper thighs.

When Terry finally quit convulsing, Paula again began to softly kiss her pubic mound.

"Mmm!" Terry heard Paula moan.

Paula's tongue licked slowly, softly, from bottom to top, between the right outer and right inner pussy lips. Then, so slowly, softly, licked up from bottom to top on the left side.

'"Oh, you taste so..." Paula moaned from under the sheets and comforter.

Terry's limbs tensed as Paula slowly and softly licked up and down the outside of Terry's slit. Terry let out a shuddering sigh as Paula blew warm breath over her pubic mound.

Paula's tongue snaked into Terry's drooling pussy. And again slowly licked from bottom to top.

Terry tensed as Paula's tongue flattened against her clitoris. Just as she was about to crest, though, Paula again dipped her tongue into Terry's pussy, away from Terry's throbbing clitoris.

Again, Paula rested her tongue against Terry's clitoris, but just before Terry exploded in orgasm, Paula returned her tongue to the inner walls of Terry's pussy.

"Please, Paula," Terry weakly whispered after a third time Paula denied her an orgasm.

Terry felt Paula's soft lips encircle her clitoris, then a moment later, felt Paula begin to hum.

With a shriek, Terry exploded in orgasm.

When Terry quit shuddering, Paula began to lick up and down her slit again.

"No more, please Paula," Terry weakly begged.

Paula ignored her, softly, slowly licking her way up, toward Terry's clitoris.

"Please Paula," Terry begged again.

Paula did not respond, just again took Terry's hypersensitive clitoris into her lips and then began to hum.

"Ah God! Oh shit! God damn it, Paula!" Terry again shrieked in orgasm.

With soft kisses for every inch of flesh she encountered, Paula wormed her way back out from under the covers. She looked at Terry's sweaty face and smiled.

She laid her head on Terry's gasping chest, curled her arm around Terry's torso and said, "I love you."

"Love," Terry gasped. "You. Too."

Terry caught her breath and realized that Paula was sound asleep, head laid on her chest.

She softly pressed her lips to the top of Paula's head, lay her head down on the sweat soaked pillow and fell asleep.

Chapter 9

For a moment, Terry didn't know where she was. The murmur of voices had awakened her and she glanced around the dark room.

"Sherri, that's black mail," Paula sighed. "Fine, fine; be there at one."

Terry swung her legs out of the bed and stepped onto the cold floor.

"Well, I'm bringing Terry with me," Paula said.

Terry didn't hear the rest of the conversation; she was in the bathroom emptying her bladder.

A glimpse into the large mirror made Terry pause and look. She had to agree with Paula; she did have a beautiful body. Not quite as sexy, as sensual as Paula's body and her face were not as beautiful as Paula's, but terry had to agree; she was beautiful in her own right.

"Dinner at Ron and Sherri's, one o'clock," Paula snapped, striding into the bathroom. "Please, please, please tell me you'll go with me?"

"Well of course," Terry agreed.

"And," Paula said, opening the door of the shower.

Terry joined Paula in the large shower cubicle.

She looked at Paula's nude body, looked at Paula's large breasts and large nipples, flat belly, and dimpled navel.  She smiled as she looked at Paula's reddish blonde pubic hair, trimmed into a little heart that left most of Paula's slit bare.

Paula's legs were muscular, shapely.

And as usual, Paula's heels did not touch the ground, almost as if she were wearing her customary high heels.

"Listen," Paula said, starting the shower. "I'll be introducing you as my lover."

"Paula! Why?" Terry cried out.

"Two reasons," Paula smiled and grabbed Terry in an embrace.

"One," she said, kissing Terry softly. "It's true."

"And two," she said, bringing a hand down to caress Terry's tight ass. "It'll just fuck up their whole world."

Again, Paula was aggressive in the shower, but because there was no time constraints, she did not force herself to stop.

Terry too was willing to lather up Paula's curvaceous body and surprised herself and Paula when she used the thick washrag to masturbate Paula to an orgasm.

"I do love you so," Paula whispered in Terry's ear.

"I love you too," Terry affirmed.

"Thank God I put in that tankless water heater," Paula laughed as she finally rinsed herself free of lather.

Terry wrapped her wet hair in a towel, grabbed a towel and blotted the dampness out of Paula's hair, then pulled her onto the bed.

"Oh, I LIKE this!" Paula giggled as Terry sat behind her, legs wrapped around Paula's waist.

"Shush; this is so I can do your hair," Terry said, kissing Paula's shoulder.

Slowly, languidly, she brushed Paula's longhair. Some brush strokes were interrupted so that she could kiss Paula's shoulders, back, or neck.

"Fuck, Terry! That's it!" Paula said after Terry gave a final brush stroke. "I'm never going anywhere else to have my hair done!"

"Better not," Terry warned.

Terry then unwrapped her own hair and brushed it out. Paula searched through their clothing and picked out their outfits for dinner at her parents' house.

"You're not allergic to cats, huh?" Paula asked as she put their panties on the bed.

"If I was, too late now, huh?" Terry smiled as she finished her own hair.

"Okay, Paula said and grabbed Courtney as the cat jumped onto the bed to see what was going on.

"Paula, what are you doing?" Terry asked as Paula rubbed their clothing on the protesting cat.

"Ron's highly, deathly allergic to cats," Paula shrugged.

Terry looked at the clothing and wrinkled her face; the clothing seemed very inappropriate for a family Sunday dinner.

Paula hat put Terry's black sports bra a short sleeve white blouse and a pair of white shorts on the bed, along with white thong panties.

Paula's own out fit was very similar, red bikini top, yellow blouse and yellow shorts. She also had a pair of white thong panties.

"Noticed you have those really pretty black sandals; wear those, okay?" Paula ordered.

"Paula' I hate those shorts; they're always creeping up my butt," Terry complained. "You really want me to wear those the first time I meet your family?"

"Absolutely," Paula affirmed. ESPECIALLY if they creep up your butt."

"All right," Terry shrugged and brushed some of the cat hair off of her panties.

"Oh God damn, you are one beautiful woman!!" Paula enthused as Terry put the clothing on.

"Paula, I look like a slut!" Terry complained.

"Don't!" Paula snapped no smile on her face. "Don't EVER say that again!"

"What?" Terry asked, confused.

Paula was very matter-of-fact about being a whore; why would the word 'Slut' upset her? The tone of voice and the scowl she now wore told Terry that the word 'Slut' did upset Paula greatly.

Paula slipped on a pair of bright red sandals.

"Sluts are stupid, selfish, classless people," Paula snapped. "My mother is a slut. Amber and Kenyata are sluts. They're too stupid to know just how fucking pathetic they are."

Paula grabbed Terry and kissed her forcefully.

"You are not a slut," Paula affirmed, resting her hand on Terry's bare belly. "You are a sweet, loving, beautiful little girl."

She kissed Terry again, rubbing Terry's bare belly.

"Now, come on; we got about an hour to kill before we go to Ron and Sherri's," Paula said, grabbing Terry's hand.

They scampered down the stairs. Just as they reached the kitchen door, Terry stamped her foot in impatience.

"Damn it, see?" Terry complained, turning around so that her back was to Paula. "See? This is why I hate these shorts! My ass is all hanging out!"

"God, Terry, I would kill to have an ass like yours!" Paula shrilled. "Those shorts are just perfect on you!"

Terry did not believe Paula, but fished the shorts out of the crack of her ass, and followed Paula into the garage.

"I figure, there's about three or four used car lots between here and Ron and Sherri's; we'll just take a quick look and see what they've got, all right?" Paula said.

"Okay," Terry shrugged.

The first lot was close to the two seediest strip clubs in Bender and the cars available reflected the neighborhood.

"Good God! I wouldn't let my cats piss in those things, much less drive any of them!" Paula said, driving on to the next car lot.

"Oh yeah, this is the 'Church of the Used Car and Salvation,'" Paula sneered as a few people spilled out of the office, dressed in quite conservative clothing.

"What?" Terry asked.

"It's a used car lot; guy who runs it also has a church set up in his office," Paula explained. "He calls himself Reverend Zechariah Smith."

Paula peered past Terry at the cars that dotted the sales lot.

"Ooh, now that's a cute little car," Paula said, pointing to  a Volkswagen Beetle convertible. "We'll come see it after dinner, okay?"

The third lot had a Mini-Cooper and an Escalade SUV. Paula pulled into the lot and got out of the car.

Terry went to adjust her shorts.

"Don't," Paula hissed.

"Paula, I got my ass hanging out all week long in them shorts I wear for work," Terry complained.

"Uh huh; you got any idea how fucking hot you look?" Paula asked and pulled her to the Mini-Cooper.

"You not thinking of trading that in, huh?" a salesman approached, indicating Paula's BMW.

"No, not really," Paula said and bent over to peer into the small car.

The salesman's cock immediately sprang up as Paula's shorts crept high into her crack.

"Um, that's a two um, two thousand and nine," he said. "Got only thirty four thousand miles on it."

"Uh huh; how much?" Paula asked, turning so that he could see her full breasts in the skimpy bikini top.

"Seventeen five," the salesman croaked.

"Uh huh," Paula smiled and licked her lips. "That Escalade over there?"

"Uh, yes ma'am, it's an uh," the man stammered as Paula again licked her lips slowly.

"Come on Terry, let's take a look at it," Paula demanded, grabbing Terry's hand.

"Almost feel sorry for the poor bastard," Paula giggled as they strolled across the clam shell parking lot to the gleaming black Escalade.




Explanation of Love 02



"Bend over and look inside the car," Paula coached.

"I can't, the windows are tinted," Terry whispered back.

Terry looked over her shoulder as the salesman let an involuntary groan escape.

"Told you your ass is beautiful," Paula whispered.

The salesman quoted the price and what particulars he could remember about the car and groaned again as Paula 'adjusted' her blouse and bikini top.

"It um, it was owned by Milt Duhon's wife; see the vanity plate?" the salesman offered.

Terry looked and read '4QUNYS' and shrugged her shoulders.

"Calls his wife 'Queenie' and they got 3 daughters; get it? Queenie plus three equals four queens?" the salesman said.

"Thank you; there's another lot we wanted to look at, but we'll keep that Escalade in mind," Paula promised and got into her car.

"Bye," Terry said as she got into the passenger seat.

Paula reached over and gave Terry's leg an affectionate squeeze as they drove to the Lambert home.

"Only reason we're here is because Andrea's home," Paula said as they pulled up in front of the two story building.

"Who's Andrea?" Terry asked.

"My baby sister," Paula smiled sadly. "Most of the time, she's at L.S.V.I.; she comes home on the weekends."

"L.S.V.I.?" Terry asked.

"Louisiana School for the Visually Impaired; Andrea's blind," Paula said.

"Oh! Paula! I'm so sorry!" Terry gasped.

"Hey, she's dealing with it pretty good," Paula defended. "Hell of a lot better than I ever would, that's sure."

Paula checked to make sure there was no traffic and got out of her car. Terry cautiously, nervously got out as well.

"Ready to see what Hell looks like?" Paula asked, putting an arm around Terry's narrow waist.

"Paula!" a skinny girl squealed when Paula opened the door and let herself in.

"Andrea!" Paula squealed in return.

The child ran to her sister and Paula bent down to squeeze the child as tightly as she could.

"Oomph!" the child complained. "You're squishing me!"

"Because I love you so much!" Paula exclaimed. 

"Love me a little less, huh?" Andrea said.

"As if I ever could!" Paula laughed and kissed the girl on her forehead. "Andrea, I want you to meet my best friend. Andrea, this is Terry."

"I thought I was your best friend," Andrea complained.

"I meant, my best friend after you," Paula corrected.

Terry smiled; the love Paula had for the girl was obvious.

"Don't worry, I won't squish you," Terry said and hugged the girl.

Up close, Terry could see that the girl's green eyes were flat, lifeless, and unseeing. She looked over at Paula.

Paula fought back the tears as she looked at the girl.

"So, what'd you do in school this week?" Paula asked, fighting the croak in her voice.

"I'm reading The Red Badge of Courage," Andrea proudly declared.

"Wow, really?"  I didn't read that book until I was three; how old are... Oh wait, you're eight, right?" Paula teased.

"Shut up!" Andrea squealed.

"Andrea, who are you screaming at in...? Oh! Paula! You're here!" a large woman came into the living room.

"Yes, Sherri, I'm here," Paula spat.

"And where's didn't you say you were bringing your boyfriend?" Sherri asked, glancing around.

"No, I said I was bringing Terry," Paula snapped. "Sherri, this is Terry. Terry, that's Sherri."

"Um, hi," Terri said.

Sherri tried to paste a smile on her face and failed.

A slender man walked in, dressed in Hawaiian shirt, shorts, black socks and sandals."

And here's Ron," Paula sneered. "Nice socks, Ron."

"That's 'Dad,'" the man said, thin lips tightly pursed.

"Lost the right to be 'Dad' minute you stuck your cock in me, ass hole," Paula spat back.

"Paula, really! Do you have to?" Sherri shrilled. "Do you have to? In front of complete strangers! Do you have to?"

"Terry's not a complete stranger," Paula said. "And don't worry; I've already told her what a piece of shit Ron is and what an ignorant slut you are."

"I didn't invite you here to..." Sherri shrilled.

"We'll be happy to leave," Paula said, walking to the door, holding onto Terry's hand.

Terry could feel her lover's hand shaking, even as she squeezed tightly onto Terry's hand.

"No, Paula!" Andrea cried out. "We made pot roast! Just for you, 'because it's your birthday!"

Paula glared hatefully at her mother and father, and then nodded her head slowly.

"For you, Andrea," she finally said. "I'll stay for you."

"Aw, God Damn it, Paula!" Ron cried out as Paula dragged Terry toward the dining room. "Still got those fucking cats?"

"Yes, Ron, why? Oh, that's right; you're allergic to them, aren't you? Aw, tough shit. Guess you won't be hugging all over me and Terry, trying to cop a feel, huh?" Paula smirked.

A moment later, Sherri screamed up the stairs that dinner was ready.

Terry was introduced to Rhonda, RJ, and Sheridan.

Rhonda was an unattractive, horse faced woman with skinny arms and torso and freakishly large hips, buttocks and thighs. Her long brown hair looked as if it had not been brushed in weeks. 

Ron Junior, RJ, was a mirror of Rhonda, even with long unkempt brown hair. His dull brown eyes did not make it above Paula's chest or Terry's chest.

Sheridan had the same strawberry blonde hair of Sherri, Paula, and Andrea, and also had the green eyes. His muscles rippled; Terry fought back a smirk; he was flexing and posing for her benefit. Like his older brother, Sheridan's eyes never traveled above Terry's chest.

"So you, um, you a stri... a dancer too?" Sheridan asked, licking his lips.

"No, Sheridan," Paula smiled at her younger brother. "Quit perving on my girlfriend, huh?"

"She's your girlfriend?" Sheridan asked, trying to discretely readjust his swelling erection.

Ron Senior tried to sit at the table, eyes and nose running horribly, but after a moment, slammed his fork down and stormed off.

"Bye Ron; it's been fun," Paula called out.

"You know what that does to me; do that shit on purpose, little bitch," Ron snarled as he stormed up the stairs.

"Of course I do, pathetic little loser," Paula giggled.

"Paula, really, he is your father," Sherri admonished.

"You sure, Sherri? You one hundred percent sure he's my father? You sure you didn't fuck no one else when I was conceived?" Paula sneered.

"Well, another birthday shot to shit; way to go Paula," Rhonda spat.

"Know what? It'd be all right with me if y'all forgot I even have a birthday, you know?" Paula said and spooned more gravy onto her carrots and potatoes.

Terry helped herself to some of the gravy and watched, fascinated, as Andrea managed to serve herself.

"Shall we say 'Grace' before we dig in?" Sherri asked tersely.

"Andrea?" Paula asked.

The child did a simple prayer and they ate.

"Um, this is um, this is good, Miss Sherri," Terry weakly offered.

"Thank you," Sherri said, unable to mask her contempt of Terry.

Paula and Andrea seemed to be the only ones unaffected by the uncomfortable silence as the seven of them ate.

"And we got cake and ice cream!" Andrea declared as she finished her meal.

"Actually, it's an ice cream cake," Sherri offered.

"I picked it out," Andrea said.

"Oh, well, if YOU picked it out, then it's GOT to be good, right?" Paula affectionately teased the girl.

"That's right," Andrea said.

Paula insisted that Andrea help her blow out the candles, the cake was cut and Terry found herself being given an extremely small piece. She felt Paula's hand on hers and shrugged off the intentional slight.

"So, Paula, I know you don't really keep up with local politics," Sherri said after Paula read aloud the brailed card that Andrea made for her.

"I most certainly do; it's National politics I don't care much about," Paula corrected. "Who's in the White House doesn't get the pot hole on Highway twenty seven fixed. Who's the Secretary of State doesn't make a bit of difference in dealing with unreasonable zoning restrictions. But let me guess; you're running for the St. Elizabeth Parish Council. Again. And again, like a dumb ass, you're running as a Democrat in a parish that hasn't voted for a Democrat since Kennedy, right?"

Sherri began to shrilly belittle the Republican Party. Paula held up a hand to silence her mother.

"Okay, Sherri, first you forgot to ask if I give a shit," Paula said.

"Well, I um, as you know, it's very hard to educate people that haven't thought for themselves in so long," Sherri said.

"Who's running against you?" Paula interrupted.

"Um, Cindy, Cindy Broussard-Robichaux; that little bitch runs Shapes Gym," Sherri spat.

"So, a business owner, one that provides employment to local people, provides a needed service?" Paula said. "Running as a Republican. Against you. An insurance salesperson. And a Democrat. Wow; who do you think's going to win here?"

Sherri launched into a spiel, asking for a cash contribution.

"Oh ho! Now! Now I see why it was so fucking important that I come here! Now I see why you've been after me for weeks!" Paula screamed triumphantly.

Sherri tried to defend herself. Paula shook her head no.

"Tell you what, Sherri, here, here's a check for five thousand, okay? Enjoy; you're never getting another penny out of me," Paula laughed spitefully, signed the check and thrust it at her mother.

She turned to Terry.

"Ready, Baby?" Paula asked."

Um, sure, yeah," Terry agreed.

Andrea's card was the only gift that Paula took with her as she and Terry left the house.

"Note to self; I'm donating ten thousand dollars to Cindy Broussard-Robichaux on Monday," Paula laughed as she started her car.

Terry let out a breath and looked at Paula.

"Don't even say it," Paula smiled.

Terry did not say anything as they drove home. She did smile; she was already thinking of the place as home.

They entered the kitchen and Courtney jumped down from the table before Paula could grab the squirt bottle. Terry followed Paula into the living room.

