Explanation of Love 03

"See you next Monday; I've already penciled you in for eight thirty," Sophia smiled warmly.

"Ms. Coutre, you charge three hundred an hour; I can't afford..." Terry protested.

"And then we'll go to First Union; Heidi Moek is our first stop," Sophia continued over Terry's protests. "Don't worry, I'll bet she'll be our ONLY contact once she sees your feasibility study and business model."

The twins, who were now squatting in Terry's apartment while they tried to find another place to live, looked up expectantly as Terry entered.

"Well, did you get it?" Marlene asked.

"Yeah, and we're going to be your first employees, right?" Charlene added.

"Not yet; but as soon as I do..." Terry promised.

Now, walking around the salon, her dream come true, Terry looked in on Marlene and smiled as her male client, a very shy, sweet eighteen year old, tried to peek down Marlene's dress, without being obvious about it.

Charlene used a hand held mini-vac to clean up her area, smiled at Terry, and punched her 'Available button.

"Miss Dayton?" Selena called out.

"Yes?" Terry frowned.

The reason she'd installed the button system was she did not want loud voices distracting the clients or stylists. The shop was to have a professional and sophisticated elegance. Shouting was not elegant.

"She's out there again," Selena whispered loudly, hearing the disapproval in Terry's voice.

"Who, oh! Her!" Terry said and strode rapidly to the front door of the shop.

But when she got to the door, the mysterious woman was gone.

"Long strawberry blonde hair?" Terry asked, re-entering the shop.

"Yes ma'am, kind of heavy set, I mean, she's got a real pretty face and..." Siena agreed.

"Thank you, Selena," Terry smiled sadly, glanced out the plate glass window, but did not see any sign of the woman.

"Bethany!" Terry greeted her client.

"Miss Dayton!" Bethany smiled.

"Come on back, I'm ready for you now," Terry smiled.

"Miss Dayton," Bethany said, flopping into the chair. "I'm real sorry, but his is the last time I'm seeing you."

"Oh?" Terry said, fitting the sheet around Bethany's throat. "Found someone else?"

"Like I could!" Bethany said. "No ma'am; I'm moving to Hollywood; my older brother's out there and he said he can get me some background work and maybe even a few walk-ons and..."

"Any actress can act like a stuck-up bitch," Terry said quietly. "How many you think act nice?"

They spent the next thirty minutes in silence.

"Oh, how's your friend, oh, what was her name, Jada?" Terry asked as she was giving Bethany's hair a final comb through.

Of the nineteen cards Terry had handed out to Bethany's classmates ate Christmas play, Jada had been the only one that had not balked at the one hundred and forty dollar charge.

"Ew!" Bethany curled her lip up. "Her? She's all like 'I'm so gay!' and living with that girl Heather; the one you brung with you to the play?"

"Oh?" Terry asked.

Terry wondered if Jada was into urination, was into fisting. Heather had, in Terry's eyes, some very vulgar tastes.

Heather had also professed to love Terry, but Terry could not bring herself to profess love for Heather. It was hard for Terry to feel love for anyone when she had her fist inside of their pussy, hard for Terry to love someone that had urine dripping off of her face.

"I mean, I'm like 'ew! I changed clothes right in front of you and everything!" Bethany protested.

Terry thought about admitting to Bethany that she had been in two homosexual relationships then decided against it. The girl was still a girl and probably wouldn't be able to accept Terry's admission.

Bethany approved of Terry's handiwork and Terry unsnapped the sheet.

"Remember, treat everyone as if they're special and they'll always remember you," Terry said, accepting the girl's hug. "Be a bitch to them and they'll forget you as soon as you're out of sight."

Terry watched the girl walk to the front of the shop, then looked past the girl to the plate glass window and caught a glimpse of long reddish blonde hair. She knew, though, by the time she got to the front, Paula would be long gone.

Six hours later, Terry locked the door behind Trudy and Trudy's client, a middle aged woman that had wasted a great deal of time selecting 'just the right color' for her drab brown hair.

The computer did most of the work in tallying up the day's totals. Terry reconciled that tally with the charge receipts and frowned. Selena had accepted two personal checks, even though she knew T. Dayton's did not accept personal checks.

"If any of these bounce..." Terry threatened under her breath.

Paperwork done, all appliances turned off, air conditioner turned to seventy eight degrees, Terry locked up the shop, checked the parking lot carefully, then walked to her dependable, non-descript Kia.

She again checked all around before getting in her car and driving home.

