4 comments/ 8710 views/ 7 favorites Barbra By: demure101 Many thanks to my friend and editor Dawnj! Any mistakes in the story are mine. This is a long story (for me) and I would like to warn my readers that it contains no sex until the second part of chapter 19. If you don't mind waiting that long, please read on... Prologue Barbra wished she could have skipped 2010. Perhaps things would have been better if that had been possible? She knew they wouldn't. Still, it had been the absolute worst year of her life. It had started alright. Christmas had been simply wonderful, spent in the family circle with her parents, her photographer husband Mike Nelson Laing and her twin sister Emily, in an atmosphere of real good will and happiness. She hadn't even had a quarrel with her sister once, which was rare to say the least, her parents had been in extremely good spirits despite their high age and physical discomforts, and Mike had been home! But then her life ran off the rails completely. Joe Kirkland, her father, got a stroke on the 23rd of March, and he lay in intensive care for just over a week. Barbra and Em took turns watching over him in hospital; Minnie, their mother, kept going as well as she could, but it hit her hard. She'd always been frail, and now, white-haired, slim and wise, she looked more fragile than ever, and the twins made sure she got enough rest and they tried to comfort her as well as they could. They stayed at their parents' place. Barbra sorely missed Mike, who was in Afghanistan working for a French newspaper and freelancing; the daily phone call was quite simply not enough under the circumstances. However, it was the best they could do. Joe died on April 1st, with his daughters and wife around him. They pressed his hand, and he nodded at them and tried to smile, but his faculty of speech had been impaired by the stroke, and he was too weak to write. At 7:56 in the evening he suddenly made a sound -- like a hiccup, Barbra thought -- and then lay back on the pillow, staring up at the ceiling with dead eyes. They laid him off themselves, washing him and dressing him all in the family. It was a truly valuable time as such, but one that would hurt for a long, long time, whenever she thought about it and that would fill her with longing for the togetherness of that moment. Barbra called her aunt Kitt, her father's favourite sister, and his only remaining sibling, who still lived in Port-of-Spain, in Trinidad where the family came from. She was in her nineties, and too old to travel. She tried to comfort her niece, and it did help Barbra some. She'd never seen her, but she sometimes called, and regularly wrote -- by snail mail, as Aunt Kitt didn't have a computer. Barbra loved the letters in her spidery handwriting. Mike landed at Gatwick on the 3rd. Barbra had never been happier to see and hug him; she really needed her husband more than anyone. He was practical, he was sweet, and someone to hold on to... The burial was a great success, as far as burials go. Barbra realised once again how popular and respected her father must have been; the auditorium of the cemetery was filled to capacity, and there were throngs of people in the waiting rooms, watching the ceremony on big flat screens. There were speeches by a few old friends and colleagues of her father's. His oldest friend told a very funny story about Joe's youthful days in Port-of-Spain and Minnie held a short but very moving exposé about her husband's life, and their life together. She touched on his love for his daughters, and his position as a family man, and though she had to stop once or twice to master her emotions, she carried it off very well. Barbra looked at her mother stand at the microphone admiringly; she was so old and wizened, and yet she was such a commanding personality that her audience sat listening to her spellbound. When she had finished, though, she suddenly turned very pale and she stood at the microphone swaying on her legs. Mike made a dash for her and grabbed her shoulders just in time to stop her from falling. They took her into the coffee room and sat her down on a chair, and she gradually got some colour back in her face. Barbra and Emily hovered around her, feeling very worried, but Minnie pooh-poohed their concern for her welfare. No, of course she was quite alright. What DID they think? She insisted on doing the cooking that evening. Barbra and Emily were on hand to help out, and the four of them had an old-fashioned family dinner. It was cosy and satisfying enough, and Barbra sighed with relief that her fears appeared to be ungrounded. One week after the burial, on Saturday the 11th, Barbra woke up well before dawn. Something made her feel uncomfortable, and she lay tossing and turning, feeling very restless. Eventually she decided to get up and prepare the breakfast table. Better to be up and doing things than to lie in bed fretting, she thought. She put on her robe and went downstairs; and when she entered the living room she stopped dead in her tracks. Sitting on the couch, dressed in her nightgown, was her mother, entirely motionless, smiling but somehow looking completely wrong. When Barbra greeted her, there was no answer. Barb shook herself, hurried over to the couch, and took her mother's hand. It felt stiff and unnatural. She wasn't even surprised; she'd often thought her parents would go together. But knowing both of them were dead, she slumped down next to her mother on the couch and cried until she had run out of tears. Then she went upstairs to wake Mike and Em. The rest of the day was one long, bad dream. Somehow she'd survived. The burial as such went off well, and Mike stayed with her for another fortnight -- in retrospect two of the happiest weeks she remembered. Then he flew back to Afghanistan, where he got killed in a bomb blast five weeks later. An officer came to inform her in person. Mike had been damaged so much she was not allowed to see him. When Barbra got the news she simply didn't take it in at first. She didn't believe that it could be true. But it was. When she finally realised it really was true, she crumpled up. Of all four people who really meant something in her life the only one she had left was Em, and their relationship had always been troublesome. There was no one to turn to, now that she needed a shoulder to cry on and an arm around her shoulders. No one. Oh Mike... Mike... She sat down and bawled. As a girl she'd always turned to her father in times of need, and in her married life Mike had been the one to comfort her, to talk to, but now there was no reassuring voice to be found, no ear to listen to her. Mike was buried on a beautiful day in late May. Barbra thought the weather was an extra insult. It should have been cold, grey and gloomy, like the way she felt. Everybody was very kind to Emily and to her, but it wasn't long before she was alone again, really alone in the house she'd bought with Mike, among the things they'd collected together, in the ambiance they'd created together, and it seemed all the light had gone out of her life -- all life out of her days. 1 - Doctor's Orders Time does not bring relief; you all have lied Who told me time would ease me of my pain! I miss him in the weeping of the rain; I want him at the shrinking of the tide; The old snows melt from every mountainside, And last year's leaves are smoke in every lane; But last year's bitter loving must remain Heaped on my heart, and my old thoughts abide. There are a hundred places where I fear To go — so with his memory they brim. And entering with relief some quiet place Where never fell his foot or shone his face I say, "There is no memory of him here!" And so stand stricken, so remembering him. Edna St. Vincent Millay seemed to be rather preoccupied with death and disease, but she wrote beautifully. Barbra loved the poem. It wasn't quite what she felt, but it came near. The presence of Mike in the house, in everything around her, his ghost on her shoulder... The constant reminders were hard to take, so hard that she sometimes wondered if it was all worth it. Though she never noticed, she became a recluse, withdrawn into herself, shunning human contact. She grew thin, a grey-faced shadow of her former beautiful self with unhealthy hair and dull skin that had lost its shine, and the people that knew her were not a little worried. She wasn't the person to ask anybody's help. Instead, she shied away from any friendly face and she kept on trying to cope for months, rather unsuccessfully, going it alone; and that autumn Barbra was told by her GP to leave off work and get herself back into shape first. She'd come to have some vague complaints seen to, but halfway through the consultation she lost her composure altogether. Dr James was an old friend of her father's and his kind words and the memories they kindled were too much for her. The doctor first let her cry. Then he tried to comfort her and told her to go and have herself a holiday and a change of air. "But my job..." "I'll see to that, Bee. You cannot go on like this. You have to get yourself sorted out!" Barbra nodded dumbly. She knew he was right. She was getting too moody, too sour. "Just so. Do send me a postcard, right?" She smiled a little at that. "I will," she said. "Alright." She went home and called the office, to find Dr James had already informed her employer. "Have a good rest, Barbra," he said. "It's high time you found some purpose in life again! How about a month to start with?" She thanked him profusely, but he didn't want to hear. Alright, then. A holiday. But where to go? She wondered vaguely for some time, and then she remembered the enthusiastic stories her parents had told her about a holiday they'd had on the Isle of Wight. Barbra had never been there. Why not, she thought, and she booted her laptop to find out. The next morning she packed her suitcase. She leisurely had some coffee, and a friend drove her to the station. She took a fast train to London, a slower one to Brockenhurst and then on to Lymington Pier. When she arrived at Lymington dusk was settling over the trees, and the quayside, where the cars were waiting for the ferry to arrive, took on a slightly eerie aspect, the way such places tend to do; even in the daytime she didn't quite like them, and now it was slowly getting dark it felt a bit chilly between her shoulder blades. She'd got off the train, walked across and bought her ticket and now she sat on her suitcase looking out over the Solent. The ferry arrived, and the cars and passengers disembarked. Then she walked on board. It was stuffy inside so she took her suitcase to the upper deck, and she stood looking at the distant blurred shape that was the island until the ferry sailed. There was a near full moon, and there were some wisps of cloud. She thought it was very beautiful and serene, and she stood on deck watching the island take on shape. Eventually she could even make out the contours of Yarmouth Castle in the moon light. It was a great change from sitting at home, mourning. She'd booked a room in a B&B in Freshwater Bay, where she was received by Mrs Dee, a small, cheerful lady who made her feel quite at home. She went to the pub for a quick, late meal and a pint of cider. The publican was friendly and he didn't seem to mind serving food really late. When she felt well fed she went back to the B&B, where she went to bed, happy she'd taken James's advice. Her holiday was a smashing success. She walked all along the coast, and visited all the sights; she bought a few books at the Freshwater lifeboat charity shop (the second-hand bookshop in Dimbola Lodge was a sight too expensive) and a nice blouse in West Cowes, she took the Red Funnel Ferry to go shopping in Southampton and a Wightlink one to Portsmouth and she duly sent a postcard to Dr James from Ventnor. She didn't care for East Wight too much -- penny arcades and fast food and other sad kinds of entertainment -- but there was a pleasant coastal path with a great view across the water of Spinnaker Tower, and she loved the rest of the island. Smiling a little at the elderly people in Godshill having a good time, letting the wind blow into her face on Tennyson Down, tramping up to Newtown Harbour starting from Yarmouth, looking at the Needles from Totland Bay... She most enjoyed a small cove with a few small houses and some fishing boats. The first time she went there the day, which had started grey, turned into unbroken rain. She had coffee at a cafe there, and she loved watching the way the rain flattened the waves, and the patterns it painted on the sea's surface -- dull lead, scrubbed silver, everything in between -- and listening to the pebbles being driven onto the shore and rolling back with the waves, a lovely sound that was both musical and soothing. She went there five times in all, and she realised that she loved the sea more than she'd ever realised. Mrs Dee, who was a motherly woman of sixty-three, made sure Barbra had a run of excellent breakfasts. She loved cooking, and taking care of people in general, and she enjoyed seeing Barbra get more colour in her face and put on weight slowly. Barbra highly enjoyed sitting in the breakfast room, doing honour to the food and talking to Mrs Dee, who after a few days asked her to call her Alice. She returned to the mainland in the daytime. Before she sailed she could see Tennyson's Monument in the distance, and Fort Victoria, and once out at sea she saw from the deck the whole shape of Tennyson Down, and Fort Albert, and eventually even the Needles. She came home feeling refreshed and with a new zest for life. It had really and truly done her a lot of good, and she smiled when people complimented her on her looks. She didn't relish the idea of staying in her old house too much, though, and when she found a job vacancy in her line near the south coast she applied. To her delight she was taken and she sold her house and moved to a small but sweet cottage, a few miles from the sea. It lay in a reasonably large garden that had been loved by its former occupants, with a few big trees and a well-kept lawn surrounded by a few small flower beds. It contained a nice, spacious bedroom, a reasonable spare room and a small study adjacent to the living room, and, Barbra thought, it was really just what she needed. She could put her dictionaries and her laptop in the study and leave the living room uncluttered by work-related stuff, and if she wanted to she could still listen to her music by leaving the door open. As it had only recently been done up she didn't have to spend a lot of time redecorating; everything was well-kept and clean. All she had to do was put in new hardwood flooring in the living-room, and then she moved house in just one long weekend. Redoing the place in her own colours followed over the next few months, slowly and relaxed. She kept no visible memories of Mike in there, apart from an enlarged, smiling photograph that she'd got framed and put up in her bedroom, and that she smiled at when she looked at it. The other memories stayed, of course, but they didn't encroach upon her life any more. She fondly thought of Dr. James and his advice; she'd visited him and told him about her holiday's success before she moved, and he and his wife had taken leave of her as of an old friend. They were really nice. 2 - Mary's Birthday Party Once she had completely settled, Barbra spent her weekends exploring the surroundings. There were a few beautiful paths in the neighbourhood. She especially liked the cliff paths; there was a rather precipitous path going down to the beach that made a sharp turn after some six or seven yards where the cliff went down perpendicularly, to become a little less steep. She often went down there; it reminded her a lot of her favourite spot on the Isle of Wight, and there was a small tea shop that sold good scones at the other end. She came to know Molly Barnes, the proprietress, very well. She quite liked her, and invariably had a nice chat with her when she went. There was a good little pub in the village, and she met a few fellow-Caribbeans in the neighbouring town. Joan Boudreaux was a big woman with long plaits that she did herself, and Mary Ruddock was thin, tall and wore her hair short. It was nice to be around them, and talk girl things. Big girl things, admittedly, as they were all in their forties, but still. Joan had a quiet, friendly husband and three beautiful daughters, and Mary went in for the occasional lover but didn't keep any of them around for long. She often told hilarious stories about their clumsiness, larded with a good deal of self-deprecation, and whenever they met she would have the others in stitches within minutes. Barbra invariably went home smiling still. That spring, at Mary's birthday party, Barbra was introduced to John Gibbons. He was at least six foot six, with very fine kinky hair, almost ebony skin and a royal bearing. He was very muscular, obviously in top shape, and he wore a white T-shirt. He had a small scar in the shape of the Nike logo on his upper arm, just over his elbow and the most beautiful smile, and Barbra was very impressed. His handshake was warm and firm, his eyes were brown and clear -- he was a really handsome man. "Pleased to meet you," he said in a deep voice. "Barbra Laing... Are you Mike's widow, by any chance?" "Yes I am. Did you know him?" John shook his head. "I know his photography," he said. "He was a true artist, and a good reporter." Barbra nodded. "He was," she said. "And a great husband." "You were lucky," Mary said. "Husbands like him are rare." Barbra smiled. "Thank you," she said. Mike had been as handsome as John, she thought, in a slightly ragged way. He'd been less smooth, less poised, perhaps. But oh, oh, oh, how she missed him still. "I don't talk about him much, you know," she said. "But he is often on my mind. It's about a year ago now..." "Poor girl," Mary said, and she hugged her friend tight. "I'm not. I wondered about it for a long time but I don't think I would have wanted to miss out on him, even if I'd known it would have spared me going through the loneliness that followed." "Okay, sweetie, but let me hug you some more nevertheless!" Barbra grinned. Mary was a great girl, she thought. Funny, sweet, weird sometimes -- and a real friend. John stood looking at them silently. He seemed to like what he saw, and he waited until Mary had done hugging Barbra before he spoke again. "Got a lot of his photographs about the house?" he said. "No. I have a good many in portfolios, though. I like them, but there are too many war-related ones, and seeing how he died, I cannot get myself to put them up. They would conjure up the wrong kind of memory." "Tear open half-healed wounds," Mary said. "Not a good idea." John nodded. "Yes. Of course. I'd love one or two on my wall, though. Have you come down from the Midlands?" "No, I moved here some months ago. Better for my mental health, and I love the cliffs." "Okay. Right. In that case, as you'll be around here anyway, would you like to go out with me this weekend?" "Sounds like a good idea. What do you have in mind?" Barbra said with a smile. "Just a couple of drinks in the pub, to get to know you a little better?" "Mmm, I don't know. I never drink and drive." "I could pick you up and drive you home again." Barbra shook her head. "No," she said. "Unless you want to live on Vichy all evening." "Not me," John admitted. "There's no pub in your village where we could go?" Barbra considered for a moment. She didn't want to make a bad impression, and she was afraid John might find the place very old-fashioned. "There is the Jolly Woodman. I rather like it, but I don't know if you would find it any good. It's a real village pub, you know." Barbra & Marie Older or Younger; which one is better? Barbra was sitting on the edge of her bed thinking about Bobby. She has missed him so very much since he has left for college. She will not go until next year. Her scholarship was late in coming, now she must wait, but she will still get to go. To her that is all that counts. Now as she rubs herself; she thinks of when Bobby was with her the last time, and how they made love. Barbra thinks of how he would take and place his hands on her thighs and then run his tongue up and down between her pussy lips knowing full well how she would squirm, wiggle, and moan. This is what keeps her going, every morning when she gets up to face a new day without him. She got up, headed for the shower and hoped today Bobby would call, to let her know when he will be coming home from school. Barbra is a blonde haired beauty, about 5'2", 38-22-36 122lbs. She is a green eyed lovely who always turns men's heads no matter where she goes. Those 38D's are the envy of most women, most men just want to get their hands on them. Barbra being only eighteen; gravity hasn't had a chance to work on them yet. Those silver dollar size areola and finger size nipples, make a man want to breast feed. You can't fully enjoy the beauty of those breasts unless you see them unveiled. The dark pink of those nipples and areola are just so tasty, they make one's mouth water with desire. This is Bobby's loss for now........... College Bobby has been away at college for six months and has had the favors of several young woman. Bobby a young man who is 6 feet 185lbs. He had the benefit of an early oral sex education. Bobby has done especially well with several black females who crave oral sex. That happens to make one young white man very popular with the black young ladies. Bobby thinks to himself that these young ladies may keep him very busy until next summer. Bobby is a good looking young man with raven hair and blue eyes, that do keep the ladies interested. Along with his brite winning smile, he could charm the pants of a nun. Professor "Joyce Collins" has Freshman English 101 and Bobby is one of her students. This is his 2nd semester, he has not been doing that well. She asks Bobby, if he would stop back this afternoon to discuss his grades. "Joyce is 48yrs.old and divorced," she never had any children but she does love her sex. She is a voluptuous woman with blonde hair brown eyes and 42dd's and a very nice ass for an older broad. She has heard from some of the female students, talk about