A-Cup Angst Ch. 12

His depression was worsened by the fact that he sorely missed getting laid whenever he felt like it and in every way he could dream of. As wrong as having a harem of sex slaves had been, Jamie couldn't help but miss it, now that it was gone. His hand seemed woefully inadequate after all that pliant pussy had been his 24/7. Now the girls and twins were at large and at least one of them was hell-bent on revenge.

"Still," Jamie thought to himself as he stuffed more shopping bags into the back of the X5, "at least no one knows about my fall from grace." Jamie strongly suspected that he'd lose his cool if he were surrounded by people who knew just how much he had lost. If he had people in his life, right now, who would pity him for all that he had lost, he'd go berserk. As things stood now, his mom and sister had no clue, and the people he met were also completely clueless.

He found his new anonymity to be his only source of hope. He could be anything and anyone, free from the burden of his past. He just had to figure out a single thing he'd like to be. A single goal to work towards. "As if it was that easy," he muttered into his chin.

Jamie crossed the small town square and entered the trattoria where his sister and mother were excitedly discussing their last few days spent in Pisa. The town they were in right now was a small, charming, walled one just northwest of Pisa. Technically, it was considered a city by the Italians, since it had walls encompassing it, but Jamie couldn't quite bring himself to call it that, since it was the size of a small town. Every house that made up the town looked to be older than the entire history of the United States, but still serviceable. Unlike all the other small towns they had seen in Tuscany so far, this one actually had some young people living in it.

Jamie joined his family at their end of the long table and sat down. His mother and sister were reviewing the photos they had taken in Pisa. "Oh, look, Jamie," Suzie said and turned the camera towards him, "you were so right! This one's much better than you holding it up!"

Jamie leaned forward and looked at the camera's screen. On it was a photo of him looking down at the phone in his hand and casually leaning. The leaning tower of Pisa was in the background and it looked like Jamie was a giant making the whole tower lean. "Yeah," he said, "it's really good." Suzie had begged him to pose for a photo where he pretends to be holding the tower up, like everyone else was doing. She had managed to annoy him to the point where he actually got up and struck a pose, though a different one than she had intended.

The warded jewelry they were all wearing, protected them from scrying and made their faces look a little different on photographs and video surveillance, making it impossible for them to be tracked with facial recognition software or even the good, old Mark One Eyeball. The wards on the jewelry also allowed for the person wearing them to see through their effects, so Jamie, Suzie and their mother could see their faces on photos. However, other people would not see them as such. They'd see very similar, but ultimately different faces. Jamie rubbed his temples. Once his mother decided on a place to make her new home in, he was going to have to address the problem of getting them to not be photographed by people that know them. If a friend took their photo, they'd see their face was different on it, sooner or later, and that would spell trouble. A blurry picture or three-quarter profile would not arouse suspicion, but a full on portrait would get them busted. Jamie sighed. He was getting a headache just thinking about it.

Suzie laughed and said, "It's a great photo!" Jamie offered a polite smile of agreement. The smile left his face as he felt attention on himself. Jamie tensed up and explored this new and intense attention paid to him. The sound of a tray clattering to the ground and shattering glass broke through his concentration. He reflexively turned to the sound and found the source of the attention.

A skinny, swarthy, young girl had dropped a tray of drinks. She was staring right at Jamie with an expression of ecstatic joy on her round, cute-as-a-button face. She wore a white shirt, black skirt and beige apron with the emblem of the trattoria. Jamie couldn't help but notice her shirt was quite filled out for such a slender girl. She suddenly began shrieking in Italian and dashed into Jamie's arms. Jamie had sensed her rushing towards him before she did it, but he had been utterly confused by the sheer joy that was both evident on her face and perceived by his Jedi senses. The girl hugged him, yelling gladly in Italian the whole time. The only word Jamie could make out was, "Mamma".

Jamie had done some crazy shit with magic, even by crazy magical standards, but he was fairly certain that he wasn't the girl's mother.

