Chapter 7

Moisette declared that Paris was not allowed to wear clothing if they were to eat in bed. After managing to eat two of the warm, gooey treats apiece, Moisette spread the maple syrup icing onto Paris’s nipples, then suckled the far too sweet icing from Paris’s breasts. Moisette kissed Paris, then pulled the unresisting girl into a side by side sixty nine.

“Ms. Seraque?” a disembodied voice crackled as Paris and Moisette lay in one another’s arms in post-coital rest.

“Hmm? Oh! Yes, Francine?” Moisette called out.

“You asked me to remind you of Mr. Simpson’s appointment, Ms. Seraque,” Francine stated. “He will be arriving in thirty minutes, ma’am.”

“Shit! I forgot all about Bradley…I’m sure you remember him?” Moisette said, scrambling from the bed.

“Oh, I remember him,” Paris smirked, remembering Fernando drizzling habanero sauce onto Bradley’s burrito, in payment of Bradley’s boorish attitude when Bradley and Moisette had visited Rio Del Sol’s Mexican restaurant that first time.

With a passionate kiss, Moisette dismissed Paris. Paris knew it was unfair of her; Moisette was a business woman, and had a business appointment with Bradley Simpson that was only moments away. But she felt like a servant, being sent on her way by the lady of the house.

Listlessly, Paris cycled to the trailer she and Tommy and two other couples shared. Pausing outside, Paris felt an incredible weariness engulf her. Walking to the door, the weariness intensified.

“Hey! Uh, it’s your turn to do lunch and your dumb ass boyfriend’s still in bed,” was the greeting Jeremy gave to Paris as she entered the trailer.

“Legs broke?” Paris snapped. “No? Arms broke? No? Then get off your fat ass, waddle into the fucking kitchen and feed yourself. I am not your momma.”

“I uh, hey, it, we all agreed to…” Jeremy protested as Anna attempted to hide her smirk.

“Really? I sure don’t remember agreeing to any of that. Anna, you remember agreeing to be their slaves? Shannon? What about you? Do you remember signing on to do all the work while they just sit around scratching themselves?” Paris asked before slamming the door of her bedroom open.

“Huh? Jesus! What, what the fuck?” Tommy complained, jerking awake.

“Get up. Your boyfriends are hungry,” Paris snapped, marching into the bathroom.

Even over the hiss and gurgle of the shower, Paris could hear loud voices. She could not hear Shannon, but was sure Shannon was in the thick of it, giving Jeremy, Craig and Tommy an earful of her opinion. She was likewise sure that Anna was mutely sitting on the couch, observing but not responding to anything.

Paris finished her shower and toweled dry. She grabbed her tube of moisturizer and flopped down on the bed. Slowly, deliberately, she applied the lotion with sun screen protection into her skin.

“Close the door,” Paris stated firmly when Tommy marched into the bedroom.

“Want to tell me what the fuck crawled up…” Tommy screamed.

“What crawled up, I’m tired. I have had it. You and Tweedle dumb and Tweedle dumber assume just because I have a vagina I’m supposed to take care of all of you? Bull shit. The three of you are supposedly grown men. I said close the door unless you want everyone seeing that I don’t shave my pussy for you,” Paris said forcefully. “Oh. And, no. Your dick has never been up my ass either.”

“I uh, I ain’t never said…” Tommy said, lowering his voice.

“Close. The. Door,” Paris ordered.

“Got it,” Shannon said, shoved Tommy out of the doorway and shut the door.

After dressing, Paris left the bedroom and walked into the kitchen. She ignored the glares from Jeremy and Craig. She grabbed three large garbage bags and marched back into the bedroom. Tommy was already in bed again. He complained loudly as Paris packed her belongings.

“You know, dumb ass,” Shannon yelled at Tommy from the open doorway. “Instead of being all worried about sleeping? You might want to worry about the fact that you are losing your girlfriend.”

“What. Ever,” Tommy grumbled, burrowing underneath the comforter.

Paris called her father, stepping outside of the trailer to make the call. Jeremy and Craig were purposefully making as much noise as they could when they saw that she was trying to make a phone call. Jack Williams was there in twenty minutes. He helped Paris load her precious bicycle and the three bags of clothing into the bed of his truck. Paris let a few tears slide as they drove away; Tommy had not bothered to beg her to stay. Tommy had not cared that she was leaving him.

