Esme & Lucia

© 2023 PennameWombat

The author asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

This is one of my submissions in celebration of the Literotica 25th Anniversary Story Challenge.

A mother, her daughter and a man. And the number twenty-five.

Tags: Literotica 25th Anniversary, Romantic

*****

The Arrangement

"Out with it, daughter," the command delivered by a clearly amused voice.

The speaker's loose dark hair fluttered slightly with the air that pushed in through the half-open window as she twisted to glance at the younger woman in the El Camino's passenger seat. Then she faced the road as she pushed the accelerator and kicked up the speed as they chased their shadow up the slope onto the Fourth South Viaduct.

The passenger bit her lower lip as she held crossed arms below her breasts for a few heartbeats as she started to speak once, twice then a third time, before she sighed. Her mother's lack of a reaction likely due to the air rushing into her open window drowning it out. Fortunately. She let her arms fall to rest on the thin cloth of her summer-weight dress slacks, then rolled the window halfway up to let her think.

"Your dress, Mama, um, it's—-."

"Oh, did I spill something on it?"

"Huh. That's not what I mean."

The driver grinned as she glanced again at her companion. "Is it too short? I know the wrap shows a bit of thigh when I walk, just above my knee. Noticed that when I bought it Saturday."

"Nnnggg," the younger woman said then simply huffed before she looked across at the driver and tilted her gaze slightly down, "your tits, Mama. They're, uh, a bit... out."

The driver looked down, then back at the road for a moment as she signalled and drifted right as they hit the downslope to ground level. She looked at her daughter, her mouth momentarily locked open.

"Oh, NO! I hadn't noticed," she said before her expression morphed to a broad grin, "but they're pretty sweet for an old woman's, bit of cleavage, it's the current style."

"Bit of cleavage? I can, uh, they're half out."

"You need glasses. Besides, that first night you brought Jeremy home, yours were in neon."

"What?" Lucia's head snapped to her left, her mouth held open. "They... were not. I'd buttoned... uh."

The driver laughed. "Ah, finally. Years later, you admit it. Poor pool boy, you flashed him those stupendous tits you have thanks to my genes, he'd never had a chance after that. He is a great son-in-law, so at least you chose well. But, just because you're half my age, you can have yours out?"

Lucia closed her eyes and pressed fingers to her forehead, then sighed. "Ok, yeah. Then. But now, uh, mine aren't out."

"That is a boring blouse. You could've done better. First impressions. You usually have yours out, my turn," she said as she navigated the El Camino into the parking garage, "we'll see if Jeremy's judgement is still good."

Lucia stayed silent as her mother hummed something from the old country that she remembered from her childhood. It meant Mama might have been more nervous than she let on, but as she'd done on those past occasions, she'd not waver in what she'd set out to do..

"Over there," her mother said as she tapped the accelerator, "close enough to the door. Have you ever been to this place before?"

"Uh," Lucia took a moment to regain her focus, "no. Jeremías hasn't either. I don't know why he picked it. Didn't tell me."

"He didn't tell you anything," the driver said as she spun the car and smoothly backed it into the open space, "because you'd get all worried and screw it all up. It's MY night. I just agreed to let you come."

Lucia bit her lip and released a long, slow exhale through her nose. "This was my idea."

"YOU have introduced me to a few, uh, well, whatever they were—."

"Men, Mama, they were men. Men your age, or, uh, more or less."

"If you insist that's what they were," the driver punctuated with a shrug, "you finally got smart, if you're going to do this, your husband chose well once before. We'll see if he handles this as well as he handles you."

Lucia stared at the laughing figure's back as she pulled the keys, grabbed her purse from the bench seat between them and stepped out of the car and spoke firmly just before she pushed the door closed.

"Come, daughter."

Two pairs of heels clicked along the mall's floor as Lucia listened to her mother's soft humming, another tune from those years that were fuzzy from Lucia's youth. Years that'd seen her plenty of doubts and hard work, not unlike relatives. But when Mama decided to push through, things got pushed through. The older woman had her purse over her right shoulder faced forward as they walked and seemed satisfied to not speak. Rehearsing? Or simply ignoring her daughter?

Whatever the case, the real air conditioning was a nice change from the El Camino's lack and the stuffy parking garage.

