Big Girls Don't Cry Ch. 03

"I know that name," I began, "I was told my father was a Robert Fraser, a young soldier, a Royal Marine, he was killed, in The Falklands..."

She nodded.

"Robert was my older brother, by a year; he was a lovely boy. I'm your aunt, Darryl, your father's younger sister...!"

I was taken aback; for no good reason, I had assumed that, with his death, there was no more connection with Robert Fraser; he was only my biological father; my dad was my dad, end of story. Now this woman was here, claiming to be my aunt. I was curious as to why now.

"This is all very interesting, but it's all kind of ancient history, no offence. My dad, as far as I'm concerned is David Morgan, my mum is Maureen, and they don't live here anymore, they moved to Cyprus, so I'm afraid I can't help you, I'm sorry."

She reached out and touched my cheek, gently turning my face to the right to look at my profile.

"So much like him, and so much like Lizzie, too! Robbie's gone, but he still lives on in you, even if you didn't know him. I always hoped to meet you one day, Darryl, perhaps tell you about him, I think he'd have been proud of you. You're taller than he was, but you have his eyes, his hair, even his way of standing. It does my heart good to see there's so much of him still here! He was just a boy, not even out of his 'teens when he died in that stupid little war. My father got a pennon and a medal in exchange for giving up his only son, not much of a trade, I'm sure you'll agree, but he would have been proud to see his grandson grown so tall, so handsome, so much like Robbie might have been if only..."

She dabbed her eyes with a tissue and smiled.

"I was hoping to see Mr. Morgan. I came here not really expecting to find him, but hoping I'd strike it lucky; I last saw him here over 25 years ago-when you were born, actually. Do you by any chance have a forwarding address or contact telephone number for him? It's really quite important..."

I wasn't about to give out mum and dad's details to some stranger, no matter what the claimed relationship was, so I asked her why she needed to speak to dad. Her answer caught me completely by surprise.

"I came because Lizzie asked me to..."

I sat back in shock. Elizabeth, my birth-mother? After 25 years? Why? I had to know.

"Why now, after all these years? Dad said there were no words, no falling-out, Elizabeth left because she was too young to bring-up a child alone; okay, I accept that, but why keep dad in the dark for 25 years? What did he do that was so bad that she had to shun him my whole life?"

Emma looked sad.

"Your dad did nothing; Lizzie kept away first because she didn't want to be reminded about the child she'd left behind, but she soon grew out of that, and then she didn't want to confuse and maybe alienate you by suddenly appearing and trying to be your mother again, and finally because her...lifestyle wasn't something she was too proud of."

I was fascinated, and asked her to go on.

"Lifestyle? Please, do tell, I'm all ears!" I grinned.

Emma looked thoughtful, obviously picking her words carefully.

"Remember, this was the 80's, the age of excess, and try and not judge a young girl too harshly, okay?"

I nodded, so she continued.

"Lizzie fell into the club scene, the whole 'New Romantic' thing, new bands, this month's flavour of the month, getting passed around from music producer to producer, it was kind of like that line in the Lou Reed song 'Take a walk on the wild side', about being everybody's darling in the back-room, the music scene and the life that went with that; money, fashion, wild behaviour, sex, drugs..."

Emma looked at me to gauge my reaction, but all I said was "Go on," so she did.

"She was there from the beginning, she knew everyone, and everyone knew her; no party was complete without Lizzie Morgan, or Lolly Moore, as she called herself. Every wild party, every new club, every new band, she was there, part of the glitterati, usually coked-up and off her face on some latest sensation's arm, partying in Acapulco, and Monte Carlo, Mustique, rumours of affairs with pop royalty, real royalty, trying to find the millionaire, jet-set lifestyle she talked about and wanted when we were in school. She changed her appearance so much I never even recognised her when saw her in the papers, and I grew up with her. It's amazing what big blonde hair, collagen, and a new chest can do for you!"

I was impressed in spite of myself; my mother was an 'It' Girl? Far out, as mum used to say...

I listened as Emma continued.

