Wendy Ch. 07

Wendy Chapter 7 According to Mrs. P

I went to the flower shop that Saturday morning on the pretense of paying the bill for the floral arrangements that had been delivered to my home a few days before. But that was not my main purpose in dropping by the shop. I had waited until Saturday morning to settle the bill because I knew Cotton would be there and I wanted to speak with him, to see if he had blabbed about our....my..’indiscretion.’

He stood off to one side, pretending to be occupied with some boxes that had just arrived, while I complained to Marcie about being overcharged because of a mismatched basket that they had brought to my home the previous Tuesday. She apologized for the mistake and made some good points about the odd basket not really having detracted from the overall exhibition but she was no match for me. The underlying fact was that one word from me to the right people would destroy any hope she had of getting other decorating work from my ‘friends’ or me. In the end, I won and she deducted a small percentage from my bill.

Satisfied, I steered Cotton out the door for a private talk.

I’m Lydia Patton, the reining queen of bitches. This is my narration as to what happened between Cotton and myself. As to the moniker, my neighbors would describe me as the queen of bitches because I portray the roll to perfection. Even my sorority sisters view me in the same light although they endure my quirky demands and irritable moods because they must. I have the money and reputation to influence what they say and control what they do.

The reason I am well suited to the roll is that the Patton women who preceeded had handed it down and it was expected that I follow in their footsteps. At first I did not take to being bitchy and demanding. Having grown up a pleasant person in a loving family I was devastated when I first witnessed the actions of my mother in law. She was a master at giving orders in her aristocratic tone and dominating all who came in contact with her.

I just could not be like that. When she and Mister Patton were killed suddenly in an automobile accident I grieved for them and felt sorry for my father in law who had the misfortune of being married to the women with the unquestioned title of the queen of bitches.

But when Bradley wanted a divorce I changed. His brother had insisted that he go to Oregon to help run the family lumber business and when I refused to join him there we settled on him visiting the children and myself one weekend per month. This arrangement lasted about two years, then the visits became less frequent until Bradley confessed that he had met someone else and he wanted a divorce. While I knew that I was partially to blame by not going with my husband, I was bitter about being betrayed and abandoned.

Once I found out that Bradley’s new love interest was pregnant and was pressing him to marry her I turned this knowledge to my advantage and held out for the best settlement possible. In addition to being awarded the old Victorian house that had been home to the Patton family since it was built in 1890, there was the generous child support, savings for college and a lump sum payment that made me the richest bitch in town. To my satisfaction, the settlement put a crimp in the way the brothers did business for the next five years. I was to keep the children eleven months of the year while my only concession to Bradley was for him to have them in Oregon one month each summer.

Hurt, confused and celibate I began to play the part of the fiercest overbearing bitch the town had ever known. I put the reputation my mother in law and the Patton women before her to shame. By the age of 33, I had taken on a hard demeanor that made my best friends cringe and my children beg for me to lighten up. At the age of 35 when I met young Cotton Fabric, the art of bitchery was second nature to me. I could verbally rip the head off of the meanest man in town while projecting sexy sweetness that would curl his hair. No women fucked with me either. Cotton changed me, for a time.

When the children came home with pictures of their father’s new family I took delight in noticing that Bradley’s forehead had grown and his young wife’s thighs carried a flabby overlay, extending from her abundant butt. They looked happy with their baby boy between them.

I had always been proud of my athletic body. I secretly resumed the exercises that had always kept my thighs, though muscular, firm and slim. I had been a gymnast in high school and college and had always taken pride in my body. Seeing the pictures of my husband’s new family made me determined to not let my body go like the little red head who had stolen my husband when I wasn’t paying enough attention to him. I became more bitchier just thinking about their happy life together. Did he think of my tight butt and shapely legs when he was fucking Miss Thick Thighs?