"There it is," Lucia said, "uh, how'd he set this up? This place has been packed since the drug and kidnapping thing a few months ago. Everyone wants to come here."

"Your husband has connections, daughter. Also, it's Wednesday. Not the busiest day."

"But, still. Connections? He's a junior architect."

They slowed as they entered through the open double doors. A slender woman with her brown hair in a flattened pony-tail and wearing black slacks and a white, button-down shirt held menus and stood alongside two couples. She smiled at the new arrivals.

"Welcome to the Broiler, I'm Valerie. Let me seat these folks and I'll be right back."

"Take your time," the older woman said, switching to accented English. Valerie smiled and led the two couples past curtains tied open. Sounds of conversation filtered through the opening.

"Do we even know what he looks like?" Lucia said in the Spanish they'd used since leaving her mother's house.

"Jeremy said he's tall, nice bod, and 'look for the nose,'" her mother responded in the same language and Lucia huffed.

"Nice bod?"

"What? I don't deserve one with as sweet an ass as your husband has?"

Lucia's mouth locked open as her mother grinned at her, then felt her face flush when someone cleared her throat to their side. She turned and saw the maître'd, Valerie, or whatever.

"Buenas noches, bienvenidos a la Parrilla," Valerie said in Spanish before switching and she paused for an instant and her eyebrow moved and her smile broadened, "I believe you're here to meet with another party."

"You read minds, Valeria. We're here for the Pearson party," the older woman again in her accented English.

"Ah, yes. I just sat the third member of your party a moment ago. I think you'll be pleased."

Lucia looked at Valerie, then at her mother, and back. The maitre'd's ethnicity wasn't clear, but her Spanish was smooth. She was something like a decade and a bit older, late-thirties, so halfway between her and Mama. But with her comment, she and Mana seemed to share something as they held eyes and smiled for a moment. Mama nodded.

"I already set your places," Valerie said, "this way."

"Te falta te hija," Valerie laughed at the older woman's chiding tone as she led the pair, having already proven she spoke their tongue, "this beautiful lady won't lead us astray."

The dining room was all but full, maybe only a single table unoccupied. Conversations continued, with only an occasional glance their way as Valerie led them on a winding path to a table along the windows.

The seated man seemed to sense their approach and looked up from the menu in his hands, then quickly set it down and stood and turned to face them, a clear if tentative smile on his face.

Lucia's right eyebrow popped up and down. His nose. It was... distinctive. Not natural, it'd been broken, but not once. A few times. But that said, he was tall, taller than her or Mama, taller than Jeremías but maybe a shade shorter than primo Miguel and broad but certainly not as broad as that husband of Concetta's. Bitch Concetta, who really DID want to fuck Jeremías, despite her masking her lust with teasing and jokes, talk about showing off tits every chance she could to Lucia's husband, and with skirts that barely covered her ass, and....

Her mother's soft hum, soft yes, but... thoughtful but happy, forced Lucia's thoughts away from her crazily curvy and beautiful frenemy. The here and now. This... man. He took a small step and extended his right hand as Valerie grinned and stepped aside.

"Señora Baca, very pleased to meet you, I'm James Pearson," he said and an eyebrow quirked up but settled as he was offered a right hand. But not in a position to be shaken. He accepted it, and guided it upwards as he bent slightly to kiss the back of the palm. He straightened and lowered it but held it softly when it wasn't pulled back.

"Pleased to meet you, Señor Pearson. I am Esmeralda Baca, but please call me Esme."

Esme let him pull her hand to a second soft kiss, then gazed at her as they maintained the contact.

"Please call me Jim, Esme."

She smiled and held his gaze for another moment. Lucia fought back the hard huff and Mama finally glanced at her.

"And this is my daughter, Lucia Danko. She's here because she's worried you'll not be a gentleman and dismember me or something."

"WHAT?" Lucia said as Esme laughed.

"You won't do that, will you, Jim Pearson?"

Lucia thought his smile was natural, he just wasn't used to using it.

"No, Esme Baca, I certainly won't," he said and used gentle pressure on her hand to lead her to the other side of the table and she kept her eyes on his, "please, let's all sit down."

"Siéntate, niña," Esme said firmly as Jim released her hand, stepped around the table and held the chair across from his out, and she sat before he sidled to the next chair, "deja de mirar con rudeza."