"Of course it all had to end; when it did, I was there to pick her up; Lizzie and I went through school together, we were friends from when we were five years old, she was my best friend, and Robbie was always crazy about her, from the first day he ever set eyes on her. When they got together, he was over the moon; he couldn't believe his luck. When he shipped-out, she said she'd wait for him, and when he was killed, something inside her just...died as well, or gave up, I don't know which, but she changed, it was like she decided that there was no point in being there for anyone, because no-one would be there for her; her mother had abandoned her when she was small, now Robbie was gone. When she had you, I think that was the last straw; you were her reminder of Robbie, and he was gone, so she left, and left you."

Shepaused and looked into my eyes.

"I'm sorry none of us ever came for you, Darryl; she made us promise we'd leave you with her dad and leave you alone; he'd look after you properly, much better than any of us could. She was right; I was just a teenager myself, my dad was a zombie after losing Robbie, I was trying to take care of my two younger sisters, we were definitely not the place for a baby to be. She made your dad promise not to tell you about her until you were ready to hear it all."

I was intrigued in spite of myself; this was my mother we were talking about, but try as I might, I couldn't dredge-up a single emotion for her; love, hate, disdain, bitterness, none of those were in me when I thought of her. Mum and dad had given me all I ever needed, I had no missing love to yearn for, no part of my life that she had denied me, no unfinished business, and so I could be completely detached when it came to thinking about Elizabeth, my birth-mother.

"So...Emma, what did happen to Elizabeth...Lizzie?" I asked, and a movement caught my eye. I looked up to see Lena watching from the doorway, her expression interested and curious. I wondered how much she'd heard. She came and sat by me, and took my hand, and smiled at Emma.

"Please, go on, we'd both like to know; what did happen to Elizabeth?"

Emma looked startled, then smiled back at Lena.

"You've got be her sister; God, you look just like her!"

Lena leaned forward, her eyes fixed on Emma.

"You were about to tell Darryl what happened to Elizabeth, so please, go on, what happened to make her turn her back on all that?"

Emma looked at me as she started to explain.

"What happens to all of us, eventually; she grew up; the life she was living only had a few ways to end, none of them good, and she came to realise that eventually. One day there was a knock on my door, and there she was, Lolly Moore was gone, and Lizzie Morgan was back, older, maybe wiser, but ready to be a grown-up at last; it took its time, but I suppose that realisation came to her in time, which was a good thing; all her so-called friends from those days were using, in rehab, in jail, or dead, and I suppose she realised one day that those were her choices. Whatever the reason, and she's never told me fully, she was back, and back inside herself again."

Lena leaned forward, her eyes wide.

"Where is she now? Why did she never come back? Her father wanted to know what he'd done to keep her away so long, why didn't she ever come back, even if it was just to say 'hello, I'm not dead!?"

I realised Lena was angry, and Emma reared back slightly.

"Oh my God, you looked just like her then! Lizzie has that exact expression when she's mad!"

Lena said nothing, her eyes flashing, and Emma smiled slightly, covering her mouth with her hand.

"For a second there you looked so much like her it was scary! To answer your question, she kept away because she didn't know how to come back. I suppose staying away had become a habit that was just too hard to break; she thought she had no reason to come back, then she was too guilty to come back, and finally she just couldn't work out how to come back, perhaps she thought too much time had passed to ever make it right again, so she left well enough alone."

"But now she wants to see her father just this one last time. When she was in her mid-twenties she met a man, a good man, the usual happened, and they had a home, not too far from Bristol, as it happens, he had a good job, they were happy. They had two children, a boy and a girl, then things started to go wrong between them, and eventually they broke up, he left, and she's there today. The little boy, Marcus, looks an awful lot like her, like you actually, and very much like your dad!" she grinned, looking at Lena.

"The little girl, well, not so little, she's almost a teenager now, her name's Allie, she's the very image of Lizzie, just like how I remember her looking when we were young. They're a good family, a happy family, they don't have much, but they all love and support each other. Lizzie wants to come home, to say the things she should have said all those years ago, but you say her dad's gone, he lives in Cyprus now. Would you give me his address, or maybe a telephone number? I know Lizzie needs this; perhaps her dad needs this as well. Please give her a chance; she's not the Lizzie who left, that girl is long gone, I should know."

Lena stood up.

"I want to meet her, I want to look the woman in the face who walked away from Darryl, from my dad, and let him suffer all that guilt for all those years for nothing. He did nothing, and yet she punished him; I want to meet her so I can say what needs to be said to her, things I know my dad would never say; then it will be square. I get to meet her, she gets to talk to dad; hell, I'll even take her there, but she looks me in the face first, got it?"