his ability's with his tongue. Joyce intends to find out. She does enjoy oral sex both ways, male and female. Bobby comes in and asks, "What do you want Ms. Collins?" "Joyce tells him," he needs extra credit to make up his grade to pass the course. "Bobby asks," what do I need to do. He has this little grin on his face. "Joyce" has on a black skirt and white blouse, the skirt has a split all the way up to her crotch and you can she her black thong when she uncrosses her legs. Her nipples are now hard and show through the blouse. "Bobby picks up on the Clue and he says to Joyce, when would you like to take care of this." "Joyce says," right now Bobby, we can go to my place. "Bobby agrees," saying his first class tomorrow morning is at 830am. "Joyce said great," now lets enjoy the lesson we have for tonight shall we. ~ ~ ~ Barbra has her hormones ragging and she is in pure lust. As she lays on her bed trying to satisfy her hunger she hers noises coming from her mothers bed room. Barbra did not her any body come in and assumed that she was alone in the house. Barbra was not sure what the noises were but her mother's door was slightly ajar, she peeked in and saw her mother naked, laying between a man's legs and could not believe what she was doing. She wanted to run away but couldn't; she was stuck to the floor, her feet would not move. Barbra's heart was pounding and she was sure her mother could hear her. She watched as her mother gave every stroke, every lick and every kiss, Barbra watched her mother dive down on his man hood and swallow him. She watch as the man was jerking around all over the bed. His moans and groans became louder, he grabbed Marie by the hair, and his legs jerked and then he relaxed. Barbra knew he just shot his load. Mom crawled up on the bed with her lover and began kissing him. He rolled mom over onto her back and slid between her legs. He started kissing his way down her body; now he pulled and sucked on her nipples. He sucked those tits, but that was not where he was wanting to be. He wasted little time and headed south and toward a large patch of blonde hair that was neatly trimmed. Marie did not shave but she did not let it grow wild either. Now her lover had his hands feeling her monds and rubbing her neither lips to feel the wetness she had worked up while administering to her lover. Barbra did not realize it, but she had her own fingers rubbing her cunt. She is now lost in her own orgasmic ecstasy. She can not believe her mother is getting such attention from this man; and she looks again and its her "UNCLE." Barbra can't believe it and she is almost floored. Mother is fucking and sucking her own brother. And now he is bringing Marie to the apex of her needs, you can hear her moan and wail, as she reaches her orgasm. Now finally Barbra is able to brake way, and go back to her room. She closes her door she hears her mother again start to orgasm, and Barbra lays on her bed and must finish what she started for her own sanity....... Barbra comes down stairs some two hours later and Marie is sitting there in her house coat drinking a cup of tea. Marie asks Barbra if she would like to have some. "Barbra says yes thank you." Marie has blonde hair, brown eyes, nice body, not bad for a woman who is in her late 40's. She still has lovely facial features and an ass that some men would like to bounce on. Barbra does not quite understand that her mother still enjoys sex. "Marie looks at Barbra and asks her," did you enjoy the show? "Barbra says," what do you mean. "Marie looks at her," and says the one you watched for twenty minutes out side my bedroom door. We are all adults in this house and what we do and who we do it with is our own business. Barbra says, "Mother!" "Uncle Matt how could you." "Marie said very easy sweetheart," someday you'll understand. How's Bobby by the way, he hasn't been home has he. "Barbra looks at her," and says no he hasn't. "Have you been taking care of him when he has been home, Marie asks her." "Barbra tells her," No we want to wait till we move in together. Barbra, "Marie says," do you think those girls at school are waiting for him to move in? I don't think so. Are you so naive that you want them to have him instead of you. Marie gets up, and says listen I have something for you and if you listen to me it will make a world of difference. "Marie" leaves and comes back with a 10"latex phallus, and tells Barbra to practice on it every night until she can swallow the whole thing. When Bobby comes home make good use of what you've learned, then he will be yours. "Barbra" looks at her Mother, and says I don't know about this. "Marie says," did you see your Uncle Matt. Was he willing to do anything I wanted. Did you notice how he exploded when he came? Barbra starts that night and thinks of Bobby as she plays with the phallus, and herself. She is not sure how to start but she remembers her mother and Matt as they laid on the bed. And she starts the same way and slowly try's to take as much as possible......... It has been four weeks now, Barbra seems to be like her mother a natural, she is able to take the 10" phallus her mother has given her almost all the way down into her throat. Barbra has not even tried the phallus anywhere else. Now that she is able to take it all. Her plan will be to get Bobby in her room when he comes home and he will go back to school so weak it my take the entire semester for him to recover. "Marie asks," Barbra how are you doing. "Barbara tells her I can take the whole thing balls and all." When is Bobby coming home, "Barbra says very soon," and I'll be ready. "Marie says to her daughter," I think you will, and he had better eat hardy. ~ ~ ~ Bobby had to make a second trip to Professor Joyce Collins' apartment to adjust his grade to a 3.0 which she gladly did, with a smile on her face. "Bobby called Barbra," and Marie answered, telling him Barbra was at the pool. "Bobby said," Ok, let her know that I'll be home next Friday. "Marie asked," how was school. "Bobby said alright so far." "Marie asked him are the girls taking good care of you." "Bobby says Marie," that is not a question you should be asking a young man. "Marie said oh," I was interested in how my star pupil was doing. I know the ladies just love him. "Marie you are a bad girl," Bobby says to her. "Marie answers back," wait until I'm your mother, then breaks out in laughter. "Bobby says," how do you know you will be? "Marie replies;" that Barbra has been practicing for you. "Bobby asks, what do you mean." "Marie says," you'll see and has this big smile on her face......... The Home Coming Barbra has on a dark blue floor length dress, that is tied at the neck and shows her beautiful breasts. They spill out over the side instead of seeing her deep cleavage. Her nipples stick right thru the material and her ass eats the back of the dress. She is simply stunning. This was the first thing that greeted Bobby as he came in the front door. Bobby looks at her and becomes instantly aroused and says to Barbra, I guess we're going to diner. "Barbra says," unless you don't want to be seen with me. Uncle Matt will take me out, Barbra said to him with a little grin on her face! Bobby knew Matt's reputation with the women; and even those in his own family. "Bobby wasn't letting anybody near Barbra." Bobby told her give him twenty minutes and they would be on their way. Bobby came and kissed Barbra very deeply, and you could feel the fire burn between them. When Bobby left, Marie came in and "asked Barbra how it went." "Barbra said as soon as I mentioned Matt's name he was willing to do anything." "Marie says," see what a little word in the right place can do for you. "Marie tells her she looks beautiful and take full advantage of it." If you play your cards right you can have him begging you to marry him in the morning. Please, I do want to be his mother, Marie smiles and giggles like a school girl. "Barbra says, Mother you leave him alone." They both are now laughing as Bobby comes back into the room in a pair of Dark slacks, black loafers, light blue Polo sports shirt, and a wonderful smelling cologne. "Marie said," have a good time kids. Then went up stairs,... Uncle Matt was waiting... The restaurant was crowded and as they were seated, it seemed like every head in the place turned to look at Barbra. "Bobby" could see just how lucky he was to have the most beautiful woman in the place, she was sitting with him. God, he finally realized she is really that beautiful. The waiter comes over and asks what they will have, Bobby is in another world, so lost in thought he doesn't even know where he is. Luckily; Barbra is of sound mind, and orders for them both. She can't believe she is having this kind of affect on him. They have dinner and then dance a couple of slow dances. "Barbra says," she must go to the lady's room and Bobby watches as she walks away. Then as he sees her walk back to the table, it strikes him, my god she is naked under her dress, you can see everything. She sits down and says to Bobby, are you ready to go? "Bobby says, Barbra you are naked." What has gotten in to you. "Barbra looks at him and says, nothing that's the problem." They leave the restaurant and he is still in a fog but they head home.... Bobby and Barbra enter her bedroom, he looks at her and says, what will your mother think. "Mother is to busy with Uncle Matt right now to care about us." Come here she tells him and she grabs his shirt and pulls it over his head, then unbuckles his belt and drops his pants. She puts her arms around his neck and then reaches up and starts kissing his left ear and down his neck and around under his chin, then his right ear. Barbra plants little butterfly kisses on his forehead and eyes, nose then cheeks. Barbra then kisses him very passionately on his lips, letting his and her tongues both explore the depths of each others passion. Barbra tells Bobby to untie her dress and the garment falls to the floor exposing her beautiful body. Bobby looks and tells her over and over just how beautiful she is. That is something no woman ever gets tired of hearing especially from the man she loves. "Barbra tells Bobby," lay down on the bed and when he does she pulls off his fruit of the looms and now crawls between his legs and starts kissing his nipples. She is sucking and running her tongue in little circles around them as they are now harder than hers. "Why Bobby, are you that excited to see me sweetheart Barbra says to him." She begins running her tongue in small circles down into his belly button and now down to his pubic area. Barbra now has him, as he is squirming like a cat on a hot tin roof. She runs her tongue all over him like she practiced, and works on him every way she can. She has him in the right position and forces his big dick down her throat. Barbra was able to take him balls and all. Plus she would still run her tongue over the sphincter muscle of his asshole. She thought Mother would be proud, even she hasn't master that yet. "Bobby has exploded," he can not believe it is Barbra who is draining him like this, even Marie isn't this good. What Bobby doesn't know is this is only the beginning. He has the rest of tonight and the rest of his two weeks vacation. When he goes back to school, he may need that to rest up if he survives these two weeks. "Barbra" looks at him and tells him, "I've been practicing just for you, I hope I didn't disappoint you." She kisses him and strokes him as his half flaccid member is ready to start a new round and a much longer one this time and Barbra now smiles and pushes Bobby back down on the bed and says let us start again my love, as Barbra inhales him, you can hear him say "oh my God." Barbra starts putting little kisses on the under side of Bobby's cock, then dragging her tongue back and forth along the length of it. Now it gets that angry look back and is almost ready for action. Bobby can feel the welling in his loins as Barbra gives him one of the best blow jobs he has ever had. Barbra has taken him to the summit three times now, has keep him from going over the top. This is her time she will now put to use what she has learned and practiced. Barbra sucks on the head of his cock, running her tongue around the rim and under the edge. She sucks with such pressure that he feels like the inside of his balls are being sucked out. This is something totally new to Bobby, he loves it. Barbra runs her tongue across the under side of his cock, swiping up and down. All the while she is squeezing his balls gently, keeping her mouth on his cock, not letting it out of her mouth. She loves the feel of that head with the rim much wider than the rest of his cock. She can feel how good that will be in her pussy and ass, but now for things at hand. Barbra knows Bobby will not last to much longer and she has a surprise for him. Barbra gets in between his legs and on her knees she proceeds to take his cock into her mouth and down her throat and not even gag. Bobby is amazed at this. She has never been able to do this before. Barbra now starts to suck with her throat muscles. Bobby can feel the pressure on his cock from them, as she now takes him all the way to her lips. He feels her nose and chin on his pubic area, as she is pushing down, to get more of him into her and she is loving it. Barbra loves the taste of his cock and cum. Suddenly Bobby explodes with out warning; "he begins to pump wave after wave of cum down Barbra's throat." The muscles in her throat were unfucking believable. The contractions you would not think possible. Barbra's mother is a great blow job, but Marie is no where near anything like this. Barbra was having one of her strongest orgasms ever, at the same time as her man was filling her throat and mouth with his cum. She wasn't even touching herself and yet she felt like she had just peed herself. She could not believe how hard she came. This was even one of the biggest loads, Bobby can ever remember shooting. It seemed like it would last forever, but alas, it was over too soon. Barbra did not spill a single drop of his tasty cum, she swallowed all of it. Barbra and Bobby both lay next to each other looking very sated. They kissed softly and looked into each others eyes and did profess their undying love to one and another. Barbra looked at Bobby and said, "god how I did miss you sweetheart." "Bobby smiled," said to her kiddingly I would have never guessed. Barbra smacked him on the arm and said meanie, they both laughed and kissed each other again. Barbra knew that Bobby was about to go off to dream land for the night, but she was not finished with him yet, and was going to make sure he remembered his first night home. She let her hand slowly slide down to his flaccid member and started to rub it gently. Bobby said to her that it probably won't come back up. But sure enough Barbra had it ready for action in no time and then it was like a vacuum cleaner. Barbra went at it again, swallowing that entire cock which is not that small to begin with. That head comes out to 3 ½ inches and on a 7 inch pole that is a very formidable weapon. It is also not to hard for her to swallow. Barbra does drain him, and she lets him drift off to sleep and so will she, licking her lips and loving the taste of him........ Bobby is up and taking his shower when Marie walks in. She asks if he needs any help and he replies no thank you. Marie drops her towel, opens the shower door to enter, at the same time a voice comes from behind her saying, "What are you doing mother." "Marie says busted." Barbra was right behind her, Marie was so intent on watching Bobby that she did not notice Barbra standing there naked. Barbra grabbed her mothers tit, squeezed her nipple, and told her, "she can not fuck her man." I know you have fucked him when he was younger "Mother," and you taught him how to please older women, but he is mine now so stay away. Bobby grabbed the bath towel and soap and said, listen ladies I will wash both of you and then we will have breakfast. Then you can take me shopping for some new clothes, "OK." They both answered yes, at the same time and all three started laughing and soon would be ready to dry each other off. After a good breakfast of hot cakes and bacon they cleaned up and we're ready for the mall. Once there they decided to get Bobby up to date and send him back to school in style. Making the rounds of several stores and checking out several sales clerks and a few smacks from Barbra although nothing serious. They had lunch before taking their packages and heading home. Bobby bought several shirts and slacks to wear around campus. The girls bought panties and bras and that was fine with him he was in the store when other women would come out and ask him what he thought of their choices. "Marie and Barbra both decided to show them off for Bobby," so he was about to get a free pussy show and who knows what else. But he had to remember that this was his wife to be and his future mother. Sometimes it does not pay to fuck both at the same time. This time he would just enjoyed the show. Barbra & Marie The Evening - The Dinner - The Dance Marie came out first with a stunning pair of black and orange silk panties and bra that only covered the lower half of her tits and nipples and only the lips of her pussy and a little bit of hair that is all, the color combination was beautiful. Barbra walked out with a purple lace bra and vee shaped panty that just covered her splendid ass and pussy. Both sets of underwear are an instant hard on. They kept this up for thirty minutes with outfit after out fit trying to out do the other. I may have to take two women on my honeymoon when we get married. Bobby finally said to both of them, "enough, now lets get dressed and go to dinner." "They said Ok," giggled like school girls, but Bobby figured that it was about time he put at least one foot down. He knows who will be putting down the other two. "Bobby" was dressed in shirt, and slacks, jacket, he was a handsome man and any woman would be more than happy to be seen with him. "Marie" came out in a red dress with no shoulder straps only her tits holding the bodice up. Marie looked like a wet dream in progress. "Barbra" came out in a beautiful black silk Chinese print dress split up the middle and tied at the neck with a thin strap. Both women were only wearing a thin strand of pearls and pearl ear rings. They were simply beautiful and I was taking both of them to dinner. Damn Bobby thought to himself; my cock was going to be hard the rest of the night, they both know that they were torturing me. But I wouldn't change places with anybody else in the world..... As the three of us sat in the restaurant enjoying our meal, I asked if they would like to go across to the other side to do some dancing. The girls started giggling again and I took that for a yes. So we took care of the dinner bill and the waiter. We went into the lounge where the music was playing with a live band, and grabbed a table. "Marie" has been here before so she is aware of the music, and the band has a good reputation. She tells both Bobby and Barbra that there will be plenty of people here to dance to the music by 11pm. So right now we can enjoy ourselves with out a too crowded dance floor. "Barbra" grabs me as a slow number starts to play and we head to the floor. A young Man about 24 asks "Marie" to Dance, she says yes and they head to the dance floor. "Marie" asks the young man his name, and he responds Mike. "Mike says to Marie," I work in computer programming and development at IBM. "Marie" tells him her name, even her near age. "Mike" looks at her and says you are not that old, no way. "Marie says, yes I am." Mike says to her, "show me your driver's license." "Marie says," I don't have it with me but, I'll introduce you to my daughter. With that she has Mike walk back to the table with her. "Barbra" said she has been talking to this nice looking man for about a half hour now. She tells Bobby, Marie is going to get laid to night. "Bobby says no way," and has this little grin on his face. "Marie comes over to the table and introduces Mike." She says to Barbra are you or are you not my daughter. "Barbra says," why do you want me to be. Marie just looks at her. Mike tells Barbra that Marie says she is over forty. "Barbra tells Mike, she is not a day over twenty eight. "Marie looks a her daughter and says oh how you lie," I will get you for this! "Mike looks at her and says if you didn't want to talk to me that is OK." I won't bother you. "Marie says," no Mike please stay, they're crazy, I want your company, lets dance, and get away from here. As Marie and Mike walk to the dance floor, Barbra and Bobby start laughing. "Barbra says to Bobby," pay backs are a bitch and I owe her for trying to sneak into the shower. "Bobby says," Barbra your not gonna get mad at me are you. She smiles and puts her hand under the table and grabs his cock, Barbra says you know where that belongs don't you. "Bobby says to her, right in that beautiful ass of yours." "Barbra says to him," you've got that right Mr.. Mike is talking to Marie, he tells her how beautiful he thinks she is. He doesn't believe that they are mother and daughter. He tells her that they could be related maybe niece and aunt. He says Marie you are no more than 35 at the oldest and that is it. "Marie looks at him and says," do you ware glasses or are you just blind "Mike says back to her," I see very well why. "Marie tells Mike," the only other excuse is that you're crazy. Mike starts to laugh, and it is the type of laugh that is infectious. Then Marie starts as they walk back to the table. They get Bobby and Barbra going, and even a few people around them. Barbra and Marie go to the ladies room, while Bobby and Mike get to know each other, Mike is surprised to find out that they are indeed mother and daughter, but Mike has the hots for Marie and he wants to date her and Bobby thinks it is great and tells him go for it. "Barbra mean while, tells her mom to get him, and fuck his young brains out." Marie likes him and thinks he may be a pretty nice guy, but she wants to date him first to find out. "Barbra agrees with her and tells her take her time, but no more than an hour. Barbra has this shit eating grin on her face. Her mother