Chapter 1

(*)Author’s Notes: This story has been posted to Literotica.Com with the full knowledge of the original author, JimBob44. No part or whole of this story may be reprinted in any other format or on any other web site without the express written consent of the original author.

Any and all persons engaging in any sexual activity are at least eighteen years of age.

This story has been edited by myself, using Microsoft Spell-check. You have been forewarned; expect to find mistakes.

Sheila Gardner stood, absently shimmying to the piped in music overhead. She vaguely recognized the song; the radio was tuned to the Classic Rock station playing out of Wagon Wheel, Texas.

The family in front of her had obviously been on the road for a while; the four kids were whiney, fussy and the father was at the end of his rope with them. The girl behind the counter was doing her very best to smile and be gracious but Sheila could tell that the girl, just like the dad, herself, and the three or four people behind her were close to losing all semblance of patience with the kids.

“Jesus fucking Christ! What? Is this, is this some kind of April fool’s joke?” a harried construction worker finally bellowed, startling everyone. “Just give the stupid bitch your order and move, God damn it!”

When the father turned, Sheila could see the man’s reddened eyes. Turning, she glared at the construction worker, seeing his back as the impatient man stormed out of the Newhart’s Restaurant. Swiveling again, she tried to give the father a reassuring smile as she pushed her tousled blonde mop out of her eyes.

“Yeah Buddy, I’m pretty fed up too, but ain’t no need for all that profanity,” Sheila murmured as the kids and the dad sidled to the side.

“Excuse me. You, are you, is your name Heidi?” a soft voice asked, accompanied by a soft tap on her shoulder.

“Huh?” Sheila asked, turning.

At four feet, ten inches, Sheila normally looked up when speaking to others. Even with her four inch heels, her natural inclination was to glance upward when this stranger addressed her.

“Huh?” Sheila repeated, now glancing down at a hotly blushing red head.

“Is your name Heidi?” the four foot six inch red head repeated. “See, we’re supposed to wear purple, I we, we connected on the Caller? Women seeking, I mean… And you’ve got blonde hair and that, um, those, you know.”

Sheila did know. She had a 34E chest; no matter what she wore, her chest garnered attention. Few noticed her whitish blonde hair, styled in a tousled mess, intended to look as if she’d just woke up, her big blue eyes, her button nose or cupids bow lips. Few noticed her 28 inch waist or 32 inch hips and cute bubble butt. They just seemed to notice the tits.

Subconsciously, Sheila tugged at the gauzy purple blouse, her black satin bra visible underneath. The blouse paired well with her charcoal gray short shorts and black patent pumps. The outfit had looked good at the Carousel Club last night as she and her boyfriend and his roommate and roommate’s girlfriend danced, screamed, laughed. Now, in the early morning, the outfit looked out of place, slightly risqué, slightly tawdry in the family restaurant.

“No. No, I’m not Heidi,” Sheila said, turning away from the diminutive red head and stepping up to the counter. “Hi; cinnamon bun, medium coffee four sugars and four creams and medium orange juice.”

“You sure?” the red head persisted. “We, we’re supposed to wear purple and…”

“I’m not Heidi,” Sheila barked at the interloper, her hangover and her anger giving her words quite a bit of teeth.

The red head stepped back, one arm thrown up in self-defense. Sheila turned back to the counter, hands shaking from her excesses the night before. She needed to hurry; they were doing an early morning inventory at Silsations, her place of employment; then she had the ten AM to four PM shift. Her outfit would not fly with her manager so before she could go to work, she needed to swing by her mother’s trailer to change.

She could have gone home, had a bowl of Kellogg’s Honey Smacks cereal and a cup of her mother’s coffee with a few tablespoons of sugar. But that breakfast would have been served with disapproving attitude and disparaging comments.

Suddenly, the restaurant was overwhelmed by a throng of teenagers, three adults who seemed barely in charge, and loud chatter. Sheila grabbed her tray and found a two seater table near the restaurant’s restrooms. Looking through the window, she saw the two buses with the name of an unknown high school on the sides.

The orange juice trickled down her parched throat. The coffee gave her the welcome little jolt; sugar and caffeine. Flipping the top of her Styrofoam container, Sheila prepared to tear into her steaming cinnamon bun.

“Oh no, oh no, oh no, where, where, where…” Sheila heard someone murmur.

Her red headed stranger was frantically looking around for a place to sit but all of the tables had been commandeered by loudly chattering students.

“Right here,” Sheila called out and the girl whipped her head around.

“I, you, you sure?” the girl asked even as she scampered to the vacant seat.