That Saturday morning at the flower shop my children had stayed in the car while I went in. They wanted to know who the boy was that I had been talking to when I came back to the car. And they wanted to know why I had stood outside in the heavy mist for so long, getting my hair wet. I couldn’t tell them that the boy was Cotton Fabric and my reason for talking to him was to assure myself that he had not bragged to his friends or his mousy little boss about having screwed me on the freezer the previous Tuesday night. Nor could I tell the children of my other concern; it was not only that I feared others would find out about my indecorous action, which if known would ruin my standing in the community; what if I were pregnant? I explained that he worked at the flower shop and I was just thanking him for the job he had done to help make my gathering a success.

“You remember the yellow long stemmed roses, don’t you?” I asked, reminding them of the flowers that were still in vases all around our house. Each of them had taken a rose to school to give to their teacher. My explanation seemed to satisfy them.

My actions had been stupid and I regretted what I had done. Nevertheless, there was a tingle between my legs from just thinking about what had taken place. Somehow, talking with him while the fine mist bounced off of our cheeks, gave me a warm feeling about the intimate secret we shared. His honesty as he mouthed, “No,” when I asked if he had told anyone about our, ‘encounter,’ persuaded me that he was being truthful. Seeing him again reminded me of how I had let it happen or, ‘how I had made it happen?’ would be more accurate.

I had gotten the children off to bed early that night and then made a call to Marcie, the flower shop owner. I demanded that she have the display that held three dozen long stemmed yellow roses removed from my house that night. It was my nature to make such a demand; one of those things I did because I could. It was for the same reason that I had insisted, earlier in the day when the other floral arrangements had been removed, for the display to be left for my children to see when they came home from school, because I wanted them to see the yellow roses and ribbon that adorned the one-of-a-kind giant display. Also, I insisted on the display being picked up later because I could.

Marcie was hesitant about sending someone. She held out as long as she could, pointing out that it was a school night, but I won out as I usually do. She would send Cotton, the young man I had seen that morning when they had made the delivery.

I had changed into a house dress that buttoned down the front because it was comfortable and because there was no need for me to be dressed more formerly to receive a lad who was merely performing a service.

Partially because I did not want my nosy neighbors seeing what was taking place and partially because I could, I refused to turn on a single light while Cotton retrieved the display. The young man did not question why it was totally dark in the house although I suspect he wondered why there were no night lights on, except for the lighted clock on the kitchen stove.

I insisted that he remove the flowers before taking the display. This was something I could have done before he arrived but it was my whim to have him do it. After he stacked the flowers in a basket I walked backwards to guide him from the front room, along the hallway to the kitchen. I cautioned him constantly to take care and watch where he was going until we made the turn onto the porch where the path was wider.

As we passed the freezer I remembered the roast that I needed for the next day. I had tried to reach it earlier but could not because the one I wanted was on the very bottom of the box. My son could have climbed in to get it but I had forgotten to ask him to. I stopped abruptly and turned in the darkened path. Cotton bumped the display into me and I heard him utter an apology. I paid no attention to what he was saying.

“Cotton, that’s your name isn’t it?” I whispered. He acknowledged that it was his nickname.

“Would you get a roast out of the freezer for me? I asked, knowing that he would not refuse.

He went over the side and squirmed around at the bottom of the cold box while I held the lid open for him. After what seemed an exorbitant amount of time he found the roast I wanted and started to do a back flip to exit from the freezer when the heavy lid slipped out of hand. It stuck him, I was certain, on his head. There was a sound of air rushing from his lungs as he fell back to the bottom. My lungs emptied also but not because I had been hit in the head. I was so concerned that the blow may have knocked him out I could barely breath. I raised the heavy lid with trembling hands and vowed not to let it drop again.

“Don’t bother with the roast,” I barked, ignoring my pledge not to awaken my children. But he was determined to bring it up with him and disregarded my order. My legs were weak and my body was shaking as he made it over the side of the freezer and I heard his feet strike the porch floor. He dropped the roast and it rolled toward the kitchen. I dropped the lid again and reached for him, wanting to find out how seriously I had wounded him.

