Chapter 3

His beautiful wife had justified taking the girls to Babbage’s for their school clothes; her clothing had been hand-me-downs from cousins or from thrift stores. The other children at Andrew Jackson Elementary School had teased Cindy mercilessly for her worn, ill-fitting clothing.

“My girls? No one’s going be laughing at them,” she had declared, pretty face twisted in a determined scowl.

David looked over at their infant son and smiled. Looking back at the computer, David checked the time, wondering if he had enough time to sneak a bottle of Barley Terlings and a few soft pretzels.

“Hey Mikey, it’s only a ‘mild’ heart attack when it happens to someone else,” David said aloud.

Remembering Cindy’s terrified face as he was placed on the gurney, David decided he didn’t need that beer or those delicious, soft, chewy pretzels with their generous dusting of sea salt. The same woman that had so bravely delivered Kellyn and Kayleen, and then, four years later, labored to deliver a nine pound ten ounce Michael David Torres had looked so helpless as the two EMTs wheeled him out of the home office.

“Wait, wait,” David had croaked.

“Sir, we can’t…” one of the EMTs had snapped.

“Cindy, Sweetheart,” David mumbled around the oxygen mask. “Sweetheart, it’s going to be all right. I’m going to be fine. Sweetheart, don’t worry; I’m fine.”

Dr. Ohlmeyer had given David a diet and exercise plan and Cindy had gone from loving, sweet, docile wife and Mommy to drill sergeant. David had no choice but to follow the diet and exercise plan. The only reason they had the pretzels and the beer in the house was because Cindy’s time of the month dictated she needed beer and salt.

“But one. Just one. It’s not like…” David assured himself as he got to his feet.

Then his vision swam. David gasped as an intense pain gripped his chest. He could not breathe.

“Daddy! You need see all the stuff we got!” Kayleen, the chatterbox of the twins demanded, barging into the office.

“Daddy?” Kellyn asked, seeing her father lying on the floor.

“Mommy! Daddy! Daddy fell down!” Kayleen screamed for their mother.

“Miss Sassy; come on,” Morgan demanded, actually bouncing on her feet in irritation.

“You break one of them glasses it’s coming out of your check,” Daisy snapped as Rodney carelessly thrust the wire tray of clean glasses into the serving rack.

“Yeah, yeah,” Rodney grumbled.

“Ten minutes,” Ally needlessly reminded everyone, looking at the clock again.

“Anyway, original owner of Mickey’s? It was a Gentlemen’s club,” Daisy said.

“Mickey’s? That titty bar?” Rodney asked, now interested. “My cousin had his bachelor party there. Wonder whatever happened to it?”

“Napkin holders?” Daisy reminded the callow youth.

“And ketchup,” Morgan said. “Don’t need keep running back there because you forgot fill them up.”

“God! Know how bad that shit smells?” Rodney complained.

“Boo hoo,” Morgan said. “Hold your breath.”

Tonya, Leah, and Paul, David’s adult children from his first marriage watched as Cindy Torres efficiently cared for the three children, efficiently greeted the guests, effectively negotiated with the funeral home employees and saw to the arrangements. She’d been a girl, barely out of her teens when they’d first met her. Now, Cindy Torres was a poised, confident young woman.

“I wish I hadn’t quit smoking,” Cindy did confess to Reverend John Stills, Tonya’s ex-husband.

“Oh, I know,” he soothed, resting a meaty paw on her rump.

“You put your hand on her ass one more time,” Tonya hissed at John when Cindy marched away to deal with the florist’s delivery person that seemed unsure of what to do with the large display sent by David’s employees at Jitters coffee shop.

“Hey, hey, where my hand goes is no longer your concern,” John smugly said to his ex.

“Okay, let ME tell you,” Paul Torres growled into John’s ear. “You put your hand on my dad’s wife’s ass one more time, I will break your fucking hand off and shove it up your slimy ass. GOT IT?”

“Hey, hey, just trying to comfort…” John protested.

“Well, comfort her with your hands in your pockets,” Paul snapped.