On Monday, Shannon let Paris know that Tommy still had not acknowledged that Paris was gone. He’d told Jeremy and Craig, as well as Anna and Shannon that Paris would be crawling back. Tommy was sure that Paris would be groveling for his forgiveness within days.

“Uh. No?” Paris said and Shannon giggled.

Then Shannon grew serious. Shannon had followed Paris’s example and told Craig, and Jeremy and Tommy that she wasn’t their mother, she wasn’t their slave. Anna, however, had not received the memo and was taking up the slack left by Shannon and the absent Paris.

“God damn Craig looks at me and says, ‘What? Going let Anna do it all by herself?'” Shannon said bitterly.

“Yeah, well…” Paris said and pasted a smile on her face as Tammy unlocked the door of the restaurant.

On Friday, Paris was exhausted. She’d left Jeremy and Craig and Tommy to their own devices and had moved back into her father’s trailer. And Paris realized, her father expected Paris to ‘do her fair share around here,’ which meant he expected Paris to do everything.

“At least he’s not taking your whole paycheck for rent,” Shannon sympathized.

“Oh please don’t give him any ideas,” Paris said.

At three o’clock, Moisette Seraque entered the restaurant and made a bee-line for Paris. Moisette’s beautiful green eyes were flashing angrily.

“Why haven’t you called me? Why haven’t you come over? I, I thought, am I a fool?” Moisette shrilled, unmindful of the few customers that were leisurely finishing their late lunches.

“I, I just, I, what? What do you want from me?” Paris stammered, then shrilled in response.

“I, I want, I want what we had Saturday, I, that it was beautiful,” Moisette replied, beautiful eyes filling with tears.

“It, it was beautiful,” Paris agreed, pulling Moisette in for a hug.

“I, so, is that, that’s why you left? Tommy?” Shannon asked as they clocked out of another day’s work.

“No. I left Tommy because I am tired of being a Mommy and a baby sitter and a cook and a maid and being taken for granted,” Paris said.

Paris rested her hand on the back door of the restaurant. She looked at Shannon and smiled tightly.

“No. Moisette is not the reason. I am. I am the reason. Moisette is just the reward,” Paris said and exited the restaurant.

“Rather than ride your bike, you want a ride?” Shannon offered as Paris unlocked her bike.

“Yeah,” Paris agreed.

Lighted as it had been that first night, Moisette’s home had been splendid. In the late afternoon sun, the house was still a beautiful structure. Shannon hinted that she’d love to see the inside of the home. Paris shrugged and said she’d see if Moisette would invite Shannon sometime in the future.

“You will be served in the library,” an older African-American woman said when she answered Paris’s knock.

Paris assumed that the library was the same downstairs room she’d been in on that Saturday night. Again, she looked at the enlarged photograph of Moisette and her twin, Ayshire on the broad back of the grazing bull.

“I, Paris, I am so sorry,” Moisette whispered as she entered the room.

“I, coming to the restaurant, I, oh! That must have been so embarrassing for you,” Moisette said, face flaming hotly.

“Well, it wasn’t exactly how I thought our next meeting would go, but…” Paris smiled.

Francine served a small salad. This was followed by a small bowl of a delicious soup with crusty bread to dip into the rich broth. Cold slices of roast beef, pork and turkey were served with broccoli au gratin and small whole potatoes.

“Will you be taking dessert in here, Ms. Seraque, or in your…?” Francine quietly asked.

“The back parlor,” Moisette declared, taking Paris’s hand into hers. “I will show Ms. Paris the garden; I need to walk some of the calories away.”

The garden was a small oasis of bright vibrant flowers in small beds dotted along a twisting path. Moisette happily named each flower as she and Paris strolled, hand in hand. Often, Moisette paused and kissed Paris. By the time the walkway wound back to the rear porch of the home, their kisses were long and passionate kisses.

Dessert was a sponge cake with a compote of blackberries and raspberries. The cake was still warm, but the schmear of berries and juice were ice cold.