“Yeah,” Sheila agreed.

It wasn’t the red head’s fault. Sheila’s incredibly bad luck in men; it wasn’t the red head’s fault. Her intense hangover wasn’t the girl’s fault either. Her earlier early morning run-in with Amelia Rawlings, Terry’s older girlfriend wasn’t this girl’s fault.

Sheila’s first boyfriend, a boyfriend for all of two days was Beauregard ‘Bo’ Dunn, a handsome football player at Connelly College. On the first date, he coached Sheila through the art of sucking cock. She was an enthusiastic student. And on the second date, he gave Sheila sypphillus. Then he dumped her, looking for the next fresh-faced high school girl to fuck.

Sheila smirked; last she’d heard, Bo had tried to pull that maneuver on Gemma Lutella, a short flat-chested girl with a ghetto booty. Gemma’s uncle just happened to be Vic Lutella and Gemma’s uncle convinced Bo that marriage to his favorite niece was preferable to a one-way trip to the Gulf of America.

A few other boyfriends followed; most seemed to share one trait in common.

“Two. Two traits,” Sheila thought. “That bad-ass rules don’t apply to me attitude and an inability to hold a job for very long.”

Shane was just the latest. A blond boy with angelic looks, he’d come into Silksations to buy something for his mother for her birthday. He left with a fetching peignoir and Sheila’s phone number. Their first date wound up in his bedroom; Sheila wasn’t surprised that he didn’t make his bed. Lying down for sixty nine, Shane said something that startled Sheila.

“Oh! Oh yeah, oh yeah, now, now stick your finger up my ass,” Shane had moaned as Sheila swallowed his long, thin cock.

After a second, Sheila did work her middle finger into his sweaty rectum. She grunted as he swiped her anus with his tongue, then worked a long, thin finger into her protesting rectum.

“Ano… Augh, another,” Shane had grunted as Sheila fingered his ass.

By the time he spurted a hot, bitter load into her mouth, Sheila was plunging three fingers in and out of his ass. She was riding his face as he plunged two fingers into her rectum. This new sensation, this new experience intensified her orgasm.

The next time they went to the two bedroom apartment, Sheila met Terry, Shane’s roommate and Amelia, Terry’s girlfriend. At first, Sheila had assumed that the blonde woman was Shane’s mother; the blonde was decidedly older than Shane or Terry. Shane and Terry found this funny; Amelia did not.

Even with the large ‘X’ stamped on her hand, Sheila had no trouble getting drinks at the Carousel. And even if she’d had trouble, Amelia, Shane and Terry were old enough and would have bought her as many drinks as she was willing to pay for.

“Why I’m the only one paying for shit?” Sheila had finally demanded after the fourth round of drinks.

That ended the fun at the Carousel. From nightclub to apartment, Terry kept up some passive-aggressive comments about ‘the bitch in the car.’ Amelia had a few of her own comments to throw into the mix.

Even though she didn’t feel like it; her feelings were severely hurt by Terry and Amelia’s comments, and Shane’s lack of defense of Sheila, Sheila gave in and she and Shane had sex. She didn’t climax; she’d not been in the mood.

Her cell phone alarm woke her up and Sheila grabbed her clothes. She dressed in the bathroom and stepped out, almost plowing into the nude Amelia. The older woman sneered at Sheila as Sheila hopped to put her four inch black patent heels on.

“You do know they’re bisexual, right?” Amelia declared before ducking into the bathroom. “Soon as you leave here, they’ll be fucking each other.”

Sheila stood, mouth open in shock. She felt the bile rush up into her throat as realization dawned on her. But she fought against accepting the certain revelation.

“Oh. Ha ha,” Sheila said tightly. “April fool’s, right?”

There was no answer from inside the bathroom. Striding to the door, Sheila knew it wasn’t an April fool’s Gag. Now, all the micro-aggressions she sensed from Terry made sense, even as he smiled and joked with her. And last night, when she refused to be their cash cow, some of his comments, some of Amelia’s comments really came into focus.

“You, you sure you’re not Heidi?” the girl at her table asked, bringing Sheila back to the present moment.

“Want to see some ID?” Sheila barked, glancing up.

“Your hair, how, that is so pretty; how you get it like that?” the girl asked.

“I thanks,” Sheila softened and brushed the hair back out of her eyes. “I, we, we did a couple of pictures for the Sunday paper and Ms. Carol had Salon Heather come in and do our hair and makeup.”

“Salon…” the red head mused.

“Salon Heather’s. In Oakleaf Towers, right there,” Sheila stated. “They’re on the second floor I think.”