Emma nodded, a small smile on her face.

"It's amazing how like Lizzie you are when you're angry, God, you're just like her!"

Lena stuck out her chin pugnaciously.

"I am nothing like her!" she enunciated carefully, and even I had to grin behind her back; I was just glad I wasn't on the receiving end of that particular broadside!

"So, do we have a deal?" asked Lena, her eyes still slitted and angry, and Emma nodded.

"Today, four o'clock, she's coming into town with me to go shopping in Broadmead, we'll be here at four, I promise you. Maybe she needs this as well, and I think maybe she needs to explain herself to you, Darryl. We'll see you then!"

We showed her to the door, where she surprised me with a quick, heartfelt hug, before wiping her eyes.

"I'm sorry, I had to do that," she apologised, "please forgive me for taking such a liberty, you're so much like Robbie, it's almost like having him back again!"

We watched her get into her car and drive away, then Lena turned to me.

"Okay, I'm not in the mood to cook breakfast, take me out to breakfast, baby-daddy, baby needs expensive food, so does mummy, so come on, Moneybags, unchain your wallet and buy me breakfast!"

I slid my hand down and squeezed her lovely firm, juicy little bum, feeling her sundress slide easily over the satiny flesh of her taut cheek, unhindered by panties. I cocked an eyebrow at her.

"You want me to parade you around with no knickers on under that ridiculously short dress, you scandalously under-dressed little doxy?" I grinned at her, Lena grinning back at me.

"When we get back from wherever you take me, and it better be mind-numbingly, eye-wateringly expensive, I plan on getting topped-up from this morning; being pregnant has made me very horny and almost completely uninhibited, so I want you to sit there and eat your breakfast while you concentrate on how naked I am under this silly dress, what I'm prepared to let you do to me, and most of all, how quickly I can be naked if the price is right; right now the price is a really, really good breakfast, so come on Seymour, feed me!"

As she finished, she squeezed me through my trousers, compounding the agony by kissing me hotly as she squirmed against me. As I went to get the car keys, she stopped me.

"Dar, this is Clifton; if you wander into any Cafe, Bistro, or restaurant around here looking like that, they'll tell you to wander back out again; trousers, shirt, and shoes, please, real ones, not army surplus, chop-chop!"

I asked what was wrong with the way I was dressed.

"Dar, you look like Bob the Builder, and most places in Clifton won't do a bacon and ketchup sandwich and a mug of tea stewed 'til it's red, so at least try and look like a young professional, please!"

Ten minutes later we were in a painfully trendy place, all Barista's, brass lamps and Tuscan ceramic tabletops, eating tiny swordfish steaks smothered in garlic butter and cayenne pepper that hardly seemed adequate, given the King's ransom we were paying for it. Lena noticed my expression and grinned

"Eat up, Darryl, you need to build-up your strength!"

Not if I had to depend on those flaky little bite-size morsels of fish...

The next course appeared, Eggs Benedict on toasted sourdough muffins, and a basket of Angels on Horseback, with toasted Granary bread, farmhouse butter, and a lemony sour cream and chives dip; now that was more like it! I have to admit, I stuffed those wonderful things into my mouth as fast as I could chew, Lena watching in frank admiration as I piled in the food. I was taking her seriously; if she meant what she said, I was in for a strenuous morning!

We finished with a sigh, just in time for a crisp crème brouleé, 'to cleanse the palate' according to the phony-sounding French(-ish) waiter, anyway. We relaxed over coffees, discussing Emma's visit that morning. Lena was still angry, but it was backed-down to a low simmer now, more to do with the fact that her sister had kept away for what seemed to her to be some very thin reasons.

I was curious to meet her, however; I had no connection to this mother of mine; as far as I was concerned, my mum lived in Cyprus, and just as soon as I could get some extended leave, I was taking Lena out to see her again, and spend some time with her and my dad. Lizzie Morgan and Robert Fraser were just names to me, and I was pretty sure I wasn't about to fall into any tearful reunions with her over what had happened 25 years before, when I was still just a new-born.