Paula put on some music and grabbed Terry. Wordlessly, Paula danced with Terry around the living room, green eyes staring intently into Terry's blue eyes.

Softly, Paula pushed Terry against the wall, held her there and pressed her lips to Terry's lips.

The kiss intensified and Paula jammed her tongue into Terry's mouth.

Terry felt the short white blouse being pulled from her shoulders, and then felt the cold air conditioning on her breasts as the black sports bra fell to the floor.

She moved to put her arms around Paula and suddenly felt her hands pinned together at the wrist and held above her head by Paula's left hand.

Mmph!" Terry protested as Paula pressed her thigh in between her legs, pushing hard against Terry's crotch.

Paula did not release Terry's hands, did not release Terry's mouth as she unzipped Terry's shorts and shoved shorts and panties down Terry's legs.

"Paula!" Terry tried to protest as Paula's right hand cupped Terry's pussy roughly.

"Mmph!" Terry groaned as Paula forced a finger into her slit.

Paula had terry pinned against the wall; Terry's back was being rubbed harshly by the textured wall.

Paula's mouth was forced hard against Terry's mouth, bruising Terry's lips and tongue.

"Her wrists were hurting where Paula's left hand clamped down painfully.

Terry came violently as Paula finger fucked her; she would have slid down to the floor if Paula had not been holding her up.

Terry did stagger slightly when Paula abruptly released her.

"You um, fuck! I cannot believe I just did that," Paula spat bitterly.

With that, Paula sprinted up the stairs.

Terry found Paula, sitting cross-legged on her bed, tears silently streaming from her eyes.

Terry climbed into the bed and crawled to Paula. Softly she put a hand on Paula's shoulder.

"I'm so sorry, Terry," Paula whispered.

Chapter 10

"I want you to quit Clark's," Paula said as she lay entwined around Terry.

"What?" Terry protested. "I quit there, where'm I going to go?"

"You now have a new job," Paula said. "My personal assistant."

"Your what?" Terry asked.

"My personal assistant," Paula repeated.

"What? I'm going to pick up your clothes when you dance?" Terry asked unhappy expression on her face.

"Terry, I'm working on a deal right now; I'd have to dance a hundred years make this kind of money," Paula said, lazily combing her fingers through Terry's pubic hair. "No, no, I'm quitting all of that. It was fun while..."

"So what I'm going to do?" Terry asked, expression not softening.

"Take some calls, go for coffee, do some filing," Paula said and cupped one of Terry's breasts.

"Play with my kitty cat," she whispered and kissed Terry's lips softly. "Let me play with your kitty cat."

"So, I'd pretty much just be a slut," Terry spat, trying to disentangle herself from Paula.

"What'd I tell you about that word?" Paula asked angrily.

"Then don't be treating me like one!" Terry yelled.

Terry clambered out of the bed, sending it wobbling crazily.

She left the bedroom, and then paused.

Even in her anger, Terry realized, she really had nowhere to go.

Finally, Terry stomped down the stairs and out the atrium doors to sit on one of the wrought iron chairs on the small porch.

The setting sun bathed the small porch in soft golden light but Terry did not notice the beauty of it, or the beauty of the small array of hanging baskets Paula had on the porch.

A few moments later, she heard Paula come out onto the small porch. Paula sat down on a chair.

"I do need a personal assistant," Paula said. "I was planning on interviewing a few people for the job. I even thought about maybe giving Rhonda or Sheridan the job."

"What about RJ?" Terry snapped.

"Him? God, he is so fucking disgusting!" Paula said and shuddered.

"I have you here; I already love you, it'd be perfect," Paula went on and toyed with a box on the small table. "Wouldn't even have to worry about nine to five; we could work all day and all night."

"Paula, what if I can't do it?" Terry asked, her anger giving away to fear.

"You can do it," Paula assured her.

"Paula, I didn't even finish high school; that's why I'm still working at Clark's," Terry whispered.

"You can do it; you'll be great," Paula whispered and pulled terry out of her chair.

Paula pulled terry onto her lap and cuddled her tightly.

"Terry, I'd rather pay you than pay some snot-nosed bitch that's just going to work for me for a couple of months, figure out what I'm doing and then quit so she can fuck me over," Paula said.

Terry looked into Paula's eyes.

"How you know I won't do that?" she asked.

Paula smiled and stroked her hand up and down Terry's thigh.

"You going to do that?" she asked.

Terry shook her head no.

"Okay, glad that's settled," Paula said.

Terry did not protest as Paula pulled her up the stairs, did not protest as Paula pushed her onto the bed, and did not protest as Paula squatted over her face.

Terry had never even touched another woman's privates before, but decided to do what Paula had done to her the previous night.

Slowly, she licked from the bottom of Paula's slit, slowly toward the top. Playfully, she battered Paula's hanging clitoris a few times with her tongue, then again licked from the bottom of Paula's slit to the top again.

Her hands cupped Paula's breasts and gently pulled on Paula's sensitive nipples.

Terry bit back a scream as Paula blew a warm breath across her clitoris and grunted out loud when Paula's tongue flattened against her clitoris.

"Oh, please don't," Terry begged, but Paula didn't listen.

Terry licked from side to side, playfully batting Paula's pussy lips, until her tongue again reached Paula's clitoris.

"Oh God, Terry!" Paula moaned as Terry sucked Paula's fat clitoris into her mouth.

Her fingernails raked gently up and down Paula's thighs, then scratched lightly at Paula's round buttocks.

Terry stiffened as Paula's fingers pulled at Terry's buttocks. Then she felt Paula's tongue press against her anus.

She shifted slightly, and then thrust her tongue into Paula's anus.

"Yes!" Paula hissed and Terry tried to push her tongue into Paula's rectum.

Terry jerked as she felt Paula push a finger into her rectum.

"Oh!" she groaned as Paula fucked the finger in and out of her rectum, and then stiffened again as Paula added a second finger while sucking on Terry's pussy lips.

Terry wet a finger in Paula's pussy, and then pushed it into Paula's rectum.

"Yes!" Paula encouraged Terry.

"Terry groaned as Paula added a third finger to her rectum and then stiffened as Paula sucked in her clitoris and began to hum.

"Oh Paula, I'm..." Terry cried out in orgasm.

When she finished climaxing, Terry quickly finger fucked Paula's ass while sucking hard at Paula's clitoris, until Paula twisted and writhed in her own orgasm.

When she caught her breath, Paula twisted around and softly kissed Terry's lips.

"What a lover you are!" she whispered in Terry's ear.

The kissed softly for a few minutes, then Paula lay her had on Terry's chest.

"What a lover!" she repeated.

A moment later, Terry heard very faint snoring.

She lay her head against one of the pillows on the bed and fell asleep.

Janet woke the lovers up, demanding supper.

Terry let Paula lay in the bed as she went down the stairs and fed the three cats.

She came back up the stairs, entered the bedroom, only to be pulled back into he bed by Paula.

"Come on, Paula, really?" she giggled.

"Come on," Paula whispered urgently. I want to..."

Paula lay Terry on her belly and pulled Terry's long blonde hair to the side.

"Oh!" Terry sighed as she felt Paula's teeth nip lightly at her shoulder.

Paula's teeth lightly bit Terry on her shoulder again, and then shifted slightly downward.

Terry sighed as Paula bit and nibbled her way down to her buttocks.

"Paula, don't" she sighed weakly moments later, when Paula began to tongue her anus.

Paula did not listen, just alternated between tonguing Terry's anus and biting lightly on Terry's buttocks.

"You have the most beautiful ass ever," Paula whispered.

"Aw, Paula, don't do that!" Terry protested weakly as Paula again introduced a finger to Terry's anus.

Moments later, Terry grunted as Paula fucked three fingers in and out of her rectum.

"Ah, damn it!" Terry cried out as Paula suddenly pinched Terry's clitoris quite hard.

Paula giggled happily as Terry jerked and bounced on the bed in orgasm.

"I will get you for that," Terry promised when she got her breath.

"Oh Goody! You can start right now," Paula said, flinging her long hair out of the way and laying on her stomach.

Chapter 11

"If you could do anything you wanted to, what would it be?" Paula asked as they got into her car.

"What you mean?" Terry asked.

"I mean, if someone came up to you and said 'Here, here's a million dollars,' what would you do?" Paula asked.

"Open my own hair salon," Terry said without hesitation. "I mean, I'd have to go to Darkira's Hair College first, but I'd open my own hair salon."

"Darkira's?" Paula asked.

"Yeah, it's right next to Johnson's; I checked into it and even though it's a college, I don't have to have a high school diploma," Terry said excitedly.

"And how long does it take?" Paula asked.

"Nine weeks; you can go for the eighteen week course if you want and she says a lot of times students need a little extra time," terry said.

Paula smiled, nodding in agreement.

"Oh, what we doing here?" Terry asked as they drove onto the used car lot.

"Getting a car," Paula said.

"Nothing's wrong with this one, huh?" Terry asked, opening the door.

"Baby," Paula said, pulling Terry back into the car.

"What?" Terry asked.

"You plan on walking everywhere? I mean, what about when you get into Darkira's Hair College?" Paula asked.





Explanation of Love 02



Terry's face wrinkled in confusion.

"Baby, you need a car," Paula explained again. "You had a car, but lost it when you moved in with me, so..."

"I got about nine hundred, remember?" Terry said.

"And you'll need that for the insurance," Paula agreed.

"Hi!" the salesman said as the two women approached him.

"Just go along with anything I do," Paula whispered to Terry.

"Okay," Terry agreed.

She almost laughed; of course she would go along with anything Paula did. Right now, the outfit she was wearing had been picked out by Paula. Her hair, which she normally wore loose, was in a pony tail, per Paula's request. Terry's breasts were not as large as Paula's, but she felt more comfortable in a bra. Per Paula's request, though, Terry was braless under her thin white blouse. She did have on a tong underneath her snug denim cut offs, though.

"Hi; that Escalade?" Paula asked, stepping very close to the salesman.

Through the thin material of Paula and Terry's blouses, he could swear he could see the woman's nipples.

"Want to go for a ride?" Paula whispered seductively.

"Let me get the keys," the man said.

"He's kind of cute," Paula commented to Terry.

"And kind of married; wedding ring," Terry said.

"And we all know all married men are one hundred percent faithful, right?" Paula smirked.

"And, who wants to drive?" the man asked, returning with the keys.

"So, why's he selling it?" Paula asked, handing the keys to Terry.

"Divorce, I think," the man said. "Shit! Forget I said that! The television station doesn't know!"

"Said what? I didn't hear anything, here, let's see; Terry, drive down Highway nineteen, all right?" Paula demanded.

"Oh this is nice," Terry commented, looking around the interior.

"So, how long you been married?" Paula asked, pressing her braless breasts into the salesman's side.

"Fourteen long, endless years," the man complained.

"Ooh, sounds like someone's not happy," Paula teased.

"Oh, look, it even tells me how much miles to the gallon I'm getting!" Terry said as she drove.

"Oh, there's the Hotel Acadiana; you ever been there?" Paula asked the salesman.

"Once or twice," the man admitted.

"Now what would an old married man be doing in that place, huh?" Paula teased, lightly scratching a fingernail along his zipper.

"Well now, you know," the man said.

"I heard they got movies in the rooms," Paula said, rubbing her thigh against him, clutching onto his arm. "You watch them movies?"

"I have," he admitted.

"Turn around up here, Terry," Paula said.

"What kind of movies you like, huh?" Paula asked.

"Oh, you know," the man groaned as she teased his cock through his trousers.

"I like the Cum Shot ones," Paula admitted. "Oh! And I love the Lezzie ones; you know where the two girls fuck each other; you like those?"

"So, what'd you think?" Paula asked, terry, leaning forward, rubbing her buttocks against the salesman's leg.

"It's nice," Terry agreed.

"Come on," Paula said to the salesman, leaning back, cupping his balls in her hand.

He had to button his suit jacket and walk rather hunched over to the sales office.

"Paula, what was that all about?" Terry hissed at Paula.

"We're going to get at least two, maybe three thousand off the price," Paula laughed.

"So all of that about liking them movies and..." Terry asked.

"Terry, he's married," Paula put an arm around Terry's waist. "I may be a whore, but I don't fuck married men. Unless their wife comes to me and tells me to my face it's all right to fuck their husbands."

Paula opened the heavy glass door of the sales office.

"But he doesn't know that," she whispered to Terry.

Paula actually managed to get the price down three thousand and five hundred dollars, plus a ninety day, full coverage warranty, barring neglect or collision. She managed to save another eight hundred and nine dollars by letting the salesman believe she would be financing the purchase through him before pulling out her checkbook and writing a check for the entire amount.

"Here, drive the beamer, follow me," Paula said as he grabbed the keys to the Escalade.

"Where are we going?" Terry asked, stunned that Paula just casually wrote out a check and bought her a car.

"Young Insurance," Paula said. "We need to add you to my policy."

"So uh, Ms. Lambert," the salesman said, after the shock of how easily he'd been manipulated had worn off. "I um, how about you and me get a drink sometime, huh?"

"Sure; bring your wife along," Paula smiled.

"Aw, hey now, what she don't know..." he said.

"Uh huh; she comes to me and tells me it's all right, you and me can go get a couple of drinks," Paula smiled sweetly.

Paula used her cell phone to call ahead to her insurance agent and he met them at the door of Young Insurance and ushered them immediately to his office.

Grant smiled his easy smile as a thoroughly baffled Terry sat and signed paper after paper. He could tell that she did not comprehend any of the procedures.

He could also tell that Paula Lamber, the principle policy holder, understood the policies even better than he did.

"Thanks, Grant; tell your wife 'hello' for me," Paula smiled as Terry counted out the money to pay for a half year coverage for her new car.

"No, why don't you stop by the house and tell her yourself?" he smiled.

Even as befuddled as she was, Terry did manage to greet Jacy Kay, a former Clark's Drive-In co-worker with happy squeals and hugs.

"Boy or girl?" Terry asked, rubbing Jacy's slightly distended belly.

"Another boy; Daddy's so happy he could scream," Jacy giggled.

"Tell Daddy he ever wants to find out why blondes have more fun..." Terry playfully suggested.

"I'll knock you out too!" Jacy said, fist balled up.

"See you later," Terry giggled.

"Here, Miss Dayton; your new car," Paula said, holding out the keys to the Escalade. "And..."

Paula slipped a house key onto the ring.

"Thank you," Terry whispered.

"Welcome," Paula responded.

Paula had Terry follow her back to the condominium, and then climbed into the passenger seat of the Escalade.

"You prefer Babbage's, or Abdul's?" Paula asked, buckling up.

"Babbage's or...Why?" Terry asked.

"My Personal Assistant needs new clothes," Paula said, using the vanity mirror to check her make-up.

"Bargain Bin's right there on..." Terry offered.

"Sweetheart, we're buying you a few outfits for business," Paula said, putting a hand on Terry's upper thigh. "Bargain Bin's not going to have business attire. Let's go to Babbage's first, okay?"

Again, Terry let Paula do the entire talking, let Paula pick out all the outfits, let Paula make all the final decisions.

"Hey, Darlene!" Paula said as she dragged Terry to the lingerie section.

A beautiful blonde with a stunning body, a body that rivaled Paula's looked up from a sales catalog and smiled.

"This is Mandy's sister," Paula explained to Terry.

"Mandy that works at the Dead End?" Terry asked.

"Yep; hey Darlene, my girl here needs a couple of boulder holders and a couple of crotch covers; what you got?" Paula laughed.

"Paula, sometimes you are so crude," Darlene laughed and gave Terry's chest a practiced eye. "About a thirty four C, huh?"

"Think it's more like a B," Terry admitted.

"Come over here; let's measure you just to be sure," Darlene said.

The sales assistant that helped Terry and Paula carry all of the purchases tried to decline the ten dollar tip Paula handed her, but Paula insisted and the pimple faced girl thanked her and scurried back to the store.

Terry agreed that it was time for lunch and let Paula drive.

"Manny's all right with you?" Paula asked. "Ever since they got rid of that horrible gang used to hang out there, it's the only place to get a decent enchilada."

During their meal, Paula did some nonverbal flirting with a table full of high school boys and encouraged Terry to do likewise.

"So, you ready?" Paula asked as Terry scraped the last of the refried beans into her mouth.

"I guess," Terry said without any enthusiasm.

"What's wrong?" Paula asked, concerned.

"Paula, I've never quit before; I don't know what to do!" Terry wailed.

"Easy, really," Paula encouraged as she guided Terry to the car. "You go in, you tell them how much you've enjoyed working there, how much you appreciate all the opportunities they've given you, but you've been offered a job making thirty six thousand a year and have decided to take the position."

"Thirty six?" Terry gasped.

"Oh?" Paula asked, smiling. "Not enough?"

"No, no, that's plenty!" Terry said quickly.

"Oh, Terry!" Paula said. "Damn it! You should have said 'no, that's not enough; I'm worth at least forty!' Oh well, too bad, so sad," Paula said as she pulled up to the curb at Clark's Drive-In.

"So, what you want?" Paula asked as she lowered the window.

"What you mean?" Terry asked, stomach knotted up.

"Hot fudge, butterscotch? The banana split was a good one, but I'm kind of in the mood for one of those sundaes," Paula said.

"Oh, um, butterscotch," Terry said.

Quawanda waved in greeting as Terry woodenly walked across the concrete pad toward the restaurant.

"Hi, welcome to Clark's; ready to order?" Quawanda said as she skidded to a stop next to Paula's window.

"Large, y'all got extra large? I want an extra large butterscotch sundae with everything on it," Paula ordered.

"We got small or large," Quawanda said, admiring the automobile.

Terry steeled herself and walked to John Clark's office door and softly knocked.

John groaned inwardly as he saw Terry in the doorway.

Quawanda had come in that morning, demanding more hours; his daughter Kizzy wanted him to hire one of her friends, and Debbie Dublachon wanted more hours now that school was almost over.

He'd been looking over the employee records, trying to decide who would get what they wanted and who would lose. Terry was his longest employee and rarely complained, but she was on the low end of the totem pole when compared to his daughter or Debbie.

"Kind of busy, Terry; can it wait?" he barked, hoping to scare off any demands on her part.

"Um, no, um, not really," she whispered, tears springing to her eyes.

She hurriedly told John what she and Paula had practiced.

"Thirty... Wow, Terry!" John exclaimed. "Damn, girl, what are you doing in here? Go! You say you start tomorrow? Fuck, don't worry about it, no, no, you don't owe me a two weeks notice, shit, don't worry about it; I'll give you the best recommendation they ever call me for a referral."

John gave Terry a quick hug, promised to have her last check ready on Friday, and breathed a sigh of relief.

Paula smiled as Terry opened the car door.

"Here; I waited for you but damn it was hard!" she said, handing Terry a spoon.