says one thing is wrong though, my pussy is itching like hell and if I get any wetter it will look like I peed myself. "Barbra, Marie says to her," right now if I could, I would suck his dick until those lovely green eyes turned brown. Barbra thinks to herself, that young man is in for a very long night and I bet he will love it. Marie and Mike are dancing again and seem to be enjoying each others company. Bobby and Barbra are sitting at the table sipping their drinks rubbing each others legs. The music seems to be getting louder and the lounge more crowded. Barbra tells Marie that she is ready to leave, it is getting to crowded for her and Bobby. Does she want to go with them or stay with Mike. Marie decides to stay a while longer with her new friend, Mike said he would take good care of her.......... Barbra and Bobby are now in her room as she takes off her lovely dress that got her so much attention this evening. Bobby unties the neck strap and as the dress falls the only thing she is wearing is a black lacy pare of silk panties. Bobby starts planting little kisses on her ears then on her neck then down across her breasts taking in each lovely pink nipple and suck it until it is hard as a rock. Running his tongue in circles right down across her belly button, then down to the top of her mounds. Bobby is driving her crazy and he is trying to. He kisses her panty tops and can smell the aroma of her love juice and now wants to taste her. Bobby pulls her panties off and can feel the wetness about them. He pushes her down onto the bed and crawls between her thighs, and starts to run his tongue up and down the inside of her thighs, then up to her outer pussy lips, then back down again. Bobby is doing this repeatedly and now split's the center of her pussy and flicks his tongue onto her clitoris. Barbra almost jumps off the bed, he then starts to flick her clit with short fast little strokes that create heat inside her. Bobby then pushes one finger, then another into her pussy as he now starts to suck on her clit. With the sucking he also starts humming on her clit and pushes his fingers into her pussy until he hits her g-spot. Then she does come off the bed with one hell of an orgasm, she came and squirted so much he thought she had peed on his fingers. "Oh Bobby that was so unbelievable," god what you do to me. I love you so much, "Bobby I truly do." Barbra felt his tongue start to lick and probe her pussy, also she could feel his tongue on her rosebud. Bobby began to push his tongue into her asshole and test her sphincter muscle and she was loving it. "Barbra asked Bobby, if that is what he wanted, he said yes." She smiled and said, with that cock of yours please take it easy. Barbra crawled over next to Bobby grabbed the K-Y jelly. Bobby now put her legs over his shoulders. He really covered his cock in the jelly, and put a couple of fingers up her ass with plenty of jelly on them. He lubes her ass with his fingers to open her up. Bobby now places his cock in her asshole and starts pushing, as he does he can feel the head slip in and once in, her sphincter muscles tighten around the head, he is now in her until his cock goes soft or Barbra lets him out. Barbra tells Bobby to fuck her, they start a long and slow push and pull that these two will enjoy for the next 20min. As they slowly push and grind into each other they keep their long and slow strokes that Barbra is loving every push and shove of this ass fuck. Bobby has keep his cock well lubed, has used almost a whole tube of jelly on this one fuck but it has been worth it. Barbra has loved it more than he knows, but then again what doesn't she love about sex. "Bobby tells Barbra that he is going to cum." "She tells him to increase the tempo." They can cum together. Barbra squeezes her ass muscles, "tells Bobby to push as fast as possible and he is," but she has him so tight that he can barely move, "she is screaming that she is going to cum." When Barbra does cum, her orgasm is over whelming. Her sphincter finally relaxes and Bobby's cock explodes into her ass with such force, she was thinking it may come out of her throat. He shot one hell of a load into her ass. She loved every minute of it; this is what she has been waiting for these past months he has been away. They lean into each other and kiss with great tenderness and love that these two do have for each other. Nothing could ever take the place of this, Barbra thinks to herself. First Night Mike and Marie have gone to his place after closing the lounge. They thoroughly enjoyed each others company, and Marie wants nothing more than to get Mike into bed and fuck him silly. Mike wants to get her in bed and suck her pussy until it goes dry. Then he wants to start over again beginning with her beautiful ass. These two will make a fine couple, even if they don't know it yet. Mike takes Marie to his bed room and slowly pulls her dress down revealing only a red silk demi bra, red thong that is soaked and a red pair of 4" open toed high heel sandals that he removes from her feet and slowly rubs them, and then sucks on each toe driving her crazy. Mike now removes his clothes, then pulls off Marie's bra and thong, he now takes her into his bathroom. Mike's shower can hold four so there is plenty of room and he wants to have a sweet time with this woman. "Marie has been so enamored she has not even noticed what is hanging between his legs." This is a first for her, and she will really be surprised. As the water cascades down their bodies she starts to wash him with the bath oil and she comes to his cock and a gasp comes from her mouth, as she looks at this thing she has in her hand. "My god she says, How long is this thing." "Oh Michael, you must be Kidding." I have never seen a cock this long ever, let alone soft. "Oh Michael that is amazing," and it is a good thing it isn't that big around, or you would have a heart attack every time you got a hard on. Mike just laughed at Marie and keep washing her body. "She did not even realize they were getting clean as she was so caught up with his cock." "Mike asked her, why are you calling me Michael now." "Marie said to him" any body with a cock like that has to be called properly. "Michael she said," with a devilish little girl grin, you are alllllllll mannnnnn. "Michael, this woman is going to make you all hers." They dry each other off and kiss each other, Marie can not keep her hands off of Mike's dick. They walk over to the bed and Mike pushes Marie down onto it. She feels his strong hands grip her thighs, his hands show the power he has in them but yet he is gentle and can show tenderness with each touch. They move up and down her thighs then into her pussy itself. That sweet area that is now so wet you would think she has not dried herself from the shower. The scent of her is driving him crazy as he nears her he wants to taste her and starts running his tongue into the slit right in the middle of her vee. Both lips are swollen and the juice is just running down to her asshole. Mike keeps his tongue busy on her pussy lips and then hits Marie's very large clitoris. He is now sucking on it like there is no tomorrow, as he puts his finger into her love hole and starts a sawing motion. Marie starts to buck like a wild mare, and "Mike adds another finger to her hole and now fines that G- spot and she comes off the bed with one hell of an orgasm. Her climax sent so much fluid down her hole, "Mike thought she had peed on his hand at first." Wave after wave came over her and she almost passed out it was so strong. Like mother like daughter. "Marie started telling Mike" she has never experienced anything like that before, and that was the first time she has ever squirted like that. She said she lost count after the seventh orgasm, this is something that she had never before encountered. Marie pulled Mikes finger's from her pussy and started to suck and lick them then she let Mike taste her also. "Michael I think I'm falling in love with you." Michael looks at her and smiles tenderly and says we've only just met, "I've only sucked your pussy, that can not be any criteria for falling in love." "Marie says to him," that is more than enough. Marie now puts her hand on Mike's long cock and is feeling it come to life. She can not believe this thing she is holding, it has to be 9" soft . It was no where as thick as Bobby's but soft it was longer. How long will this thing be when it gets ready to go, she thinks to herself. Marie now has both hands rubbing his cock and they can't cover it at all. Michael she asks, "how long is this thing." "Mike says to her, find out for yourself." Marie takes his cock in her hand; and starts to stroke it gently and as she does she looks to see two very large sacks hanging under that beautiful cock. Marie realizes that she had not even paid attention to them because of that beautiful cock hanging there. His nuts were larger than normal, about the size of Bobby's, yet they fit his body well. Marie now wanted to get serious and start to suck this monster. She let her tongue lick the head and go down the under side of the long ass stem. She feels he must be at least 10 or 11 inches by now and he still is not fully hard. God Marie thinks, how long is this mother going to be. She now strokes and starts sucking on the head and brings him into her mouth. Opening as wide as she can she now, breaths thru her nose and tries to take him slowly down her throat. Marie tastes the pre cum and loves it. She can not get passed her gag reflex and she pulls out leaving a long trail of saliva on the head of his dick and her lips. She does not stop and goes right back down on it and this does impress Mike, he thinks she is absolutely wonderful. Marie is at the gag reflex again and this time she passes it and slowly is able to pull his cock down her throat. Marie is moving very slowly and she is able to take a breath every so often . Her throat muscles are pulling on Mike's cock , he is not that fat and they both can enjoy this very much. Mike is starting to get that I gotta cum feeling and Marie can feel it also. Her throat tells her to start sucking harder and Mike is starting to pump with a lot more energy and now Marie is finding it hard to breathe. "Mike is telling her," Marie you do not have to do this. She will not stop and she keeps going and forcing her self further down on his cock. Mike is now fully hard, she is in another world and between sucking his cock and jerking him off at the same time she is gone. Mike says to Marie again, "baby you do not have to do this to please me, you all ready have done that." Marie doesn't care; she jerks him even faster and he starts to get even longer if that's possible, as Marie takes a deep breath and she rolls him on his side. Mike can she tears in her eyes as he explodes. Stream after stream of his cum is shooting down her throat and she will not let up off his cock. Mike has never felt any thing like this in his life. If this is what satisfaction is than he is not letting this woman get away and he doesn't care if she is 67. "Marie comes up off Mike's cock and licks her lips," besides being able to just barely breath. She looks at Mike and says, "I can't believe I could do that." I told Barbra to practice for Bobby when he came home but I never thought about myself. "Mike says to her," Marie you are beautiful woman, I thought you are the best thing that has ever happened to me. She licked her lips and moaned, kissing Mike deeply, probing with her tongue and Mike tasting his own cum. Mike thinks to himself I don't taste to bad. Now are you ready to make love Mike asks her. He can feel Marie is as wet as hell. "Marie lays back," sees that Mike is hard already and he is not kidding, he must be over a foot long. She is about to get every inch of that beautiful cock up her pussy, he pushes it in and takes his time feeding it slowly at first to get her use to the length, then he will pump her like a steam engine. "Marie is just loving it," she is glad he is not even as wide as Bobby, for she knows he would ruin her and she would be no good after him. One thing is for sure he will be able to put that long dong up her ass with out any trouble she thinks to herself. Now Marie and Mike get into a beautiful rhythm as they are into long deep strokes. Mike drives his cock into Marie as far as it will go; he bottom's out with maybe 5 inches left out side her pussy, she looks down to see she hasn't taken all of him. God I can't believe it, I swallowed that damn thing but my pussy won't take all of it. "That's OK baby, Mike says to Marie, it will feel great no matter where we put it. "Michael" do you believe that there is such a thing as love at first fuck. God I can not explain it any other way. I'm in love with you Michael, I mean it. I truly do, "Marie continues to keep her pace along with Mike's," as they increase their tempo. "My god Michael why do I feel this way," what are you doing to me. Mike who is in the same boat as Marie, knows how she is feeling, for he feels the same way and doesn't know why either. Marie he says to her, "I feel the same way and what are we going to do about it." This is new to me I've never been married or anything. "But woman, I do want you, I'm going to need you, tell me honey what to do." They are looking into each others eyes, fucking each other with such tenderness that they are lost in the splendor of the moment. "Mike asks Marie, can you feel me honey," "Marie says yes," Michael it is getting even harder than before. My god it feels like an iron bar fucking me with a velvet cover. "Oh Michael shove it in, Oh god it is sooooo good." Marie puts a lip lock on him and starts fucking him for all she is worth. Harder Michael, Harder please, make me cum. Mike's cock now starts to swell, as he is ready to give her his load. Push that cock in me faster and faster. I'm going to cum Mike, I'm goinggg to cummmmm. Marie arches her back and screams as her orgasm takes over her. Drenching Michael's cock with her female juices. Then the fountain over flows, as stream after stream of Mike's hot cum flows into her cunt. It's filling that cavity with as much hot juice as it will hold. The hot white cream seems to sate her hunger for the time being, as it flows out of her pussy and down her ass cheeks. Marie can't get enough of it. Mike has a look of a well satisfied man on his face. He will be learning that this is just the start of a life long partnership that he will have with Marie. Barbra & Marie There will be many more days like this yet to come Michael. You will love them all, and this older woman you have fallen in love with...... Barbra and Bobby will be engaged and married by next July. They will go on to finish college and have three children. They will be all girls, and just as lovely as their Mother and Grandmother with the same out look on life as their mother and grand mother. They will want their father and grandfather. Whom grand ma tells them so many stories about, she will have their young panties wet every night; that is if she can keep Barbra away from her. "Of course Barbra gets to run around saying, Ohhhhh Mother, don't ruin them." And you know how five girls can giggle & giggle!! Barbra and The Bosnian This is a sequel of sorts to other 'Barbra' vampire stories. It might be worthwhile to read the others first. ***** BOOM The sound hammered in the hallway of the French public estate, expanding to take up the space, leaving behind a ringing metallic tone. There was another one. BOOM Barbra could feel it, sense the bullet impact, but there wasn't any pain at all, and looked down at a hole in her shirt. The other had missed. She had a big-ass bullet hole in her chest and wasn't dead. She wasn't even hurt. She felt herself fixing up, healing, as she wondered. She smiled, her teeth growing longer. She was fully changed. The guy in front of her, dressed in the usual mafia tracksuit, was absolutely goggle-eyed, stupefied and staring at her in shock. He actually looked at the silver, shining pistol in his hand, turning it, as if it had turned into a squirt gun or toy. Barbra thought, "It may as well be a squirt gun." She decided to get theatrical. She spread her arms, twitching her hands. She said, in English, "Hey, motherfucker. You're dead." The man couldn't understand her, and said something in French. She laughed, the threat, the deep malicious sound she'd fallen into. Then she was on him. He died fast. There was a lot of blood and she just gulped it down. Whimsically, she continued the theatricality: she dragged the body to a window, punched out the safety glass, and tossed it out. They were several stories up and it took a while for him to hit: when he did there was an amusing 'thump', followed by another, whooshing noise. He'd bounced once. Barbra wiped her hands in an exaggerated motion, like something in a movie, a Three Stooges move except for all the smearing blood, and walked down the hallway of the estate. A woman in a hijab and holding a large shopping bag, stared at her, transfixed. Barbra stopped in front of the woman and reached a hand under her blood-soaked shirt. She put a finger through the bullet hole and waggled it. Barbra said, in horrible French, "Aw Ruh-vore." The woman's eyes rolled back in her head and she fainted. Her body dropped to the stained concrete. Barbra looked at her for a second. Sirens started up, far too close. Barbra considered her options. The woman lay on the floor, out cold. The bag she was carrying spilled groceries: bread, an apple. Barbra looked down at the floor, and the bloody footprints she was leaving. She walked down the corridor slowly, thinking. She felt herself getting sexually aroused. "Uuungh..." This part was the worst, the anticipation right after eating. Or drinking. Feeding. Whatever it was she did. She bent over with desire. It was awful, totally uncontrollable. And she realized the night was fleeting by, too quickly. She'd spent too much time playing with the criminal she'd just killed. She was going to have to find a place to stay. And fuck someone as well. "Shit!" She walked, stuffing her hands in her pockets to touch herself. She made it to the stairway, and down; as she reached a landing a man appeared, entering into the stairwell from a door. She stopped and looked at him. He saw her blood-covered body and froze. Something went on in his face. Barbra studied him; he was probably forty or so, salt and pepper facial hair, dark eyes; there was some deep message of anguish around his mouth. She put the question in his mind, and he said it, in heavily accented English. "Do I know you?" Barbra smiled, feeling herself get wet. "You're about to." He walked up the stairs and she followed. He was reasonably well built, not bad for a middle-aged man, but she knew his physique wasn't the issue here; she just needed the release and his blood smelled clean. But there was something in his mind, something awful; she had felt similar things in the minds of killers, but this man was something different. There was a wall, or a container, in there, sunk deeply. She gasped when she realized what was going on. The man had blocked memories. He didn't know he had memories in his head. He'd sealed them off. It fascinated her: this was new. Interesting. Stimulating. She actually was curious about this one: she really wanted to have sex with him, outside of the basic need. The sirens got closer, then stopped; the police were at the estate, probably clustered around the body. She had to get inside. The man led her to an empty hallway, to a scratched and battered door, and went in. He turned; she was at the entrance, waiting in agony. The man squarely faced her, looking directly into her eyes, her killer eyes. She got frustrated, then confused; this one was weighing whether to invite her inside. This was also new; typically men would just automatically want her. This man was hesitating. She tried to look into his mind, and found moral confusion. Weird. Barba said, "I won't hurt you. Please invite me in." The man stared at her, the box or container in his head set in there like a concrete block. His unwillingness had something to do with the memories. Barbra grunted, and begged. She couldn't believe it. "Ungh... please." The man nodded and waved his hand. It wasn't enough, and Barbra had to prompt him. "You have to say it. Out loud." The man said something in another language, not English, something Eastern European, but the message was clear, and she was able to go inside. She groaned in relief. He closed the door and she was in his home. The man turned and walked into a kitchenette type area. The floor was concrete, covered with a thick rug. There was a large, elaborate bird cage in the living room, with no bird in it. No pictures on the walls. It looked like a slightly dressed-up prison cell. The man was speaking to her, and Barbra started; she was still very ready. It wasn't going to go away, no way. She had to fuck this guy. "Speak English, please," she told him. He paused, then said, "Coffee? You like coffee?" Barbra didn't feel like hiding what she was. She said, rudely, "I can't fucking drink it, I don't give a shit. Come here." She strode into the kitchenette, gripped the sides of his face, and stared directly into his dark, swimming eyes. She bumped herself against his pelvis, going nearly frantic. He responded, but half-heartedly; she had the sudden thought the man might be homosexual, gay, but darting around in his head, that wasn't the case, and besides, she could always tell. The man's cock got hard, but in a biological way, not from any real desire. Fucking weird. Barbra took his arm, dragged him into the living area, and dumped him on the rug-covered floor. She ripped off his belt, breaking the buckle, yanked his trousers open, and thrust down her pants. She got him inside her as quickly as she could. She had a concern the guy would come too fast, but with a quick look around in his head, she knew that wasn't going to happen. She rode him. It was terrible. Probably the dumbest, least arousing sex she'd ever had in her... life...? It would have been offensively awful if she hadn't needed it so bad. The guy barely touched her; she had to put his hands on her thighs and fuck him. The orgasm didn't take long, but it was an