He crumpled into my arms as his body went limp. His body felt warm as it pressed into mine. Little trembles made our bodies shudder as we clutched one another, both unsteady on our feet. He placed both hands on the freezer lid at my sides for support and I tried to hold him up. I was almost certain his head had opened up with a gash or that there could be a concussion. I wanted to inspect the back of his head which I was sure had been injured but I could not reach it from my pinned position.

My thoughts raced from a possible need for surgery to how I would get him to emergency room. Their van was parked in my drive, blocking an exit for my car and I suspected that I would have trouble driving the van. I prayed that it would not come to that. To have an ambulance come to my house at that hour was out of the question.

I placed my hands on his, lifted myself to sit on the freezer lid, and drew him to me between my legs. He moaned as I felt the back of his head, checking for blood or a raised place. His lips pressed against the top of my breast which gave me such a warm feeling. I prolonged my search for an imagined head wound, enjoying the hesitant movement of his lips, now open, was making against my skin. I slid forward on the lip of the box as far as I could and let my dress ride up exposing my bare legs. I positioned my feet flat against the box and raised my thighs to support his arms.

I comforted him with a gentle rocking motion. His chest rubbed against my panty covered cunt and I was aware that his lips were moist and open against the top of my breast.

‘I can stop this; I should stop,’ I thought. He was exaggerating the rocking motion by raising to his toes and falling backward. His chest rubbing against my pussy sent a flare throughout my body.

‘I should stop this; I can’t stop,’ I realized. I clamped my thighs to his sides to hold him in place and rocked with him, deciding to make it happen.

I jerked on his jacket, making his arms drop to his sides so the jacket could drop to the floor. He replaced his arms on the lid and cupped my ass with his hands to pull me close. We continued to rock, both knowing what was happening, neither of us wanting to stop. When he lifted his head I cradled it in my hands and pressed my lips to his. I leaned to my right and brought him with me. My tongue entered his mouth and he responded. It was evident that he knew what he was doing; his hunger was a great as mine. I had lost control of all thought except, ‘I had to have him.’

From that point on everything is still a blur to me. Each time I walked past the freezer I tried to recall how it happened. Once when I was alone in the house I got on the box and went through the motions the way it may have happened. As I lay there on my back with my legs open and drawn up to my breasts I could almost feel the heat and the weight of his body. This is how I believe it progressed:

As I leaned farther to the right I clutched his shirt. He boosted himself upward and we were on the freezer lid with his knee against my cunt. I held him tightly to me and when he brought his hand between my legs and touched my wet panties I thought I would erupt. ‘Why doesn’t he hurry?’ I bucked my hips to add to the friction and to let him know I was wild with desire. His finger penetrated me and I broke the kiss to whisper in his ear, “Yes!”

I was a Bitch in Heat! When his hand fumbled with the waistband to my panties I shoved him to the side and brought one foot up to push them down. They dangled around my other ankle. I tapped on his leg to position him between my legs. His jeans were down but he was struggling with his boxers. I reached up with both hands and slid them down for him. My legs were drawn up and the hem of my dress was around my waist.

His stab was hurried and off so I said, “it’s too high.” I took his prick in my hand and guided him to my entrance. My vulva was so sensitive and open from the rubbing that I came upon first contact. My head was moving from side to side and I was lost in exhilaration until I noticed that my lover was having trouble with our connection. There was a sort of a hitch. I hoisted my rump to give him a clear shot and he bottomed out and, ‘God, don’t let this end’.

Cotton tried to restrain my head to kiss me but I resisted. The side to side motion was my way of expressing that I was breaking out. Nothing mattered, this was my new freedom. I met his thrusts with abandon. At one point when he slowed I dug my heels into his hips and pounded my fists on his back. I almost screamed in his ear, “Fuck Me!, Hard!”

When he slowed again I encouraged him, “Just one more, I’m so close.”

It was a plea, not an order. For that short time that we spent entwined in one another’s bodies on top of the freezer I was no longer a demanding bitch. For that brief time, it felt good to be a giver and a receiver at the same time; to want and to be wanted.