"Here," Paula said, holding out a spoonful of the gooey mess.

"Terry opened her mouth and Paula fed her the ice cream treat.

Terry smiled in spite of the tears and scooped up some of the mess and fed it to Paula.

"Next time," Paula whispered and gave Terry a quick kiss. "We're getting this to go. I bet we could really have some fun with this at home, huh?"

"Ah!" Terry said, holding her mouth open. "Less running your mouth and more feeding me, huh?"

They fed each other the ice cream until the large bowl was empty, and then kissed each other, giggling about their cold tongues.

"Can you...?" Paula asked, putting one of the three cherries in her mouth and then spitting out the knotted cherry stem.

"Oh! How'd you do that?" Terry asked, astonished.

Paula smiled and shrugged her shoulders.

"Easy, Terry. Remember? I'm a whore," Paula smiled and nodded in appreciation as Quawanda came over to retrieve the tray.

"Oh hey, girl! What you doing?" Quawanda exclaimed to Terry. "This your friend?"

"Yeah, this is Paula; Paula, this is Quawanda," Terry smiled.

"And in case you're wondering, I only gave her a two dollar tip," Paula smiled as Quawanda skated away.

"Good thing; Quawanda's all about money," Terry smiled.

"Terry, EVERYTHING'S all about money," Paula smiled.

Chapter 12

Terry was still groggy, but Paula was wide awake, chattering into her cell phone, reciting numbers and dates.

"Back there," Paula directed Terry and Terry parked in the spot Paula had indicated.

"Okay, Sonny; we're here," Paula said and ended the call.

"Ready?" Paula asked.

Terry wondered where Paula found the energy. They'd staggered into the condominium at two thirty in the morning after Paula worked all night at the Dead End Bar, smoked a couple of joints (Paula said she needed to relax, unwind) then made love for nearly an hour, licking and sucking at each other's kitty cats. Then, Paula dragged Terry out of bed at seven o'clock, dragged Terry into the shower; finger fucked Terry to a shuddering orgasm, then made Terry fuck her too.

Paula fixed them breakfast, then dragged Terry back upstairs where Terry did Paula's hair and make up. Paula's strawberry blonde hair was done so that half of her long hair was tied up in a bun, but the rest of her hair flowed loose and free. It gave Paula a serious, yet feminine look.

Paula was dressed in a severe black suit of skirt and jacket, with crisp white blouse. Her pumps were conservative three inch heels and matched her purse and belt exactly.

"And..." Paula said, pulling out a pair of black rimmed eyeglasses.

"God, you're beautiful," Terry sighed as Paula slipped the spectacles on.

Paula had laid out Terry's soft gray skirt and crisp white blouse, black flats and black belt. Terry had delighted in putting on the smoke gray stockings first, and wearing only the stockings while she did Paula's hair.

"You too," Paula smiled. "Would love to get a kiss for good luck, but don't want to take a chance on messing up our make-up."

"Ready?" Paula asked again and again, Terry wondered where Paula got her energy.

She nodded and they got out of the Escalade.

Both Paula and Terry paused in front of the doors of the building, inspecting the patchwork to the previously damaged doors.

The new doors slid open soundlessly and again, both women looked at the door frame.

"Heard that cop drove the van right through, and then jumped out the back and..." Paula whispered.

"I know!" Terry whispered back.

Terry smiled as they were ushered into a conference room; Sonny Lambert and Michael Trahan, their dates from Friday night. Next to Sonny was a woman that appeared to be in her mid to late forties. The woman was beautiful with the type of beauty that only comes with maturity, and seemed to radiate power and authority.

"Ms. Dayton, this is Sophia Coutre, my boss; Sophia, this is Terry Dayton; Paula's new personal assistant," Sonny made the introductions.

"Sophia is my attorney; she is the best in the business," Paula concluded the introductions.

"It is a pleasure to meet you," Sophia said with a sincerity that could not be imitated. "A good personal assistant is worth her weight in gold, isn't she?"

Terry was saved from having to respond; she was tongue-tied in the presence of the woman by the arrival of the board of the First Union Bank. Introductions were made, and then everyone took a seat and waited for someone to speak first.T

Terry looked across the table at Joseph Marcoloni, the Chief Operating Officer and wondered about the smirk of disdain he wore. He had not taken his eyes off of Paula from the moment the board had entered the room, and from time to time, would glance down at Paula's chest, then back up to Paula's face and the smirk would increase slightly.

Finally, Henry St. Martin, the Chief Executive Officer cleared his throat.

"Well, that concludes the 'Telepathy exercise' portion, so why don't we get to the rest of the meeting?" he said, which broke the ice and made a few of the people actually chuckle.

Paula, after receiving a nod from Sophia, launched into her presentation. Sonny and Michael hoisted a scale model of the St. Elizabeth Trauma Center onto the table and Paula outlined what duties and functions each floor of the five story structure would perform.

"We know there is a need for this facility; the nearest facility at present is University Medical Center, in Lafayette; the second nearest is Idlewood in Port Allen. Lafayette is forty miles away and Port Allen is forty three miles away," Paula continued.

Terry rapidly scribbled on a pad; Henry, the C.E.O. was interested. Joe Gaudet, the Chief Financial Officer and Treasurer was also interested. Becky Dumas, the Secretary was definitely interested. The Chairperson of the Board of Trustees, Jonas Hale, appeared to be bored out of his mind, which didn't surprise Terry; he barely looked old enough to shave, much less be sitting in a board meeting.

And Joseph Marcoloni seemed to have a real prejudice against Paula; the man rolled his eyes, smirked, and looked amused and again looked from chest to face to chest again, not bothering to hide his actions.

"Yes, yes, we did look over the feasibility studies and the projections you forwarded to us," Henry said and nodded to Joseph, who slid a disc across the table to Paula.

"We have a counter-proposal that we'd really like for you to consider," went on.

"Y'all couldn't find a cover for this?" Terry asked, picking up the disc.

"What?" Paula, Sophia, and Henry asked, looking over at Terry.

"Oh, fucking great," Sonny hissed to Michael. "Using Paula for whatever she can get and now she's going to fuck this all up."

"I mean, really," Terry went on. "We're talking about millions of dollars; y'all couldn't find a cover for this? Cover costs what? Ten cents? You just give us a disc, no cover, no label? We're supposed to just hope it doesn't get lost in all the other discs we might have?"

"Terry...." Paula hissed.

"And why are we even here?" Terry went on. "Premier in Elgee is offering us two point seven one ..."

(Terry was actually surprised she remembered that little tidbit from eavesdropping on Paula's cell phone conversation with Sonny earlier that morning.)

She picked up the disc again.

"And unless they've dropped their points, First Union is asking for three and a quarter," Terry continued.

(Another fact she'd overheard.)

"Terry..." Paula warned.

"And that's it," Sonny said. "Fuck if she understands any of this but will make damned sure Paula comes out on the short end."

"No," Henry said. "Miss Dayton; you're right. Ms. Lambert, my apologies. Joseph, please gets a jewel case for the CD, and make sure it's labeled correctly; we certainly wouldn't want Ms. Lambert to misplace our information."

Joseph let his displeasure be known as he jerked to his seat and stomp out of the room.

"Ms. Dayton, coffee?" Henry asked, getting to his feet.

"Oh yes sir, what do you take in it?" Terry asked, getting to her feet.

"No, no ma'am, I was asking if I might get you a cup," Henry chuckled.

"Oh no sir, that's not..." Terry protested.

Paula quickly pulled Terry back into her seat.

"Let him," Paula hissed to Terry.

"Um, cream and sugar please," Terry said.

"Nothing but a user, I swear," Sonny hissed to himself.

"Worth their weight..." Sophia murmured.

"Ms. Dayton is right," Paula said as Henry put a cup of coffee in front of Terry. "Premier has offered us a slightly better rate, but I really, well, WE really did want to keep it in St. Elizabeth Parish and..."

"Thank you," Terry said to Henry, who smiled down at her and patted her shoulder.

Joseph came back in and tossed the disc cover onto the table. It clattered noisily and stopped just out of Terry's reach.

"Joseph!" Henry barked, outraged at the man's rude behavior.

"Oh, come on, Henry!" Joseph snapped. "Come on! That woman? She's nothing but a fucking stripper! The whore gives lap dances down at the Dead End! And we're sitting here, pretending we're thinking about financing some little pipe dream of hers?"




Explanation of Love 02



"A pipe dream that will not only provide a needed service but employment for the people of Bender, DeGarde, and Baylor Lake," Sophia defended.

"She's a whore, Henry, a whore!" Joseph snapped. "Quit looking at her tits and start looking at what she is, huh?"

"I think we're done here; thank you," Sophia stood up.

"Joseph, you may leave now," Henry snapped. "I expect your resignation no later than five o'clock this evening."

Henry turned to Sophia.

"Ms. Coutre, please sit. We have some very serious negotiations to discuss, wouldn't you agree?" Henry said, walking back to his chair.

"Beginning with Ms. Dayton's observation of the interest and percentage points," Henry continued, clearing his throat.

"I love you," Paula whispered as Terry reached for the disc cover that Joseph threw onto the table.

"Ms. Dayton, don't bother with that," Henry said. "These new negotiations render the information contained on that disc obsolete."

"Yes sir," Terry said, sitting back down.

"Ms. Dayton?" Joe Gaudet said, after the board and Ms. Lambert had reached a tentative agreement.

"Yes sir, Mr. Gaudet?" Terry asked.

"I want to tell my wife I'm thinking about buying a new motorcycle," Joe smiled. "You come with me and do your magic on her?"

Paula laughed out loud at Terry's consternation.

"But all I did was..." Terry protested.

"La Scalia's for lunch," Sophia declared.

"Come on, Ms. Dayton," Paula said, ushering Terry out of the room.

"We'll follow y'all there," Paula called out to Sophia.

Terry unlocked the car and got in. Paula got in and stopped Terry before Terry could start the car.

Paula closed her door, turned in her seat and stared hard at Terry. Terry looked at Paula, blue eyes open, unaware.

"If you EVER do that again, I will kill you and Sonny and Michael will help me bury your body, do you hear me?" Paula said.

"Do what?" Terry asked, baffled.

"Open your mouth! You're a personal assistant! You're supposed to be fucking invisible! No one's even supposed to know you're there; you're just there to do what I tell you," Paula yelled.

She then grabbed Terry and pulled the girl close.

"And I love you so much! We were about to lose their financing; there was no way in Hell Henry could have gotten Jonas and Joseph on board and a sixty percent vote would have killed the deal."

She kissed Terry passionately.

"You fucking nailed it! Even Jonas pulled his useless little head out of his ass," Paula said and kissed Terry again.

"God damn; you're worth every penny I'm paying you, that's for sure," Paula said, and then buckled up. "Come on; I'm hungry."

Sophia, Michael, and Sonny were already seated when Paula and a chastened Terry joined them.

"I am feeling so magnanimous, I'm not even going to put this on your expense account, Ms. Lambert," Sophia laughed. "Ms. Dayton, thank you so much for joining us. And please tell me, you're not the salad and bean sprout type."

"She's not; she's a real woman, with a real appetite," Paula assured Sophia.

"That she is," Michael agreed.

"After lunch, I'm going to see if Sonny wants to come back to the condo; why don't you see if Michael's available for a little..." Paula hissed to Terry while their wine was being poured.

Terry looked sharply at Paula.

She was hoping the two could go home, could get out of their business clothing, and either curl up on the couch and watch a little television, or put on the stereo and do a little dancing, or, cuddle up on the bed and make love. Paula had to work that evening; Terry knew she would be Joining Paula at the Dead End and would have to sit and wait for hours while Paula danced, or took men to the back for private dances. 

She was hoping for some alone time.

Paula didn't notice the sharp look Terry was giving her; she was whispering in Sonny's ear how much she wanted his hard cock in her. Sonny had to apologize; he had a deposition scheduled for three that afternoon.

"Is Michael...?" Paula asked Terry.

"Don't know; I didn't ask him," Terry replied and stared at her menu.

As it was, Michael was fretting about being away from his computer any longer than absolutely necessary so declined Paula's invitation.

"Well, I guess it's just you and me, then," Paula whispered to Terry.

"And that's all I wanted," Terry whispered back.

A moment later, Terry felt Paula's hand on her thigh. She reached under the starched white table cloth and touched Paula's hand. Paula gripped her hand tightly and did not let go of Terry's hand until their calamari appetizer came.

"Love you," Paula whispered.

"So, Ms. Lambert," Sophia said as they stood outside after their meal. "Any plans to continue your um, career as an entertainer?"

"Next week is my last week there," Paula admitted. "I've already told Miss Rosy, but the others don't know."

"And you better not tell them either," Paula warned Terry.

"Oh, Ms. Dayton, are you a dancer too?" Sophia asked.

"No ma'am!" Terry denied quickly, almost shocked that this elegant, sophisticated woman would think that of her.

"No ma'am," Paula laughed at Terry's consternation. "Terry is my personal assistant but she sometimes comes with me to the bar; never know when I'll need her to run an errand for me, you know?"

"Don't tell him," Sonny nudged Sophia, nodding toward Michael, who waited impatiently by her luxury sedan. "But right before we left, I unplugged his computer monitor."

"Shame on you!" Sophia laughed and shook Paula's hand firmly.

She then turned and shook Terry's hand firmly.

"Ms. Dayton; a real pleasure and I hope we'll see a lot more of you in the future," Sophia said. 

"You need to watch her," Sonny warned Paula. "That's all I'm saying."

Paula waved off Sonny's warning and followed Terry to the Escalade.

Terry drove them home, and in a rare show of assertion, dragged Paula up the stairs to their bedroom.

"Let me..." she said softly and pulled Paula's hair out of the bun.

Paula began to shrug out of her jacket, but Terry stopped her.

"Let me," she said slightly more firmly.

Terry slowly undressed Paula, hanging up the clothing as she went. When she had Paula down to just panties and stockings, she smiled and hugged her lover.

"I'm glad Michael and Sonny couldn't make it," Terry admitted and softly kissed Paula's lips.

"Oh yeah?" Paula smiled.

"Yeah," Terry said and slid Paula's panties down her legs.

"And why's that?" Paula asked.

"Because I wanted to make love to you; kind of hard to do that when they're here," Terry admitted.

Terry knelt and slowly rolled Paula's stockings down, pausing to kiss Paula's legs as more and more of Paula's flesh was exposed.

As soon as Paula's legs were bare, Terry gently pressed her tongue against Paula's wet slit.

"Oh, my God, Baby!" Paula shuddered, putting a hand on Terry's head to balance herself.

Terry found Paula's clitoris, licked it and then bit down lightly.

"Oh, God!" Paula cried out as an orgasm welled up and spilled over.

"Now, lay here," Terry ordered, pulling Paula to the bed.

Paula smiled softly as Terry quickly removed her own clothing.

"That was..." Paula whispered as Terry clambered onto the bed, sending it rocking crazily.

Terry silenced Paula with an aggressive kiss. Her small hands cupped Paula's large breasts, pushing them together.

"Mmph!" Paula moaned as Terry took one of Paula's large nipples into her mouth and sucked hard on it.

"Oh, Terry!" Paula groaned as Terry teased that nipple, then released it and took the other nipple into her mouth.

Terry teased and sucked Paula's nipples until Paula was writhing, then pushed her wet pubic mound against Paula's wet pubic mound.

"Ahh!" Paula cried out as an orgasm overtook her.

Terry's own orgasm came shortly afterward.

Afterward, Paula lay her head on Terry's chest.

"I don't like it when you yell at me," Terry said softly, playing with Paula's hair.

"What?" Paula asked, nearly asleep.

"When we went to lunch," Terry said. "You yelled at me."

"Terry, you really shouldn't have done what you did," Paula said gently.

She picked her head up and looked into Terry's innocent eyes.

"What was I supposed to do?" she asked. "Spank you?"

"Ooh, would you really?" Terry asked, smiling playfully.

"Terry, I'm not talking about your little birthday spanking," Paula warned.

"Uh huh, show me," Terry cajoled.

"Okay," Paula giggled, sitting up and rolling Terry toward her. "How many spankings you think you deserve for..."

"Ten," Terry decided as she settled herself across Paula's muscular thighs.

"Ten?" Paula shrilled. "Terry! We're talking about millions of dollars and you just open up your big old mouth and butt in? Ten?"

"Twenty," Terry said.

"That's more like it," Paula agreed and rubbed her hand lovingly over Terry's tight ass.

Paula raised her hand, but really couldn't bring herself to strike Terry.

What followed were twenty light little slaps to Terry's buttocks, twenty slaps that did little but make noise.

"There, now I hope you learned your lesson," Paula said, rolling Terry off of her thighs.

"What time you go in?" Terry asked, pulling Paula toward her.

Chapter 13

Terry's Escalade did attract quite a bit of attention, parked outside of Darkira's Hair College. The gleaming black paint and dark tinted windows made the other automobiles look shabby in comparison and made the building itself look quite dilapidated.

Inside of the building, Terry was nervous, apprehensive, excited.

Next to her, Paula looked over the brochure and the application form.

"So if you have any questions..." Darkira Assad intoned.

"I do have a few," Paula said, still reading through the brochure.

"Yes?" Darkira said, waiting.

"Nine weeks? In order to receive certification in the state of Louisiana, you have to receive no less than six months training; how can you do it in nine weeks?" Paula asked, putting the brochure down.

"Oh, well uh, see, it's not really SIX MONTHS, it's how many HOURS training, see? So my students get the hours they need in nine weeks, right?" Darkira said, smiling, revealing two gold teeth.

"There are eleven hair salons, beauty parlors, barber shops and nail salons in DeGarde, seven in Bender, three in Baylor Lake three more in Flowers and Kimble has four," Paula stated, counting them off on her fingers. "Add them up; that is ..."

"See? There are plenty of opportunities for..." Darkira smiled.

"Of those twenty eight in the immediate DeGarde area, how many of those currently employ Darkira graduates?" Paula asked, taking the application and moving it out of Terry's reach.

"Oh well, those records are confidential, you see? Darkira said.

"Oh, I'm not asking you to name them; I'm just asking you to put a number on it," Paula smiled.

"I'd have to..." Darkira stammered.

Some of the students that were just standing by their empty stations were paying attention now. The instructor, Darkira's niece, tried to distract them.

"Ten? Fifteen?" Paula asked.

"See, it's like..." Darkira said.

"Less than ten? Five?" Paula said, getting to her feet.

"I'm not exactly..." Darkira said.

"The actual number, Ms. Assad, is two," Paula smirked. "Waggamon's on Highway fifty two; she does nails; they won't let her do anything else. Emily's on Forest Park is the other salon; the girl does the shampooing; Miss Emily is currently retraining her herself." 