After a while I noticed Lena giving me some very meaningfully coy looks, and suddenly the reason for the high-protein breakfast raced back into mind. Ah-ha, she was primed and ready for some mid-morning fun and games; good, the inner-man was satisfied, so I was ready too!

We paid the bill, an action that seemed like robbery without violence, and strolled back home in the late morning summer sunshine, the sun still potent even though Autumn would be here in a few weeks. It was a strange feeling, walking hand in hand with her like this, but strange in a good way; previously, I'd always accompanied her as her big brother, now I was her partner, her lover, and the father of her baby.

I'd never really strolled with her like this before; I'd only ever let her hold my hand when she was small, and as we grew older, if she managed to persuade or browbeat me into accompanying her, I'd slouch along a step or so behind her, hands thrust in pockets, trying to give anyone who might have bothered to notice us, the impression that we were not together, I was just along to keep an eye on her.

Now I wanted to hold her hand like this, it felt like the most normal and natural thing in the world; she was tall, eye-catchingly beautiful, and she was mine. I noticed the looks passers-by gave her, and the envious looks I was getting from men as we strolled past them, hands clasped together, Lena oblivious to the looks and glances, talking instead about how life was going to be for us now, her eyes and flashing smile a beacon of beauty on the sunlit street. She fitted in perfectly here, I thought; amidst all the trendy wine bars, designer coffee houses, chi-chi little bistro's and exclusive boutiques, she looked like one of the beautiful people for whom a place like this was their natural habitat, she wore it like a second skin, and it suited her so well.

As I fumbled with the key in the front door, she pinched my backside, making me jump.

"That's to remind you, Dar, it's playtime!"

I grinned, loving her refreshingly direct approach, and definitely feeling in a playful mood myself, standing aside to usher her in and pinch her backside in revenge, making her shriek and giggle. I slammed the door and chased her upstairs, finally catching her lying provocatively on the bed, her long, long legs stretched out and crossed demurely at the ankles, her eyes hooded and mysterious. She was fully dressed and not giving me the 'come-on', but, somehow, just the sight of her lying there like that was an incitement to riot. I sat on the edge of the bed and rubbed her tummy, holding the place our baby slept, watching her grin as I worked my way up until I was kneading her breast, feeling the nipple stiffen under the thin fabric of her sundress.

"Get naked Dar, your famous Disappearing Mother will be here in a couple of hours, and I need to be in a good mood so I don't bite her head off!"

I grinned and took the hint, pulling off my Hackett polo shirt and Farah slacks, and kicking my shoes and socks across the room. Lena knelt up on the bed and began shrugging off her simple halter dress, but I stopped her; this was my job! She grinned as I slid the halter over her neck and allowed the dress to fall to her waist, cupping her hands over her delicious breasts.

I pulled her closer to me, kissing her as I ran my hands lightly over her sleek back, feeling the silky texture of her skin. Lena slid upright and stood away from the bed, wriggling her hips to let the dress fall to the floor, to stand completely naked, gorgeous, and feminine, and all mine. I know gloating is an unseemly activity, but you know, once in his life every man is allowed a moment of unseemly gloating; this was mine.

Lena stepped close again, her hands going about my neck as my hands found her delectable bottom again, sliding around her hips to hold and squeeze those delightful globes, pulling her closer against me. She leaned down to nibble my ear, and grabbed hold of my straining cock.

"Whatever you're going to do, do it soon, hotshot!"

I obliged, pulling her down to me so I could nibble her outthrust nipples. Lena giggled and pushed me over, landing on top of me. I scrambled back up the bed and pulled her up along me, to straddle me while I licked and chewed her nipples. Lena pulled away from me and sat up, then raised up and took hold of me, aiming me just right before sliding down, impaling herself on my rigid cock in one long slow glide, hissing with satisfaction as she slid down on me.

She rolled and gyrated her hips, her tight pussy squeezing and releasing me as she squirmed atop me, closing her eyes when I reached up to squeeze and rub her engorged nipples, her breathing quickening as her pace increased. Lena rubbed and ground herself against me as I pushed back against her, forcing my cock all the way into her as she pumped her tight, squeezing pussy around me, the sensation like another mouth working on me, edging me toward climax, while her hands clamped tightly against mine, holding my hands tightly against her swollen nipples.