Home was a small two bedroom home; she'd bought it from a very nice real estate agent that said it had belonged her daughter before the daughter adopted two children and married a fellow police officer.

"Yeah, moved her into the house right next door to us," Carmen Davis laughed.

"Aw!" Terry smiled.

"Yeah, got the three grandchildren from my oldest girl living right across the street, and the two from my youngest living next door; what could be better?" Carmen said. "Now, I don't know if you noticed, but these atrium doors..."

Terry was lucky to snap the home up when she did; more and more doctors and nurses began flooding the neighborhoods in Bender, DeGarde and Baylor Lake, as well as Kimble and Flowers. Within months, homes that had sold for thirty five thousand began selling for seventy and eighty thousand. Apartments that had rented for three fifty now rented for six or seven hundred.

Terry smiled as she pulled into her driveway; Kirsten's battered tank of a car was parked on the street which meant she was visiting the twins; who were, once again, in between places to live, especially with the way rent had shot up.

"At least I'll get something to eat," Terry said as she parked under the carport.

She could hear Alberto, her full sized white poodle, barking as she approached the kitchen door. When asked where she got the name 'Alberto' for a French dog, Terry just shrugged. The name had just come to her and he seemed to like it just fine.

"Hey," Terry greeted Kirsten, who was cooking something, as she entered the kitchen.

With a 'woof' Alberto greeted her and Terry just stared in shock.

The dog was no longer white; someone had dyed him bright, neon pink. The curly tuft at the top of his head was the only thing that was still white.

"Alberto! What in the.... Marlene! Get in here!" Terry screamed.

"I told her not to do it," Kirsten said.

"How'd you know it was me?" Marlene entered, laughing.

"What in the world?" Terry screamed. "God damn it! Please tell me that will wash out?"

"Well yeah, but in about two or three weeks it should fade," Marlene said, losing her smile.

"Where did you, my bathroom! Please tell me you didn't..." Terry yelled.

With that, she marched into the small bathroom.

"I told you..." Charlene hissed at her sister. "But Nnoo!"

Remnants of Marlene's fun could be found everywhere; there were even a few specks of pink dye on the ceiling when Alberto had shaken himself dry.

"You and your sister really need to find another place to live," Terry thundered, slamming the door to the bathroom.

"Way to go, dumb ass," Charlene screamed at her sister.

"I told you not to do it," Kirsten reminded them.

"I am going for my run; I do not want to talk to any of you right now, I am just too God damned mad, Terry snapped, carrying Alberto's leash.

Alberto, excited to go on his nightly run with his Mistress, barked happily.

"My poor baby," Terry said, clipping the heavy leash on him. "Come on."

Alberto adjusted his stride to match Terry's and they jogged steadily through the peaceful neighborhood.

Alberto growled when they passed one house; the owner had owned a pit bull and had actually sent the dog to attack Alberto, thinking it would be funny.

Terry, however, did not think it funny and put the pit bull down with a single shot between the beast's eyes.

At Sophia Coutre's urging, Terry had applied for, tested for, and received a permit to carry a concealed weapon. She had done this immediately after beginning the paperwork on her business. Her Smith & Wesson .38 snub nose fit very handily in her side holster.

The police were called out and, while they were sorry for the man's loss, the pit bull was not on a leash, had charged at Terry and Alberto, and Terry had every right to defend herself and her property.

Alberto and Terry finished the jog, a five mile round trip from drive way to drive way, with no incidents and a sweating Terry and panting Alberto staggered into the kitchen. Alberto went immediately to his water dish and slurped loudly.

"Terry, I'm..." Marlene tried to say.

"Shut up, Marlene, just shut up," Terry snapped.

"Pot pie's in the oven," Kirsten said, looking up from her favorite television show.

"Great, I'm starved," Terry said, staggering to her bedroom to change into her night time wear of tee shirt and nylon running shorts.

Chapter 19

"Talk to me, Baby," Sonny implored as Paula listlessly flipped through the channels on her television.

"About what, Sonny?" Paula asked flatly, not looking at him.

"About what's bothering you," he said, trying to grab the remote control out of her hand.

"Son of a bitch!" he cursed as she twisted his arm away from the remote control.

"What do you mean, Sonny?" she barked angrily. "Huh? What do you mean?"

"Baby, something is bothering you; our wedding's in three weeks, we should be happy, we should be getting closer together, but it just feels like we're getting further and further apart," Sonny whined.