"I uh..." Darkira stammered.

"The 'high placement' you brag about in your brochure? You're including all of your students that currently work at McDonald's, Popeye's and the Circle K down the street," Paula said, taking Terry's hand and pulling the girl to the door. "Nope, don't think we'll be going to your school, Ms. Assad. But you have a nice day."

"Paula, what are we...?" Terry asked, almost in tears.

"Let me drive," Paula smiled reassuringly.

"Yo bitch, nice wheels," an African-American man said, flexing his muscled arms.

"I'm talking to you," the man said as Paula opened the driver's door.

"I said..." the man said, grabbing Paula's arm.

A strike to the man's wrist removed the hand from Paula's arm. Paula swept her foot out, taking the man's feet out from under him.

She rested the heel of her shoe directly on the man's crotch.

"My name?" Paula said. "Is not 'bitch' and I don't give a flying fuck if you're talking to me or not; I got nothing to say to you. You ever put your hands on me again, get ready to start sucking Satan's cock because putting your hands on me will be the last fucking thing you do on this earth, feel me, dog?"

"Best sleep with one eye open; all I got to say to you," the man sneered.

"Yeah, whatever, I am so fucking scared, pussy," Paula laughed mirthlessly.

Paula got into the Escalade and drove off.

After a moment, Terry asked in a small voice, "What are we going to do now?"

"Going to Capital, in Elgee," Paula said easily. "But first; ever eat at Bombay's? In Kimble?"

"No, I meant about me getting training, Paula," Terry sniffed back her tears. "I mean, Darkira's don't need for me to have no High School Diploma and..."

"Terry, the woman is a fraud! Nothing but a fraud! And I was listening to that instructor; she was telling them how to do a perm and half of what she was saying was wrong!" Paula said.

Paula pulled onto Highway 19 and drove north.

"Plus that Terry, you notice you and me were the only spots of salt in that building?" Paula asked. "I mean, you do need to learn how to work on blacks hair, but where you going to learn how to do a white person's hair? They damned sure can't teach you."

Paula pulled up to Bombay's and shut off the engine. She turned and looked at Terry.

"Hey," she said quietly, wiping a tear from Terry's cheek. "I promised you I'd get you training; I promised you I'd help you open that salon, didn't I?"

"Yeah," Terry whispered.

"And have I lied to you yet?" Paula asked softly.

"No," Terry agreed.

"Then, come on and give me a kiss," Paula demanded.

Terry leaned over the console and Paula cupped Terry's pitiful face in her hands.

"It will be all right," Paula whispered and kissed Terry softly.

Hashim fawned all over the two attractive women and had Terry smiling softly within moments. He only left their table after three new arrivals entered the restaurant.

"Ah, Mr. Paul! Oh, you bring Miss Cindy and Miss Pam to see me? You good man, Mr. Paul," Hashim loudly greeted Paul Robichaux and Pam Broussard and Cindy Broussard-Robichaux.

"Oh, that's my contractor," Paula said, giving a friendly little wave to the man.

"He's cute," Terry agreed.

"Uh huh and so totally devoted to those two women you can't pass a piece of paper between them," Paula smiled and put her menu down.

She leaned close to Terry.

"He's remodeling my condo; I'd just finished my period so I'm as horny as a goat and I walk out of my bathroom, totally nude, like I didn't know he was there?" Paula recounted.

"Paula!" Terry hissed."

What? I told you, I'm a whore!" Paula smiled at her friend's scandalized expression.

"Anyway, he doesn't even stop what he's doing, just starts telling me about his girlfriend and how they've been together ten years and she just had a baby and after that I just got dressed and left him the fuck alone," Paula finished the tail.

Paula leaned closer to Terry.

"Then I find out, he's also got the other one too; all three of them are lovers and all three of them live together and I'm like, 'well no wonder he didn't want me; poor bastard's exhausted!'" Paula laughed her musical laugh.

Terry let Paula order their lunch; it was second nature to her. Paula set out her clothes for her, fixed their breakfast, and made their schedules for the day. If Paula forgot to set out panties, Terry didn't wear panties that day.

"You'll absolutely love it," Paula assured her as Hashim scurried away.

"Ms. Lambert, how are you?" Paula asked, standing next to their table.

"Paul, how many times I got to tell you?" Paula fussed playfully. "It's Paula. Hell, that should be easy enough even for a Coon ass like you to remember, huh?"

"Uh huh, hi, Paul Robichaux," Paul said, extending his hand to Terry.

"Terry Dayton," Terry said, shaking his large, calloused hand.

"My personal assistant," Paula smiled proudly.

"Oh, you poor woman!" Paul smiled playfully. "Believe me; I know what a whip cracker this one can be!"

"Oh give me a break," Paula laughed.

"Just wanted to say 'hi' and let you know, I got the specs on the building," Paul smiled and returned to his seat.

"Yeah, I'd walk out the bathroom nude too," Terry agreed and she and Paula shared a giggle.

Terry had to agree; she did absolutely love the soup, the vegetable appetizer, and the lamb dish that Paula had ordered for them. The rice pudding was a perfect end to the delicious meal.

Hashim fawned all over them and tried to make them promise to come back soon.

"God, is he always like that?" Terry asked as she unlocked the door of the Escalade.

"No," Paula smiled.

She got into the passenger seat and laughed.

"Sometimes he's worse," Paula admitted. 

Terry drove north on Highway 19. When she crossed over Highway 54, Paula gave her directions.

"Slow down," Paula ordered and Terry slowed to a crawl.

"Yep, still looks the same," Paula said as they passed Elegante. "See Vince's still driving that douche bag Hummer of his."

"Want to go in?" Terry asked, preparing to pull into the parking lot.

"Nah; seen one titty bar, you've seen them all," Paula smiled and gave Terry directions to Capital Cosmetology Training Center.

Paula led into the building, took a sniff and turned to Terry.

"See? THIS is what a salon should smell like," she declared. "Not like someone's greasy ass lunch bag like that Darkira's place."

"Say that word in this place again and I'll have security remove you from my life forever and ever, you hear me?" an effeminate black man simpered. "You must be Paula Lambert, right?"

"Right," Paula smiled and shook the man's offered limp hand.

"What word?" Terry asked.

"Darkira; oh I cannot even believe no one has shut that horrible, evil witch down!" Louis Horner screeched. "And you must be Terry, my newest protégé?"

"Yes sir," Paula agreed.

"Oh, Honey, you are gorgeous," Louis said, slowly walking around Terry. "Oh my; Honey, why aren't you in Hollywood?"

"Because I found her first," Paula smiled.

"Well, come on Honey; Hollywood's loss is my gain," Louis smiled and led them into the salon area.

The tour of the entire facility took nearly an hour, with Louis rattling off what each station or classroom was for and what would be expected of Terry.

"Now, I understand you'll be signing up for our afternoon classes; they start at one and I do mean one. I do not mean ten minutes after one, I do not mean 'oh, I had to stop and get myself something to eat' after one, I mean one o'clock. You cannot get your ass here by one o'clock; you better have a good excuse. 'My Momma just died' is one excuse I MIGHT accept," Louis said.

"How much?" Paula asked.

Louis named the cost for the first month of training.

"No, I mean for the entire course," Paula said.

"No, no, no, no, no! Pay for one month! If she's good enough, then pay for the rest of it! Do you know how much work it is for me to have to write out a refund if you decide you just don't want to do it?" Louis shrilled.

"How much?" Paula smiled.

"Oh my God!" Louis sighed. "First, I have to find my checkbook and I don't even know where it is. Then I have to find my calculator, then I have to subtract all the days she did show up, then I have to figure out what days she missed; you do get charged for those, you know, and then..." 

"Well my God!" Paula said. "Certainly wouldn't want to put you through all of that!"




Explanation of Love 02



"Oh, thank you; I knew you'd understand," Louis said.

"Do you take American Express?" Paula asked.

"Oh yes I do, and even better than that," Louis said and paused for dramatic effect. "So does C.C.T.C."

"Louis, you are so bad," Paula laughed.

"And I'm very good at being bad," Louis smirked.

"See?" Paula said as they left the building. "THAT'S a professional training center. Not that God-awful..."

"Don't," Terry laughed. "Say that word and he'll have security come and throw us out."

Paula glanced at her watch.

"Got about five hours before I go in; oh, you coming with me?" Paula asked.

"Of course," Terry smiled and got into the passenger seat.

"Why don't we go home and..." Paula asked, easing the hem of Terry's skirt up, stroking Terry's leg.

"Okay," Terry readily agreed.

"Aw, shit; Maggie's there," Paula suddenly remembered. 

She glanced at her watch again.

"She's just now getting there too; no way's she finished yet," Paula sighed.

"Oh well," Terry sighed.

"Ever made love in the back seat before?" Paula asked.

"No," Terry admitted.

Paula drove as quickly as she could, without attracting the attention of Elgee's police force; speeding tickets was their top money maker.

"So where are we going?" Terry asked as Paula's hand edged her skirt up higher.

"Home; Maggie doesn't clean the garage," Paula smiled, reaching Terry's pussy.

She playfully tugged at Terry's pubic hair.

"Aw, Terry; you forget to put on panties?" she asked.

"You didn't put any out," Terry reminded her.

Paula tugged at Terry's blonde tuft.

"Damn it!" Paula complained as she approached their condominium. Maggie's battered Oldsmobile was parked directly in the center of the driveway, effectively blocking either entry to or escape from the garage.

"Damn!" Terry whined, close to orgasm.

Paula had tired of tugging at Terry's hair and had taken to lazily flicking a fingernail over Terry's swollen clitoris.

"Oh, well, guess we'll just have to wait until tonight," Paula said and took her hand away from Terry's pussy.

"Bitch!" Terry yelped, only a few more strokes away from coming.

"Aw, what's the matter, Terry?" Paula teased.

Chapter 14

Terry didn't really want to, but Paula had insisted that she flirt with Milt Duhon, the man she'd hired to cook for their party. Paula had actually suggested Terry go beyond flirting; Paula wanted her to seduce Milt.

The thirty four year old man was their next door neighbor; the Escalade Terry drove had actually been his wife's car. He had laughed and told Terry that Queenie had never looked quite as good driving it as Terry did.

"Look, Sonny's going to be here and..." Paula had whispered.

Terry struggled into the cut off denim shorts and snug half shirt.

"Oh, come on, Paula," Terry whined when she saw the four inch heeled pumps Paula took out of the closet for her.

She didn't want to say it, but the shorts and cropped top would make her look like a slut. The four inch heels would cement that appearance.

"Whoops!" Paula laughed as they heard the doorbell chime. "He's here!"

"Fine, fine," Terry sulked as she slipped the shoes on, and then skipped down the stairs.

Hey, Terry," Sonny greeted her brusquely, nearly pushing her out of the way. "She upstairs?"

"Yeah, just fished doing her hair," Terry said to his back.

Terry didn't understand Sonny's demeanor; they'd been friendly when they'd gone out for her birthday. He'd been very friendly when they'd gone out for Paula's birthday and had made love to her while she made love to Paula.

She'd even given him her anal cherry; Paula had talked her into it.

Personally, Terry had not enjoyed anal sex all that much; it was painful and was quite dirty. But both Paula and Sonny had been very excited by it, so she endured it.

But, ever since that day at the bank, the day of the board meeting, and Sonny's attitude toward her had shifted to where he was cool toward her, almost cold.

Terry moved to close the door.

"Whoa, whoa, don't close that door," Terry hear their neighbor call out.

"Hey!" she pasted a happy smile on her face. "I been waiting for you!"

"Oh yeah?" Milt smiled.

"Yeah," Terry said and gave him a feather light kiss.

He stood at five feet, ten inches, taller than most Cajun men. His hair was a dark brown, cut short, his skin was the ruddy brown of being outdoors much of the time, and his eyes were muddy brown. Milton Duhon's smile was gleaming white against all the brown. His one crooked tooth made him all the more attractive to his many female viewers.

He was wearing his trademark black polo shirt and olive green khakis and black suede belt and loafers.

In his muscular arms, he clutched a box that clanked and clattered with the pots and pans he would be using to prepare their feast.

"Yeah; Paula says I'm to do whatever you want me to do," Terry said, resting her fingers on his muscled bicep.

"She did?" Milt smiled playfully.

"Uh huh," Terry nodded her head.

"Whatever I want, huh?" Milt asked.

Terry smiled playfully and nodded her head.

"And you are dressed for it," he commented.

Terry blushed; she knew that her ass cheeks hung out of the shorts and any movement in the wrong way would expose much of her breasts and the four inch heels weren't helping her maintain a defensive posture.

She closed the door and followed Milt into the kitchen. She ran smack into his back when he stopped short.

"You have a gas cook top?" he said, voice rising in excitement.

"Uh yeah; the oven's over here," Terry said, pointing.

"You have a gas cook top?" Milt asked again.

He put the pox on the counter and ran his hand over the five burners. He smiled and turned to Terry, who was leaning over, looking into the box he'd brought with him.

"I have an all electric kitchen; hate it. Just something wrong about electric cook tops, you know?" Milt commented.

"Uh huh," Terry agreed and quickly picked up the spray bottle.

Courtney narrowed her eyes but jumped down from the table before Terry could squirt her.

"And..." Milt said and turned the oven on to begin pre-heating it.

"So you're my little helper today, huh?" Milt asked as he dug out two large cutting boards and two lethal looking knives from the box.

An hour later, Paula skipped into the kitchen, dressed in cut off denim shorts, checkered halter top and black five inch heeled sandals.

"Hey, how's it going?" she asked, putting an affectionate arm around Milt's waist.

"I want me a gas cook top yeah," Milt demanded.

"Really?" Paula asked, looking at the stove. "Okay; I'll call Paul tomorrow, have him come out and put one in for you."

She skipped over to where Terry was chopping up chicken livers.

"What's that, never mind, I don't want to know," she asked, putting her hand on one of Terry's buttocks, giving it an affectionate squeeze.

"Love you," she whispered into Terry's ear, and then kissed Terry's cheek.

Paula then skipped out of the kitchen. A moment later, Terry heard music coming from the living room.

"Aw yeah, that's perfect yeah," Milt praised as he peered over Terry's shoulder. "Now, you cut up them onion and bell pepper and we good to go."

"Smells good," Terry complimented as Milt opened the oven to check the standing rib roast.

"We right on time," Milt said as he started cooking the rice.

When Terry finished chopping the onion, bell pepper and celery, Milt helped her prepare the appetizers.

He leaned close to her and she could smell the smells of spices, onions, sweat. She was sure she smelled the same; they'd both been cooking for an hour.

The invitation said the party began at 11:30 am with dinner to be served at 12:30 pm.

At 11:30 am precisely, the doorbell rang.

"Bet that's Cheryl; bitch is always right on time for anything," Paula called out over the music.

"Sure fire way to find out," Milt called back.

"Yeah?" Paula asked.

"Yeah, go open the door," Milt responded.

"Gee, you're so funny," Paula smirked.

"Hey!" Cheryl chirped, and then narrowed her eyes.

"Who did your hair?" Cheryl asked through gritted teeth.

"Duh, who you think?' Paula asked. "Hi Peggy; how's it going?"

Peggy Morrison waddled her six foot, three hundred pound bulk into the door, none too gently urging Cheryl ahead of her.

"Terry!" Cheryl shrilled.

"God!" Terry complained, coming out of the kitchen. "What?"

"You do my hair like that, right now, or I will never ever speak to you again," Cheryl demanded, pointing at Paula's head.

"Really? You promise?" Terry asked.

"Oh!" Cheryl gasped. "And you do Peggy's like yours, you hear?"

"Cheryl, I don't want..." Peggy snapped.

"No, no, look, look at how cute she is!" Cheryl protested, cuddling up to the behemoth.

"Jesus, whatever, you annoying little bitch," Peggy said, shoving Cheryl away. "Where's the bathroom?"

"Same place it was last time we was here," Cheryl snapped.

Peggy raised a meaty paw to strike the much smaller Cheryl but Cheryl easily sidestepped the blow.

"God damn; y'all ain't even been here five minutes y'all are already starting?" Paula spat.

"Fuck; she knows I'm just playing," Peggy spat, waddling to the small bathroom.

"Now, come on; do my hair," Cheryl demanded.

"Cheryl, my hands smell like onion," Terry whined.

"No, no, come see," Milt said, beckoning to Terry.

"See, this coffee soap? Take the smell right out of them hands," Milt encouraged, digging a bar of the black soap out of his box.

"Ew, feels weird!" Terry complained as she scrubbed with the soap.

"Uh huh, but it work yeah," Milt laughed.

"Okay, you brought your own brush?" Terry asked as she dried her hands on a dish towel.

Paula directed them to the downstairs bedroom, which had been converted into their exercise room. Cheryl sat on the padded bench and Terry made fairly quick work of styling her long black hair into a close approximation of Paula's 'casual' tease.

"Look, Peggy," Cheryl shrilled, leaving the room without telling Terry 'thank you.'

Terry just shrugged and dropped Cheryl's brush into her purse.

"Whiney little bitch says do me now," Peggy demanded, lumbering into the room.

"Oh, okay, sure," Terry said, looking through Cheryl's purse for a band to hold Peggy's hair into the loose pony-tail.

She worked quickly; Peggy gave off some very angry vibes and made Terry very uncomfortable.

Looking closely at the large woman, Terry could tell that, at one time, Peggy Morrison had been a very pretty woman. But nearly one hundred and fifty extra pounds, hard lines, and permanent scowl had removed much of the traces of Peggy's former beauty.

"Yeah, that is cute," Peggy sullenly agreed, looking at herself in the wall to ceiling mirror that covered the entire east wall of the room.

"And what I like about it; it is super easy. Just pull the band out and you're right back to just natural," Terry said. "Since most of it is just hanging..."

"Thanks," Peggy snapped and got off the bench.

"Welcome," Terry replied.

"Terry!" Paula called out from the living room.

"Yeah?" Terry asked, entering the living room.

"Darlene's here; find out where she plans on sitting and get the saran wrap, okay?" Paula teased as the red head stood in the living room, looking around.

"Aw, fuck you, bitch!" Darlene laughed. "I didn't come here to be insulted!"

"Oh?" Paula asked, putting an affectionate arm around the woman. "Where do you go to be insulted?"

"My mother's house," Darlene admitted, returning Paula's friendly hug.

"Heard that!" Paula agreed. "Want something to drink?"

"Diet coke, you got it," Darlene said. "Damn, Paula, this is nice."

"Aw, you ain't never been here before?" Paula asked, fixing Darlene's drink at the bar.

"No; I mean, I dropped you off that one night, but I was in a hurry," Darlene said.

"Well I'll give you a quick tour," Paula offered, leading Darlene to the stairs.