Lucia started at the tone. And Mama's choice of phrasing. She flashed a look at her mother and received one as sharp back. She squeezed behind her mother and into the offered chair.

"Thank you," she said.

She'd caught the slight confusion on the man's face. Unlike the maitre'd and her husband, he showed no sign he spoke Spanish. Esme spoke as he stepped around the table and sat down.

"I apologise for my daughter's rudeness, Jim," Lucia couldn't fight down her huffed exhale, Esme chuckled, "but, better things. Was this restaurant your choice? What's good here?"

"It was suggested to me," he said with a quick glance at the younger woman, "I have been here, but not to eat."

"There is a tale there," Esme said as a waiter approached, "but, first."

"Good evening, I'm Andy. Would you like something to drink?"

Jim looked at Esme and she smiled, then looked up at the waiter. "I'm a simple woman, Andy, I'll have the Modelo Especial."

Jim smiled. "Coors, please."

Andy nodded and everyone looked at Lucia. She blinked.

"Uh, just a Coke, please."

"Be right back," Andy said and spun to walk away.

"So, Jim Pearson," Esme said, "you've been here? For work?"

"I guess that's the way to put it."

Esme nodded. "Health department?"

Lucia noticed the flash across his face as he seemed to work through something.

"I am a public servant, but I'm on the Force. I'm a detective, a Senior Detective Lieutenant."

Lucia pulled her jaw shut so she didn't gape like a dead trout. Holy shit! Her... fucking husband had set Mama up with... a cop. No, not only a cop. A GRINGO cop! She glanced to her left. Her mother's expression hadn't hardened, but it'd gone serious and she nodded slightly, her arms in a vee with her hands meeting just below her chin.

How the fuck had her husband, an architect who drew things and had never ever been arrested, find this cop?

"That would've been the kidnapping about the drugs here a few months back," Esme said.

"Yes, we were brought in, as the gang had been on our radar. But, really, the ladies they kidnapped turned the table on their kidnappers. We just cleaned up."

Esme smiled before her expression went neutral and she sat back slightly. "Guillermo Villarreal, your people?"

Jim's expression went serious. "Ah, he an acquaintance?"

"I have many acquaintances," Esme said simply. Jim nodded.

"My condolences, a terrible crime. If you saw the news, it was two of my detectives who brought his killer in, that Michael Owen," Lucia's eyebrows tightened, his voice seemed to convey pride, if still soft.

"La negra," Esme said, "on the news."

"Detective Brenda desPlain, you saw," Jim's voice definitely conveyed pride in its firmness and it was clear he understood at least the odd Spanish word, "I chose her myself for the squad. Owen put her partner in the hospital in the fight but she kicked his ass and dragged it into court. Uh, um sorry."

Esme laughed. "No, Jim Pearson, do not apologize for describing the skill and bravery of those you send into danger. He was a gringo boy, that she kicked and dragged."

"And a killer, I don't care," Jim said with a firm tone. Esme smiled, and her posture relaxed.

Lucia's head bounced from Mama to this, this, gringo cop. And... her mother had leaned forward, just slightly, but with the dress's cut it offered, well, it offered a view to the taller man. Jim's glance and his smile made clear it'd been noticed, but not dwelt on. Mama's smile that she knew... and didn't move. Oh... shit. This was going... well?

"What do you do, Esme?" Jim asked.

"I, too, am an underpaid public servant," she said and both snorted, "I work for the library system, ESL and Meso-American collections."

"Ich spreche Deutsch," Jim said, "not so much use."

"You speak a second language," Esme said, "so much more than many."

"How long have you worked for the library?"

"A quarter century. Twenty-five years," sha said and stopped at his sudden smile and stiffer posture.

"Seriously? This is my twenty-fifth year on the city force here, although I guess it's not exactly twenty-five years I've been an officer," he said and tapped his nose, "spent a few years as a patrolman in Idaho before I moved here. This from my early days, arresting a few too many drunk and rowdy. I should get it fixed."

"No, Jim Pearson, you should not," Esme said and softened her posture and invited him to do likewise. "both of us, twenty-five years. The same year I arrived in this country and my daughter, who is beginning to seriously cramp my style here, was born."

"Uh, wha... Mama," Lucia said but Esme simply chuckled.