During the viewing and the funeral on the following day, Cindy continued to be a source of strength for her children and an inspiration for David’s children from his first marriage. At home, she greeted mourners, made sure the caterers kept the food moving and the alcohol flowing. Then, when the last guest left, Cindy sat on the leather couch, the same leather couch where Mikey had been conceived and burst into heart-wrenching wails.

“Oh, Sweetheart, Sweetheart, what? What am I going to do?” Cindy asked her departed husband.

As an employee of Casa Ole Mexican restaurant, Daisy was aware of who David Torres was; he was the signatory of her paycheck. So, she was aware of his death. And, she was aware of the sale of the restaurant to the Boyd Investment Group; David’s widow and three adult children had agreed to the sales of all of David’s properties. Then the proceeds would be split between the four of them; twenty percent would go to each of his adult children and forty percent would go to Cindy.

“Huh! I didn’t know he owned Cowboy’s,” Daisy had said, reading the obituary.

“And Mickey’s?” Pedro, one of the dishwashers smirked, grabbing his crotch. “I been there; them women? You go in the Champagne Room? Man!”

“Mickey’s? Seriously?” Daisy asked, looking again at David’s obituary.

Martin Boyd used a very sharp scalpel with each of David’s companies. He cut out all dead weight where it was warranted and instilled fresh blood where it was needed. Most of the businesses continued to operate with hardly a hiccup. In time, these companies thrived under new leadership.

While her job continued to plod along, Daisy pulled her ad from the ULD On-Line newspaper. In truth, the seven dates she’d been on had been less than satisfying. And in truth, she now knew what she had suspected for years; she was gay. Those giggling, fumbling ‘experiments’ with her high school friends, those deep thoughts as she pleasured herself had been her true self. The random sex with men was what she had thought she was supposed to be but they were not her true self.

The burgeoning romance between Daisy and Natasha continued to burn hotly for a few weeks. Daisy loved to taste her young lover’s small breasts and fragrant pussy. She loved having her young lover suckle her large nipples until she was writhing in need. Then her lover would wiggle down and slowly, softly lick and finger Daisy’s pussy until Daisy exploded in climax.

Their romance wasn’t just sexual; they went to movies together, went out to eat, enjoyed just strolling around Mouton Park, watching children playing on the playground equipment.

Then, inexplicably, the young girl ceased calling, stopped coming by. Natasha would not return Daisy’s calls or text messages. Daisy felt an emptiness begin to descend on her.

“You know what? She is just a kid,” Daisy told herself and returned to the ULD On-Line newspaper and the Personals column.

But, this time, she was perusing the ‘Women Seeking Women’ listings. Looking, she saw that her profile was still stored, ready to be re-posted should she desire to post in the ‘Women Seeking Women’ section.

“Ugh! Good God!” Daisy thought, looking at the mature women that posted profiles and ads in the WSW portion.

Most of these mature women did not look like women. The two that did look as though they’d taken care with their appearance were very specific; they were only interested in young women.

Looking at the fresh faced college students both excited Daisy and made her feel old, very old. With a sigh, Daisy shut down her computer and sipped her Cuba libre, made with coconut rum. She resisted the urge to try once more to contact Natasha.

“If it’s meant to be, it will be,” Daisy said.

One Saturday, after a grueling lunch shift, Daisy walked into the employee’s breakroom. She turned just as Blakely Rodriguez, a beautiful college student turned from her locker, wiggling into a pair of denim cutoffs. The girl realized she’d accidentally flashed her dark curls to Daisy and smiled a self-conscious smile at the older woman. Daisy returned the smile as she opened her own locker to retrieve her purse.

“Hate this stupid skirt they make us wear,” Blakely confided as she found her bike helmet.

“Uh huh, but the new blouses are so cute,” Daisy agreed.

“Yeah they are,” Blakely agreed, looking down at the snug green, white, and red pullover.

“And?” Blakely whispered, giggling to Daisy. “I ‘forget’ wear my bra? Girl! The tips?”