utterly perfunctory thing, a maintenance climax, not only nothing special, but kind of depressing and pointless. It pissed her off, it was so stupid, and she considered killing the guy for being such a limp-dicked cold fish. She didn't though; she had a little rule that once she told someone she wasn't going to hurt them, she never did; it would have been unfair, dishonest. After her own orgasm, she had to work on his orgasm, and after a ludicrously long time, he finally released a spoonful or so of the protein strands she loved so much. She lifted off and pulled up her pants, angry and offended. What the fuck was wrong with this idiot? She felt frustrated and irritated. She angrily stripped off her clothes and dumped them in a pile on the floor. She bounced a little on her feet, naked; it was bright outside. The sun was up. She was trapped in here with this guy. He got up and wandered the flat for a little while. She watched him wipe down the kitchen area. She looked around in his head. There were some powerful images in there. She saw fires, frightened people, white-painted military vehicles. Barbra poked around in his heart some. The overwhelming feeling in him was bewilderment and confusion. Fear was the lesser of his emotions, the strongest was confusion. She smiled grimly. The man was a mess, inside. Barbra wandered the flat naked, touching things while he fussed in the kitchen area. There didn't even seem to be a television. It wouldn't be dark again for hours and hours, and for some reason she wasn't tired at all. "I have all day to kill," she thought. "What the fuck am I going to do for amusement?" The main area had the empty bird cage, the crude furnishings. She left that room and wandered to what seemed to be a sleeping area. That was crude as well: a bed-type arrangement and a cheap dresser. A chest of nondescript appearance set on the floor against one wall. Barbra glanced at the man in the kitchen. He was still fussing with dishes and pots, head down. He looked like he was thinking or concentrating. She lifted open the chest. It had personal belongings in it, the only things she'd seen so far. She rustled around in them; she found a small doll, and then a woman's dress. Weird. A medal with a red star on it, a book in some other alphabet, Russian, maybe. Underneath all of it was a flat box. She opened it: it had photographs inside. There were pictures of a young woman, becoming progressively older in photographs. A wedding photo, a picture of a baby, a young girl, maybe 6 or 7 years old. A family portrait of the three people. The man was easily identifiable. It was his family. She studied the photograph of the woman very carefully, thinking. Barbra had a thought, a curious idea. She smiled, an inquisitive smile. She could feel, and sense, people and exploit them, get them to give her money, do things for her. It seemed to be a kind of hypnosis. She'd looked around in a lot of people and used what she found for what she needed; she'd never occupied anyone before, though; and she had all day. She wondered if she could make this guy think she was someone else, fool him into believing she was another person, using what she found. It might be fun. Fun. She needed some fun. Entertainment, a pastime. It might be worth it. She studied the photo portrait of the woman when she was young. She wondered if she could use that image to manipulate someone. She'd never tried becoming someone else in a human mind; making them think she was someone else, fooling them. She wondered if she could do it. It might be a useful skill. She muttered, smiling, "It's worth a try." Barbra removed the dress, shook it out. The man was standing motionless in the kitchen, frozen somehow. She got the impression he'd done it a lot. She held the dress up to herself; it wasn't quite her size, but she could squeeze into it. She did it, flinging it over her head, smoothing the fabric out as well as she could, and padded in bare feet into the kitchen, ready for the game, her daytime amusement. She moved around in the man's mind, and found a greeting in his first language, things people would say to each other. She said, out loud, "Doh-bar dan." She had no idea what it might mean in English. There was another word in there, too: 'Lee-yoobav', but she had even less of an idea what that might mean. The man turned, stared at her, the dress, and he opened up just enough for her to find the woman in the photos, the wife, in him. She instantly regretted it: his anguish, the palpable pain, hit her like a hammer. She wasn't ready at all. It felt like being punched by a very powerful boxer. Barbra stumbled, shocked. "Shit!" She worked to recover. It washed past her; flowed around; this wasn't amusing at all. It was something about the woman. She almost stopped, almost decided to kill the guy, but remembered her promise and decided to stick out her little experiment: she could do this. His questioning eyes traveled over her body, and she had to collect herself, trying to find the reference point in him, a strong memory. She found it. There was an episode of time, of the two at a beach, watching an incredible, impossibly blue, topaz ocean. The woman, wearing a vintage-looking swimsuit, scampered into the water. The man watched. The little girl from the photos played in the sand, laughing, smiling. The mental block inside the man cracked open. Barbra grunted from the rush, and fell backward against the rough wall, sucking in breath. She had no idea human beings could feel so intensely. She bent over, hands on her knees, shaking. There was a quick image, flitting out of the block, of the woman and blood. It vanished as quickly as it came. Barbra collected herself. Looking at herself, as best she could, Barbra realized she was still smeared with blood. She'd forgotten. That's what was doing it, the wedge into the man. The combination of the dress and the blood on her body. She decided to say something to him, try to make him focus; she looked up and stared into his eyes. Barbra said, "I'm here." She didn't know who, exactly, might be 'her', but she was making him decide who she could be. She waited, breathing; the man's mind and heart calmed down, and then he saw who he wanted her to be. Barbra saw her own image in his mind, his memories and perceptions, shifted, and became for him, the woman, his wife. He staggered to her, putting out a hand, and touched her face. His hand came away spotted with drying blood. He looked at his palm and shook his head. He took her wrist and led her to the bathroom. Barbra had forgotten about it, since she didn't do that anymore, but allowed him to do it. He opened a tap and ran water into a public-flat type bathtub. He helped her remove the dress, watching her with an incredible expression of pain and cautious anticipation. When the dress was removed completely, the block of memories opened some more, and Barbra saw the woman again, face down in a weed-filled ditch, arms under her body, wearing a similar dress, hair in a tangle. The man led her into the tub and unhooked a spray unit. He took a scrub cloth and washed her body, carefully, delicately, lovingly cleaning the blood off her skin. She let him do it. It was interesting, unique. It was a ritual, a special thing, something she'd never experienced when she was human, nothing at all like it, ever. He sang softly, a lullaby or something, a quiet, lyrical expression, as he cleaned her body. When they were done she stepped out of the tub and he dried her off, gently rubbing the towel on her skin, touching every square centimeter of her. He helped her put the dress back on and led her into the kitchen. He put a pot on the stovetop and began boiling water; he started to make coffee. He began talking to her in his language, a quiet, simple conversation. Her occupying a person in his mind didn't extend to language, and Barbra had no clue what he was saying; it seemed to be just some routine, day-to-day chatter. She waited, standing next to him, then moved closer and put her hand on his shoulder. The man turned and smiled to her, enjoying her touch. She moved closer, and he put his hand under her chin, tipped her head back, and kissed her lips. She saw an image of the two of them, the man and his wife, young, naked, in a bed in an afternoon. Like newlyweds, before the daughter. Then she saw the daughter, the little girl of six or seven years, with the top half of her face shot away. The man shuddered violently and the box opened completely. Barbra let the images rush out, the fire and blood, the sense of desperation and confusion and utter bewilderment. This guy was totally lost. He'd been lost for quite a while. She said her line again: "I'm here." He clenched her to him, grasping her tightly, stroking her hair and back, moving his hands on her body, desperately feeling her; he had a sense of disbelief, astonishment. He was gasping, breathing heavily, in a kind of relief. Barbra wondered how she was going to extricate herself from this situation she'd created. She thought, realized she still had hours to spend somehow, and made a decision. She leaned up and kissed him carefully, then drew him to the simple mattress. She undressed him, and when he was naked he lifted her skirt, fondling her body and smiling, touching her all over. She shrugged the dress down below her shoulders and exposed her breasts; he touched her, kissed her nipples, palming her body and whispering softly. He left her dress on and kissed her skin, roving everywhere, gently touching and caressing. Barbra found herself enjoying it; it was interesting and exciting. She felt her teeth pop out a little; it was the first time she'd felt a sexual stir without killing and feeding. She felt herself get wet, the blood moving around in her body, redistributing to sexual areas. It was fun. She drew him to her, got them into a sitting position, and lowered herself onto him; it felt good, very good, and she maintained the fiction of being his wife, the dead woman in the ditch, and she groped around on his body, fucking him. He gasped loudly and fucked her, not exactly roughly, but... passionately, she thought, she felt: passion. It was passion. She put the thought into his head to make it last, and he did, fucking her, touching her, kissing her mouth and neck. Her nails popped out a little and she scratched him slightly, trying very hard not to draw blood. He shouted out and pressed her against him, fucking. They did it for a long while, until Barbra had a very pleasant orgasm, a fun little thing, a shaking, nice experience. She kept him in her until he came, and her body soaked up the protein strands. It was good, a pleasant diversion. When they were both done, she slipped off him and lay down, pressing close. She smoothed out the dress, covering herself again. He put his arms around her and sang softly, kissing her in afterplay. She put her face close and smiled to him. The horrific images faded, blended, made fuzzier, distant. He told her he loved her and kissed her lips. In his mind the daughter appeared; Barbra stiffened: she hadn't anticipated it! If the wife was there, the daughter had to be as well. It was part of the memory. She thought to herself, "Shit!" Now what? The memory of the daughter smiled and waved to her father; the man waved back, pride swelling in his heart. Barbra thought frantically; she didn't really want to fuck the guy over: he needed the imagery, the experience, too much. She didn't feel right dumping him back to his miserable reality. She tried to decide if her actions here were going to make the guy better, or worse, or what. She roved around in his mind, his heart, and came to the conclusion the loss of his family was just too much: he wasn't going to recover. Happiness was gone. He was a shell, unable to move on, trapped. She'd let out his memories, and he wasn't going to be able to live with them. It had gone on too long. She sighed and frowned; then made a decision. He asked, "Shta? What?" in his language, but for some reason this time she understood him. She said, "Our daughter is sleeping. Just a minute." She got up and walked to the main room, leaving him behind. She quickly gathered some clothing out of a bin, her own clothing, and small blanket; she lumped them up and put the blanket over the shape. It could pass for a small child sleeping under a cover. She returned to the bedroom; he'd put his trousers back on. "Come, come see." She took his hand and led him to the main room. He looked at the shape and gasped, shocked. She'd brought the daughter back. She saw the images, the face of the daughter, waving, smiling. He moved to the shape on the floor, bending over. He looked back to his wife and smiled, eyes glistening. Barbra waited for him to turn away and reach for his child. She balled up her fist and struck the base of the skull, just right. It was instant. Barbra and The Bosnian The last experience in his mind was of his family, together. Barbra spent the rest of the day in the flat, sitting, dozing. She washed the body in the tub, then dressed him neatly, groomed him; straightened the flat up and cleaned carefully. She placed the photographs of his family with him. When the sun was fully down Barbra collected some things, some money. She left the dead woman's dress on; she liked it. She left the flat, locked the door behind her, and walked away from the estate, into the darkness, the wonderful darkness. Barbra "I think I went there once. Mmm -- I can't remember what it was like. Shall we try? Saturday night at eight?" "Yes, please. That would be nice. But I cannot manage it this week; my sister will be visiting. Next Saturday, okay?" "It will be a long wait. But yes, of course." "I'll be there. Right?" "Good girl!" John asked her cell phone number and put it into his iPhone. The conversation was cut short by the arrival of a friend of John's, who hi-fived him and then crushed him in a bear hug before embarking on a heated conversation about God knows what. Beau Burrowes, who wore sagging pants and a reversed baseball cap, sported a good many tattoos, from his knuckles on up. Barbra looked at him from the corner of her eyes, and she reflected that here was someone she didn't approve of at all. She hoped he was not indicative for all the company John kept. She looked at Mary and raised her eyebrows. "He is not as ferocious as he looks, you know," Mary said. Barbra nodded. That might be true, and her father had always taught her not to be biased. He didn't have an unfriendly face, and he didn't have any piercings, at least. Still, she'd greatly dislike meeting Beau alone after dark somewhere. She walked over to Joan. "Hi baby," Joan said. "Made a hit with John? Good catch, girl!" Barbra shrugged her shoulders. "Is he? Why?" "Oh, come on! No need to be modest! Don't you know John's the manager of Robinson's -- the engine factory?" "No? I've only just met him." "Okay. He's going to take you out?" "We'll meet at our local next Saturday." "Mmm. Oh well, for a start..." "I'm quite happy with it! So you know this Beau?" "A little. Looking a bit scruffy now, isn't he? But he's alright." She winked, and gave her a smile. "John's handsome, don't you think?" Barbra nodded. There was no denying he was, handsome and very attractive, and Joan and Mary apparently thought well of him. She liked both women immensely. But... Now was she or wasn't she being difficult? She sighed. Maybe time would tell. Then she just shook all qualms off her shoulders and enjoyed the party with her friends. John and Beau stood talking with a few rather nondescript young men, and she didn't notice John again until she was about to leave and he walked up to her. "Next Saturday night at eight, remember?" he said with a smile. She nodded. "Sure! See you then!" she said. She kissed Mary goodbye, and waved at the remaining members of the party before she walked to her car. At the end of the row of cars that sat along the kerb she saw Beau and one of the young men; when they saw her coming they turned her way and waved. Beau did have a nice smile, she thought. Maybe he really wasn't too bad after all? She waved back, got into her car and drove off, happy to be on her own. 3 - On the Cliffs Joe and Minnie, Barbra's parents, had moved to England from Trinidad when the twins were only eighteen months old. Joe worked as a circuit judge, and for the first few years the family lived in London. When they felt more or less settled they moved to a small village near Bradgate Park. The twins went to school there, and afterwards Em went to university in Loughborough while Barbra went to Glasgow. It proved a good solution to the endless quarrels they'd had in their adolescence. After Barbra had finished her studies, she moved back to the Midlands to be close to her parents and her sister -- no matter how often they quarrelled, she had missed Emily sorely in Scotland, and she wanted to be closer to her again. Living in a village with Mike had proved to be a great success. As Barbra had expected, Em had been rather negative when Barbra told her she was planning to move. Though they had fought like lions when they were young, and though she had always seen Barbra as a rival in their father's affection, she found it very hard to live far away from her. Joe Kirkland had always tried to treat his daughters strictly equally. He listened to his favourite music with Barb, and went rafting with Em; he took Em to the movies and went for walks with Barb -- each to their professed preferences. Em had always tried to be with it, and so she had been unable to admit to herself that she actually quite enjoyed her father's records, too. Everyone thought she hated them but liked the ruder kind of popular music instead. She didn't, but she'd felt she had to keep up appearances within her peer group, and be cool. Her parents' deaths had affected her just as much as Barbra, which resulted in her being even more quarrelsome than usual. She often wished she could just give up acting the way she did; but old habits die hard, and she was rather afraid to show her emotions, let alone to be seen crying. Aggression was a good shield to hide behind, and no matter how hard she tried, she would find herself being difficult again and again, even though she knew how much her sister would love to be on good terms with her. And so would she...so would she. Bee's decision to move felt like treason to her, and at first she refused to visit her sister. But she knew that in doing so she was only cutting off her own nose to spite her face; eventually she came round, and on a Friday afternoon she drove down to pay Barbra a visit. She had to admit to herself that it was a really comfortable house in a beautiful region. Barbra received her enthusiastically and made her feel very welcome, which made her wish even more she could get herself to react in kind. Didn't she feel like staying for a couple of days? That Monday was a bank holiday and so they could have a pleasant long weekend together. Em happily accepted. The sisters amicably did the cooking together, and they cracked a bottle of wine; then they sat talking until deep into the night, touching on their parents, and love, and Mike -- Emily had always got on very well with Mike, who somehow had not been of the quarrelling kind; it had been impossible to get him ruffled or angry. He simply used his anger in the reporting he did, always trying to nail injustice and wrongs, and his relationships were calm and sunny; just what Em needed, really. Em went to bed very pleased with herself. They had not quarrelled and she had tried to show her sister the love she felt for her but that she usually kept hidden deep down somewhere. She slept like a log to wake up with a feeling she might get a bout of migraine soon. The day started gloomy too; it threatened rain. It somehow threw her back onto her usual behaviour, and she quarrelled with Barbra over breakfast. Barbra tried to soothe her sister a bit but she only managed to aggravate Em's mood, and it wasn't long after breakfast that Em rushed out of the house. "Sod it," she shouted. "I'm going for a walk. Bitch!" "You're not dressed for it!" Em didn't deign to reply. She legged it out of Barbra's sight and then made for the cliffs. It wasn't long before the rain that had been threatening came down in earnest; it was short but very heavy, and both Em's clothes and the topsoil got drenched. Her footsteps squelched in the grass, and her mood didn't really improve in the downpour; she was fuming and the suppressed realisation that she was making a spectacle of herself again didn't help. It was only a short shower, fortunately, and before Em had reached the cliffs, she was getting hot in her steaming wet clothes. It was not nice but a decided improvement over the cold rain. She wished she could just return and get dry but that would be a loss of face. The idea stimulated her feelings of uncertainty and inadequacy again, and she increased her pace. When she came to the cliffs she saw there was a narrow path running down to the sea, and she decided to take it. She was much too hasty and careless. She didn't use the handrail, and she almost immediately lost her footing on the wet chalk, and slid down on her back and bottom. She closed her eyes in horror, so she wouldn't have to see the inevitable crash, trying to brace herself... She went down fast -- and then she stopped. Someone had grabbed her ankles. "Whoa there!" a voice said cheerfully. She opened her eyes and looked into a man's face. He was covered in dirt and he smiled at her. "Do you think you could stand up?" he said. It got her goat somehow. She knew she wasn't being reasonable, let alone nice, but she hated being seen in these circumstances. Her armour was up immediately. "Yes," she snapped. "Let go of my ankles, please. I want to get down." The man nodded, but he didn't let go. "You'd better not," he said. "Going down is very dangerous now. There is quite a good path at the other end of the bay. Please get a hold of the handrail." Em did, to be released immediately. "Thank you very much," she snapped, and without granting the man a further look she turned around and slowly, laboriously made her way up. She sensed the man following her at a distance, but when she was back up on the cliff edge again she