Paula felt miserable, felt bloated, uncomfortable. Her clothes were all too snug; she'd had to replace every piece of her sexy, stylish wardrobe with drab, functional clothing.

She hated looking into a mirror and seeing the nearly forty extra pounds looking back at her. She couldn't get her hair to act right, and couldn't put on enough make-up to cover up the flabby, puffy face that looked back at her.

Sonny, she was sure, had meant well, but she really resented him signing her up for a year membership at Shapes Fitness Center.

Outside of her physical appearance, Paula was lonely.

Despite every roadblock and pitfall, the St. Elizabeth Trauma Center had finally opened and employed two hundred and ninety four people. It provided a much needed service to the DeGarde area. Each day presented new challenges, new failures and new successes.

Paula was the acting Chief Executive Operator of the hospital and was the President of the Board of Trustees, who all assured her, at the second Board Meeting; she would be confirmed as the C.E.O.

Paula was engaged to be married to a man that most women swooned over; he was tall, blonde, handsome, and wealthy. He was an intelligent man, had moments when he could be thoughtful, compassionate (she knew the membership to the gym was not meant as a slight, but as a loving gesture).

She had even added a fourth cat to her brood; a Russian blue Himalayan long haired beast named Bruce Lee.

The first night they had him, she determined she had named him right. Janet Jackson tried to show Bruce Lee that she was Queen and she ruled the roost. A few missing clumps of fur later, Janet decided she didn't need to rule the roost.

She saw and greeted hundreds of people a week, and knew most of them by name, but Paula knew that very few of these people were her friends and very few of these people regarded her as a friend.

Grant Johnson did not allow himself to be wooed away from Young Insurance so Paula hired her mother, Sherri Lambert to oversee the mountain of insurance paperwork. The most Sherri had ever made as a salesperson was twenty nine thousand, so a salary of thirty four thousand was too good for her to pass up.

"When the President's Affordable Health Care Act kicks in..." Sherri shrilled, overwhelmed by the forms that had to be filled out.

"...It'll be even worse," Paula assured her. "Quit drinking the fucking Kool-Aid the Democratic Party keeps giving you and open your eyes, Sherri."

"Oh no," Sherri said smugly. "You just wait and see."

RJ Lambert finally cut his stringy mop but insisted on keeping his lop-sided mustache. Paula hired him to work Housekeeping and when he complained about that, put him on Grounds keeping.

"Hi, Mr. Menendez," Paula cheerfully greeted the head of Grounds keeping. "This is my brother, RJ. Mr. Menendez? If I see him stop, even if it's to pee, you're fired. Got it?"

Pedro Menendez looked at Paula and smiled, showing a few rotted teeth.

"Yes ma'am, don't worry; he won't stop. I got a wife and four girls to feed," Mr. Menendez promised.

At work, lonely or not, Paula was in charge, was in control.

But she hated having to come home.

"Baby, please, talk to me," Sonny again implored.

"Fuck, Sonny!" Paula screamed. "God! I had a shitty day, okay? Is that all right? Can I have a shitty day? Can I just come home and relax? Do I need to get your permission to just come home and relax?"

"No," Sonny snapped back. "Honey, you have a shitty day, you come home and you talk to me about it; you get rid of it. You don't just keep it all inside."

"I'll be back," Paula snapped, lumbering to her feet.

"Where are you going?" Sonny snapped.

"Out," Paula said.

Sonny had bought her a 2013 Mustang Boss 302 for a wedding present, Ruby Red with pearl gray interior. Paula had shaken her head at his foolishness; never ever buy a new car. It depreciates the minute the tires touch the street.

Reluctantly, Paula gave up her BMW for the Mustang, but refused to give up the truck.

She stood, looking from truck to car, trying to decide which one to drive.

The muscle car won out and she eased her bulk into the seat.

But, when she put up the garage door, Sonny's truck was, once again, blocking her in.

Rather than having to go back in and talk with him, she decided to take the truck instead.

Paula drove aimlessly, stereo turned up to a deafening level, so that she didn't have to think.

A flash of pink caught her eye and she looked, then burst out laughing. Someone had dyed their dog neon pink. That person was out, jogging with the happy beast, showing them off.

Then she slammed on the brakes; it was Terry. She would recognize that beautiful rear end and those lovely legs anywhere.

Terry was even more beautiful now, out in just a ratty old tee shirt, worn, frayed shorts, and tennis shoes, long blonde hair in a simple pony-tail.

Someone tapped on their car horn and Paula slowly drove away, but not before seeing Terry run with the animal up a driveway.