His own mother and sister looked at the sudden hug in worry. They cast questioning looks at him. Jamie shrugged, as best he could while grappled by the cute waitress, and returned as confused a look as they were giving him. He felt decidedly uncomfortable in this new position as all eyes in the trattoria were upon him. The establishment itself was small and cozy, taking up the ground floor of the house and most of the patrons were seated at the four long tables with benches instead of chairs. Even if he wanted to, he could not avoid getting their attention, the place was so small. He noted that even some people out in the square had heard the commotion through the open doors and were stopping to look.

"Um, miss," Jamie said, trying to get the waitress to stop. Her yelling had devolved into blubbering and the other people in the trattoria were beginning to speak in Jamie's direction. Their words rang like good-natured advice, but Jamie didn't know what they were saying and he had no intention of sticking around long enough to find out. He shot Suzie and his mom a look and nodded towards the door. The two had just begun to rise when the doors to the kitchen opened and all eyes in the trattoria turned that way. A beautiful woman, wearing a chef's hat and looking like she was the older sister of the one holding on to Jamie for dear life, came out and directed a question towards the mess on the floor, just in front of the kitchen doors. Then the woman looked up at Jamie and the waitress and Jamie sensed her wrath boil over. Whoever the cook was, she was very protective of the girl that had managed to squirm her way onto Jamie's lap.

She rushed over to them and all but screamed a question. The waitress looked up at the cook and addressed her as "Mamma," making Jamie blink in disbelief. "Did the cook give birth when she was in kindergarten," he asked himself. The waitress then spewed forth a million words of Italian in just a few seconds and the cook's face dropped in an expression of stunned joy. She screamed and jumped in joy and Jamie's eyes strayed to her ample bosom as it bounced, for just a second, before he looked back to her glad and pretty face.

The chef then bent over to hug Jamie from behind. "Ah, yes," Jamie thought to himself as the two italian girls sandwiched him in a public place, "this is exactly what I need now that I'm trying to lie low." The chef seized his jaw in both of her surprisingly strong hands and twisted his head around, nearly snapping his neck. Jamie grunted in discomfort as the woman began to plant wet, sloppy kisses on each of his cheeks.

Finally, Jamie had enough. He growled and got up out of his chair. The waitress had managed to get off his lap without falling to the floor and then she let go of him to step back. Jamie rounded on the chef and took her hands off his jaw, stopping her kisses. He shoved the hands away and said, "Get off me, lady! What's the matter with the two of you?"

The two women smiled beaming smiles at Jamie and made gestures that implored for Jamie's patience, talking at him in Italian so fast that Jamie sincerely doubted anyone could understand them. The other patrons and staff in the trattoria seemed to be able to pick up on what was being said. Jamie had been ready to bolt, but seeing the other patrons turn back to their meals and the rest of the staff move to clean up the broken glass, gave him pause. Perhaps it would be best if he stuck around for a few more minutes, to let this loud and public situation cool off, before leaving.

The waitress responded to his hesitation to leave by skipping excitedly in place. Jamie's eyes again strayed to a bouncing set of tits before he caught himself and forced his eyes up. He noted the waitress was tearing up in joy and it baffled him. The chef took to yelling for an Andrea, if Jamie understood her correctly. He shot a look to his mother and sister and they shrugged in response. The chef waved them to sit back down and then turned around to scream for Andrea again.

A muscular, bald guy walked over, wiping his hands on a dirty dish towel. The chef berated him for a minute, while the waitress put her tiny hands on Jamie's shoulders and tried to coax him to sit back down with a truly disarming smile. Jamie glanced at the other customers before reluctantly lowering himself back in his seat. Behind the waitress, the chef took the dish rag from the bald guy and gestured at Jamie. Jamie huffed. The last few minutes of his life on the lamb had turned into one of those european comedies that were so unfunny it was uncomfortable to watch them.

The bald guy shot back some arguments to the chef, while she was still yelling at him and the waitress leaned down to whisper in Jamie's face. Despite the fact that Jamie spoke Spanish and knew some basic French, and Italian was supposed to be a similar language to those, the way these three were machine-gunning their way through the language he doubted he could ever get even an inkling of a clue as to what they were saying. Jamie held up his hands, palms out, at the waitress and said, "Look, miss, we just came in to have a nice, quiet meal and if it's ok with you, we'll be going now. Ok?"