walked away fast, away from the gratitude she knew she ought to feel. Her back and bottom hurt, and she supposed she'd have a couple of bad bruises. She hated dirty clothes, and she mentally prepared herself for what Barb would say when she came back covered in dirt. And there was no way she would admit to having almost fallen off the cliff! To her relief Barbra didn't say anything much. She was very nice and practical about it, and Em's anger evaporated. When she had bathed and put on fresh clothes she went to her sister and hugged her. "I'm glad I still have you, baby," she said. 4 - Pub Night The following Saturday Barbra walked to the pub at about ten to eight. John was already there. He was standing at the bar, talking to the bar maid, flirting a bit, Barbra thought. He immediately stopped when he saw her enter, and walked up to her to take her coat. She nodded at the girl, and said hello to John. He tried to hug her but Barbra didn't feel like being hugged yet, so she extended her hand and greeted John a little formally. "You are quite the lady, aren't you?" he said smiling. "I'm happy to see you, Barbra. What can I get you?" "I'll have a daiquiri, please -- a sweet one." "Good." John went back to the bar, and Barbra sat down at one of the tables in the quiet part of the pub. She looked around; there were a few faces she recognised but she hadn't lived there long enough yet to really know any of them. The pub was alright; there were no slot machines and there was no music, and the patrons were not too young. Nice and quiet, really. John came to the table with the drinks and sat down, too. "You're from Trinidad, aren't you?" "I was born there, yes, but I have no memories of it. My parents came here when I was very young. I don't know any better or I have lived here all my life; I really consider myself British." "You never visited?" "No. I think my father thought it a waste of money and energy. He went back twice, to visit his relatives, and he arranged for my gran to come and live with us. It seems my granddad was out of the picture completely. My parents' siblings came to visit regularly." John nodded. "Okay," he said. "Right. So you have no emotional links there?" "None. I'd like to go there some day, though." "I could take you," John said. "Shall I?" "Isn't that a bit hasty? I've only met you once before." She smiled at him, acknowledging her appreciation of his good intentions. "I'd love to get to know you a lot better. Tell me something about yourself, please." She picked up her glass and took a sip. "Okay, baby. Where shall I start? I'm from Ghana, or my parents were, at least. But I do consider myself Ghanaian anyway. There is a large Ghanaian community in London. Lots of music, too." "What music do you like?" Barbra asked. "Rap, hip-hop..." He frowned. "Don't know, really. And you?" "Ghanaian, you mean?" "Well, do you know any, actually?" "I like Rhian Benson." "Really? Okay! Can't say I often listen to her stuff -- but she's good." Barbra nodded. "There's such a lot of good music. I was told you work at Robinson's?" "Yes. Anything for a living." "What do you mean?" "Oh well, it's perhaps not what I'd like to do all my life. But it's an okay job." "What do you do, exactly?" "I run the engine production, basically. It is all about precision and deadlines, very tightly scheduled and not very relaxed. I'm very good at it. But I'd rather laze in the sun." "All day and all week?" "Well, perhaps, yes. Life is hard, er? I go to the gym to relax. Working out gets my job out of my system. I love spinning and weight-lifting. Do you like sports?" "Not particularly, I'm afraid. I didn't mind cricket or hockey too much when I was in secondary school. I wasn't really any good at either, though, and I hated gymnastics. But then, I like walking." "You mean like strolling down the boulevard? Or hiking across country and getting your boots dirty?" "The latter," Barbra said. She didn't like boulevards, window shopping and crowds. "It's one of the reasons I really like it here." She smiled, thinking of the rambles through the fields and along the cliffs. "I can go down the cliffs not too far from my home. I love the sea -- the sound of the pebbles and the changing colours..." "Right. So what else do you do to have a good time?" Barbra gave him a wry smile. "I listen to music a lot, and I try my hand at writing, though it doesn't get far beyond the sort of thing most people put on Facebook. I'm still getting over my losses, and both things help." "So what music then? R&B, or reggae, or zouk?" "Sometimes. The Zouk Machine, Toots and the Maytals... I do like R&B, the real thing. Louis Jordan, you know, Jay McShann, Big Maybelle..." "I don't know who you're talking about. Are they new?" "They're old. Forties-something." "Oh, really? Do you really like that? You mean to say you're into jazz?" "I was raised with it, you know. My father breathed music. He would tell me about it, and play me things. We always had a great time together." She smiled at the memory. "Oh. I see. Well, I was raised with high-life, E.T. Mensah and Dr Gyasi, you know, but I really dislike that kind of music. I do prefer the modern stuff." Barbra grinned. "You sound like my sister," she said. "Really? I do have to meet her," John said with a smile. "Is she like you?" "She's my twin. But she doesn't look like me at all; we're quite different." "Okay. Good! Is she as sexy as you? Have you got any more brothers or sisters?" "Nope. We were a really small family." She stared into her almost empty glass. She felt she wasn't up to talking about it yet; not to John. Maybe to Em, or Joan? She shook her head. "Penny for your thoughts," John said. "Mmm... What about you? Any siblings?" "I've got three brothers and one half-sister. I don't see them too often; they're real losers, I'm afraid. I hate being sponged on, having them come over for dinner, drinks, a room, and talking all the time... That kind of thing." "You're the eldest?" "I'm number two. Manae, my sister, is five years older." "Okay. And was there ever any significant other?" "I had a couple of girlfriends when I was younger, but it didn't come to much apart from a son. Akua moved back to Ghana with him; I never see him or hear of him." He looked into his glass. "I'd love to be in a relationship again. Hey, I'll get us another drink. Another daiquiri?" Barbra nodded. She enjoyed listening to John's voice; it was musical and deep. But as yet she didn't feel too comfortable with him. He didn't seem to attach a lot of value to the things she held dear... Maybe he reacted the way he did due to nerves, or the newness of the situation. She rather hoped so. She watched him as he walked to the bar. He had a lithe kind of animal grace when he walked; a little like a panther, she thought. He smiled at the girl who took his order, and checked his phone while she drew his pint. He looked smashing! When he returned, she changed the conversation to living in the country or in town. John lived in an apartment in one of the few high rise buildings in town. It was an expensive one, in a prosperous area. He called it his penthouse. It had many advantages, he said. No garden, and a wide view, and it was large and light with lots of glass and steel. No, he didn't have too many things inside. He like space, and the living room was large, with a big flatscreen TV set and a very large L-shaped leather couch. He had two big silk-screen abstracts on his wall. Reading? He didn't have too much time for reading. He subscribed to Men's Health. As to cooking, he had a beautiful, well-equipped kitchen. Unfortunately he seldom had the time to use it so he usually ate out. They kept on talking until a little after ten; then Barbra told John she was tired. He courteously escorted her to the door, and they went out together to John's car that sat in the middle of the car park. John promised to call her soon. Then he got into his car -- he drove a large, new Mercedes -- and started the engine. His stereo was turned up loud, and Ludacris' Move, Bitch blared from the speakers. Barbra shuddered and made a face. She hoped it wasn't the kind of music John usually played. 5 - Matinée Two weekends later Emily was coming to visit again. Barbra hoped she'd be in good spirits, but she wasn't too upset about Em's tantrums and she did like having her around as a rule. She did the shopping for the weekend on Wednesday, and she wondered if there were anything they could do. There was a jazz afternoon at a small country house nearby. She wondered if it might be a good idea to go there; she rather thought Em didn't really dislike the music too much, even though she pretended to, and it was at least a place you could go to meet people. On the other hand... She got stopped short in her thoughts by her telephone ringing. "Hello?" she said. "Hi, baby." "John!" "Aye. How's life?" "I'm fine, thank you! And you?" It felt good to hear his voice. She realised again how musical he sounded. "Me too. Yes. Look, you told me you are into jazz, right? There is this jazz afternoon this weekend and I've bought us some tickets. You are coming, aren't you?" "I'd sure love to, but I'll have Emily over this weekend. I can't leave her at home, you know." "Erm, no, I see. Look, I'll get another ticket and you can both come, okay? Beau will be there, too, and maybe some other friends of mine. We can have a good time together." "I'll call her and ask. I'm not sure if she will want to come. Give me an hour, please?" "Okay. Do convince her, right?" "I will try!" They rang off. It would be lovely to see John again, and she hoped he would be more relaxed in different surroundings. Barbra called Em and explained, and Emily readily agreed to come to the concert. John received the message enthusiastically; he would buy another ticket at once, he said. He offered to come and collect the sisters that Saturday, but Barbra declined. She preferred to be free to go when and where she liked, and she promised to be there. Though she wasn't too certain about Beau, she thought he wouldn't be a problem on an afternoon like that, and no matter what, Em could fend for herself very well. She'd been a police officer for a long time -- dealing with child abuse, mainly, but she knew what was what. She'd hoped to get Em to come with her. Very nice, she thought. Very nice! Emily arrived on Friday. She was in a fairly good mood again, and the sisters spent quite a pleasant evening together. Barbra told Em about John, and their night in the pub. "Okay. Do you like him?" "He's nice and attractive, and he's very handsome!" "Mmm. But do you really like him?" Barbra "I think so. I certainly don't dislike him. He's very different from Mike. I'd like to have your opinion, right?" Em smiled. "For what it's worth," she said. "Okay?" "Yes please." Then they changed the subject, to Barbra's relief. Em had brought a CD and they went from the kitchen into the living room and sat talking while they listened to the music together. To Barbra's surprise it was no hip hop but country, someone called Tim McGraw. She hadn't heard of him, but she rather liked the album, what she heard of it. After the music and a glass of wine they went to bed; Emily had done a lot of driving that day, and she was quite tired. The next afternoon they drove to the venue. Barbra was looking forward to seeing John again, and her sister seemed in a great mood. She sat back with a big smile on her face. Good! John was waiting for them in the car park -- a field that had been designated as such -- with Beau, whom Barbra hardly recognised. He was dressed to the nines, without a cap, and he didn't have any tattoos any more. When she had hugged John and greeted Beau, and duly introduced Emily, she looked at Beau inquisitively. He grinned a little. "You will want to know about my change of looks?" he said. Barbra blushed. "Erm, yes," she said. "You do look very different today!" Beau nodded. "It was one of these wagers, you know -- I hate that kind of dress and rough image, and at my work we had organised a charity drive in which we tried to raise money by taking up a wager. Well, that's why. The tattoos were henna, actually." "They did fool me completely. You looked very convincing!" "He's nicknamed Beau because he always dresses well, you know," John said. He looked at Beau as though it were a silly thing to do. Barbra smiled at Beau, though. So that was what Mary and Joan had meant. She was amused to see Emily cast admiring looks at him. He was quite a handsome man in his nice clothes and without the baseball cap -- well-groomed and well-mannered. "You do like jazz?" Beau asked. "I had to talk a while before I managed to make John come along." "That's not true!" John protested. Beau shrugged. "All right," he said. Barbra thought it might well be true. John had not seemed to be too enthusiastic about jazz at their first date. But she was determined to give him the benefit of doubt, and the four of them walked over to the entrance. John produced the tickets, and they entered the grounds. They walked up to have a look at the stage, where the sound people were still applying the final touches to their work. Some time to wait. Barbra looked around and saw Joan and Mary get past the ticket counter. They noticed the four of them and waved. "Please excuse me for a moment," she said. "I will just go and say hello!" She walked over to her friends, followed closely by Emily. They were greeted by the other girls enthusiastically, and stood talking for a couple of minutes. Then they went back to the men. The grounds were filling up fast. On their way across they passed a man in a red sweater who said hello to Emily. She looked at him disdainfully. "Hello Mr Mud," she said. "So you are here, too? You'll probably claim to be a jazz buff..." Then she walked on without waiting for an answer. No answer was forthcoming, however. The man, who seemed to be rather nonplussed by Em's reaction, stood looking at her vanishing form in silence. Then he shrugged and shook his head. Barbra, who came a little behind her sister, heard the exchange. She looked at the man who stood motionlessly watching Emily walk away and she stepped up to him. "Hello," she said, looking at him hard. "What on earth did you do to my sister for her to act like that? Give her the N-word, or what?" For a moment the man seemed to freeze completely. He looked at her wide-eyed. "God forbid," he said. "All I did was try to help her." He shook his head again. He didn't further specify what he'd done, but Barbra knew her sister well enough to know there might be any reason within herself for her behaviour. She decided she would take his word, and said with a smile, "So -- do you consider yourself a jazz buff?" He made a face. "Oh no, not at all. I'd have to enjoy Johnny Griffin and John Coltrane in their more difficult phases, I guess. I understand Count Basie's definition of jazz a lot better, I'm afraid." Barbra smiled. Her father had told her. "Tap your foot," she said. The man smiled back at her. "Yes. I'm afraid I prefer the early big bands, with a blown bass if half possible. Tubas, or a sarrusophone..." "Ellington. And Mandy Make Up Your Mind!" Barbra said. "Yes -- or Tiny Parham, for example." Barbra looked at him in surprise and sighed. "I know him, too," she said. "My father used to have a couple of 78s by his band. There was a fire that destroyed his collection. I never heard them again - never expected to hear anyone talk about him." "I do like him. I've got his early sides on CD," the man said. "Aw, that's nice! So they are available again?" "I think the series was discontinued. I can copy them for you if you like. If you don't mind giving me your address?" Barbra looked at him and considered for a moment. He actually looked rather nice; he had a pleasant smile. "No, I don't. Oh, yes please. That would be great," she said. She gave her address to the man who introduced himself as Andrew. Then she wished him a good time, excused herself and rejoined the others. Emily frowned at her for a moment, but she refrained from commenting because Beau was talking to her and she enjoyed listening to him. He looked at her as if he liked what he saw, and Barbra wondered if Em noticed -- and if so, if she was happy with it. She thought it was alright, though -- the two of them were talking animatedly and they were quite clearly immersed in one another. John noticed, too, and smiled. "Let's go closer to the stage," he said. Barbra hooked her arm in his. There was a bar in the grounds with a couple of tables and chairs, but the area in front of the stage was kept open for everyone who wanted to stand and tap their feet. "Is your sister easily bowled over?" "On the contrary. I don't think she ever talked to boys for more than ten minutes -- she's very critical to say the least." "So Beau's good looks -- " "No, that's not it. There were lots of handsome men before. But there never was a spark. I like seeing this; she's usually negative about men in the extreme." "Okay. Well, who knows?" They smiled at each other, and found a good place to watch the bands. The first two bands were small combos that sounded as if they had listened a lot to Chris Barber. They played quite well, though, and Barbra enjoyed it very much. She cast glances at Beau and Emily now and then. They stood listening a little further down, looking at the stage at times but apparently at least as interested in each other. Nice, she thought. And then she suddenly realised that they already seemed to be much more into each other than John and she were. He'd invited her here and she felt she was neglecting him. She looked at John and smiled. "Do you like it?" she said. "It's something different," he said. "I can't say I've ever listened to this kind of music. But it is alright. I wish it would swing a little, though." Barbra shook her head. She clearly had to explain a little about swing -- but that could wait. Music first! Her father would have liked it a lot, she thought. They'd gone to a concert together once or twice... She was wondering what to say next when John's phone went off. He had R Kelly's I Believe I Can Fly for a ringtone. Better than Ludacris, Barbra thought. John took the phone from his pocket and walked a little distance away from the music. Barbra looked at him. Strange, she thought. In her memory he had an iPhone, but this was a Samsung, obviously. Maybe she remembered wrong? The call didn't last too long, and John rejoined her as the second combo stopped playing. The band took their applause and left the stage and the sound people rigged up the stage for the final act; a much bigger band. "So what do you think swings?" "Rap... Rock 'n roll, you know... that sorta thing, I guess. This is strange music, Bee." Barbra raised her eyebrows and shrugged. "I don't think it is. I love it." John nodded. "It's a little intellectual, isn't it? Not too much feeling." Barbra sighed. She really would have to educate John a little. "I wish my father could have told you about it, and let you listen. I don't think you're right." "Dunno. Hey, I'm thirsty. How about a beer?" "Yes, please!" He walked off to collect some drinks, and Barbra walked over to the others. Emily beamed at her. "Hi," she said. "Thank you for taking me here! I haven't enjoyed myself so much for ages. Nice, eh?" "Yes! John thinks it doesn't swing." Beau grinned and shook his head. "I don't think it's his style," he said. To Barbra's surprise, Em said, "Father used to play this kind of music a lot -- we were raised on it." She nodded. "It's good memories among other things." "I picked up jazz myself. My father played calypso, and Harry Belafonte. But I like those, too." "Yes," Emily said. "So do I." She smiled at Beau and Barbra grinned inwardly. It looked as if Em was trying to make a good impression on him. Now there was something new indeed! John returned with four beers in a cardboard holder, and the conversation stopped while they stood enjoying their drinks. The stage, meanwhile, was ready and the final act got up to play. To Barbra's delight the bass slot was taken up by a bass sax instead of a plucked bass, and when the band started to play she was transported back to the years when her father was alive. They played a good selection of twenties and thirties jazz, and they had the audience move to the music with goofy smiles. When the band played a tune in triple time John asked Barbra to dance, and he held her close while they did. Barbra highly enjoyed feeling his body close to her, warm and supple, but when John lowered a hand to squeeze her bottom she stiffened. "Please, John," she said. "Give me some time." John nodded. "Okay, Bee -- I'm just trying to give you a good time. You've got a great booty." He smiled, and held her again without being too intrusive. Barbra smiled through the rest of their dance, and she was a little disappointed when the next piece was in quadruple time again, and the dancing stopped. "Pity," she said with a half-smile. But the music was wonderful, and she forgot her disappointment almost at once. The concert was over much too soon to her liking. To her surprise it was past seven already; time to go home. She thank John for taking her, and embraced him and kissed his cheek. They arranged to meet again soon, and so did Emily and Beau. Driving home Barbra listened to Emily enthuse about Beau with a smile on her face. She wished her sister might find some rest and happiness in her life; and she suspected this might well do the trick. "The concert was great, wasn't it?" she said. "It was. Father would've liked it, too!" Em said. "I do miss him, you know." Barbra nodded. She knew exactly what Em meant. Then Em said, "What did you say to that man?" "Mr Mud? Oh, we talked about music. He promised to send me some copies. His name is Andrew, by the way." "You don't mean to say you gave him your address?" Barbra nodded. "Why not?" "My! You'll end up killed in your sleep with a slit throat!" "Oh, come on! Don't be daft!" "White men," Em said portentously. "Mark my words!" 