Outside of the house, she recognized Kirsten's battered Chrysler New Yorker; the rear driver's side door still bashed in where Kirsten's ex-boyfriend, Brian had fishtailed the car into a telephone pole. There was the twins' rust riddled Nissan, and a ordinary Kia under the carport.

Paula looked at the address on the mailbox, memorized, it, then turned the stereo down to a less assaulting volume and drove off.

She slowly drove home and backed the truck into the garage.

Sonny was sitting on his recliner when she entered. He glared at her, but his glare melted when she took his hand and pulled him to his feet.

"Come on," she said and pulled him up the stairs.

He did not protest as she slid his sweat pants off and sucked his cock until he was ready to come.

"Hey!" he whined as she pulled her mouth off of his throbbing cock with a 'Pop' but quickly sighed when she jerked his cokck, aiming it at her face.

"Oh!" he sighed as jet after jet of his semen decorated her face.

"Sperm has too many calories," she stated; aiming his cock away from her mouth.

"What brought that..." he started to say, when she lowered her wet pussy to his face.

Paula managed a weak orgasm in a few minutes, but thankfully, Sonny's cock was hard again.

She mounted him and rode him until he filled her pussy with his second orgasm.

Sonny lay, gasping for breath. Paula rolled off and played with his limp cock and balls, until he finally pushed her hand away and staggered for the bathroom.

He relieved his bladder and remembered to put the toilet seat down again after he finished.

Sonny smiled as she playfully slapped him on the ass as they passed. Sonny did not notice that Paula shut the door to the bathroom when she entered; he simply crawled into the bed and shoved Bruce Lee aside. The damned cat seemed to think that Sonny's pillow belonged to him.

An hour later, Sonny stirred slightly when Paula slipped into the bed next to him.

Within moments, he was again snoring. Paula laid next to him, wide awake, tears streaming down her face.

Chapter 20

Marlene was right; the dye did wash out and Terry woke up to the sight of his pure white face next to hers in the bed.

"Alberto; get!" Terry commanded, which just elicited a bark from him.

"Come on, mangy beast; Terry grumbled, dragging the spoiled animal out of her bed and out into the back yard for him to do his business.

"I hate you up in the bed like that; rotten dog," Terry grumbled as she pulled him back into the house.

"Why don't you just shut your door?" Charlene asked, scratching her rear end, unmindful that this raised the hem of her tee shirt up, exposing her bald slit.

"Then he paws at the damned door and whines and barks until I let him in," Terry explained.

Alberto pressed his cold wet nose to Charlene's upper thigh, which made her shriek.

Terry laughed as she fixed Alberto's breakfast., then fixed her own breakfast of one toasted English muffin with a generous slathering of marmalade and a cup of yogurt.

"So how'd your date go last night?" Marlene asked, stretching on tip toes to reach a coffee mug.

Terry watched Marlene's slim buttocks and shook her head. Both Charlene and Marlene ate sugar laden meals with incalculable amounts of carbohydrates, did no exercise whatsoever, and yet both still had the bodies of twelve year olds. That was further emphasized by the fact that both girls waxed their pubic mounds clean of any hair at all.

"Went all right, I guess," Terry shrugged.

Dr. Wilson Williams had picked her up in his BMW and pursed his lips when she failed to react to the expensive automobile.

He then drove her to Radcliffe's and smiled when she declared "Oh, I love this place!"

His smile faded when the Maitre'd greeted her warmly and agreed to seat them in Matthew's section.

Wilson's smile did not return as the waiter greeted his date warmly and agreed to have her usual meal ready immediately. Dr. Williams was almost an afterthought to the waiter.

"Um, come here often?" Dr. Williams asked.

"Yes," Terry said easily. "It's one of my favorite places."

"How can a lowly hairdresser afford to eat here?" he wanted to ask, but bit his tongue.

"And here we are; please tell me if they're up to our usual standard," Matthew said, setting down a dish of escargot.

"I wouldn't expect anything less than perfection from you," Terry smiled and tasted the delicacy. "Mmm!"

She then turned to her date.

"What do you think?" she asked waiting for him to try the appetizer.

"It's fine," he snapped.

"And..." Matthew said, topping off her glass of wine.

"Matthew is the main reason I keep coming here," Terry confided to her date, smiling. I mean, of course the food is divine, but Matthew's service is impeccable.

After the meal, Terry casually put her hand on his thigh.

"So where to now?" she asked as he pulled out into traffic.