The doorbell rang and Terry answered to find Kenyata and a sullen looking African-American male with her.

"Hi, come on in," Terry said.

Kenyata and the man entered without even responding to Terry's friendly greeting.

The man immediately went to the stereo, which was playing some of Paula's CD collection, put it on 'FM' selection and found a Rap station playing out of Baton Rouge. He also increased the volume and adjusted the stereo to pump mainly out of the sub-woofer.

"Excuse me!" Paula snapped, switching the stereo back to 'CD' selection and re-adjusting the volume and sub-woofer feed. "This is not your house; you do not just come on in and put your hands on other people's things!"

"Aw, hey, fuck! Aw no, it's you?" the man spat, glaring at Paula.

"It's me what? Yeah, it's my house and we were listening to my music," Paula snapped, beautiful face twisted in anger.

"Aw, no, I'd have known it was your party I'd have told my girl 'fuck no, we ain't going to that stuck up cracker bitch's house," the man spat.

"Listen, 'homey,'" Paula hissed. "Don't know what your problem is, come up in my house acting all ignorant and shit, then want to call me 'bitch?' I don't think so."

"Delight," Kenyata said.

"What?" Delight spat at her.

"You need to chill, n*gga," Kenyata warned.

"Any more of his shit; I ask you to leave," Paula warned Kenyata. "I'm ask real nice but it ain't going to be nothing nice, hear?"

"Fucking bitch acting like she don't even remember me," Delight complained to Kenyata as Paula stomped away. "I'm checking in with my boys, tell her she got herself some fine wheels and she just goes all off on me and even kicks me."

Terry remembered Delight as the arrogant young black man that dared grab Paula as they were leaving Darkira's Hair College.

"Hey, Terry, we're about ready to start serving the appetizers, okay?" Milt smiled from the kitchen doorway.

"Oh, yeah, yeah," Terry stammered.

Before Terry could join Milt in the kitchen, the doorbell rang again.

"Hey," Shelley, a slightly chubby brunette came in.

"Hey; where's your boyfriend?" Terry smiled, ushering in the dancer.

"Had to go to his Mommy's," Shelley made a face.

"Has to go to his Mommy's house every Sunday, eat Sunday dinner with his mommy or she'll just wither up and die," Shelley went on. "Fuck! Told him, Aaron! You're thirty nine years old! When are you going to quit running over there every time your mommy calls?"

"Oh well, glad you're here; you get the door next time it rings?" Terry asked.

"Yeah, why? Queen Kenyata too busy to do it?" Shelley asked.

"Man, this is some cracker ass music, huh?" Delight complained to no one as 'Pubic Fruit' by Curve played.

"Aw yeah, that's what I'm talking about!" Shelley whooped as 'Blindfold' began to play.

She began to swivel and gyrate. Delight got to his feet and tried to dance with Shelley, who just stopped dancing and walked away from him.

"Hey, Cheryl, what up, girl?" Shelley called out as Cheryl and Peggy walked from the dining room to the bar.

"Aw, no! She invited you too?" Cheryl teased.

"Yeah, that's what I said when she told me you were coming," Shelley agreed.

Terry served the appetizers, making sure to offer Kenyata and her sullen escort first pick. She yelped as Cheryl playfully cupped Terry's crotch from behind.

"Cheryl!" Terry squealed.

"Now how you know it was me?" Cheryl asked, face a mask of innocence.

Shelley let Tita, Tita's brother Raoul, Amber and Amber's creepy old boyfriend, Glen Simone in, then playfully tried to shut the door on Kirsten and Kirsten's boyfriend, a fellow member of N.A., Brian.

"Bitch," Kirsten laughed and pinched Shelley's buttock.

"Don't get nothing started you can't finish," Shelley warned.

A few moments later, Milt announced that dinner was ready.

"Terry, over here," Paula said, indicating a seat to her right at the head of the table.

"But I'm helping Milt with the dinner," Terry protested.

"Baby, Milt can get it," Paula assured her.

Sonny raised his eyebrows at Paula in an unspoken question.

"What?" Paula asked.

"She's sitting... Where am I supposed to sit?" Sonny asked, his displeasure evident.

"Here," Paula indicated the chair to her left.

"Oh," was his terse reply.

"Paula I can sit..." Terry said, trying to placate the man.

"Sit, Terry," Paula ordered.

"The red wine is from a friend of mine in Crowley; makes his own," Paula said, pouring a glass for Terry without asking Terry what she wanted to drink. "He's from 'the old country;' that's what he calls Italy. He and his wife bottle about a hundred bottles every year. Those of you that don't drink wine, there is iced tea."

"Iced tea for me, please," Kirsten called out.

"Everyone, this is Milt Duhon; he is..." Paula introduced the man as he came into the formal dining room, carrying the tray of the thinly sliced rib roast.

"You're that chef guy!" Amber drunkenly shouted out. "The one on Channel Twelve!"

"Yep; that's me," Milt smiled easily.

"The one worked with that slut Vee Aucoin," Amber followed up.

"Hey! Amber!" Paula called out. "That's not very nice!"

"She's actually a very sweet girl and that was just for a one week promotion," Milt said.

"Well what you call some ho runs around with her ass all hanging out and shit?" Amber sneered.

"Most of us call her 'Amber,'" Paula said.

"That's different!" Amber protested over everyone's laughter. "I get paid to..."

"And so does she,"Paula replied. "Anyway, this is Milt Duhon; he is a professional chef, so I know today's meal will be excellent."

"I'm not a professional chef; I'm just some smuck likes cooking," Milt protested as he served the guests.

"Oh, my God; this is the absolute best thing I've ever..." Shelley moaned around a forkful of meat.

"Shelley, I was going to ask Sonny to say the blessing, THEN we can eat," Paula said.

Sonny gave a very quick blessing as Milt took his seat.

"I want this recipe," Kirsten demanded as she tasted the dirty rice.

"It's on the Channel Twelve web site," Milt told her. "I understand you're the head chef at the Dead End? Tell me what you think of the summer squash casserole, huh?"

"This ain't cooked," Delight declared.

"It's medium rare; rib roast is supposed to be served either rare or medium rare," Milt calmly told the surly man. "Personally, I do not care for rare, so..."

"Ooh, I want that recipe too," Kirsten said.

Paula listened in on the conversations going on around her. She did try to engage Sonny in conversation but he gave her either grunts or one word answers. So, she chatted with Terry.

Then she looked around.

"Son of a..." she spat and got to her feet.

"Excuse, e, party's down here," Paula called out as Delight stepped onto the second floor landing.

"Oh, I uh, I was just looking for the bathroom," Delight said.

"Right here, right by the stairs; can't miss it, door's wide open," Paula snapped.

Delight swaggered down the stairs, brushed by Paula and slammed the door to the bathroom.

Yo, Kenny, you and your boy need to tell everyone good bye," Paula announced from the doorway of the dining room.

"What? Why?" Kenyata asked. "I'm eating!"

"Caught him going upstairs; ain't nothing up there for him," Paula said. "Guests in my house, being all sneaky and shit? No, no, y'all just go on, get your asses out of here."

"Aw, that dumb ass n*gger; I done told him 'Paula ain't playing," Kenyata snapped, getting to her feet.

Delight rudely brushed past Paula as he entered the dining room. Paula grabbed him by the collar of his tee shirt and yanked him backward.

"Y'all are leaving," she calmly said.

"Tell you like you done told me, 'don't be putting your hands on me,' bitch," Delight snarled, shoving at Paula.

Paula blocked his shove and again swept his feet out from under him.

"Never learn, huh, pussy? Yeah, that's right, I recognize you; you the dumb ass mother fucker thought he was all bad out front of Darkira's," Paula sneered as her guests gasped.




Explanation of Love 03



Chapter 17

Miss Helena herself took on the role of mentoring Terry as the young woman began her service in the very exclusive salon.

She liked the girl; she was polite, warm, and friendly. She treated all with respect, from the very wealthy client that came once a month for pampering and care, to the client that had scraped and scrimped and saved just enough to splurge on a new hairstyle that they'd never be able to get anywhere else.

Each client of Terry's got a small 'Miss Helena's' bag with sample cosmetics, hair treatments and one of Terry's business cards. The other hair stylists were very choosy about whom they would give these bags to.

Terry always dressed in skirts and dresses, never in slacks or jeans, and always in four or five inch heels, never in tennis shoes or flip-flops. Miss Helena was a stickler for looking professional; she'd often sent a girl home to change into more appropriate clothing. Terry exceeded those expectations.

Miss Helena peered over Terry's shoulder as Terry worked on Mrs. Schaub. Mrs. Schaub was from one of the wealthiest of families, had been living in the exclusive South Side of Baylor Lake for all of her life, and was rarely civil with anyone; others were beneath her, in her humble opinion. 

"There you go, Mrs. Schaub," Terry said, giving a final tousle to the old woman's hair. "Is that to your satisfaction or is there anything else I can do?"

"No, no, I suppose that will do," Mrs. Schaub sniffed, lip curled in a sneer.

"Ma'am, what else can I do?" Terry asked, resting a hand on the old woman's shoulder. "I really would like for you to be satisfied with my work."

"No, no, it's fine," the woman said and indicated the sheet that covered her.

Terry removed the sheet, making sure to not let any errant hairs fall onto Mrs. Schaub's dress or shoes.

"Do you um, do you do children's hair, Ms. Dayton?" Mrs. Schaub asked, getting to her feet. "It's almost time for my granddaughter to get her first hair-cut; I'd like to bring her in for you to cut it."

"Oh how wonderful!" Terry said. "I'd be delighted! Just make the appointment with Heather, all right?" "Merry Christmas."

Miss Helena backed away and listened as Mrs. Schaub made an appointment for the two year old grandchild.

"And please add a twenty five dollar tip for Ms. Dayton," Mrs. Schaub ordered Heather as the girl ran Mrs. Schaub's credit card.

"Excuse me?" Heather squeaked.

Miss Helena smirked; she'd never heard Mrs. Schaub ever give anyone a tip, believing that the girl should be thrilled with the opportunity to serve her.

Terry finished cleaning her station and looked; she had another twenty five minutes until her next appointment.

She wished she had not quit smoking three years ago; she had nothing to occupy her hands, her mind for the next twenty five minutes.

But she forced herself to walk around the salon, checking to see if anyone else needed any assistance.

Terry returned to her station and looked again at the clock. She now had twenty one minutes until her next appointment.

Miss Helena smiled at her and Terry returned the smile, even though she didn't really feel like smiling.

She missed Paula, missed just being with her.

It wasn't the sex; she had her two vibrators for that. She missed curling up with Paula on the couch while they watched TV, even though Paula had extremely boring taste in television. Paula liked old movies, or Fox Business or Fox News.

Terry missed dancing; Paula would put on some soft music, take Terry in her arms, and dance her around the living room; Paula leading.

She missed going to the Dead End just because Paula was going into Wings withdrawal.

She missed Paula laying her head on her chest and falling asleep like that.

Her apartment was a nice one; just off Highway 27 in Baylor Lake. The furniture had come from Acclaimed Furniture Outlet, a small store in Lafayette, Louisiana. She had carefully looked at each piece, ignoring the very aggressive salesman, asking herself 'is this something Paula would have in her apartment?'

Her car had come from 'The Church of The Used Car And Salvation;' it was a small, non-descript Kia. Just like the furniture salesman, the Reverend Smith had been counting on his profit to come from the financing. His face had actually flushed with anger when Terry wrote out a check for the full amount.

Paula had protested when Terry refused to keep the Escalade.

"But I bought that for you!" Paula sobbed.

"I'm sorry, Paula, but I can't keep it," Terry had said, fighting her own tears. "Every time I got into it; I'd think about you."

"But I want you to think about me," Paula sobbed, clinging onto Terry.

"Believe me; I will, each and every minute of each and every day," Terry whispered into Paula's ear, losing the fight against her tears.

Moving out of the condominium and into her own place had been a real eye opener for Terry; she had no idea where to go to get the electricity turned on. She had no idea how to switch her cell phone plan ; Paula wanted to continue to pay, but Terry refused.

Thankfully, she had Marlene and Charlene helping her. The twins had pulled a few 'midnight moves' when they were about to be evicted from one apartment, moving into another one to start their ninety day cycle all over again. They would put down the deposit and the first month's rent, then would not pay the second or third months rent and spend several weeks avoiding the landlord.

"Don't y'all ever get tired of that?" Terry asked; they were on their third apartment in the short time she'd known them.

Marlene simply shrugged.

Terry looked at the clock again and wondered what Paula was doing.

Terry smiled when Heather told her of the tip Mrs. Schaub had given her. Then she looked at the clock again. Seventeen minutes until her appointment.

She hoped Paula was happy with Sonny.

She hoped Sonny was making Paula happy. Paula needed to be hugged often, needed to be kissed often, needed to have her long strawberry blonde hair brushed often.

Paula was an extremely intelligent and extremely driven woman, but Paula needed light touches, soft words to validate her worth.

Terry hoped Sonny was validating Paula.

"Hope you don't mind; I'm a few minutes early," the young girl asked.

"Not at all," Terry smiled brightly.

She ignored the faded bargain brand jeans, the cheap flip-flops and the ill fitting top the young woman wore.

"Let's see; you've got good hair, would probably benefit from a hot oil treatment, nice color, a few highlights would really 'wake' that hair up," Terry said, running her hands over the girl's head.

She swiveled the girl around and looked into the girl's nervous eyes.

"But, why don't you tell me what you want; why are you here today?" Terry asked.

"I'm in that stupid Christmas play; I'm the Virgin Mary and my momma said I need to get my hair done," the girl admitted.

"The play at Baylor Lake High School?" Terry asked.

"Yeah, the one those ass holes are protesting," the girl admitted. "They're all 'this play is trying to force religious views down the throats of our children' and stupid shit like that; I mean, where do they think the name 'Christmas' comes from?"

"Don't have to tell me," Terry smiled. "I mean, I'm not super religious, but even I understand what Christmas is all about."

"And it's not like we're making people go see it," the girl continued.

Terry started heating the oil for the hot oil treatment.

"Um, hey, um, how much this going to cost?" the girl whispered, embarrassed.

"One forty," Terry said. "Um, when you made the appointment, they didn't tell you that?"

"Yeah, just making sure," the girl said. "But when you started talking about hot oil treatments and highlights and stuff..."

"Ma'am," Terry said, looking into the girl's eyes. "My clients receive the very best I can give them; it's what they are paying for."

Heather waved Terry away from the client.

"Terry," Heather whispered. "You know that hot oil treatment's thirty dollars extra.

"She's an eighteen year old girl ," Terry whispered back. "Believe me, she'll remember this day for the rest of her life; she'll tell all of her friends all about it, and every time she has a few extra bucks, she'll be in here. Take the hot oil out of my account."

"Just making sure," Heather said, resting a friendly hand on Terry's arm.

Terry flinched when Heather touched her. Paula used to touch her like that, resting a loving hand on her as she made a point. Or just touching her to be touching her.

"Ma'am?" Heather asked the girl. "Would you like a coffee? Water? Maybe a coke?"

"I um," the girl stammered.

"Ma'am, it's on the house," Heather assured the girl.

"Coffee, please," the girl said, trying to act grown-up.

"Sugar and cream?" Heather asked as Terry began to apply the oil to the girl's long brown hair.

"Yes ma'am," the girl said.

Heather smiled and added an extra teaspoon of sugar to the coffee.

"Perfect, the girl said after taking a sip of the too sweet beverage.

Heather did pull up Terry's account and began to charge the thirty dollar hot oil and the forty dollar blonde highlight treatment against Terry's pay schedule.

"No ma'am," Miss Helena said, hand on Heather's shoulder.

She leaned close to Heather.

"I heard what she said and she's right," Miss Helena said. "That girl's going to remember this day forever. Reverse the charges out."

"Yes ma'am, Miss Helena," Heather said.

"You're Miss Helena?" the girl asked, looking over her shoulder as Terry massaged the oil into her scalp.

"Yes ma'am," Miss Helena smiled at the girl.

"I just want you to know, you've got the best staff ever," the girl beamed.

"Well, thank you so much," Miss Helena said, fighting down her laughter.

Of course she had the best staff; Miss Helena would only hire the very best to work for her. And even as her newest employee, Terry Dayton was quickly becoming the top stylist in the shop. Her genuine soft and gentle nature however kept the other stylists from exploding in jealous rages, which they were prone to do with one another.

"Now, are you satisfied with this," Terry asked an hour and a half later swiveling the girl around to look at herself in the mirror. "Or is there anything else I can do?"

"Oh my God!" the girl gasped as she looked at herself in the mirror.

"Ma'am?" Terry asked as the girl stared at herself.

"I'm going to be the hottest fucking Virgin Mary ever!" the girl declared.

"Well, that goes without saying," Miss Helena smiled. "But are you satisfied with Miss Dayton's work here?"

"Yes ma'am," the girl agreed.

"Should have done a 'before and after' picture of her," Heather said as the girl left the salon, clutching her 'goodies' bag tightly.

"Excellent work, Miss Dayton; but then again, I do expect that of you," Miss Helena said.

"Thank you, Miss Helena," Terry smiled and looked again to see when her next appointment was due.

She wished again that she had not quit smoking. Terry hated the taste of cigarettes, the smell, especially the smell it left on her hands and in her mouth, but she wanted something to do.

"Miss Dayton?" Terry heard a girl squeak and looked up. 

Her client stood in front of her, goodies bag still clutched tightly to her chest.

"Yes, something wrong?" Terry asked, ready to assist the young woman with her coat.

"No, no ma'am," the girl smiled widely. "No, I um, I just wanted to give you these."

She held out two tickets for the school play.

"Oh, well thank you so much!" Terry said, accepting the gift.

"I got you two of them; bring your boyfriend," the girl jiggled happily.

"Again, thank you so much," Terry said and the girl ran back out of the salon.

"Aw!" Heather said. "That was so sweet!"

Terry's appointment came in, shrugging out of her expensive leather coat. Rather than wait for Heather to escort the woman, Terry went to greet her client.

Terry decided to take Heather with her to the play; she'd received an invitation to Paula's Engagement Party and just did not want to be alone. She also did not want to disappoint her young client by not showing up.

Heather obviously thought it was a date; she rested her head on Terry's shoulder, clutched Terry's arm in hers.

Bethany, the young client, had obviously rehearsed and rehearsed well; she did not miss a cue, executed her lines flawlessly, and even had tears come to Terry's eyes when she spoke of carrying the Lord with the humility of a servant.

Terry did not want to, but Heather cajoled her into going backstage to tell Bethany how much they'd enjoyed the play.

"Ah!" Bethany gasped, delighted to see Terry. "Polly! Jada! Come see! This is her! This is the woman done my hair!"

