Mary's Innocent Passion

"Which is?"

"Helping poor people. Reaching out to folks who need assistance, but aren't quite sure how to get it." Her voice softened as she gazed into Mary's eyes. "People who are too proud to beg."

Mary opened her mouth, not quite sure what she was going to say, when Rebecca came into the kitchen holding a box. "Can we play a game, Mommy?" she asked.

She slanted a look at Evey, unsure as to whether this would be a welcome activity on a Friday night. The dark-haired woman shrugged cheerfully. "No problem here," she said.

"Okay, sweetheart," she replied to Becca. "Just let Mommy finish up, okay? Why don't you show Evey around?"

*****

Eveline let Rebecca guide her around the small apartment, first showing her the bedroom the two girls shared, with bunkbeds stacked against one wall and a mass of brightly-colored pillows on the floor. The room looked bright and cheerful, a welcome contrast to the drab beige walls of the apartment.

"That's Mommy's room," Rebecca said, pointing at a closed door as they came back out into the hall. "And here are our books," she continued, pulling her into the living room. Two battered bookcases rose from floor to ceiling, jammed with books. One was obviously for the children, with Dr. Seuss and other children's authors taking prominence. The other was just as obviously for Mary. Evey ran her fingers along the titles, smiling as she saw some old friends lurking in the crowd. Mary's taste was eclectic, and none of the books looked new. Many obviously had been rescued from garage sales or flea markets, with prices scrawled on bits of masking tape still stuck to the spines.

A lower shelf held a series of high-school textbooks on all sorts of subjects, from biology to American history to mathematics. She wondered at that. Why would Mary keep these? On the day she graduated from Wake Forest, she had dumped most of her schoolbooks in the nearest recycling bin and never looked back.

Despite the threadbare surroundings, the apartment was painfully neat, as if in defense against the chaos of the world outside. The carpet was clean, the walls and shelves free from dust and cobwebs. Even the books in their bookshelves were lined up in alphabetical order and so straight and even Evey could have used them as a ruler.

"All done," Mary said, emerging from the kitchen and wiping her hands dry on a dishrag. "Ready to play?" she asked Rebecca, who agreed enthusiastically. "Good. We can play a game and listen to the radio before it's time for bed."

She switched on a small radio that was nestled in one corner, and classical music began to play softly. For the first time, Evey was struck by the almost complete lack of electronics in the apartment. Mary had a cell phone, she knew. But aside from that - no television, no DVR or DVD player, no computer, no laptop or iPad or any of the other gadgets people seemed to think they needed in the twenty-first century. The effect was actually quite restful. There were no distractions. Nothing to keep them away from concentrating on each other.

As they set up the game of Chutes and Ladders, she mentioned the fact to Mary, who nodded. "I don't have a TV, and can't afford one right now. I would like to get a computer sometime soon. It would help with a lot of things.

"But I don't want the girls exposed to too much. Some of the kids my sitter watches just sit in front of the TV all day, with their mouths hanging open." She demonstrated, earning a chuckle from Evey at her slack-jawed expression. "I don't want Becca or Debbie to end up like that. And some of the things you see on the internet..." she left the rest of the sentence unsaid, grimacing with distaste.

They played with Rebecca, Eveline smiling at the little girl's glee when her little figure was able to climb up a ladder, or her crestfallen expression when she had to slide down a chute. Halfway through the game, Debbie toddled over to her from where she had been playing with a pile of blocks.

She held out her arms to Evey. "Up," she demanded.

Evey smiled down at her. "Okay, Miss Bossy," she agreed, lifting her into her lap. Once there, the little girl snuggled close in apparent contentment, her nest of golden curls bright against the wine-red blouse she was wearing.

Mary won the first game, and Rebecca demanded a rematch. "All right," her mother said. "One more. Then it's time for bed."

Stuck for a conversational topic as the game went on and Rebecca's game piece rapidly ascended the board, Evey opted for a discussion about clothes. "That's a lovely dress," she said, eying Mary's clothing admiringly. "Where did you get it?"

The younger woman looked down at her hands. "I made it myself."

"Really?" She asked permission with a glance, then fingered the warm cotton fabric, the color the green of new leaves in spring. It had a high neckline and long sleeves, but clung to Mary's curves appealingly. "It's beautiful. You should think about looking into work as a dressmaker. I bet you could get a good job at one of those bridal shops, if this is any indication of what you can do."