The waitress kept smiling at him as she gestured for him to wait some more and turned around to the chef and bald guy. She smacked the bald guy upside the head and addressed him as Andrea and then barked an order at him and stamped her foot. Jamie didn't like that she was pointing at him while she had barked the order. The guy called Andrea lifted his hands in surrender and squeezed past the girls to say, "Welcome to trattoria Rossi! Everything you want is on the ows."

Jamie guessed they meant to treat him to a free meal. He squinted his eyes at the staff and wondered why. They were only making him more confused and less comfortable.

The chef smacked Andrea on the shoulder and pointed at Jamie while spewing a million words at the man. Andrea rolled his eyes and said, "Laura and Alessandra owe you debt they can never pay and you are their dearest friend in whole of the world."

Jamie had had enough of the farce and he stood up and put on a polite grin as he said, "Andrea, please tell these ladies that I appreciate their sentiment, but we'll be going now." Jamie gestured at his mother and sister and they stood up. Jamie bowed to the women as Andrea relayed his words to them. "Thank you. Gruhtzea meal-eh," Jamie said, attempting to thank them in Italian.

The girls looked shocked and saddened at what Andrea translated. The waitress grabbed Jamie's hand and began to spew millions of words at him in a pleading tone of voice. She looked to be on the verge of tears and Jamie was at a loss as to what to do. His mother jumped into the fray and addressed Andrea as she said, "Look, Andrea, we don't mean to insult the hosts, we just don't understand what's going on. Can you explain things to us?"

Andrea gestured patience, even as the chef talked his ear off. Then each girl grabbed one of Jamie's wrists and started to pull him towards the bar, smiling warmly and invitingly at him. Jamie's patience had just about run out and he was ready to wrest himself free, when Andrea said, "All will be explained now. Free drink for you at the bar!"

Jamie took another look at the patrons of the trattoria and saw that they were smiling at him and feeling envious. He couldn't sense any malice coming from the girls so he allowed for the two of them to drag him over and sit him on one of the stools. The waitress sat on the stool next to him and thoroughly invaded his personal space as she hugged his arm and molded her body to his. Jamie had to concentrate on not getting an erection as he felt just how sheer her shirt was and just how hot her skin was under it.

The chef took Andrea aside, behind the bar, where the other entrance to the kitchen was. The were out of sight of the rest of the patrons but, from Jamie's seat, he could spy them in the mirror on the wall behind the bar. The chef took Andrea's chin in her hand and spoke to him in a deliberate tone of voice. Alarm bells went off in Jamie's head. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but something about the situation was seriously damaging his cool. When Andrea mechanically talked back at the chef, Jamie recognized the source of his alarm. The brief, hidden interaction between the chef and Andrea was a dead ringer for all the times he had witnessed Rose use charm magic on the mundanes.

Jamie gulped. The chef was a witch. He had walked right into a spellcaster's place of business and that could only mean trouble. He tried to catch his mother's eye in the large mirror behind the bar to warn her to run, but she was talking to Suzie at the moment. Jamie took a look around himself and assessed the things in his reach for their potential use as weapons when the chef and Andrea walked back over.

The chef smiled and spoke. Andrea translated, saying, "Welcome, Bludgeoner, to our humble trattoria, we owe you a great debt."

Jamie felt such a big relief that he nearly smiled. They had mistaken him for someone else. Someone called Bludgeoner who was probably a magician. Then Jamie froze in his seat. His heart raced when he rememebered the french vampire had addressed him by that same nickname. That settled the matter. Their stay in Tuscany was over and all that was left to do was to talk their way out of this joint and then get in the cars and never take their feet of the accelerator. "Look," Jamie said, "I'm not who you think I am. I am not this Bludgeoner you're talking about. You've got me confused with someone else."

Andrea translated his words and then the waitress whispered into Jamie's ear. Andrea said, "Yes, you are. You are the one that saved me. You killed Syndicate thugs and set me free. You gave me hug and wrapped me in blanket and then arranged cars to take me and other hostages to our nation's consulates. You sent me home to Mamma."