The next day when I passed the freezer a smile came to my lips. There was a slight indention on the top where my back had lain. We had definitely made an impression on the makeshift bed. That was Wednesday and I was regretting what I had done. I had given in to lust without considering the consequences. In my frantic need for self satisfaction I had let him come in me.

What if one of my children had come down stairs and seen their mother, spread-leg-out-of-her-mind? Realizing the risks I had taken, I returned to my roll of queen bitch. Even before it was over, without basking in the afterglow as I would have liked, I tapped on his leg again and said, “Get off of me and get out.”

By Thursday I was regretting my harsh treatment of my young lover. As I lay on the freezer, relishing the memory of the few minutes of pleasure there, I thought of Cotton and how I had acted toward him. It was not his fault that I had seduced him, then demanded that he get out. It would not be his fault if I was already pregnant. I was nearly twice his age and had not acted appropriately. I drew my legs up and opened them wide as I laughed to myself, ‘he did seem to know what he was doing though.’

On Friday I made the decision to visit the flower shop the next morning when I knew he would be there. I would get him alone and access the damage. ‘He’s an honest kid, I’ll be able to tell if he’s bragged to anyone,’ I thought. Laying on the freezer, I swung my head from side to side and folded my open legs back as far as they would reach. I raised my butt and touched myself in mock re-enactment of out Tuesday night tryst. ‘How did we keep from falling off?’ I wondered.

The children grumbled when I sent them to bed early on Saturday night but once they were warm under the covers they fell off to sleep. I had noticed the figure sitting on the wall across the street. There had been a light mist all day and it was still coming down. I tiptoed around the house turning off the lights. As the hall light went out the figure stood up and hopped on the wall. I was sure it was Cotton. He must be wondering if I’ve gone to bed.

‘That is what I will do, I’ll go to bed. He will see the light in my room and when it goes out he will give up and leave,’ I thought. Instead, I checked once more. He was still there, standing on the wall.

I went to the kitchen and turned on the light, thinking I would bake some cookies. ‘If he crosses the street I’ll tell him firmly to leave, I’ll make it clear that nothing else is going to happen,’ I thought. ‘What if the kids smell the cookies baking and come down stairs?’ My mind was cluttered. ‘It won’t matter, he’ll be gone long before the cookies start to bake, I’ll see to that.’

Just as I suspected...or was it just as I hoped?, he was there in the back yard. Contrary to my customary position at my work table, I stood on the other side to face the porch windows. He was waving his arms but I pretended to be busy with my task. When he tapped on the porch window I had my head down. I wondered how long he would stay there if I paid no attention to him. I wondered how long I could avoid him. When he tapped the window again I looked up, attempting to look startled and annoyed.

He waved his arms and pointed to the door at the far side of the house. I shook my head. My heart was beating at an abnormal rate and I’m sure my face was flushed with excitement. I considered how I must look. My makeup had been removed and I wore an apron over the same slacks I had on when I visited the flower shop that morning. He motioned toward the door and began to walk that way, looking my way.

I tried to ignore him, I really did. He must have waited by the door for several minutes while I let my emotions run unbridled. ‘I’ll go speak to him, I’ll be reasonable but firm, I’ll send him away.’ With that resolve I headed for the door.

Well, if you read Wendy, Chapter 6 you know what happened. It began to rain and I let him come in but I think now that even if the rain had not come I would have relented. We talked to one another through the latched door. His remark, “I want to help you get a roast out of the freezer,” made me laugh, which was something I needed. The rain started to really come down and it served as my excuse to let him come in; but I know now that I would have thrown caution to the wind, rain or no rain.

I held him at bay for the first 30 minutes until the cookies were done. He stood with his back to the sink, watching as I measured the ingredients. We got to know one another a little. I enjoyed his company at times but when the conversation became serious my mood changed. At one point I threw one of my little bitchy fits because of something he said and banged on the work table. I was sure the noise would awaken the children but the rain must have overshadowed it. The rain gave me an excuse to let him remain.