Everybody turned as Andy arrived with the drinks and a basket of sliced crusty bread and two small bowls, one of softened butter and one of olive oil.

"If you're not ready to order," he said in cheerful voice, "not a problem. We have all night. May I suggest our salt and pepper calamari, yes, I know, not an ocean nearby. Flown in, sorry it's not Friday, that's when we get our fresh fish. But the calamari and our onion rings."

"Drugs in the fish? OW!" Lucia said as Esme kicked her ankle under the table. Jim chuckled.

Andy grinned. His voice had an amused tone but with an edge of steel to it. "Ah, no. We're just BORING around here ninety-nine percent of the time. That was a special evening and we do a more thorough job of interviewing our chefs now."

Jim and Esme traded looks and she gave a tiny nod. He looked at Andy. "We'll take your advice on the appetizers. And we promise to look at the menu."

"Like I said, no rush. I'll be back in a bit and we can discuss tonight's specials," he spun on his right heel and strode away.

"Cramp your style?" Lucia asked.

"Well, be friendly with our gentleman guest," Esme said and she turned to look across the table, "and, Jim. Would you be willing to help me write my name later? If the evening warrants it, but the signs are good."

Lucia went straight and stiff. She stared at her mother.

Jim's face had a puzzled, but pleased, expression. "I would certainly be willing."

"Mama, you... can't."

"Si mi hija puede hacerlo," Esme said softly, then turned to Jim, "my daughter has lost her sense of adventure, now that she is married to a lovely man."

Lucia knew she'd failed to avoid the trout look this time. "Excuse me, little girl's room." She shifted the chair and squeezed out. Jim nodded at her as she left. Esme shrugged and looked at him and encouraged him to speak.

"Twenty-five years... all around," he said, "where were you born, Esme? We're both immigrants to this city, but my journey can't compare to yours."

"Restroom?" Lucia asked a waitress, who pointed to an area between the bar and entrance. Valerie's path intersected hers halfway there. Lucia smiled at the woman, who gave a broad smile and asked in a Spanish that Lucia recognized as Old Country. Born? Or simply very diligent schooling, since the schools always used that.

"Is it going well?"

"Going well? You... know? Did my husband, Jeremías, talk to you?"

"Ah, no. His name was mentioned, but a bit more indirect than that. Last time I got involved in, ah, matchmaking, things turned out a bit more exciting than they had any right to."

Lucia took a moment to register the comment. "The kidnapping."

"Yes, the little brunette, Tracy. Had a thing for one of my former chefs. Not the drug smuggling one. A good one."

Lucia stared at the woman. "Tracy? Brunette? She's... my intern, just started for the summer today. Was she involved?"

"Nah, it was one of the other police officers, a lady detective I'd met during that bit of trouble."

Jeremías would be getting some direct questions later, Lucia thought, but she just nodded for the woman.

"So, going well?" Valerie asked.

"Uh, yeah. Maybe... too well. Says I'm cramping her style. Says she's going to have him write her name."

"That sounds romantic. Depending."

"I never should've told her... when I first met Jeremías I... uh," she felt the heat rise in her face, "held his, uh, prick and used his pee to write my name. Most of it. The 'a' was kinda only half, he hadn't had enough water to drink."

Valerie took a moment, then grinned. "And after that?"

Lucia held her tongue between her teeth as it poked just past her lips. Shook her head slightly. She was pretty sure her cheeks weren't just hot but also red. Her complexion meant that if it became noticeable, things were... extreme. Like this.

"Well, I'm going to tell my chefs to take special care with your meals and that Jim gets plenty to drink. And... your table won't be getting a check. THIS time it's all going to work out."

Lucia groaned, shook her head, but then she shrugged and smiled. Valerie squeezed her shoulder and walked toward the kitchen entrance with clear if soft laughter.

*****

I hope you've enjoyed this tale. If you want the origin story of Lucia and Jeremy and the broader world of this story, that's here on Literotica in Chlorine Dreams. The infamous drug dealing chef, the gang and the kidnapping and its aftermath is in You Promised Me Geeks: Asha & Tracy. Detective Jim Pearson and his team star in Chasing Robes & Shadows.

For those and all of my stories, you can go to my PennameWombat Story page at the top or bottom of this or any page if you'd like to explore the stories around some of the folks mentioned here.