“Oh, I’ll bet,” Daisy smiled, looking at Blakely’s hard nipples poking out through the snug top.

“So, what you going do?” Blakely asked as they strolled through the rear door of Casa Ole Mexican restaurant.

“Go home, shower, fix a good strong drink and kick my feet up,” Daisy admitted. “You?”

“Got tequila?” Blakely asked hopefully, flipping her waist length dark hair back.

“Te… I don’t know,” Daisy admitted.

“Get some?” Blakely smiled, unlocking a 20 speed racing bike from the bike rack.

“I get some tequila, you help me drink it?” Daisy asked, mouth dry as she looked at Blakely’s luscious bubble butt in her extreme cutoffs.

“Yeah,” Blakely agreed, brazenly looking into Daisy’s eyes.

“You, you’re in Murphy’s dormitory, right?” Daisy asked as Blakely swung her leg up and over the frame of the bike.

“Uh huh,” Blakely agreed, settling her cute rear end on the leather saddle.

“Go on, get your clothes and whatever together; I remember how hard it was to find a good laundry-mat anywhere. I’ll get some tequila and pick you up out front of Murphy’s,” Daisy decided.

“Okay!” Blakely agreed happily, strapping on her helmet.

Daisy watched the girl’s light brown buttocks flex and strain as she pedaled away. Shaking her head, she got into her dependable, serviceable car and drove away.

At the Burns & Burns Grocers grocery store, Daisy bought a half-gallon of Artigas Tequila and another half-gallon of Virgin Islands Coconut Rum, as well as a three liter bottle of Coca-Cola. She gave a polite smile to the cute Asian-American cashier when the girl asked if it was a party.

Fifteen minutes after they’d parted, Daisy pulled up in front of Murphy’s dorm. A smiling Blakely dragged an overflowing canvas bag and a back pack toward the car.

Daisy popped the latch for the trunk and Blakely hefted the laundry bag into the trunk. Then she shocked Daisy when she kissed her, lip to lip before buckling up.

Blakely chattered about her studies; she was in Biology, planning to go for a doctorate. For as long as she could remember, she’d been intrigued by the building blocks of life.

Inside Daisy’s home, Blakely kissed Daisy again, a lip to lip kiss. She reminded Daisy, Daisy had said she was going to take a shower when she got home.

“I’ll do your back if you do mine,” Blakely offered, unsnapping her denim cutoffs.

Blakely loved Daisy’s hairless mound and squatted on the floor of the shower to nibble at the plump pussy. She licked, fingered and sucked Daisy to a shattering orgasm. Pulling Blakely to her feet, Daisy sucked kisses from the girl’s smiling lips. She let her hand wander down to Blakely’s sweetly rounded buttocks.

“I, I am like super-anal,” Blakely admitted, kissing Daisy hungrily.

“I, I’m pretty OCD too,” Daisy said. “I mean, you don’t have three kids and not…”

“No, I mean, I love eating ass,” Blakely confessed, looking deep into Daisy’s eyes.

“And I love having my ass played with,” Blakely went on, thrusting a finger into Daisy’s rectum to demonstrate what she meant.

“I, damn, I think I love you,” Daisy agreed as they kissed.

When the hot water tank finally emptied, the two women got out of the shower and tried to dry one another. It would have been easier if they had taken turns and were not kissing constantly. Finally deciding they were dry, Daisy pulled Blakely down the hall to her bedroom.

” “now, let me have that sweet ass,” Daisy demanded, flipping Blakely onto her belly.

“Oh yeah, Mommy,” Blakely said, reaching her hands back and spreading her buttocks for Daisy’s probing tongue.

At nine o’clock that night, Blakely uncurled her legs from Daisy’s legs and admitted she was starving. With a kiss to the girl’s beautifully pouting lips, Daisy got out her cast iron griddle pan and made them each a hamburger.

“Oh, Mommy, you could charge money for these,” Blakely complimented as they sat at the kitchen table, enjoying the perfectly formed and perfectly cooked burgers.