Suddenly Terry had a horde of teenage girls around her, clamoring for their chance to be her client.

"Girls, girls; it is not cheap," Terry cautioned them as she handed out her business cards to the girls.

"You, um, you do guy too?" the young man that had played Joseph asked.

"Yeah, but I charge extra to do beards," Terry teased, handing him a business card.

"Oh, no, no ma'am, it comes off. See?" the boy answered, showing Terry how it was stuck to his face with double sided tape.

Terry was glad she brought extra cards in her purse; she handed out nineteen of them before she and Heather left the high school auditorium.

"So, what you want to do now?" Heather asked, huddled against Terry to stay out of the harsh wind that blew in from the Gulf of Mexico.

"Go home," Terry admitted. "Take these shoes off, sit back with a glass of wine..."

"Okay!" Heather readily agreed.

Terry stopped and looked at Heather. Heather stood on her tiptoes (she was five inches shorter than Terry, and much shorter than that as Terry had on five inch heels) and gave Terry a soft kiss on her lips.

Terry fought against the tears; the four foot eleven inch Heather, with her slender body and short blonde bob was not Paula and could not hope to replace Paula.

There was no love, at least not on Terry's part. Heather was just a warm body that was accessible.

"You need to let your mom know you're going to be late?" Terry asked as she poured two glasses of wine.

"I um, I told her I probably wouldn't be back tonight," Heather confessed.

Terry did not catch the implications, did not catch that Heather had already planned on having sex with Terry that night.

"Love your place," Heather said, looking around.

"Thanks," Terry said, handing her one of the glasses of white wine.

Terry put the tray of crackers, fresh fruit, and cheese wedges onto the small coffee table, took a seat on the small couch, and took off her pumps.

"Oh, that is so much better," Terry sighed, wiggling her toes.

"Here, let me," Heather offered and sat on the floor.

She took one of Terry's feet and began to rub the foot slowly, sensuously.

"That is good," Terry groaned.

"How about..." Heather asked and sucked Terry's big toe into her mouth.

"That tickles," Terry giggled.

Heather took her wine glass, took a mouthful of wine, then again sucked on Terry's toe.

Chapter 18

"T. Dayton," Selena intoned as she answered the telephone.

She said 'Dayton' with a French twist; 'day TAWn,' with the 'n' being nearly silent.

"Yes ma'am, Miss Dayton does have an availability for two o'clock next Thursday, the eighteenth; is that satisfactory?" Selena asked.

She listened for a moment.

"Well, ma'am, I can add your name to the 'Cancellations' list; if we have a cancellation we'll call," Selena offered.

"Very good, Mrs. Richards, thank you," Siena said and pressed the button, ending the call.

Terry pressed a button on the wall of her cubicle. Salinas the light on her computer screen and nodded. The young woman got to her feet and approached Mrs. Schaub.

"Mrs. Schaub? Miss Dayton is ready for you now," Selena said.

"It's about time," Mrs. Schaub grumbled, even though Terry was actually fifteen minutes early for the woman's standing Second Tuesday of the month eleven o'clock appointment.

Mrs. Schaub did not pay any attention to the seven other stations in the long room, did not pause to admire the soft muted pastel colors, did not acknowledge the seven other hair stylists, all dressed in pink and white knee length dresses and white lab jackets.

"Mrs. Schaub," Terry greeted the woman, grasping both of her wrinkled hands and giving her an air kiss on each cheek.

"I don't know why you had to move so far away," Mrs. Schaub again voiced her disapproval.

"I was pretty limited in finding a building large enough to accommodate my business, with ample parking for my clients," Terry again explained why she'd moved into the Baggett Building.

"This used to be that old mattress factory?" Mrs. Schaub asked again, now taking the time to look around.

"Yes ma'am; pretty smart of them, how they set it up," Terry said, easing the difficult woman back so that she could wash the woman's hair.

"I bet Miss Helena was sorry to see you go," Mrs. Schaub said, offering her version of a compliment.

Actually, Miss Helena had threatened a lawsuit against Terry.

"You signed the 'Non-Competition' clause!" Miss Helena shrieked when Terry turned in her two week's notice. "Five years! It says you can't do no hair for five years!"

(In times of stress, Mona Rubenstein, a.k.a. Miss Helena let her Brooklyn Jewish upbringing slip out.)

"Actually, Miss Helena," Terry smiled sweetly. "I never did sign it. Remember? I said I wanted my lawyer, Sophia Coutre look at it? She advised that I not sign it, so I didn't."

Miss Helena let loose with a string of profanities and Yiddish that shocked many of her clients and actually caused two to cancel their appointments and leave the facility.

"But I promise, Miss Helena, as much as I do want to, I will not take any of your staff with me," Terry offered.

"Like they'd ever leave to work for an ungrateful little bitch like you," Miss Helena 

Heather made her decision; as much as she was sure that she was in love with Terry, she'd seen three other employees leave Miss Helena's, only to return a few weeks later, begging to be rehired. Laughed.

Terry was actually relieved; she knew she did not love Heather and some of the things Heather did or wanted to do sickened Terry.

Terry finished rinsing the conditioner from the woman's hair, used her hands to squeeze the excess water, than grabbed a warmed pink and white towel and gently blotted the woman's hair.

She assisted the woman up, then walked her to her chair.

"Actually, Mrs. Schaub," Terry said, picking up her comb. "I did very much appreciate my time with Miss Helena's; she's a great woman to work for, and I met several great people there. I don't know if she was sorry to see me go, but I do know I was sorry to go."

Mrs. Schaub sniffed; she had expected nothing less than Terry's diplomatic and professional response. Miss Helena had not been as professional and had tried to foist Mrs. Schaub onto another stylist. It had been Heather that had given Mrs. Schaub the telephone number for T. Dayton.

(And if Miss Helena had witnessed Heather's act of disloyalty, Heather would have been discharged immediately.)

"Oh, my daughter said she's bringing Maggie in; I swear, that child won't get her hair done by anyone but you," Mrs. Schaub complimented as Terry applied the final spritz of hairspray.

"I know; she's such a sweetie, too," Terry praised.

Before pressing her 'available' button, Terry walked around to check on the other stylists and their clients.

Terry had to smile a sad smile; her few months as Paula's Personal Assistant had truly taught her a great deal. She benefited from Paula's four years of undergraduate and two years of graduate work. Her first stop had been to Sophia Coutre, to present her plan. Three hours later, she staggered from the woman's office, head reeling.




Explanation of Love 03



"See you next Monday; I've already penciled you in for eight thirty," Sophia smiled warmly.

"Ms. Coutre, you charge three hundred an hour; I can't afford..." Terry protested.

"And then we'll go to First Union; Heidi Moek is our first stop," Sophia continued over Terry's protests. "Don't worry, I'll bet she'll be our ONLY contact once she sees your feasibility study and business model."

The twins, who were now squatting in Terry's apartment while they tried to find another place to live, looked up expectantly as Terry entered.

"Well, did you get it?" Marlene asked.

"Yeah, and we're going to be your first employees, right?" Charlene added.

"Not yet; but as soon as I do..." Terry promised.

Now, walking around the salon, her dream come true, Terry looked in on Marlene and smiled as her male client, a very shy, sweet eighteen year old, tried to peek down Marlene's dress, without being obvious about it.

Charlene used a hand held mini-vac to clean up her area, smiled at Terry, and punched her 'Available button.

"Miss Dayton?" Selena called out.

"Yes?" Terry frowned.

The reason she'd installed the button system was she did not want loud voices distracting the clients or stylists. The shop was to have a professional and sophisticated elegance. Shouting was not elegant.

"She's out there again," Selena whispered loudly, hearing the disapproval in Terry's voice.

"Who, oh! Her!" Terry said and strode rapidly to the front door of the shop.

But when she got to the door, the mysterious woman was gone.

"Long strawberry blonde hair?" Terry asked, re-entering the shop.

"Yes ma'am, kind of heavy set, I mean, she's got a real pretty face and..." Siena agreed.

"Thank you, Selena," Terry smiled sadly, glanced out the plate glass window, but did not see any sign of the woman.

"Bethany!" Terry greeted her client.

"Miss Dayton!" Bethany smiled.

"Come on back, I'm ready for you now," Terry smiled.

"Miss Dayton," Bethany said, flopping into the chair. "I'm real sorry, but his is the last time I'm seeing you."

"Oh?" Terry said, fitting the sheet around Bethany's throat. "Found someone else?"

"Like I could!" Bethany said. "No ma'am; I'm moving to Hollywood; my older brother's out there and he said he can get me some background work and maybe even a few walk-ons and..."

"Any actress can act like a stuck-up bitch," Terry said quietly. "How many you think act nice?"

They spent the next thirty minutes in silence.

"Oh, how's your friend, oh, what was her name, Jada?" Terry asked as she was giving Bethany's hair a final comb through.

Of the nineteen cards Terry had handed out to Bethany's classmates ate Christmas play, Jada had been the only one that had not balked at the one hundred and forty dollar charge.

"Ew!" Bethany curled her lip up. "Her? She's all like 'I'm so gay!' and living with that girl Heather; the one you brung with you to the play?"

"Oh?" Terry asked.

Terry wondered if Jada was into urination, was into fisting. Heather had, in Terry's eyes, some very vulgar tastes.

Heather had also professed to love Terry, but Terry could not bring herself to profess love for Heather. It was hard for Terry to feel love for anyone when she had her fist inside of their pussy, hard for Terry to love someone that had urine dripping off of her face.

"I mean, I'm like 'ew! I changed clothes right in front of you and everything!" Bethany protested.

Terry thought about admitting to Bethany that she had been in two homosexual relationships then decided against it. The girl was still a girl and probably wouldn't be able to accept Terry's admission.

Bethany approved of Terry's handiwork and Terry unsnapped the sheet.

"Remember, treat everyone as if they're special and they'll always remember you," Terry said, accepting the girl's hug. "Be a bitch to them and they'll forget you as soon as you're out of sight."

Terry watched the girl walk to the front of the shop, then looked past the girl to the plate glass window and caught a glimpse of long reddish blonde hair. She knew, though, by the time she got to the front, Paula would be long gone.

Six hours later, Terry locked the door behind Trudy and Trudy's client, a middle aged woman that had wasted a great deal of time selecting 'just the right color' for her drab brown hair.

The computer did most of the work in tallying up the day's totals. Terry reconciled that tally with the charge receipts and frowned. Selena had accepted two personal checks, even though she knew T. Dayton's did not accept personal checks.

"If any of these bounce..." Terry threatened under her breath.

Paperwork done, all appliances turned off, air conditioner turned to seventy eight degrees, Terry locked up the shop, checked the parking lot carefully, then walked to her dependable, non-descript Kia.

She again checked all around before getting in her car and driving home.

Home was a small two bedroom home; she'd bought it from a very nice real estate agent that said it had belonged her daughter before the daughter adopted two children and married a fellow police officer.

"Yeah, moved her into the house right next door to us," Carmen Davis laughed.

"Aw!" Terry smiled.

"Yeah, got the three grandchildren from my oldest girl living right across the street, and the two from my youngest living next door; what could be better?" Carmen said. "Now, I don't know if you noticed, but these atrium doors..."

Terry was lucky to snap the home up when she did; more and more doctors and nurses began flooding the neighborhoods in Bender, DeGarde and Baylor Lake, as well as Kimble and Flowers. Within months, homes that had sold for thirty five thousand began selling for seventy and eighty thousand. Apartments that had rented for three fifty now rented for six or seven hundred.

Terry smiled as she pulled into her driveway; Kirsten's battered tank of a car was parked on the street which meant she was visiting the twins; who were, once again, in between places to live, especially with the way rent had shot up.

"At least I'll get something to eat," Terry said as she parked under the carport.

She could hear Alberto, her full sized white poodle, barking as she approached the kitchen door. When asked where she got the name 'Alberto' for a French dog, Terry just shrugged. The name had just come to her and he seemed to like it just fine.

"Hey," Terry greeted Kirsten, who was cooking something, as she entered the kitchen.

With a 'woof' Alberto greeted her and Terry just stared in shock.

The dog was no longer white; someone had dyed him bright, neon pink. The curly tuft at the top of his head was the only thing that was still white.

"Alberto! What in the.... Marlene! Get in here!" Terry screamed.

"I told her not to do it," Kirsten said.

"How'd you know it was me?" Marlene entered, laughing.

"What in the world?" Terry screamed. "God damn it! Please tell me that will wash out?"

"Well yeah, but in about two or three weeks it should fade," Marlene said, losing her smile.

"Where did you, my bathroom! Please tell me you didn't..." Terry yelled.

With that, she marched into the small bathroom.

"I told you..." Charlene hissed at her sister. "But Nnoo!"

Remnants of Marlene's fun could be found everywhere; there were even a few specks of pink dye on the ceiling when Alberto had shaken himself dry.

"You and your sister really need to find another place to live," Terry thundered, slamming the door to the bathroom.

"Way to go, dumb ass," Charlene screamed at her sister.

"I told you not to do it," Kirsten reminded them.

"I am going for my run; I do not want to talk to any of you right now, I am just too God damned mad, Terry snapped, carrying Alberto's leash.

Alberto, excited to go on his nightly run with his Mistress, barked happily.

"My poor baby," Terry said, clipping the heavy leash on him. "Come on."

Alberto adjusted his stride to match Terry's and they jogged steadily through the peaceful neighborhood. 

Alberto growled when they passed one house; the owner had owned a pit bull and had actually sent the dog to attack Alberto, thinking it would be funny.

Terry, however, did not think it funny and put the pit bull down with a single shot between the beast's eyes.

At Sophia Coutre's urging, Terry had applied for, tested for, and received a permit to carry a concealed weapon. She had done this immediately after beginning the paperwork on her business. Her Smith & Wesson .38 snub nose fit very handily in her side holster.

The police were called out and, while they were sorry for the man's loss, the pit bull was not on a leash, had charged at Terry and Alberto, and Terry had every right to defend herself and her property.

Alberto and Terry finished the jog, a five mile round trip from drive way to drive way, with no incidents and a sweating Terry and panting Alberto staggered into the kitchen. Alberto went immediately to his water dish and slurped loudly.

"Terry, I'm..." Marlene tried to say.

"Shut up, Marlene, just shut up," Terry snapped.

"Pot pie's in the oven," Kirsten said, looking up from her favorite television show.

"Great, I'm starved," Terry said, staggering to her bedroom to change into her night time wear of tee shirt and nylon running shorts.

Chapter 19

"Talk to me, Baby," Sonny implored as Paula listlessly flipped through the channels on her television.

"About what, Sonny?" Paula asked flatly, not looking at him.

"About what's bothering you," he said, trying to grab the remote control out of her hand.

"Son of a bitch!" he cursed as she twisted his arm away from the remote control.

"What do you mean, Sonny?" she barked angrily. "Huh? What do you mean?"

"Baby, something is bothering you; our wedding's in three weeks, we should be happy, we should be getting closer together, but it just feels like we're getting further and further apart," Sonny whined.

Paula felt miserable, felt bloated, uncomfortable. Her clothes were all too snug; she'd had to replace every piece of her sexy, stylish wardrobe with drab, functional clothing.

She hated looking into a mirror and seeing the nearly forty extra pounds looking back at her. She couldn't get her hair to act right, and couldn't put on enough make-up to cover up the flabby, puffy face that looked back at her.

Sonny, she was sure, had meant well, but she really resented him signing her up for a year membership at Shapes Fitness Center.

Outside of her physical appearance, Paula was lonely.

Despite every roadblock and pitfall, the St. Elizabeth Trauma Center had finally opened and employed two hundred and ninety four people. It provided a much needed service to the DeGarde area. Each day presented new challenges, new failures and new successes.

Paula was the acting Chief Executive Operator of the hospital and was the President of the Board of Trustees, who all assured her, at the second Board Meeting; she would be confirmed as the C.E.O.

Paula was engaged to be married to a man that most women swooned over; he was tall, blonde, handsome, and wealthy. He was an intelligent man, had moments when he could be thoughtful, compassionate (she knew the membership to the gym was not meant as a slight, but as a loving gesture).

She had even added a fourth cat to her brood; a Russian blue Himalayan long haired beast named Bruce Lee.

The first night they had him, she determined she had named him right. Janet Jackson tried to show Bruce Lee that she was Queen and she ruled the roost. A few missing clumps of fur later, Janet decided she didn't need to rule the roost.

She saw and greeted hundreds of people a week, and knew most of them by name, but Paula knew that very few of these people were her friends and very few of these people regarded her as a friend.

Grant Johnson did not allow himself to be wooed away from Young Insurance so Paula hired her mother, Sherri Lambert to oversee the mountain of insurance paperwork. The most Sherri had ever made as a salesperson was twenty nine thousand, so a salary of thirty four thousand was too good for her to pass up.

"When the President's Affordable Health Care Act kicks in..." Sherri shrilled, overwhelmed by the forms that had to be filled out.

"...It'll be even worse," Paula assured her. "Quit drinking the fucking Kool-Aid the Democratic Party keeps giving you and open your eyes, Sherri."

"Oh no," Sherri said smugly. "You just wait and see."

RJ Lambert finally cut his stringy mop but insisted on keeping his lop-sided mustache. Paula hired him to work Housekeeping and when he complained about that, put him on Grounds keeping.

"Hi, Mr. Menendez," Paula cheerfully greeted the head of Grounds keeping. "This is my brother, RJ. Mr. Menendez? If I see him stop, even if it's to pee, you're fired. Got it?"

Pedro Menendez looked at Paula and smiled, showing a few rotted teeth.

"Yes ma'am, don't worry; he won't stop. I got a wife and four girls to feed," Mr. Menendez promised.

At work, lonely or not, Paula was in charge, was in control.

But she hated having to come home.

"Baby, please, talk to me," Sonny again implored.

"Fuck, Sonny!" Paula screamed. "God! I had a shitty day, okay? Is that all right? Can I have a shitty day? Can I just come home and relax? Do I need to get your permission to just come home and relax?"

"No," Sonny snapped back. "Honey, you have a shitty day, you come home and you talk to me about it; you get rid of it. You don't just keep it all inside."

"I'll be back," Paula snapped, lumbering to her feet.

"Where are you going?" Sonny snapped.

"Out," Paula said.

Sonny had bought her a 2013 Mustang Boss 302 for a wedding present, Ruby Red with pearl gray interior. Paula had shaken her head at his foolishness; never ever buy a new car. It depreciates the minute the tires touch the street.

Reluctantly, Paula gave up her BMW for the Mustang, but refused to give up the truck.

She stood, looking from truck to car, trying to decide which one to drive.

The muscle car won out and she eased her bulk into the seat.