6 - Two Telephone Calls When Barbra arrived home from work that Wednesday afternoon she found a parcel in the letterbox. There was no addressee, just a postcode and house number. When she opened it she found a couple of CDs inside. Two of them were by Tiny Parham. The photocopied covers read The Chronogical Tiny Parham. Chronogical? She opened a box and took out the leaflet. Inside there were the discographical details -- the recordings were presented strictly chronologically. The other two were one by Clarence Williams' Blue Five and the Red Onion Jazz Babies and one featuring some obscure twenties stuff. There was a note, too, that read, Dear Ms. Laing, I hope you'll like the music in here. The Chronogical (sic!) Classics series was a French label that issued lots of the music we talked about. Yours, Andrew So it was a French mistake, she thought with a grin. She took the CDs into the kitchen, and while she was cooking she listened to the first of the two Parham CDs. There were quite a few songs she recognised; they had been on her father's 78s and she hummed along as she cleaned the vegetables. The music made her think of old times, and her father's face appeared in her mind's eye. It seemed as if he nodded his approval. Nice, er, dad? she thought to herself with a smile. The CD was nice and long; she was halfway dinner before it ended. She took it out, put the third one in the CD player and selected Mandy Make Up Your Mind. She sat listening to it with a broad grin as Sidney Bechet's sarrusophone growled behind Eva Taylor's vocals. Then she stopped the CD and pressed play to listen from the start. Half way the CD her cell phone rang. It was Em, who came to tell her that Beau had invited her for a meal at the local French restaurant the coming weekend. She sounded elated and excited, and Barbra let her rattle on undisturbed for some time. Then she asked her how she'd liked the concert, and Em was jubilant about it. Barbra smiled. She'd never known her sister be enthusiastic about a guy, and this was a marvellous change. Suddenly Em stopped. "Hey," she said. "What are you listening to? I think I recognise it -- didn't father have this?" "Em! I never knew you listened!" "I did. But I didn't want to admit I liked that stuff, not to you or dad. I sometimes played some of his music when you were out." "Okay. Gosh. I wish I'd known. It's Eva Taylor." "Mmm, nice! You know, Beau said..." Barbra sat back and listened, and wondered at the change in her sister. She'd always thought the tantrums and fits of anger were not really about her, and now she wondered if they'd been the result of some terrible loneliness and uncertainty she'd not been able to break through. "You really like Beau, don't you?" she said. "We never talked about it, but did you ever have any boyfriends before?" It appeared Em hadn't. She was rather wary of people, and she told Barbra that once Mike had come into the picture she'd always compared the men she met to him; and they invariably fell short. Beau now... While she sat listening to her sister's happy talk Barbra wondered a little about her feelings toward John. She didn't feel remotely as brimming over with his presence as Em did. She thought she was probably even more reserved than her twin sister; her relationship with Mike had almost organically grown from a shared enthusiasm to the best, most loving marriage she could have wished, and now any other man had to pass muster according to Mike's cloth. Oh well. She had world enough, and time. Or did she? Em's call lasted a long time, and Barbra really enjoyed listening to her talk and talk. Eventually she told Em how glad she felt for her. "Thank you, Barb -- I'm so happy!" They rang off, and Barbra took out the CD and put the second Parham CD into the player. Almost immediately after she'd pressed the play button her phone beeped again. "Hello? It's me. My, you can talk for a long time!" "Yes. It was Em. We often talk for a long time. She is all the family I have, you know." "Ok. Mmm. I don't know. Family? Parents and stuff? I hardly ever contact my siblings." "Well, she's really important to me." "I know. What are you doing?" "I'm listening to music." Barbra held the phone close to the CD player. "Okay. I thought it was cats fighting. Joke, no offence meant." "None taken. You don't really know twenties music, do you?" "No. I prefer today's things. I have no use for the past. Hey, girl, can I buy you a meal in the pub next Saturday?" Barbra accepted eagerly. It would be nice to talk face to face again, and there were many things she would like to know. She did have some use for the past, and she wondered what exactly John meant. He was interesting and attentive, and he could be very sweet alright. But sometimes, somehow, he really felt a little alien. She listened to the CD while contemplating her feelings for Mike, and John, and comparing the way Em behaved to her own slightly reserved manner. Maybe she should try and put that aside? She wasn't sure, but going out would be nice. Better wait and see, she thought, and she resolutely stopped worrying and turned up the music. Lovely! 7 - New Contacts It was a beautiful Friday. Wednesdays and Fridays were Barbra's half days at work; she always left off at half past twelve, and usually went to town for shopping. The local shop was alright in itself, but they had only a small selection and they were rather expensive, so she bought most things in town, doing the rounds of the three main supermarkets. It was a twenty-minute drive, so it didn't take long -- the shopping did, as a rule, and when she'd deposited all her groceries on the rear seat she decided to have some tea at the Mauve Door in the square. They had good croissants, and she was hungry, and she wanted to sit and relax. Because of the good weather the cafe had put some tables and chairs outside, and she placed her order and sat down, basking in the sun. Her tea and food weren't long in coming, and she really enjoyed sitting there, watching the people go by and listening to the voices and the cars in the distance. She was pleasantly drowsy, and she sat simply having a good time when Beau walked up to her. "Hello, Barbra," he said. "Hi Beau! How's life? Won't you sit down and have a coffee with me?" "Yes please. Life's great. You have a wonderful sister!" "I know." Barbra smiled at him. "What can I get you?" "A cappuccino, please. Hot and sweet." "Alright -- just a sec." She disappeared indoors and Beau sat down and stretched his long legs. Barbra sat down again. "How's Em?" she said. "We'll meet tomorrow afternoon -- we'll have dinner together. She was okay this morning when I called her." He smiled as he mentioned her, and he looked very happy. "Are you getting serious about her?" "Yes, I think so. It's feeling better every time we talk. She's really a very sweet person, isn't she?" "Mmm... We used to quarrel more often than not. But I do love her, and yes, she can be very sweet." "Oh well -- sisters. I know. I quarrelled a lot with my brother, too. What to do? You know the way it goes. So you haven't been killed in you sleep yet?" He grinned mischievously. "Killed in my sleep? Oh, I see -- Em must've told you. No I haven't. It was a silly remark." She grinned back at Beau. "He sent me copies of some CDs we talked about. Em heard me play one. Really nice; my father used to play me a lot of music like that." "Jazz?" "Twenties jazz, yes." "Oh, wonderful. I love that stuff." "Good. Em does, too, I think. She said so and I never knew." "You never really know people, do you? Takes all your life. Emily really enjoyed the concert." Barbra smiled. She hoped that the burgeoning love between Beau and Emily would work out. It might well make Emily feel more at ease with life and herself. Beau was exceptionally nice, quite the opposite of what she'd feared when she saw him first. He was polite and well-dressed and Barbra felt she would be happy to have him for a brother, if it should ever come to that. Barbra They talked amicably for a while and then went their ways. Barbra had found the location of the postcode the CDs were sent from on internet, and as it was close to the town, she'd decided to make a little detour and drop by on her way home and say thanks. She drove slowly, while tapping the steering wheel with her fingers to the rhythm of the music and she sang along -- You can't shush Katy... She'd put the new CDs in a CD case that fitted in her coat pocket, so she wouldn't wreck the boxes. It had nicely rounded edges, and it could hold ten CDs. She kept her eyes open for the correct number. When she got there, she found an old house in a fairly well-kept garden; there was a small, red car at the end of the drive. Ok, she thought, he's probably home then. She parked her car in the drive and walked to the front door. Ringing didn't produce any results, so she walked to the back of the house to find the inhabitant sitting on a terrace with a laptop on the table in front of him. When he saw her round the house he broke into a smile. He rose quickly and walked up to greet her. "Ms. Laing?" he said as he shook her hand. "Barbra, please," she said. "May I call you Andrew?" He nodded. "For sure," he said. "Glad to see you again. Did you like the concert?" "I did. Immensely. Er, I came to thank you for the CDs you sent me." "You're very welcome." He looked at her inquisitively. "I hope they brought back good memories, not ruined them?" "They did bring them back with a vengeance. I love them. Really!" "Oh, good! It was a good thing for me, too. Since the concert I've listened to a lot of jazz again." "You like other music, too?" "Oh yes -- classical music, and popular music, provided it is well-played and has lyrics that are ok..." "No Move, Bitch stuff?" "Oh no!" He chuckled. "Do you?" She shook her head. "No," she said. "I'd rather listen to Carole King or something..." "There's quite enough good music, isn't there? But there's too much trash. Oh well, you don't have to listen to it." He smiled at her. "Can I offer you something to drink? Coffee, tea, juice?" Barbra nodded. "Coffee, please." "Just a moment," Andrew said. He disappeared into the house. Barbra sat down on one of the terrace chairs and looked around. The house seemed very well kept; the paintwork was shiny and clean. Its mellow red bricks seemed to glow in the sun, and it looked very peaceful and rather beautiful. She felt good to sit there, enjoying the weather. It was a nice house, quite like its owner, she thought. Andrew returned with two cups of coffee, and some milk and sugar on a tray. "No sugar or milk for me," she said. "Okay. Here you are." He sat down, too, and they talked about the concert, and she told him some more about the evenings she'd spent listening to music with her father, and how she'd loved those moments... Andrew listened and nodded. His parents had taken him to concerts, he said. The first one, when he was ten, had been Dvorak's New World Symphony. But his father had always refused to listen to other music; he used to say it was unfeeling and unpleasant. His mother, though, had enjoyed listening to the records he'd bought, sitting on his bed and commenting on the songs. She'd loved Ogden's Nut Gone Flake. He had come across jazz by accident, actually. Once he'd bought a cheap Bessie Smith CD with some of her later things. He had been enthralled, and he had gone and found out -- and that was how it all started. "Do you still like her?" "Oh, yes. I bought all of her music then. What a voice!" "Okay. So what other genres do you listen to?" "Anything, really -- well, with some exceptions. I don't like Rap, or house music, or heavy metal, and I hate computer-generated music. I like concerts best, I think. It's always a better idea to listen to music with others." Barbra nodded. She felt the same. "Emily -- my sister, the one that called you Mr. Mud -- seems to like my music, too, which came as a surprise to me as she always refused to listen to it with us." "Was she very susceptible to peer pressure? It often makes people act like that." "I think so, yes. But I fear it only made her very unhappy. Can you think of a reason for her behaviour towards you?" Andrew grinned. It made his face light up, she thought. "Maybe," he said. "But I'd rather you find out through her -- if I'm right." "Okay. Fair enough." She smiled at Andrew. Then she put down her cup and got up. "I have to go now," she said. "It was nice talking to you." "Yes," he said. "Okay. Take care!" He accompanied Barbra to her car and waved when she drove off. She was a nice woman, he thought. He sighed. They were scarce, and unfortunately all the nice ones had husbands, or boyfriends. And then, he had the wrong skin colour. Oh well. It had been a long time that he'd enjoyed talking to a woman so much. 8 - Shopping Emily came to stay over that evening. Barbra made a tasty meal, rice and hot chicken wings, and the sisters sat in the garden afterwards, talking. Emily mainly talked about Beau. It appeared she called him every day, usually a couple of times. Barbra smiled at her. It reminded her of her calls with Mike, long ago. Emily looked radiant, and she rejoiced in seeing her sister so happy. She wanted to go shopping the next day. Would Bee come along? Of course she would. Emily had never gone shopping here before, and Barbra, by now, knew where the good shops were, which shops to avoid, and where you could find a good bargain at times. Joan and Mary had shown her around a couple of times. They had had so much fun together. Mary would try on the weirdest clothes, to come out of the fitting room looking as if butter wouldn't melt in her mouth, and then at the first shocked looks of some bystander she would roar with laughter, and make some silly remark, leaving the others in tears, holding their sides. They had done some serious shopping, too. Barbra loved those sessions. They were strictly girls only, just the way you could have a really good time. "I wish I could meet them again," Em said. "Oh, they'd love to meet you, too -- they know all about you. They are really great friends. I often run into one of them. Who knows, tomorrow... Mary is a hoot. But she is very sweet, too. Sometimes it seems she doesn't want anyone to know." "Do they know about John?" "Almost before I did. They keep telling me he's a really good catch." She smiled. "He is very handsome!" "Yes, he is. But I don't know -- it sometimes feels as if Mike is still in the way." "Just give it some time, sis -- you want to be happy, too!" The talk veered back to clothes, and what to wear on a first dinner date, clothes, make-up... Beau was always well-groomed, and Em didn't want to look scruffy beside him. "No," Barb said earnestly. "That wouldn't do." She smiled a little. If anyone she knew seldom looked scruffy it was her sister. "We'll find you something nice alright, and we can see to your make-up." "Oh, and can you plait my hair, please?" "Sure. Let's go in and do that now. We may not have time enough tomorrow." "Er -- I didn't bring any tights. Have you got an old pair for me for tonight?" "No problem. Come on!" It took Barbra two hours to get Em's hair nicely into shape. They sat talking and listening to music -- Dinah Washington this time -- and had a drink when the plaiting was done, and the evening was over before they knew. The following morning they went to town in Emily's car. They visited all the shops Bee liked, and tried on a lot of clothes. Barbra wasn't out for anything, but she found a nice pair of jeans and an affordable pair of pumps with round toes in shiny red leather. Emily bought a beautiful dress in one of the small shops off the main square. It had been reduced from two hundred pounds to fifty, and looked as if it had been tailor made for her. She'd tried it on and shown Barbra, who thought it was wonderful! Apart from the dress Em bought a couple of sweaters, two tops and some lingerie at BHS -- nice and not too expensive -- and two pairs of shoes. When they were done they went to the Mauve Door, where they ran into Joan and Mary. When Mary noticed them she gave a whoop and got up and almost squashed Barbra in an embrace; then she embraced Emily only a little less exuberantly. "How nice to meet Barb's sister again! You don't look like her a bit -- you're not identical, are you?" Em shook her head. "But we're twins alright," she said. "And I've heard a lot about you, too, Mary!" "Only the good things, I should hope?" "Of course," Em said with a smile. "Right. Come and sit down! How's John, Bee?" "I'll be seeing him tonight." She smiled at Mary. "We'll have dinner at the Jolly Woodman." "Oooh, brilliant! Fish and chips!" Barbra grinned. "I suppose they can do better than that," she said. "Besides, I chose this venue last time, so it really is a very nice gesture!" "And after that?" "I don't know. A drink and then home, I think. I'm not yet up to anything more." "And you say you like him? I wish I could have a romp with him alright," Mary said. "I certainly like him," Barb said. "But I just don't feel like a tumble in the hay yet. I don't know. Later." "Oh, come on! You sound as if you're fifty!" "Leave her alone, Mary," Joan said. "You can't decide for others." "Well, I wouldn't need much prompting, lemme tell ya." "Mary, we know." Joan looked so sweetly innocent that Mary roared with laughter. "Okay, okay," she said. "Coffee!" "You can't shush Mary," Barbra said to Emily, and she winked. "You're not saying bad things about me, are you?" "Mary, I wouldn't dare!" The friends grinned at each other. "Anyway, I'm really happy to meet your sister." "And she hoped to get a chance to talk to you. It's nice to sit here, isn't it?" The coffee arrived and the women drank it appreciatively. The Mauve Door was famous for its coffee, and the terrace was a good place to sit and look at passers-by and comment on them. As usual, Mary was funny and sharp, and Emily quite enjoyed listening to her, adding a comment of her own now and then. Their coffee session lasted over an hour. Em was quite surprised to find the time had flown. The women took leave of one another and the twin sisters walked back to their car. "They're nice friends!" Em said. "Yes, they are. We always have lots of fun -- but actually I think Mary is not as happy-go-lucky as she seems. I often wonder if she's not really unhappy deep down." "Why don't you ask her?" "I don't know. I will, one of these days, but I am too busy getting myself sorted out as yet." "You know, I do hope you'll have as nice a time with John as I with Beau. But you don't seem too enthusiastic. Are you?" "I don't know. He is sweet and handsome and he has a wonderful body and a beautiful voice. It was lovely to dance with him. But I find it very hard to let anyone come too close -- even John." "I hope you will. It's better than sit and mourn, sis." "I know. I'm trying. Do you like him?" Em said she thought he was alright. They got into the car and drove back. Emily turned on the CD player and treated Barbra to another listen to her Tim McGraw CD. Barbra really liked the voice and the music but as the sisters kept talking she didn't really listen. Later, perhaps. 9 - Pub Dinner Emily went on her way early that afternoon, as they'd arranged to meet at a nice place for tea first. After dinner they might go out, but Em had a key to Barbra's place so it wouldn't be a problem. Barbra actually didn't mind; she had the place to herself for some hours before she would meet John at the pub. She decided to go and play some music while tidying up a bit, and went to the hall to collect her CD case. No! It wasn't there. Now where had she put it? It was in her pocket the day before. Had she taken it into the living room? She didn't think so. Even so, she did turn the room upside down, to no avail. Damn! It made her go hot all over. She loved that music, and now it was gone. If she'd lost it in town she'd never find it back. She tried to find the music on eBay -- no go. The series obviously had been discontinued alright, and the ones who owned some didn't seem to want to part with them. Blast! A bad start of the afternoon. What to do? She didn't know. Perhaps she could go to Andrew and ask him to copy them once more? She still had the boxes and she could buy a box of empty CDs. Would she dare? Well, she thought, actually, yes. He had not made an unpleasant or unfriendly impression at all. On thinking back she thought he was a rather nice person. That was the way he seemed, at least. She certainly didn't think he'd cut her throat. She decided she would go there some time the coming week, and gave up looking for the missing music. It wasn't there and that was that. Instead she looked over her collection for something to play that would match her mood and took Tanita Tikaram's Ancient Heart off the shelf. Great, she thought. Just the music to complete my Saturday afternoon. She made herself a strong cup of tea and took it out into the garden. It was rather a mess, she thought, but she much preferred sitting in it to working in it. She'd go and do some basic gardening the next day. Then she went indoors for a moment to pick up Wolf Hall, and she sat reading for the rest of the afternoon, listening to the bees. Her neighbour, Ben Orrin, kept a couple of swarms, and he sometimes gave her a jar of his own honey. It was very nice, sweet and aromatic. He was an older man, in his middle seventies, whose wife had died early from Alzheimer's. He'd never remarried and, it seemed, was still very happy with his memories. He occasionally popped in for a cup of tea. He was a nice person, very soft spoken and cultured, and they would discuss poetry and the state of the nation. She couldn't imagine herself dealing with the bees but she liked their sound. And she enjoyed talking to Ben now and then. She smiled when she thought of him. Then she tried to concentrate and she kept on reading until six. John was already in the pub when Barbra walked into the public bar. He was smiling and talking to somebody on his phone, but he rang off when he saw her come in. "Hi, Queen Bee! How da body? Hope you had a nice week!" "Hello, John." She greeted him with a kiss on each cheek. "It was alright -- I lost my CD case which was not, but apart from that, I had a lot of fun with Emily and Joan and Mary. Emily seems really changed. We haven't quarrelled for a long time." "Okay. What was in your CD case? Maybe I could help out?" Barbra grinned. "All caterwauling to your ears. I wouldn't think you have them in your collection." "Oh. No. I don't have any jazz, apart from some rap