As soon as Paris scraped the last bite of cake into her mouth, Moisette grabbed Paris’s hand and pulled Paris up the stairs to her large bedroom. Paris was glad she’d called her father and let her father know she may be spending the night with her new friend. Paris assured Jack, no, the new friend’s name was not Tommy.

Paris slowly undressed Moisette, pausing to kiss each square inch of exposed flesh. Then, moving to a melody she heard in her head, Paris performed a bit of a strip tease for her lover.

On the large bed, the two women swung into a side by side sixty nine. Paris marveled at the taste of her lover’s nectar, marveled at the texture of Moisette’s puffy lips, her slick canal. The smell of Moisette’s arousal was intoxicating and the sight of Moisette’s sex, wet and eager for Paris’s touch was enthralling.

“Mm,” both women moaned out at that first contact.

Moisette begged Paris to move into Seraque Manor, as she had dubbed her home. After a few more times of visiting Moisette, after making love with the red headed beauty, then waking up next to the gorgeous woman, Paris assented to moving into the large home. Jack again stated that if this didn’t work out, Paris did not have him to fall back on. He had said those words when she’d moved in with Tommy; Paris was not worried.

A screaming argument ensued, though, when Paris refused to quit her job at Rio Del Sol. Moisette’s declaration that she had plenty of money enraged Paris.

“Oh? So I’m just some kind of whore?” Paris screamed. “Here, Paris, here’s some money; let’s fuck?”

Fortunately, Shannon arrived before Moisette or Paris could direct more hurtful words at one another. Paris had, with Moisette’s approval, invited Shannon to the home for lunch.

“The back parlor, Francine,” Moisette ordered.

Paris recognized the maneuver; to Moisette, the library was far too intimate, too personal a space for her to allow entry for this guest. Moisette seemed startled when Paris gently took her hand and linked fingers with her.

Just ten seconds earlier, they had been on the verge of explosive words, possibly even physical blows. And yet, Paris’s warm hand was linked with hers.

“I, Ms. Moisette, this, wow,” Shannon gushed, looking around at the great room.

The back parlor elicited more words of praise from the blonde beauty. In the two months since she’d moved out, Paris believed Shannon had gained a few pounds, and those few pounds added to Shannon’s beauty.

Francine served hot roast beef sandwiches on warm soft bread with small bowls of au jus. There was cold potato salad and cold pasta salad with each meal.

“This is so good,” Shannon declared when Francine entered to see if anyone needed more iced tea or lemonade.

“Well, thank you, ma’am,” Francine said. “But Ms. Paris made the bread and the roast beef. I made the salads.”

“You did?” both Moisette and Shannon asked Paris.

“Moisette! Really? Why do you think I got out of bed at five this morning?” Paris giggled.

“You did?” Moisette asked. “Paris, you should know by now, when I am sleeping? I am dead to the world.”

True,” Paris agreed.

“The bread? You, you made the bread?” Shannon asked, blushing lightly.

“Mm hmm,” Paris agreed, tearing her gaze from Moisette’s beautiful green eyes.

After the meal, Moisette insisted they walk the garden path. She and Paris walked along the meandering walkway, arms about each other’s waist.

“We are being rude to our guest,” Moisette declared.

“Hmm?” Shannon asked, looking at a very tall sunflower that towered over the other sunflowers.

“Hey!” Shannon giggled as she found herself wedged between Paris and Moisette, their arms around her waist.

“So? How far along are you?” Paris asked, finally deducing what the doctor’s appointment, Shannon’s reluctance to talk about it, and the noticeable weight gain all added up to.

Shannon stopped abruptly and her eyes filled with tears. Paris and Moisette both stumbled, then turned to look at Shannon.

“I, I am so God damned stupid,” Shannon declared, voice cracking.

Paris and Moisette sandwiched the sobbing girl. Through her tears, Shannon let them know that Craig had first denied parentage, but after being informed that DNA would establish parentage, began pre. After Shannon shrilly reminded him that DNA was irrefutable evidence of parentage, Craig was insisting that Shannon get an abortion.

“I, I been through that once; oh my God! It, it was the worst thing I could have ever done,” Shannon bawled, clutching onto Paris and Moisette.