But, when she put up the garage door, Sonny's truck was, once again, blocking her in.

Rather than having to go back in and talk with him, she decided to take the truck instead.

Paula drove aimlessly, stereo turned up to a deafening level, so that she didn't have to think.

A flash of pink caught her eye and she looked, then burst out laughing. Someone had dyed their dog neon pink. That person was out, jogging with the happy beast, showing them off.

Then she slammed on the brakes; it was Terry. She would recognize that beautiful rear end and those lovely legs anywhere.

Terry was even more beautiful now, out in just a ratty old tee shirt, worn, frayed shorts, and tennis shoes, long blonde hair in a simple pony-tail.

Someone tapped on their car horn and Paula slowly drove away, but not before seeing Terry run with the animal up a driveway.

Outside of the house, she recognized Kirsten's battered Chrysler New Yorker; the rear driver's side door still bashed in where Kirsten's ex-boyfriend, Brian had fishtailed the car into a telephone pole. There was the twins' rust riddled Nissan, and a ordinary Kia under the carport.

Paula looked at the address on the mailbox, memorized, it, then turned the stereo down to a less assaulting volume and drove off.

She slowly drove home and backed the truck into the garage.

Sonny was sitting on his recliner when she entered. He glared at her, but his glare melted when she took his hand and pulled him to his feet.

"Come on," she said and pulled him up the stairs.

He did not protest as she slid his sweat pants off and sucked his cock until he was ready to come.

"Hey!" he whined as she pulled her mouth off of his throbbing cock with a 'Pop' but quickly sighed when she jerked his cokck, aiming it at her face.

"Oh!" he sighed as jet after jet of his semen decorated her face.

"Sperm has too many calories," she stated; aiming his cock away from her mouth.

"What brought that..." he started to say, when she lowered her wet pussy to his face.

Paula managed a weak orgasm in a few minutes, but thankfully, Sonny's cock was hard again.

She mounted him and rode him until he filled her pussy with his second orgasm.

Sonny lay, gasping for breath. Paula rolled off and played with his limp cock and balls, until he finally pushed her hand away and staggered for the bathroom.

He relieved his bladder and remembered to put the toilet seat down again after he finished.

Sonny smiled as she playfully slapped him on the ass as they passed. Sonny did not notice that Paula shut the door to the bathroom when she entered; he simply crawled into the bed and shoved Bruce Lee aside. The damned cat seemed to think that Sonny's pillow belonged to him.

An hour later, Sonny stirred slightly when Paula slipped into the bed next to him.

Within moments, he was again snoring. Paula laid next to him, wide awake, tears streaming down her face.

Chapter 20 

Marlene was right; the dye did wash out and Terry woke up to the sight of his pure white face next to hers in the bed.

"Alberto; get!" Terry commanded, which just elicited a bark from him.

"Come on, mangy beast; Terry grumbled, dragging the spoiled animal out of her bed and out into the back yard for him to do his business.

"I hate you up in the bed like that; rotten dog," Terry grumbled as she pulled him back into the house.

"Why don't you just shut your door?" Charlene asked, scratching her rear end, unmindful that this raised the hem of her tee shirt up, exposing her bald slit.

"Then he paws at the damned door and whines and barks until I let him in," Terry explained.

Alberto pressed his cold wet nose to Charlene's upper thigh, which made her shriek. 

Terry laughed as she fixed Alberto's breakfast., then fixed her own breakfast of one toasted English muffin with a generous slathering of marmalade and a cup of yogurt.

"So how'd your date go last night?" Marlene asked, stretching on tip toes to reach a coffee mug.

Terry watched Marlene's slim buttocks and shook her head. Both Charlene and Marlene ate sugar laden meals with incalculable amounts of carbohydrates, did no exercise whatsoever, and yet both still had the bodies of twelve year olds. That was further emphasized by the fact that both girls waxed their pubic mounds clean of any hair at all.

"Went all right, I guess," Terry shrugged.

Dr. Wilson Williams had picked her up in his BMW and pursed his lips when she failed to react to the expensive automobile. 

He then drove her to Radcliffe's and smiled when she declared "Oh, I love this place!"

His smile faded when the Maitre'd greeted her warmly and agreed to seat them in Matthew's section.

Wilson's smile did not return as the waiter greeted his date warmly and agreed to have her usual meal ready immediately. Dr. Williams was almost an afterthought to the waiter.

"Um, come here often?" Dr. Williams asked.

"Yes," Terry said easily. "It's one of my favorite places."

"How can a lowly hairdresser afford to eat here?" he wanted to ask, but bit his tongue.

"And here we are; please tell me if they're up to our usual standard," Matthew said, setting down a dish of escargot.

"I wouldn't expect anything less than perfection from you," Terry smiled and tasted the delicacy. "Mmm!"

She then turned to her date.

"What do you think?" she asked waiting for him to try the appetizer.

"It's fine," he snapped.

"And..." Matthew said, topping off her glass of wine.

"Matthew is the main reason I keep coming here," Terry confided to her date, smiling. I mean, of course the food is divine, but Matthew's service is impeccable.

After the meal, Terry casually put her hand on his thigh.

"So where to now?" she asked as he pulled out into traffic.




Explanation of Love 03



"Well I don't know," he spat.

The two nurses he'd taken to Radcliffe's had been so impressed, they'd started sucking his cock just as soon as the valet had closed their car door.

"I mean, what you and your other dates did after blowing a hundred and eighty six dollars on a meal?" he barked.

"Went dancing," Terry said. "Jumpers are kind of dead on Thursdays, but that new place, 'Foxtrot Lounge' is very nice; do you like ballroom dancing?" 

Terry tried to act oblivious to his foul mood.

He was nice, or had seemed to be when he'd come into her salon for a haircut; was handsome enough, even if his middle was beginning to soften, and it was better than sitting at home with Alberto.

"Got two left feet," Dr. Williams admitted.

"You know, you do get extra credit for trying," Terry advised, leaning close to him.

But he wasn't interested in trying. He just drove her home.

"Yeah, it was all right, I guess," Terry shrugged again.

"Think you'll..." Charlene asked and shoved Alberto's head away from her.

"Doubt it; he didn't even try for a good night kiss," Terry admitted.

"Sucks," Marlene sympathized, shoving Alberto away from her.

"How about y'all?" Terry asked.

"Manny's then miniature golf and they thought that would get them the pussy," Charlene grumbled.

"Yeah, believe that?" Marlene threw in.

"And, and, get this; we said 'how about the Dead End; they got great burgers' and they're all like 'shit girl, that place too expensive; feel me girl?'" Charlene threw in. 

"Should have told them 'y'all cheap ass losers can just turn this around, take us on back home,'" Marlene said, grabbing for the box of cereal.

"Heard from Marissa the other day," Charlene ventured as she wolfed down her Cap'n Crunch cereal.

"No," Terry said before Charlene could go any further.

Louis had sent Marissa Ramirez to interview for one of the chairs; Trudy was leaving at the end of the month to deliver her baby. Charlene and Marlene had chatted with the woman, striking up an easy friendship while Terry finished with her client.

The second thing Terry noticed was the numerous tattoos the woman had. The majority of the tattoos could be covered by the white jacket the stylists wore. But she would have to wear a turtle neck to cover the coiled snake that decorated her neck, just below her right ear. And Marissa would have to wear gloves to cover the 'Angels 270; that lay prominently displayed on the back of her right hand.

The third thing that immediately attracted Terry's attention was the several piercings the woman proudly sported. Terry personally had nothing against a few discrete adornments; both she and Paula had pierced navels. Her navel piercing had been a gift from Paula and the ring was a large gold hoop with a diamond heart pendant dangling from it.

Heather had both nipples, her navel, and her clitoris pierced and had tried to wheedle Terry into paying for some labial piercing. Terry had told the whining woman that she would not pay for the rings; her money was for more practical things, such as rent, utilities, food.

No, Terry did not have any prejudice against adornments such as nipples, navels, even genitalia. But Marissa had a nose piercing, a lip piercing through the bottom lip, a tongue piercing, three on her left cheek (Terry was sure that there was some significance but did not know what that might be) and at least seven rings that followed the curvature of her right eyebrow.

But, as Terry finished with her client, the first thing she noticed Marissa's loud voice and shrieking laughter filling the normally quiet salon.

Terry was polite and even inquired about possibly removing some of the piercings and covering up the tattoos while at T.Dayton's.

Marissa immediately flew into a rage, declaring "Them fucking tattoos tell people where I been! And where I been ain't nothing nice, feel me?"

"Precisely," Terry said, trying to remember some of the defensive moves Paula had taught her. "I, and our clients don't really need to know where you've been, though."

Terry got Marissa out of the salon and called Louis.

"You ever send me another Marissa Ramirez and I will tell everyone you got your training at Darkira's, you hear me?" Terry threatened.

"I told her to do something about all them rings," Louis said. "Please tell me she did."

"She did not; she walked in here looking like a freak, Louis," Terry complained.

The next girl Louis sent in was also Latin, but Wilma Perez was much more in like with what Terry wanted. Wilma was only four foot eight, but could take a joke and did not get upset when the clients teased her about her height. She was quiet, polite, and respectful.

And she was grateful to have the job. Terry had moved Wilma to the station next to hers, so that she could monitor the twenty year old woman's work. Within a week, she knew Wilma would need no supervision.

But Marissa wasn't letting go easily; she called Charlene and Marlene often, begging them to beg Terry for a job at T. Dayton's.

"Louis said she's really good at..." Marlene defended, also slurping loudly at her cereal.

"I don't care; she just does not fit what I am looking for," Terry said firmly. "Really? Neither one of you do either; I really stretch the rules for you."

"What's that mean?" Marlene yelled defensive.

"Shoes," Terry said.

"Those heels kill my feet!" Charlene protested.

"And the skirts," Terry went on. "I like them to at least reach to your knees, not mid-thigh like some of the ones y'all wear."

"Fine," Marlene grumbled.

"And, you both look like you just got out of bed and slapped on your make-up; oh, wait. You DID just get out of bed and slap on your make-up," Terry continued.

"Fine, fine," Charlene grumbled.

"Bye," Terry said, opening the kitchen door.

"God, she's such a bitch," Marlene said.

"That lets us live here for free, and pays us, even though we ain't made our base yet," Charlene said, scraping the last few pieces of cereal into her mouth. "And buys us this cereal, even though she never eats any of this junk, and..."

"Got it," Marlene said, tilting the bowl and spilling milk all over herself as she drank from the bowl.

"God you're such a slob," Charlene said as Alberto greedily licked at the milk that splattered on the floor.

Marlene did wipe the table and the chair, and after urging from Charlene, the floor.

Terry hated getting to the salon early; the solitude depressed her. She knew it was necessary, though. She took the time to check each stylists' scheduled appointments, made sure that the sample packs were ready, and made sure that both restrooms were fully stocked.

So that there would not be the overwhelming silence, Terry played a CD that Paula had made for her; a CD with soft, romantic songs. Paula would take her into her arms and twirl her around the living room.

Once, both a little drunk on wine, they'd danced around nude, grinding their crotches and their breasts together. Paula had shoved Terry onto the couch and tongued Terry's pussy feverishly, until Terry screamed in orgasm.

Of course, Sonny had come in from the garage where he'd been working on modifying his truck, ruining that moment between the two lovers by insisting that he join them.

"I like that song," Selena said as 'Slave to Love' by Brian Ferry played.

Terry screamed; she had not heard anyone enter.

"Oh! I am so sorry!" Selena cried out.

Terry very nearly burst into sobs, but reassured Selena that she was all right.

Soon, the other stylists entered, and then the first client of the day saunter in and another week of work at T. Dayton began.

Terry had just finished with her eleven o'clock appointment when she heard two soft 'dings' on her screen.

"Thank you, Selena," Terry murmured to herself.

She forced herself to walk slowly, naturally toward the rear of the salon. She took her key out and opened the door to the stockroom.

The moment the door shut behind her, Terry sprinted for the rear door. She shoved it open, then ran around the rear of the building, up the far side of the building, then slowed to a deliberate walk across the parking lot.

She smiled softly as she saw Paula trying to peer into the front window of T.Dayton while trying to look as if she wasn't peering into the front window of T. Dayton.

"Hi," she said softly.

Paula gasped, whirling around.

Terry felt that feeling in the pit of her stomach; Paula was just as beautiful as she had been that first time they'd met, nearly a year and a half ago, at Clark's Drive-In.

"I uh, I was just..." Paula stammered as Terry approached her.

Terry took the initiative, became the aggressor, and pulled Paula in for a hug.

"I miss you so much," terry whispered in Paula's ear.

"Oh my God, oh Terry!" Paula burst into sobs, clutching Terry tightly.

Terry just held the woman until the sobbing subsided.

"I'm um, I'm on my, have lunch with me?" Paula finally stammered out, wiping at her eyes.

"I would love to," Terry smiled sadly. "But I'm already ten minutes late for my next client."

She pressed her lips to Paula's.

"How about wings tonight?" Terry asked, smiling. "I'm going into wings withdrawal."

"Eight?" Paula asked, letting out a laugh of joy.

"Dead End?" Terry affirmed.

"Okay!" Paula agreed, then ran to her Mustang.

Terry entered her salon through the front door and smiled apologetically to her client.

Chapter 21

"Sonny, come see," Paula said, patting the cushion next to her.

"What's up?" Sonny asked, irritated.

He wanted to work on his truck; ever since installing the glass pack, it did not sound right and his gas mileage had dropped to nearly ten miles to the gallon. He knew 'come see' meant that Paula wanted to talk. And Paula's idea of talking usually lasted a good while.

"Sonny there's no easy way to say this so I'm just going to say it," Paula said, looking away.

"What is..." Sonny asked, hoping to hurry the conversation along.

"You um, you know how you been saying I'm uh, I've been kind of out of it?" Paula said, still looking away from him.

Sonny bit down his angry retort.

First she said she was just going to say it, but instead of just saying it, whatever 'it' was, she was sitting here, hemming and hawing and not saying anything at all.

Then, she was somehow trying to twist it around so that it was his fault, for pointing out that she was withdrawn, aloof, and emotionally unavailable.

"And I've kind of known for like a couple of years now but I been telling myself that that's not what God wants and, I mean, it's not like I'm religious or nothing; fuck, you know I'm not, but I do believe in God and...." Paula was droning on.

"Hey, uh, Paula, uh, this going to take long?" Sonny finally interrupted her mindless rambling.

Paula jerked her gaze to him, mouth open in shock.

Then her face hardened.

"No, no, Mr. Lambert; it's not going to take long; it's only going to take me two more seconds," Paula snapped.

"Thank God," Sonny interrupted her again.

"Get out," Paula said, getting to her feet.

"Wait, what?" Sonny asked.

"I was trying to find a nice way to tell you, but fuck that," Paula spat. "So, get out. Here, here's your ring back, the keys to the Mustang are on the table; it's your car, I don't want it."

She flung the engagement ring at him; he flinched and it bounced off of his forehead onto the hardwood floor.

She stomped upstairs, then slammed the door of the bedroom shut.

Numbly, he went into the garage, looked at his tool box, looked at his truck and wondered how long it would take him to do the adjustments the blog on the Internet had suggested.

"How long you think it'll take you to be out?" Paula asked, flinging the door of the garage open.

"I uh, I don't know," Sonny mumbled.

He looked at her; she had changed from her business suit to a short skirt and low cut sweater. On her feet were a pair of five inch heeled pumps. Even with the nearly fifty extra pounds, she looked like the girl he had asked to marry him and less like the bloated blob she'd become.

"Today's Tuesday," Paula pondered the question out loud. "Think by Friday?"

"Where are you going?" he asked, but she ignored his question.

"Can I ask you why?" Sonny asked, still numb.

"I was trying to tell you, Sonny, but you just had to cut me off.,. But fine, whatever; I'll tell you now. Because I'm gay, Sonny," Paula said, opening the door to her truck.

"You're what? No you're not!" Sonny protested.

He grabbed his crotch.

"Fuck! Much as you like this?Fuck! You even like it up the ass! You're not gay!" Sonny laughed.

"Whatever," Paula shrugged and started her truck.

"You're not gay," Sonny protested, still laughing in disbelief as she raised the garage door.

"Friday," Paula said and backed out of the garage.

Rosy was the only one there that Paula recognized; Tuesday nights were now 'Amateur Night' at the Dead End Bar. There were two burly bouncers present to keep the customers in line and to keep the peace between upset boyfriends or husbands and over-appreciative patrons.

"Wings, extra crispy," Rosy said, smiling widely as Paula strolled up to the bar.

Two of them," Terry smiled, holding up two fingers.

"And two diet cokes," Paula concluded their order.

The two sat and watched the would-be strippers. There were three of them; two college girls and a thirty-something housewife.

"I'm seriously thinking about cutting out this 'Amateur Night' shit out altogether; there's never more than four girls; they get tired out too quick, then the place just dies after that," Rosy commented as she put their plates down.

"The red head's pretty good," Paula observed.

"Yeah, she does about two or three sets, then her husband texts her and she's out of here like her ass is in serious trouble," Rosy said.

Even though the wings were still smoking from the deep fat fryer, Paula made quick work of the meal, gasped, then guffawed as a monstrous belch bubbled out.

"Paula! Really!" Terry giggled.

Without their friends there, Paula and Terry had no reason to stay in the dingy, dimly lighted bar, had no reason to tolerate the cigarette smoke or the stench of spilled beer. With a wave to Miss Rosy, they left the bar.

Outside, Paula leaned Terry against the side of her truck and put her arms around the slender blonde.

"So, um, Sonny's probably still at my..." Paula murmured, running her finger up Terry's thigh.

"Paula, we just got back together," Terry said softly, gripping Paula's hand.

She kissed Paula's cheek softly.

"I, we, I'm not just going to jump back into bed with you," she murmured. "God, I want to! You can't believe how bad I want to, but..."

She kissed Paula's lips softly.

"Baby, I've kind of changed; I'm not the same girl fell in love with you before," Terry said.

"So, um..." Paula said, eyes filling with tears.

"Come over to my place tomorrow night," Terry whispered, kissing Paula again.

"I'll cook us something nice and light," Terry said, again kissing Paula.

"Open some wine; I bought a couple of bottles of that crap you like," Terry said, kissing Paula again.

"Hey!" Paula protested; Terry giggled. "It's not crap!"

"Tastes like fingernail polish remover," Terry laughed.

"I love you; I love you so much," Paula said, losing herself in Terry's laughter.

"I love you too," Terry admitted.

"Then why can't we..." Paula whined.

"I love you enough to let you hurt me," Terry said.

"Hurt...? Why would I want to...?" Paula asked.

"Maybe tomorrow night," Terry said and lightly licked Paula's lips.