crossovers. And I like Kyteman sometimes." "Okay. I should give yours a try, I guess. I don't know -- don't you think rap is usually much too woman-unfriendly?" "I rather like it, baby. It's just playing, you know, at being macho and so on." "Mmm. Not my kind of game." "You shouldn't be too serious or you will end up playing masses only." "No chance. I like the music in itself, but one mass a year will do for me. Do you ever listen to classical music, by the way?" "Me? I had to in school. Quite enough." "Okay. Oh well, maybe I can teach you to enjoy some. It isn't all serious and hard to understand." "Another legacy of your education?" "My father did enjoy that, too, yes." She smiled at the memory of those long gone afternoons, sitting in her father's study, listening to Schubert and Messiaen. "I do miss him so much," she added with a sigh. "Yes. That's life. What can I get you for drinks? And let's order something. I'm famished." "Do let's. I'll have half a dry cider, please." John got up to get the drinks. Barbra looked at him while he walked to the bar. He did have a great physique, he was really handsome. Maybe more so than Mike? She wasn't sure. He talked to the barmaid, and then took his phone from his pocket to make a quick call while she saw to his order. It was a Samsung alright. He only made a short call, and returned with half a cider and a pint of lager. Barbra took a sip and made a face. "Silly boyl," she said. "This is sweet cider -- not dry." "Oh. My fault. I'm sorry -- I forgot. Let me get you a dry one." He picked up the glass and walked to the bar. While the cider was drawn he made another call. This time the cider was okay. The meals were on a blackboard on the wall, and as they were early none had been crossed out as yet. Barbra had salmon, and John breaded haddock. It made her smile, remembering the conversation at the Mauve Door. "What are you smiling at? Penny for your thoughts!" "A joke Mary made yesterday -- nothing too special. It was funny then." "Okay. Oh well -- let's hope those meals won't be too long." The conversation veered to sports, car racing, football -- John told her he was into West Ham. He regularly visited Boleyn Ground, and sometimes went to away matches as well. She wouldn't want to come? She wouldn't. Maybe they could find something else then. She smiled at him. He was really doing his best to find something. She wondered vaguely what it was that Mike and she had done in that field; but she couldn't think of anything. He hadn't been too much into sports either, and he had been away so often. When he wasn't, they usually didn't go out too much, apart from the occasional visit to the theatre or a concert. Rather, they would stay home engrossed in each other. While they were talking John's phone rang. "I'm sorry," he said. "Just a moment, please." He got up and walked a little away into the bar. It only took him a few minutes, fortunately. When he was back Barbra asked, "Do you like going to the theatre? Shakespeare, or modern plays?" "Oh no. Far too brainy for me," he said with a smile. "But I like going to a film now and then. What about that?" "Mmm, yes. I like that, too. We should be able to find something there that we both enjoy." John nodded. "I'll see if there is something nice" he said. "Yes, please. Is there anything interesting on now?" John shook his head. "I'm not too sure. Maybe. Seems this is a slack period. Winter seems a better time for that sort of thing, doesn't it?" "Uhuh. What do you like doing in your holidays?" "Erm... I don't usually go anywhere, but I had a very nice holiday last year. The beach, Turkey, one of these all-inclusive places. Swimming, lazing, having a nice drink in the evenings. We even went on a culture trip one day." He winked. "Did you ever go to Paris, or Rome, or someplace like that?" "I went to Amsterdam a couple of times. Visited the Van Gogh museum, and the Dam-square, and made a boat tour. I love those canals. And you?" "Go places, or like in my holidays?" "The latter." "I like to travel a bit. There are a couple of places on my bucket-list; I'd love to see Vietnam, and Cambodia, and the Taj Mahal, and I do want to go to Trinidad some day. But as yet Madrid has been as far as I've got." "Did you like it there?" "Rather, yes. People are friendly enough, and I love the city. It's very impressive, and pleasant at the same time. They've got a beautiful statue of a bear..." The food arrived, and they talked about the weather, and politics for some time. They were pretty much of a mind about them, and the time passed quickly and very pleasantly. Barbra's salmon was quite good -- better than she'd expected. "Mmm," she said appreciatively. "They do have a good kitchen." "They do," John agreed. "This is nice, too. Do you often eat here?" "No, this is my first meal here. I sometimes have something in town." Barbra "French?" "Italian, usually. Or Jamaican." "Okay. Mmm, yes. Better than this?" "Different. Not better, no. This is really good!" They happily ate their meal together. Afterwards, Barbra got up to collect some more drinks, and they talked until ten thirty when Barbra felt really tired. "Ok, baby," John said. "I'll need a taxi. I definitely couldn't drive." "And your car?" "I had a friend of mine drop me off. My car is at home. Just a mo, please." He produced his cell phone and called the local taxi service. Barbra couldn't help noticing it was an iPhone this time. When John had arranged his taxi she asked him with a smile, "How many telephones have you got?" "Oh, just a few." He produced his Samsung from his other pocket. "I use this one strictly for work. Look, shall I pick you up on Saturday for a movie?" "Yes, please," Barbra said. "Good." John entered the date in the agenda on his iPhone, and they talked until the taxi arrived. Barbra gave John a peck on the mouth when he left. "Looking forward to Saturday," she said. 10 - Doubles Barbra had put four empty CDs in her coat pocket that Monday morning. She didn't really like having to ask for new copies, but she really, really wanted to listen to the music again and so there wasn't anything much she could do about it. She had a long day at work, so it was after four when she left off, and went to her car. She hoped she'd be lucky first time around, and that Andrew would be in. She drove down the road he lived on, and to her relief she saw his red car in the drive. It was a dull day, with some slight drizzle at times, and she expected Andrew would not be in the garden. She rang, very briefly, but apparently long enough, for it wasn't too long before she heard him come down the hall and open the door for her. When he saw her he treated her to a big smile. "Barbra!" he said. "Come in! Can I take your coat?" He put it up in the hall, and led her into the living room. It was a rather large room, with a few easy chairs, a low table and a stereo, and a small bookcase. On the wall opposite there was a big African mask. The main colours were brown and black, and the walls and curtains were off white. It was a quiet uncluttered room, she thought, without any knick knacks or junk. "Would you like something to drink?" he said. "Coffee, please," she said. "Andrew, I have a request I hate making, but er, I er... I'm afraid I lost my CD case with all the copies you made for me. Er... would you mind doing them again for me?" She felt her face go hot. Fortunately Andrew didn't seem to mind. He shook his head. "Of course not," he said. "No problem! Let me get us some coffee first." He disappeared and returned shortly with two mugs of coffee. "No milk or sugar, right?" Barbra nodded. "I'll go and see those copies straight away. Would you like to stay here or will you come along?" "I'll come with you," she said. They went into the corridor and Andrew showed Barbra into the study, a room rather more crowded than the living room. There were two chairs, it held a big desk, a small table with a computer and it was lined with bookcases and a huge, homemade rack with CDs. "This is where I keep my things," he said. "I'll get the CDs first." He started up the computer and picked up three CDs. "I'll have to scan the fronts and print the inlays again later," he said. "I'm afraid I've run out of black ink." "I still have the boxes," Barbra said. "So there's no need to." "Right-oh! I'm glad I haven't deleted the Bechet-Armstrong things yet; it's a compilation from three albums. They're still on the flash drive I put them on." "Okay. Oh, I forgot. I brought some empty CDs. Let me get them; they're in my coat." "That's nice, but don't bother, please. I've got quite enough empty ones. Maybe you can copy some music that you like very much for me." Andrew sat down at the computer and started Nero. Barbra looked around. There were three framed photographs on the desk, of a woman, a girl and a boy. The boy was African; he smiled into the camera and seemed, Barbra thought, a nice young man. The woman looked Irish. She had red hair and she was caught on film unaware. Andrew had the programme running and turned on his swivel chair. He saw Barbra look at the photographs. Then she looked his way and raised her eyebrows, and he nodded at her. "Those are the most important people in my life," he said. "Lizzie, my wife, my daughter Jenny and Barrie. He lived with us for years. He came to England as a refugee from Sierra Leone. He still calls me papa." "Your wife isn't here?" "Lizzie and Jennie got killed in a traffic accident, years ago. Thank God Barrie was there to give me some purpose in life. I've weathered the storm partly thanks to him." "Okay. Oh dear. Life is hard, isn't it? It seems all the right people die on you..." Andrew looked at her questioningly. "I lost my parents and my husband all within two months." Andrew nodded. "Yes," he said. "That must have been like the end of the world." "It was." Barbra shook her head. "It seems they're still on my shoulder somehow. I miss them frightfully." She took a sip of her coffee. "I'll have a look at your music if I may." "Of course. I'll load the next CD, then." There were rather too many CDs to have a good look. Barbra saw that they were ordered to genre and alphabet. She remembered her sister's CD and wondered if Andrew might have something by that McGraw person. He did, slotted neatly between Country Joe McDonald and Roger McGuinn. She took it out; it wasn't the one her sister owned, but a double one with number 1 hits. "Is this good?" she said. "That one? Yes, I think so. Matter of taste, of course." "Yes. Er -- could you copy them for me, too?" "By all means." He took the box from her and put it on top of the others. Barbra looked at the rest of the room. He obviously liked books, and there were a few nice things on the wall. The study, or den, or whatever it was to him, seemed a nice place to be in -- a little like her own study. This one was much larger, though. His whole house was larger than hers. She spent the time Andrew needed to copy the CDs wandering around and inspecting the bookcases. "Do you spend a lot of time in here?" she asked when he was almost ready. "Yes, rather. I do a lot of writing, and er -- well, I suppose you can say I do my work from here, too. But I listen to music in the living room." He picked up his mug and emptied it. "Before the accident we lived in town; but I like this place. I couldn't stay in the other one anymore." "Same for me. I used to live in the Midlands. I had some beginning of a breakdown, and my GP told me to go and get a change of air. I did, and it felt good, so I moved down here." Andrew smiled at her. "Yes," he said. "That does sound familiar." He turned round to extract the CDs from the computer and wrote the title on the copy. Then he handed her the copied CDs. "Well," he said. "That's it. Shall we go to the living room for another coffee?" "Yes please." They left the study and went back to the living room where Andrew left her for a moment to make some more coffee. Barbra looked round critically. It was a good room, well-proportioned and well furnished. It was pleasant to be in but somehow it had a rather solitary air. Too little colour, perhaps, or too tidy? Austere was the word, she thought. Yes. "This room is very different from you study," she said when he returned. "Yes, it is. Which do you prefer?" "Your study, I think. It may not be the perfect place to sit in together, I suppose, but it feels more comfortable. This one seems to frown on me." Andrew nodded. "You're right. This room is pretty basic," he said. "I haven't yet decided how to change it -- I have my stereo here, and my poetry, and I have the occasional drink here while winding down. I don't want it clogged, but it should be a little less forbidding, perhaps." He shrugged. "It's maybe also because I'm inclined to be chaotic, and I don't want a mess here. Lizzie was a really tidy person and I want to live up to her standards." "You are tidy enough, it seems," Barbra said. "This is a lovely house." "Thank you. Mmm... Would you like to stay for dinner?" "Er, I'd love to -- truly. But I'm afraid I can't. Em is coming over this evening. Can I take a rain check on it? "Of course. Please." He looked at her with a little hint of a smile. She blushed. Was she honest, and would she ever have dinner with him? He was really nice to her, and she was dead certain that whatever it was that Em held against him couldn't be his fault. She was determined to try and find out that night. "Thank you," she said, "both for the CDs and for your offer. I'll see what I can do for you -- and I'll love to come around again!" And she realised she meant it. When she drove back she played Tiny Parham. She wondered how long ago Andrew's wife and daughter had died, and how lonely he was. He was really nice. She'd expect an attractive man like that to have a girlfriend -- but then, she knew how hard it was to forget. Oh well. There was Em to talk to and she'd promised to cook. She'd made a rum cake the night before, and now she was busy cooking a meal, with lots of red peppers, and garlic, and some aubergine and courgettes. Just the way her mother used to do it. Em came in greeting her happily. "Look!" she said, and she held up her hand. "Great, eh?" She wore a new ring. "Present from Beau," she said. "Oh, and by the way, when I was cleaning the car two days ago I found your CD case. Here you are!" "Oh dear, so that is what happened to it! I already went back to Andrew this afternoon for new copies. I thought I'd never see them back." "Oh. Well, may I have them then? I played them a lot, I must say. You know, Beau loves this music, too." "Yes, he told me. Of course you can have them. I must have some empty cases around somewhere. Let me get them for you." She went into the living room and returned to the kitchen with four slim cases. "Thank you, sis," Em said and she transferred the four copies to the boxes. Barbra hesitated a moment; then she asked, "Er, Emily -- what exactly was it that Andrew did that you were so pissed off about? I just cannot imagine he would do anything awful." "He probably already told you in detail for a laugh!" "He didn't. I asked him but he said I ought to hear it from you." "Really?" Barbra nodded. "Really." Emily looked at her a little shamefacedly. "Remember I was angry that morning? I went walking and I wanted to go to the cove, and so I took that path down -- but I lost my footing and slid down the steep stretch. I thought that was it, and I'd closed my eyes, and he must have been coming up right then, for he grabbed my ankles just in time and stopped me." "Oh Em, you could have been killed!" "I know. And I felt grateful enough, but I was wet and miserable and angry with myself and so I just bit his head off. And I wanted to go further down but he just barred my way and told me to go and use the path at the other end." She paused for a moment. "And when he said hello at the concert and everyone was there I couldn't undo my bad behaviour so I just snapped at him. Do you think it still rankles?" "I don't think he bears you a grudge whatsoever," Barbra said with a smile. "I was initially afraid he might have called you something racist, but he said he hadn't. And later I found he had given shelter to an African boy for a long time." "Really?" "Seems he and his wife took in a refugee some time or other." "Oh wow. Didn't his wife come to the concert?" "He's a widower, you know." "Oh -- I'm sorry. Okay. I'll apologise to him when we meet again. Do you think he's nice?" "Yes, I do. A bit of a loner. He lost his wife and daughter quite some time ago. Why did you call him Mr Mud?" "He was covered in mud then, actually." "Er -- oh. Well, that may have been because you sent up a spray of mud, I suppose." Em nodded. "I was in a bit of a mess then," she said. "Having Beau makes all the difference." She thought for a moment. "I really will have to do something about this Andrew; it won't do to let it be." "Okay. No haste, Em; I suppose he will be happy to hear you're doing fine." She drained the vegetables and finished the cooking. They had their dinner in the kitchen, talking about their parents, and Beau and John. "Beau really is the very first man who is just what I hoped to find all along," Em said. "Sweet, funny, clever, witty... He seems to think I am, too." She smiled, thinking of him. "We are planning to get engaged." "Oh sweetie, how fantastic! You must be very happy!" Em beamed. "I am, you know. I couldn't be more so, I think." Barbra got up to hug her sister. Then she sat down again. "Yoghurt? Or ice-cream?" Em chose ice-cream, and they finished their meal enjoying the cold treat and smiling at each other. Em left fairly soon after dinner, and Barbra went and did the washing up listening to more jazz. 11 - Catharsis On Tuesday evening John called to tell Barbra he'd booked seats for a new movie in town. He would pick her up on Saturday and they could have a drink and a dance afterwards. They talked for a while and then John said he had to go. He had an appointment at the firm, he said. Okay. Barbra felt it would be really nice to go to the cinema together, but she wished John had had more time to talk. Their talk seemed to stay a little desultory, a little shallow. With Mike she'd always felt they really talked about things that mattered. And she was a little worried about all the calls John made. He said they were strictly for work -- but he didn't look as if he were conducting business when calling. John... Oh dear. Maybe her friends were right and she was turning into an old spinster? Would she have embarked on trying to turn this into a working relationship if they hadn't been so happy for her? John was a very handsome man. He was attractive, she loved dancing with him and he really seemed to try his best. But... She shook her head. Was she fair to him? Or did she keep him dangling? She heaved a deep sigh. She just didn't know. Those telephones... Whenever they met he seemed to be on the phone, and he always ended his call immediately. She wondered whom he was calling. Always business? She supposed so. She certainly hoped so. She tried to drive those thoughts from her mind. Better go and do something instead of worrying. She went into her study and answered a lot of emails. Then she hoovered the ground floor and sorted out the laundry, and before she knew it was time to go to bed. Safe! Wednesday was a relatively short working day, and she went shopping after work. Then she went home and made herself a nice cup of tea. It was still early in the afternoon, and she took it into the living room and took Tim McGraw from its box. She sat down with her tea while the first CD began, and listened to the lyrics this time. Live like You Were Dying was a nice song, she thought. The next track was a little predictable -- not bad but less startling in its idea. Then came It's Your Love. Somehow it struck her like a hammer. It reminded her of how she had hungered for Mike, and how Em had Beau's name on her lips whenever they met. Oh Mike -- and oh, how she missed her parents. Just to See You Smile didn't make her feel any better. Then the bell rang. She went to open the door. Andrew was standing there, holding a CD box in his hand. She beckoned him to come in, and she closed the door. "Hello," he said. "I came to give you the box for that music." He looked at her. "Er... Are you alright? You look grey." "I er... I'm a bit blue. I er..." "If I can help..." She looked at him, and she felt the tears burn behind her eyes. He pulled a questioning face at her, and then the floodgates opened. He smiled at her a bit crookedly and awkwardly put his arms around her. "What is it, Barbra?" She sniffed and cried and held on to Andrew as if she were about to drown. "I don't know... I thought I was over my losses... I moved here to start again instead of running aground altogether. Mum and dad and Mike -- and the house we used to live in -- and then the loneliness, and the cold, and the disbelief -- they sent an officer round to tell me Mike had been killed and I just didn't believe him at first. But it was only too true. And then I came here and life seemed nice and slow and just sunny, and there were Joan and Mary, and I quarrelled with Em but it seems we got on together better and better -- but we always loved each other no matter what -- and I thought I'd overcome my losses..." Her face worked and she started to cry again. Andrew held her tighter, and rocked her a little from side to side, looking at her and shaking his head. He made the occasional encouraging noise, but he refrained from commenting. Barbra sniffed and she hesitatingly told him all about her parents and her husband, and how they'd done things together, and how nice life had been, and how everything had changed. Then she said, "You know how loneliness feels... I tried to forget and tell myself I wasn't and sometimes I wasn't but sometimes I was, and Em being near helped even when we quarrelled again, and then I ran into John, and Joan and Mary don't stop singing his praises and he is handsome and he seems to be trying his best to please me but I just don't know. He doesn't feel like Beau seems to feel to Em or like Mike was to me, and he is always on the phone and I sometimes wonder if there is someone else, and I don't know if I trust him. But I feel awful for not trusting him and