Jamie fought back a wave of panic. These women obviously knew who he really was. He took another look at the waitress and wondered why he couldn't sense her trying to hide the fact that she was keeping him here until the authorities came for him. There must be a bounty on his head by now. As he looked at her round face, her cute, little lips curled into a disarming smile and the warm, brown eyes above her thin, straight nose, he suddenly remembered where and when he had seen her before. His jaw dropped loose as he said, "Moscow!"

"Yes," yelled the waitress and hugged him tighter, obviously glad that he remembered her.

Her tight hug and glad laugh did little to dispel Jamie's worries. These two women might be truly grateful to him and have no wish to ever see him come to any harm, but they had been yelling their delight at seeing him at the tops of their lungs, just seconds ago. That was not conducive to laying low. He needed to get the hell away from them. He looked the chef in the eye and said, "We need to speak alone, discreetly."

Andrea translated his words and the chef replied. Andrea said to Jamie, "Everything you say is private. I will make Andrea forget anything that we say about magic or the Syndicate."

"Listen," Jamie started to say.

He was interrupted by his mother's hand on his back as she said to the italian women, "Is everything all right here?"

While Andrea was translating her question, Jamie hissed in her ear, "They know who I really am. We need to leave, quickly and quietly."

His mother gave Jamie a disapproving look and said, "Honestly, Jamie," in a long suffering tone of voice.

Andrea said, "Who are these two women? Are they with you?"

Jamie paused for a second. He didn't want to give away the identities of his mother and sister, yet he floundered as he couldn't come up with a convincing lie on the spot. His mother held out her hand and said, "I am his mother, Lori, and this is his sister, Suzie. We are the Bensons." Jamie gaped at his mother in disbelief. She had just identified them to a witch. She had the presence of mind to use their new family alias, but that didn't make it any less boneheaded in Jamie's view.

The chef and waitress smiled beaming smiles and hugged and kissed both women on the cheeks while Andrea said, "Any family of the Bludgeoner is our family, too. You are most welcome to our little restaurant. If there is anything we can do for you, please, just say so."

Jamie's mother gave him a quick, questioning look at the appellation "Bludgeoner" and then smiled right back at the ecstatic, italian girls. "Thank you," she said. "Thank you so much. It's very nice of you to say so."

Jamie recognized the look in his mother's eye. He had seen it happen a few times before that he could remember. Lori would simply decide she liked a woman and then did her level best to make that woman her friend. If Jamie remembered it correctly, the last time he saw such a look on her face, she had made friends with the woman from work that had wound up fucking her husband and then spilling the beans to her about it.

Jamie's lips tightened in displeasure. His mother had obviously decided she liked these two women that had all but sexually assaulted him in public. "That's just what I need," he thought to himself, "my mom to become BFFs with the two women who know exactly who I am." He panicked anew as he realized his mother might learn of magic at any moment. He shot the chef a pleading, desperate look and put his finger over his lips. He shook his head at her.

The chef winked at him and then began to have a conversation with his mother. Jamie tried to get included and break things up, but Andrea was only translating between the two matriarchs and Jamie was left to listen in increasing horror as the conversation progressed. His mother expressed a desire to explore the picturesque little city to which the chef offered to be her personal tour guide. Then the chef offered for Jamie's family to stay upstairs in the spare bedrooms and his mother accepted.

The waitress, that had been listening with increasing delight, let off a squeal of absolute joy now that the matter was settled. She hugged a panicky Jamie even tighter. Suzie grinned. The two matriarchs worked out the details and Andrea was sent to retrieve their luggage from the cars and carry it upstairs. Jamie squeezed out of the waitress' grip, jumped in Andrea's way and said, a bit too loudly, "No! Stay away from my cars!"

All the attention that the other patrons had been paying to their little group came back in spades at his little outburst. Andrea raised his hands, palms out, and backed away. Jamie winced and shot his mother a look that questioned her sanity. She didn't know exactly how many guns and how much ammo Jamie kept in the trunks, but she had known there were guns and ammo there. She shot back a disapproving look of her own. Jamie rolled his eyes and grabbed her by the elbow and began to drag her out of the trattoria. He was past caring about making a scene any more.