Sheila blinked when the red head took a cell phone photograph of her. Then she returned her attention to the cinnamon bun.

“I, I sure do wish you were Heidi; you, you’re so pretty,” the red head murmured, tearing into her sausage egg and cheese biscuit.

“I, thanks. I think,” Sheila said, feeling slightly off-center at the girl’s praise.

Whenever she thought of lesbianism, Sheila quickly pushed the thought out of her head. In high school, there had been Becca, with her oily skin, frizzy hair and overbearing, belligerent personality. Becca just seemed to go out of her way to be unattractive; that, that was what a lesbian was, in Sheila’s opinion.

It had been a total shock to learn that the two women that lived in Trailer 18 were lesbians; Sarah was flawlessly beautiful, in Sheila’s eyes and Connie was sweet, funny, bubbly.

“Fat ass,” Sheila sneered to herself now as she thought of her neighbor, Connie.

“I mean, see, I, I been in the foster system,” the girl continued. “God, just, God! All them nasty… And putting their hands all over and…”

Sheila gulped her coffee and looked at the girl’s big brown eyes filling with tears of rage. She softly reached across and took the girl’s small hand into her stubby little hand.

“Then come to find out, my Daddy? See, when I was five, my momma come in and catches my Daddy and me, well, you know, and we moved back home but then when I was twelve she died; aneurysm,” the girl continued her tale of woe, clutching frantically onto Sheila’s hand.

Dahlia ‘Doll’ Stahl did not remember her father’s name and no one in the Oakleaf County Child Protection Services ever thought to look for any relatives outside of the great state of Texas. They just shoved the grief-stricken child into a series of foster homes. Some were good, run by genuinely loving people. Others were just looking for the paycheck. And the more recent ones were looking for the paycheck and the pussy.

“Then, right when I’m ’bout get evicted; God! Couldn’t wait get out of there; he wasn’t even s’posed be there he had a prior conviction,” Doll continued.

“God, do you ever take a breath?” Sheila asked, finishing her cinnamon bun.

“Miss Shatokima gets this letter from um, what, what that is, St. Ann’s Parish? In Louisiana? They built an airport on some of my Daddy’s land and somehow my step-sister, my half-sister, see my Daddy was married to Miss Margaret and…” Doll continued.

“Wait. How, HOW much?” Sheila asked when Doll revealed how much her half of the inheritance totaled.

“‘Bout four million,” Doll admitted.

“This, that, this ain’t no April fool’s joke, huh?” Sheila asked.

“Huh? Oh! Oh, that’s right. I, I completely forgot today’s April Fool’s day,” Doll admitted.

She looked around the busy restaurant. Then, taking a sip of her coffee, Doll looked at Sheila again. She tugged on the collar of her purple blouse.

“Think that’s what happened? This Heidi girl’s just playing an April Fool’s joke on me?” Doll asked, voice sounding defeated.

“I lied. I’m Heidi,” Sheila said and Doll let her first smile crease her small face.

“Don’t I wish,” Doll said, taking the last bite of her breakfast.

Looking at the time displayed on her cell phone, Sheila grabbed their trays. Doll continued her tale as Sheila hustled to the trash receptacle. She’d allowed herself a few frivolous purchases, bought herself an absolutely adorable little bungalow at 809 West Saunders Drive, hired the Priestly Brothers to do the renovation.

“Because I’m short,” she explained.

“Makes sense,” Sheila admitted, thinking of the numerous appliances and shelves in her mother’s trailer that were difficult to use. “I’m pretty short too.”

“Right there, right before you cross over into Duvine,” Doll said as they exited the cacophony of the restaurant into the already quite warm early morning.

“This, this is yours?” Sheila asked as Doll pressed a fob and the yellow 2022 911 Porsche chirped.

“Uh huh; like I said, I kind of went a little crazy,” Doll admitted, patting the roof of the sleek sports car.

“I’m Heidi,” Sheila said and Doll smiled as she opened the door of the low slung sports car.

“I wish; you’re gorgeous,” Doll admitted. “Like I said, I always knew I was attracted to girls so when I got a little money? Put an ad in the Cougar Caller and…”

Sheila hurried to her own car. Arriving home, she was greeted by the expected barrage of complaints and snide comments.

Even as her mother heaped abuse, commented on her disappointment in Sheila, on Sheila’s choices in life, Sheila kept thinking back to her interaction with the small Doll. She felt a true sympathy for the small woman; someone so lonely she needed to place an ad in the Cougar Caller, even with a good amount of money. She smiled softely to herself; Doll seemed to be the perfect name for the small red head.