Epilogue: Sonny seemed unable to accept Paula's decision and spent quite a bit of time and money trying to persuade her to abandon her choice.

Finally, over a few beers, quite a few beers, Michael Trahan, his co-worker and friend proved to be a better friend than Sonny had realized.

"So, let's say, just for the sake of argument, you do win her back?" Michael asked.

"Uh huh," Sonny agreed.

"Then what?" Michael asked.

"What you mean?" Sonny asked.

"Man, dude, you're just going to spend the rest of your life wondering if she's just going to come home and tell you again to get out; she wants to be gay," Michael said.

Sonny sat, mulling this over in his beer soaked brain.

"You know you'll always be wondering, 'is this the day she tells me getting out; my girlfriend's moving in' and damn, man! Who the fuck wants to live like that? No, no, man, just cut her loose. Too many non-rug munching bitches out there to be all hung up on this one," Michael said, opening up yet another beer.

*

Alberto absolutely loved the four cats; Courtney, Clint and Bruce tolerated him; he was much larger than they were. 

Janet, however, was enamored with Alberto. When Terry and Alberto left for their run, Janet would sit in the front window and yowl pitifully until she saw them returning to the condo.

Then, of course, she would 'ignore' Alberto when he came in, tongue lolling out. Woe to him, though, if he ignored her. She would pounce on him, then dash behind the couch, safely out of reach.

At night, Courtney, Client and Bruce climbed into the bed, taking their positions around the periphery. Alberto decided that a ratty old blanket shoved into a corner of the room was his bed. Janet decided that the blanket was her bed too.

Paula loved having Terry home again; Sonny had hated when Paula would try to sleep with her head on his chest. Terry admitted, it had been hard to sleep alone the first few nights after their break-up. She loved having Paula's head on her chest as they slept.

*

Marlene and Charlene bought Terry's house.

Within three months of selling the house, Terry had to set up and automatic garnishment of their paychecks; the bank threatened foreclosure on the loan she'd co-signed.

"Forget to pay the light bill again?" Charlene screamed at her older sister, standing in their pitch-black living room.

"No! Maybe!" Marlene screamed back.

*

The first twenty pounds came off easily enough, but Paula found taking off any more weight almost impossible. She's also finding out, it's a lot harder to keep it off.

Part of the problem, Paula knows, is the gallons of vanilla ice cream and pints of butterscotch sauce she and Terry consume.

"Oh that's so cold!" Terry groaned as Paula dropped a scoop of vanilla ice cream directly onto Terry's pussy.

"I'll warm it up," Paula promised, drizzling some sauce onto the melting ice cream

The End.

Thank you for reading my stories. 



Explanation to the Sorority



"I think we all know what's going to happen here this evening," said the woman who had been teasing me online for two months. That this night was the first time I had met her in person punctuated my obsession with experiencing what I knew beyond all doubt would be the most exciting sexual experience of my life.

"Ladies, this is the gentleman I was telling you about." She looked at me and smiled. "We will assume you will be a gentleman this evening, Scott." I was ready to agree to anything. Had been for weeks, ever since seeing the picture Karelle Matthews had sent me. Though tonight she was dressed simply, even conservatively, her attire could not hide the form that I knew matched the picture.

Her finely knit pullover top and matching slacks clung to her curves this evening. They were the same curves so readily apparent in the picture she had sent. Tonight, though, in place of the corset and stockings she wore in the picture, she revealed little other than a lovely silhouette topped by a beautiful face framed by hair that was a cross between red and chestnut brown. 

And right now, she certainly wasn't wearing the strap‑on dildo that was part of her outfit in the picture.

Turning to the assembled group before her, Karelle said, "Scott has agreed to provide you all some fascinating information, haven't you, Scott?"

There were seven young women in the room. It was the large living room type area of a suite in a swanky hotel. I didn't even remember the name of the hotel, so entranced was I with the woman in charge of the proceedings. She had met me at the airport baggage claim area of the airport earlier that evening. (This in spite of the fact that all I had with me was my small business satchel. She said there wouldn't be any need to bring a change of clothes.) She whispered in my ear as we rode in the taxi to this place:

"You're very good to do as I directed, Scott," she cooed. "Are you ready to experience your darkest, most exciting desire?" Her perfume was light, airy, yet unmistakable. I promised myself that I would visit a department store as soon as I returned home and sniff my way through the women's fragrances until I found it. I was desperate to remember everything about tonight.

You can see that I was mightily distracted during the taxi ride from the airport to the hotel. Her sexy teasing about the desire I'd shared with her in such detail over the Internet meant two things: I could focus on nothing except her, her words, her smell, the gentle way she laid a hand on my shoulder as she whispered nasty things to me. And I squirmed constantly in the seat to try to find a position that would allow some freedom in my trousers to accommodate the erection she was skillfully creating with only the sound of her voice.

"You did as I told you, correct?" 

I mumbled assent.

"Ooh, this will be such a treat for you, Scott."

And so it went the entire drive from airport to hotel. I can not tell you how long we were in the cab, whether it was a mile or twenty miles. And the trip across the lobby and into the elevator was torture. (You try being unobtrusive with seven inches of stiff dick trapped underneath the crotch of your pants in an awkward position with no good way to adjust in mid‑stride.)

The elevator door closed behind us. She laid a hand firmly on my backside, grabbing a cheek and squeezing it. "So far so good, my young stud. Your description of yourself seems to have been accurate." She drew me close to her. "A nice, taut ass is very important to my pleasure." Leaning next to my ear, she whispered, "It's going to be exciting watching my strap‑on dildo slide between your firm asscheeks."

I gasped in response. 

Then she placed one hand on the back of my head, slid the other down to my crotch, and pulled my face to hers. She devoured me in a deep tongue kiss, pressing her mouth on mine and ravaging me. Stopping only for an instant to say, "Give me your tongue," she continued kissing me. Owning me. My tongue became a suck toy for her.

The elevator doors slid open. She relinquished her control of my face and mouth. My dick remained stiff.

Karelle guided me to a door several yards down the hall from the elevator. She opened the door and motioned me in. With my satchel in hand, I stepped through the doorway, hearing sounds of female conversation a few feet inside.

And so here I was.

"The sorority has promised you an enjoyable education tonight," said Karelle to the group. I nervously toed the carpet, not yet able to look up into the faces of the coeds seated on the couch and chairs in the room. I felt a flush rising up my neck. It seemed to be getting much warmer.

"Mr. Gooding has been directed to share with you the reasons he likes for a woman to fuck him with a strap‑on dildo." 

The pit of my stomach clenched at those words. I knew she would say them. She told me she would as part of her description of the events she would orchestrate for this evening. 

And therein lies one of the many reasons that being taken by a woman wearing a strap‑on dildo is so exciting: When she talks about what's going to happen, about what she's going to do---and to make me do---that just amps up the crazy, intense sexiness of the entire scenario. 

The anticipation is such a big part of the pleasure. Maybe even more pleasurable is thinking about what she'll say before she gets down to business. Yeah, maybe that's a huge part of the turn‑on. In the days and hours before an encounter when I think of what she'll do and say to tortuously draw out the anticipation for her own pleasure until I'm begging to be fucked, I will have my fist wrapped around my cock, stroking.

When I spurt during these masturbatory episodes, it's often brought on by imagined words whispered in my ear about how much she'll enjoy taking me. Her descriptions of how she likes to see me opened for her pleasure, twitching in anticipation of surrender to her control, are words that create sexual tension in me beyond description. Hearing these things, knowing she will do them and I will submit---this is a big part of the turn‑on for me.

I would be forced to tell the coeds in the room all of this.

"Come. Sit." She led me by the elbow to a straight‑backed, padded chair with arms. It was positioned at the head of a make‑shift semi‑circle of chairs and a couch that had been arranged in this space. Taking the remaining empty chair---the one next to mine---she looked at me thoughtfully for several seconds. The girls quieted.

"So, ladies . . . what do you want to know?" Karelle smiled evilly at me.

There were two black coeds in the group. One of them (short and voluptuous) immediately spoke up: "Is this really true? Are you really here to tell us that you enjoy getting screwed in the ass by women wearing strap‑ons?"

The rest of the girls laughed at that, though I caught a nervous cough or two.

Karelle waited expectantly through several seconds of silence as I tried to gather the courage to look at these young women and begin my descriptions.

"Scott?"

I looked up, wringing my hands miserably in my lap. How, in the many iterations that I'd played this out in my head as I stroked my cock, could I have thought this would be exciting?

"Look at Celia and give her your answer, Scott," said Karelle.

That reminded me why I was excited at the thought of this. Karelle was going to fuck me tonight.

I swallowed. "Yes." My answer was barely audible. Catching a reprimanding look from Karelle, I cleared my throat. "Yes. I really do like being screwed in the ass by a woman wearing a strap‑on."

That seemed to break the ice. A simple question from a blonde to my left followed: "Why? Are you gay?"

Oh, I knew that was coming. So did Karelle.

"Kristi, ladies, you must all disabuse yourselves of the notion that 100% of men who enjoy being taken by a woman are gay. In fact, most of them are not." She looked at me, stood up, and took the one step necessary to stand at my side. "Scott likes it up the ass only occasionally, and the rest of the time he enjoys sex in the ways you would guess." Karelle laid a hand on my shoulder. "Isn't that right, Scott?"

Before I could answer, a brunette seated on the couch blurted out, "So you like licking pussy, too?"

"Jenna!" exclaimed another, taller brunette. "Don't be so crass!"

Karelle, ever the knowledgeable big sister, quickly commandeered the conversation. "It's okay, Talia. Things will go much more easily if we don't stand on ceremony or euphemisms. Scott is going to have be quite descriptive for us this evening, so let's all agree that, while ladies don't talk this way in public, when toying with a man before taking him---as we are doing with Scott tonight---part of the sexiness is giving ourselves the freedom to use language designed to arouse the male." She leaned into my ear while looking at the girls in front of us and said, "Now, Scott, do you enjoy licking pussy?"

This was not a difficult test. "Very much."

"Do you do that before they fuck you, or after?" asked the other blonde in the group.

"There's no definite order. It's the same as how it happens when you screw without using a strap‑on. Sometimes you do things one way. Sometimes you do it a different way." I was starting to relax.

"Whatever put the idea of asking a woman to fuck you with a strap‑on into your head?" asked the coed who looked to be Asian.

"Well, I didn't ask the first time it happened. She teased me all night, finally started giving me a blowjob, and then she began licking my balls."

"Eeuww." In unison, most of the girls indicated that they would never do such a thing.

"Continue," said Karelle, returning to her seat.

"So she licked my balls between bouts of sucking on my cock, and before I knew it, she was circling a finger coated with some lotion around my . . ." I hesitated, knowing that I was about to start describing things that would make me really horny in front of these young women. Already, my cock was starting to rise to whatever amount it could, trapped as it was in my pants as I sat on the hot seat in front of these college coeds.

Karelle used the pause to tease me. "He's probably embarrassed to talk about how the woman fingered his asshole." She smirked. The girls were wide‑eyed. Silent. Waiting. I felt the unmistakable blush of shame creep up my neck.

"Is that what she did, Scott? Push her lotion‑coated finger into your asshole while she sucked your cock?" asked Karelle, knowing the effect her question would have on me.

"Yes."

"And how did that feel?"

God, my cock was really hardening, and it was getting very uncomfortable. I shifted in my seat.

"It felt fucking great."

Again: "Eeuww." But not all of the girls joined in this time expressing their revulsion.

"Ladies, Scott is squirming. Would anyone like to guess why?"

The brunette who had chastised the girl about using graphic language had apparently completely overcome her reticence to use the vernacular. She said, "Because he's springing a boner just hearing you describe it, Miss Matthews." The group laughed at that.

It was true.

"Why don't you show us, Scott," said Karelle.

You could have heard a pin drop at that point. The coeds, shocked expressions on their faces, didn't move. They just looked at me.

"We talked about this, didn't we, Scott?" Karelle asked.

Naked in front of these women. Completely naked while they sat, fully clothed and comfortable, looking at me. Listening to me tell them why I liked being fucked with a strap‑on. Watching my erect cock prove convincingly that I was turned on by everything connected with a woman strapping on a dildo and using it to fuck me in the ass.

I masturbated right after reading the words in the email Karelle had sent me explaining that I would be required to do this. Now that I was actually in the situation, though, I didn't know if I could go through with it.

Karelle read the look on my face. "Let's make it easy for you. Take off your shirt while you finish telling us about your first time." She scooted back into her seat, getting comfortable. "Ladies, this would be a good time to grab a drink from the fridge if you need a refill. You won't want to miss Mr. Gooding's story."

A few of the girls got up to refresh their drinks. The others rearranged themselves in their seats like a group of fifth‑graders eager for story time. Karelle looked at me expectantly.

The incredible naughtiness of the situation triggered something in my brain that must have sent even more blood down to my hardening cock, causing the absolute necessity of adjusting myself in front of the girls. 

"He's getting a stiffy," pointed out one of the blondes. 

This is one of the other reasons the whole strap‑on experience is thrilling: you have to admit that it excites you. You have to abandon every last shred of propriety and confess that you -- the man, the macho guy, the aggressor, the horny stud, the perpetrator, the predator to the female prey---want a woman to fuck YOU. It's not supposed to be that way, and therein lies one of the most powerful things that draws me to it. Coupled with the intense physical pleasure (lots of nerve endings in the anus, I understand) and the total surrender of allowing yourself to be penetrated, the embarrassing admission that you want her to objectify your ass for her own pleasure (and yours, most definitely) is a huge turn‑on for me. I adore that the woman knows it and uses that knowledge to tease me, to draw out my anticipation, to excite me and herself while she plays with my mind in preparation for playing with my ass. I have to let her know that I am there for her pleasure, that I am there so that she can get off by using me. I have to tell her that I am her sextoy.

So I continued the description of my initiation, knowing that I would be admitting all these reasons that being fucked in the ass by a woman excites me to the group of women in front of me. 

"I don't know where she got the lotion. A guy doesn't notice a lot of things when a girl is giving him a blowjob," I said, unbuttoning my shirt. I pulled the shirttails from my pants. "I asked her what she was doing, and she looked up at me, my cock still in her mouth, and she smiled---at least as much as a woman can do that with a mouthful of dick." I slid the shirt off, dropped it to the floor and sat back in the chair. "That was the instant that she deep‑throated me while inching her finger into my asshole."

"Shit," whispered one of the girls.

"I couldn't believe the sensations. She had my entire cock down her throat, and she was slowly pushing her finger up inside me. The whole thing felt fantastic, just incredible. Maybe if she hadn't been sucking me off while penetrating me I wouldn't have liked the feeling in my ass. But what she was doing, all of it together, just really drove me crazy."

I adjusted myself again.

"How old was this woman?" asked Celia.

"I don't know. She was older than me. Maybe 30."

Karelle interjected. "I bet you're asking because you wonder how a woman would even think to do something like that, right, Celia?"

The girl nodded.

"So you haven't thought about doing it?" asked Karelle. Celia shook her head. "Have any of you ever had your finger inside a man?" 

A round of "Nos" followed. These were all complete newbies to the concept of being the penetrator. Karelle looked at me and grinned. "Well, tonight Scott will surrender his ass to any of you who want to try it out."

Holy shit. That hadn't been in any of the emails Karelle had teased me with leading up to this incredible experience. My shocked expression seemed to please her, maybe even turn her on a bit. Or a lot.

She continued: "Your pledge mistress has indicated that all of you, having made it through initiation, should be rewarded in some way. However, she has totaled the demerits each of you received while you were pledges, and the one among you with the fewest demerits will get a very special reward. All of you, though, have earned the right to find out how thrilling it is to have a naked man open himself up to you and beg you to finger‑fuck him in the ass. Maybe his explanations tonight will convince some of you that you'd like to try it," said Karelle, leaning forward slightly in her chair. "When you're inside him, you control him."

I searched their faces. A thoughtful expression on a couple of the girls told me that tonight I would be surrendering my ass to probing fingers new to the experience of penetrating a male, and I would have to beg those girls to do it to me. Karelle was pushing all my buttons, torturing me by intensifying this entire experience in ways that played on all the facets of the strap‑on encounter that make it insanely exciting for me. One of them is being told to ask---to beg---for the pleasure I know the woman will give me. Maybe that's a turn‑on because I know it intensifies her feeling of power and control. Or maybe it's because hearing myself beg to be fucked (or, sometimes when the woman has orchestrated truly embarrassing situations, begging NOT to be fucked) is such a blatant statement of how I've put my sexual satisfaction completely in her control. There's also the possibility that being in a strap‑on scenario just automatically makes me revel in the freedom to be a wanton, shameless, eager‑to‑confirm‑it, complete and total slut. That's something a guy NEVER gets to do anywhere else.

"Now the shoes and socks as you continue your description," prompted Karelle.

What the hell, I thought. I was living a fantasy, and being naked in front of them would at least put an end to the discomfort of my trapped, throbbing cock. I leaned down and took off my shoes and socks, placing them next to my shirt on the floor.

"It only took a few seconds of her deep‑throating me while she pushed her finger in and out of me before I came like I've never come in my life," I said, raising up from removing my shoes and shoes and socks to sag against the back of the chair. "After I came, I asked her what the hell she thought she was doing."

"The belt, Scott," said Karelle, a hint of impatience creeping into her voice.

As I unbuckled my belt, the doubt again surfaced. Could I do this? I continued, slowly. "She didn't answer me. She asked a question instead. 'Did you like it?' was all she would say, even when I started to get upset with her. 'Did you like it?' she kept asking. Finally, I cooled down, thought about it for a minute, and I said, 'Yes.'" Without prompting from Karelle, I had unhooked my trousers. "I admitted to her that I liked it when she slid her finger inside me."

"Were you embarrassed? Was she making fun of you?" asked one of the blondes.

"Excellent questions, Joanne. Let's get Scott's answers while he steps out of his slacks." Karelle turned her head to address me. "Stand up while you drop trou, Scott."

I did as I was told. After my trousers hit the floor, I answered, "Yes, it was really embarrassing to tell her I liked it. I was afraid she would think I was a pervert or something. But after I thought about what happened that night, I knew she wasn't making fun of me -- she was just getting me to put aside any automatic assumptions about what she did to me in order to realize it felt great." As I finished answering the girl's questions, I stepped out of the pile of fabric at my ankles, and in doing so looked down to realize with horror that the front of my briefs---white and made of some pretty thin material (Karelle had mailed them to me with instructions to wear them this evening)---were clearly wet and sticky with pre‑cum leakage. That meant the front panel of the briefs had formed itself snugly around the outline of my cock. Only the elastic band at the top of the briefs was preventing the head of my dick from popping out into view.

"He really does get off on this," said Joanne. "He's hard and dripping."