I think I'm not fair, and that makes it worse. But I was sitting listening to your CDs just now and then that song about your sweet name came along and I thought Mike, oh Mike, why did you die and I wonder if I'll ever feel like I did with him again and I certainly don't feel like that with John -- not as yet anyway, and I just don't know..." She sniffled. "Sorry," she said. "I'm being silly, aren't I?" Andrew shook his head. "No," he said. "You're not being silly at all, I think. I know what you're talking about, a little at least. I miss my girls every day." Barbra tried to stop crying, and she made a good effort. "Yes," she said. "You must." "So what are you going to do?" Barbra shrugged helplessly. "I just don't know. What would you advise?" "I wouldn't advise anything, really. It would be a little presumptuous. You've had even worse luck than I, I think." "But if I were a young niece of yours?" Andrew grimaced at that. "Well," he said, "then I would probably say what she already knew, too, that building a relationship on doubt may not be a good idea." She nodded. "It's not. I do have to make sure I understand what I feel. Thank you, Andrew. I don't know -- it's probably that song that did it for me." "I know," he said. "He's recorded another duet that I find even more painful." He sighed. "Oh well, it's a good song. I came to bring you the box with the titles. Do you still want it?" "Yes, please. I will play it again alright. It's just that it gripped me just now." She smiled, albeit a little watery still. "It was good to talk about it. I really needed to, I guess; I'm feeling much better now." "Sure?" "Yes. I want a strong cup of tea, and then I'll go for a ramble to let the wind blow everything out of my system. Want a cuppa, too?" "Not really -- I was supposed to meet my publisher in town. He'll wonder where I am; I'm usually rather punctual in my business contacts." "Oh -- I'm sorry!" "Well, I'm not. First things first, and he'll understand. Are you sure I can safely leave you?" Barb's Anniversary Surprise It was our 14th wedding anniversary and I wanted to surprise Jake with a very special gift. I decided that making his fantasy come true would be the perfect way to surprise him. I told Jake that he needed to go somewhere by 3:00 and come back at 6:00. When he left, I started preparing a special dinner of Coconut Red Snapper. I knew it would remind Jake or our island vacations and therefore add to his arousal. Then I went to take a long bubble bath. I had set out one of his sexually charged magazines to enjoy while bathing. By the second story, I started to quiver and realized that my hand had wandered down and was stroking my clit. I slipped a finger into my pussy and stroked it in and out, being sure to give my clit a good rubbing on my way past. When I felt the jets of my Jacuzzi hitting my leg, I rearranged my body so that the water would be aiming right into my cunt. I started pumping my body up and down, letting the jets make me tingle as the water hit my clit and then give me fulfillment as it poured into my pussy. Up and down I went, using the fingers of one hand to add to my pussy pleasure and my other hand to squeeze my breasts and pinch the nipples. I was pumping fast and moaned loudly as my orgasm hit me and shook my whole body! I was hot and horny and knew it was going to be a great night! I finally got out of the tub and put on some perfumed lotion. I knew as soon as Jake walked in, the scent would arouse him. Of course, I was hoping my outfit would have the same affect! I dressed in a zipper down white shirt, with the zipper down to my belly button. The shirt was just thin enough that you could see the darkness of my nipples, without a bra of course. I put on a garter with black stockings. As I put on my mini skirt, I saw exactly the effect I was after. The lace of my stockings barely reached the bottom of my skirt. I bent over in front of the mirror to make sure that my ass would peak out every time I bent over that evening. My high heels pushed my ass up and out enticingly. I was glad I had already taken the edge off my horniness, or I think I would have come down my legs just thinking what I was going to do to Jake. I finished making dinner just as Jake rang the doorbell. The expression on his face when I opened the door was enough to make all the planning worthwhile, and he'd only had just a tiny taste of what the evening had in story. He had brought me some flowers and leaned over to give me a kiss, lingering extra on my neck to smell the intoxicating scent that I knew would drive him wild. I led him over to the table where dinner was waiting. I think I could have skipped dinner and he wouldn't have even noticed! It was hard to keep him interested in the meal for the half hour that I needed. I told him to sit still while I cleared the table and then we would have our chocolate dessert. I moved slowly, to stall for time, and bent over as often as possible so that he would get a tempting view of my breasts or my ass, depending which direction I was facing. Jake must have been getting impatient, and horny, because he got up and said, "I know exactly what I want for dessert!" and he started toward me. Just then the doorbell rang. Jake ignored it, and wrapped his arms around me, cupping my ass as he rubbed his body against mine and pulled me into a hot kiss. The doorbell rang again and I pulled away and told him he'd better get it. He reached into my shirt and started caressing my breast and tried to pull me closer as the bell rang again. He said, "Don't move. I'll get rid of whoever it is and then pick up where I left off." When he opened the door, a tall, handsome black man was standing there. "What can I do for you?" Jake asked with attitude, irritated about being interrupted. He responded, "I'm Barry, Barb's chocolate dessert. Is she ready for dessert yet?" I walked up behind Jake and let Barry in, as Jake seemed frozen in place. After closing the door, I leaned in and kissed Barry on the lips and said, "I'm glad you could come." He responded, "Oh, I haven't yet, but I will. First it's your turn though. Are you going to introduce me to your husband before I devour you? Ever since you invited me, I've been anticipating seeing and tasting that hot body of yours. I'm not sure how much longer I can wait!" Jake was grinning as he shook hands with Barry, realizing what was truly going on. Then he pulled me close, kissing me and reaching in to caress one of my breasts. Barry came up behind me and started kissing the back of my neck, while his hands slid up under my skirt. He was pleased to discover that there weren't any panties to get in the way, as he slid his hand over my pussy and slid his finger into my hot, dripping pussy. "I think she's ready for us," he said, as he started to slide my skirt down my ass and it dropped on the floor. He sank to his knees, caressing and kissing my ass as Jake's fingers across my clit and into my waiting pussy. Barry crawled around to the front of my body, squeezing between Jake and I so that he could start licking the juices that were dripping down my thighs. Jake pushed me backwards slowly so that I would be sitting on the couch, to give Barry better access to the dessert he was about to enjoy. He sat beside me and stroked himself as he watched Barry licking slowly up my legs, lingering closely to my pussy, without giving me the satisfaction of actually touching inside my folds. Jake leaned over to start pinching and sucking my nipples, just as Barry's tongue slid firmly up the full length of my pussy. I squirmed, pushing my pussy closer to his face. Jake's eyes were glued to my pussy, as Barry's tongue slid up and down the wetness and he lingered sometimes to suck my clit. I was moaning and squirming, using my hand to pull Barry's face as deep into my pussy as I could get it. I started shaking as my orgasm exploded into Barry's face and screamed as he continued to lick my pussy clean. "I'm ready to fuck this beautiful pussy of yours," Barry said as he stood up. "Wait," I said. "First I want to return the favor and get a taste of your chocolate cock!" I motioned for him to take my place on the couch and then got on my hands and knees and started licking his balls. I felt Jake behind me. I pushed my ass higher in the air, so that he would have easy access to fucking my pussy as I pleasured Barry. I knew that watching me suck Barry's cock as he fucked me would push Jake over the edge. His eyes were glued to my face as I sucked and licked Barry's cock. My mouth slid up and down Barry's cock with the momentum of Jake's cock slamming in and out of my pussy. I could feel Barry's cock swelling in mouth as I felt my second orgasm exploding around Jake's cock. A couple more strokes and Jake's orgasm was exploding in my pussy just as I swallowed Barry's deeply into my throat. I slipped away to get us a drink. When I came back with the drinks, Jake and Barry were sitting on the couch stroking their already hard cocks. I grinned and handed them the drinks, which they promptly set on the stand and pulled me down on the couch between them. Barry started kissing me and Jake's hand wandered down to my pussy as he started sucking one of my nipples. When I paused in the kiss to moan, Barry slid down and started sucking the other nipple. I held their heads to my breasts, thoroughly enjoying the attention. Barry moved to stand and pulled my legs onto his shoulders, sliding his big black cock into my wet and waiting pussy. Jake stood on the couch to feed his rock hard cock into my warm and willing mouth. Jake was pumping in and out, fucking my mouth, while watching Barry slamming in and out of my hot, dripping pussy. Barry was moaning and mumbling about what a nice, tight, hot pussy I had. All this action was going to quickly bring me to another orgasm, but I could tell the men wouldn't be far behind. I could tell Jake was holding back as hard as he could so that he could watch me explode around Barry's big, hot dick. Just as Barry groaned that he couldn't wait any longer, I exploded, grinding my hips to keep him pumping as he came, releasing his hot cum into my dripping pussy. This was more than Jake could handle, and he ejected his seed deeply into my throat. He groaned as he finished fucking my mouth and the last drop of cum had been sucked from his cock. We all collapsed on the couch. A few minutes later, Barry got up and got dressed. "I hope you both enjoyed your dessert," he said as he slipped out the door. Jake turned to me and smiled. "That was the best dessert I've ever had!" Barb's Bet Payoff My pretty wife Barb and I were in a popular sports bar and she was wearing a nearly sheer unbuttoned blouse; a front buttoned mini skirt and thigh high stockings and heels. She was here like that, not to pick up some guy, but to pay off a bet. She was overly confident that her favorite team would win the bowl game and arrogantly made the wager with the certainty of winning; I was delighted to see them lose. I had made her a strong Black Russian before we left home to help her courage and dull her inhibitions a bit. The terms were that if she lost, she would have to wear whatever I chose for her without underwear and we would go out to a bar and she was to flirt and chat with other men, dancing when asked. She was not to try to cover up and as the evening progressed she was to undo more buttons. I would choose to be beside her or not. I love for her to show off and hope someday to watch another man fuck her to exhaustion. Barb had tried to get out of the bet in several ways. Nothing moved me, even her apologizing, being super nice above and beyond what she normally is, even that she was in ovulation and should not be even close to being sexy with other men. Birth control reacts wrong with Barb so she is unable to take any pills; therefore I had the big "V". I left her by herself at the bar and went to the men's room, taking my time there. When I came out my wife had several men around her talking to her and she seemed to like the attention. Not wanting to drive them away, I took a seat nearby to listen and watch. Barb's blouse was undone three buttons now which allowed some good views of her tits and her unbuttoned skirt allowed a lot of her nice slender legs to be displayed. The one time I caught her crossing her legs, I got a glimpse of a hairy pussy. She does not shave like a lot of women today who would rather to look like a child than a woman, thank goodness. She had a fresh Black Russian in her hand and one was waiting on the bar. After a while most of the guys moved away, and left her with one youngish white guy and a good looking black man. I could tell she was well on the way to intoxication so decided to join them when the white guy left. The black did not appreciate my arrival until Barb said, Hi honey to me. Then he was a bit uncomfortable but soon relaxed when I showed I was cool with things. Barb was quite drunk and I could tell the Black Russians had their usual effect, making her horny also. Jamie told her that she looked good enough to eat, causing her to giggle. Then he leaned close and asked if we were looking for some erotic threesome or moresome fun. Barb was a little stunned and said, "Oh no, I can't do that. I am ovulating and don't want to get pregnant." A second later she realized what she said and said that she did not mean that, she meant no she wasn't going to fuck. The more she babbled, the deeper she got until Jamie laid a hand on her leg and told her that he would promise to not come in her if that is what she wanted. Yes that is right, she agreed, then again found her foot in her mouth again and thinking to settle it said no not going to do nothing. I leaned in close to them and said that I would love to watch her have several orgasms under a black man especially if his cock was large. Barb was a bit shocked that I had said that, but Jamie jumped in again and said he and a buddy had an apartment just a couple blocks away and we should continue the party there. I instantly agreed and before Barb realized it she had her 5th or 6th Black Russian in her hand in his apartment and he was putting mood music on. Then he asked her to dance and she hesitantly agreed. As they danced, Jamie undid the remaining buttons on her blouse, letting it hang open. Barb objected but he explained that he had been teased by glimpses of her lovely tits and wanted an unobstructed view, no matter how brief. Before she could button up, I danced with her and she started telling me how this was a bad idea and why. (a) She was very drunk and not in complete control, (b) she was fertile and if he fucked her ("like you want him to"), she would get pregnant and (c) she certainly had not intention of fucking anybody, especially a black man. How could she explain a mixed baby? She was so busy telling me this that she did not notice my unbuttoning her skirt until it fell off. Barb was standing dressed only in an unbuttoned blouse and as she tried to get her skirt back away from me, she turned to see if Jamie had noticed. Barb froze and stared because Jamie had removed his clothes and his huge hard black cock jutted out in front of him at least 10 inches. I slowly maneuvered her closer to him as she looked, then she reached out and touched his throbbing cock. "My God," she said, "I never knew they were this big or long." She tried to wrap her hand around it and gave it a couple of strokes. Jamie put his hands on her shoulders and pressed down until she went to her knees and opened her mouth to suck that big cock, but could not get past the head. Rubbing it on her cheeks, she looked up at Jamie and said "if I let you put that in my pussy will you promise not to come in me but come in my mouth. I don't want to get pregnant." Jamie told her only if she will swallow his cum, and she said she would try. She took off her last bit of clothing and lay on the couch. Jamie immediately began eating her pussy and bringing her off almost immediately. After she had come several times, Jamie moved up to mount my wife and she grabbed his black cock and slipped it up and down her slippery slit, then nestled the head between her pussy lips and spread her legs wide. He worked in and out and soon his pubic hair was intermixed with my wife's. When she grabbed his cock, I could see there was a lot of pre-come on the head and thought she could already be inseminated. She sighed and whimpered as her pussy stretched and gripped his black shaft, then she began to thrust up at him. He began moving in and out faster and faster and soon Barb had another orgasm, followed by another and another. It seemed that she was coming all the time now, and then Jamie took a break. He let her rest while still buried inside her. She asked if he came yet, he told her not yet then began moving again. He caught my eye and winked then mouthed "two or three squirts" and I realized Jamie had shot some fertile sperm inside my wife and she did not know it. "Please remember that you are going to come in my mouth and not in my cunt,:" she reminded him as his pace picked up again. Several minutes later he took another rest and I raised a questioning eyebrow, to which he shook his head no. Suddenly his even blacker roommate came home. He looked at me, looked at my naked wife lying under his roommate with a cock buried to the balls in her pussy and exclaimed, "Awesome, another beautiful white wife." Then began to remove his clothes, displaying an even bigger blacker cock than Jamie's. Barb looked terrified, then resigned to the fact that two blacks were going to fuck her tonight. He pushed his cock to my wife, who began to try to get it in her mouth. Jamie then got up and Trace began to eat my wife. She came like skyrockets and spread wide open, and then Trace mounted her. She told him he could not come in her as she was fertile and did not want a baby. Trace really fucked Barb hard, like she really loves and I last only a few minutes doing. After about 10 minutes of hard fucking, he stopped and rested. Barb's arms and legs flopped down to rest also. He started to move again and she had a few more orgasms. Barb then looked at both black men and said, "It does not matter what I say to you, does it? Neither of you have any intention of pulling out of me when you come, do you? I have heard at work that black men love to knock up white married women. The only other black I fucked came in me even when I begged him not to." I suspect she was too drunk to realize what she just said but I had found a photo of a woman who could be her identical twin on the Internet. The woman had a black cock buried in her pussy and her head angle was just like my wife's when she comes. Barb always refused to admit it was her being fucked. Then Jamie mounted Barb again and as he was fucking her, I told her to spread wide, let that huge cock deep inside her and beg him to come inside you. She moaned no he had to pull out and I kept urging her to let him shoot into her fertile pussy. She still wanted him to pull out and he started to talk softly on how he want to breed her, want to slam his big cock in her and her stomach could feel him coming. "I am getting close to blasting in you. Tell me to come inside and take my load" "Come in her," I urged him as he was fucking her harder and harder. Suddenly she yelled out, " Oh Fuck Yes, knock me up, give me all your fertile sperm. Dump it deep" and spread her legs wide, lifting them out of the way of his hips and he slammed every tiny bit of huge black cock in Barb and groaned as his nuts emptied in her. They lay locked together quivering and Jamie said he could feel her cunt walls milking his cock of all his sperm. Several minutes of resting with his big cock blocking any escaping sperm, then they began to relax and Jamie got off my (now knocked up?) wife. Monstrous globs of sperm poured out of Barb's stretched open hole and ran down her ass crack as she sighed and stretched. Trace moved between her legs, which she spread in welcome and guided his cock inside her. "You are going to come inside me also, aren't you?" she asked as his foot long meat slid into her. Soon she was gasping for breath between orgasms and the pounding Trace was giving her cunt. He was really slamming into her and she loved it. Her legs were up by her head, just offering her cunt to his breeding. Five minutes of fucking, then seven then ten, and he told her to get ready to receive. Barb tipped up as much as she could then began to urge him on. "Come on, fuck me, knock me up, Give me your child. Oh God I want your sperm. Yes breed me, make me a mother again." And as he got closer, she started again saying, Oh yeah, fill me up. I can feel your cock swelling in me. OH FUCK! I can feel you coming in me. Don't stop coming. I hope you are as fertile as I am." And she had a huge orgasm and passed out. Trace continued to come in her and a few seconds later she came around again. Trace lay on her for a while then when he got off her, we all watched sperm drooling out of her. Are you going to fuck me again, she asked them and after a few minutes of her sucking them, both bred her one more time. When we left, she had taken 4 nigger loads in her cunt and one huge white load down her throat. I knew they exchanged phone numbers. When she got in the car, she fell asleep immediately. When we got home, she bitched at me for letting them knock her up, then said she loved it and was glad to take their loads. The next morning she was still dripping cum but was sure she was pregnant. A few weeks later, she told me that her friends had called that Friday morning to see how she was (meaning was she pregnant?) and wanted her to come to another party tonight. Jamie hinted there would be at least four black men there for her breeding pleasure. She shyly said that seeing as it did not take the first time, they wanted to try again, except this time, she was going to spend the weekend with them. When I asked if she was ovulating and my wife said that she had finished her period 13 days ago and her temperature was just starting to rise this morning, so would likely be very receptive tomorrow (Saturday) She said with a coy little smile that more than likely, there would be a lot more than four blacks to breed her. She would let me know on Sunday night.