Mary's fists clenched on the table. "I...I don't know. I make clothes for me and the girls because I have to. Not because I really enjoy it."

Evey nodded as she spun the dial and moved her piece, unwilling to push her. "I understand. But if you play your cards right, you could make a lot more money than you do waiting tables. You might want to think about it."

Mary nodded, but let the subject drop. They talked of inconsequential things as they played. Evey sipped her second (and last) glass of wine, and tried to keep her eyes from wandering over Mary's body in blatant admiration.

She was gorgeous, she decided. Simply gorgeous. Her face was pale, but her lips were full and pink, and her eyes were an arresting shade of dark blue. Her long blond hair tumbled in ringlets past her shoulders. Her waist was slim, and although her dress was much longer than was currently fashionable, Evey had caught enough glimpses of her legs to think they would be more than presentable.

And her breasts! Despite, or perhaps because of, the way her dress hid them, Evey couldn't keep her eyes away. Not overwhelmingly large, but high and full. She swallowed, pulling her mind away from the fantasy of peeling the dress off Mary's ripe young body and kissing every luscious inch.

She took a last sip of wine, and was startled at the way her hand trembled as she set down the glass.

Oh, girl, she thought to herself. This is such a bad idea. The poor kid is obviously damaged goods, and is holding things together through sheer cussedness, willpower, and grit. One more tough blow and she might shatter. Do you really want to be the one who has to pick up the pieces?

Hah. Do you even have to ask the question? Yes. Why did you get into social work anyway? It wasn't for the high pay and the prestige, I can tell you that. This girl is a perfect example of why you do what you do. And you don't have to tell her about your nefarious scheme to get into her pants unless you want to.

A happy shout broke her concentration and she jumped. While she had been lost in her thoughts, Rebecca had won the game.

"I won, I won," she chanted, jumping off her chair and dancing. At her mother's stern look, she seemed to remember her manners. "Thank you for playing with us, Evey," she said politely.

"You're welcome, dear." she replied, smiling at her. She shifted, suddenly aware that Debbie had fallen asleep in her lap.

"Time for bed," Mary said, standing up. She lifted Debbie out of Evey's arms, and Evey stood up and stretched.

"I should go," she said, glancing at her watch and surprised to see it was nearly ten o'clock. The evening had slipped away while she barely noticed.

Mary nodded, though her eyes were sad. "Do you want to take any of the food home with you?" she asked.

She shook her head. "No way." She slapped her belly. "A few more meals like that and I won't fit in my clothes anymore. Though I'm sure you could make some more for me."

She pulled her jacket on and let Mary walk her to the door. She paused, the doorknob in her hand.

Nothing ventured...

"Listen," she said quietly, pitching her voice low, out of earshot of Rebecca. "It's none of my affair, and you can tell me to mind my own business if you want to. But my job is to help people who are struggling. And if there is one person I've met in this town in the last three years who fits that description, it's you. I don't know your story. And I'm not asking for it. But I think I can help you get some help and make your life a little bit easier.

"Why don't you come over to my place tomorrow? Bring the girls. You can tell me what you're willing to tell. And I can see what kind of public aid you're eligible for."

Mary was quiet for a long moment, and Evey feared she had overplayed her hand. Finally she nodded as need overcame her reluctance.

"All right," she said quietly. "I know I need help. I've been trying to keep it together, but it's so hard right now. The money's gone, and there's never enough time, and-" For a split-second, her composure cracked, and her glorious blue eyes pooled with tears.

"Shhh," Evey said, pulling her into a warm embrace. She rubbed her back as the younger woman trembled in her arms. "It's okay. It's all going to be okay." Before her hug could turn into anything more, and she destroyed the fragile trust which had grown between them, she pulled away. Perhaps it was her imagination, but she thought that Mary's arms were somewhat reluctant to let her go.

She pulled a scrap of paper out of her purse and scribbled her address on it. "Come on over anytime tomorrow. I don't have any plans, anyway. I was just going to veg out in front of the TV, and maybe get some reading done."

Mary nodded. "I will."

Eveline smiled, then gave her another quick hug goodbye. She gave the watching Rebecca a wave, and closed the door behind her.

*****

"Time for bed," Mary said, forcing cheer into her voice, as the door closed. She looked at the cheap Timex she wore on her wrist. "It is time for little girls to be asleep."

"Can we have a story, first?"

"One story," she said firmly, having learned from experience how good Becca was at wheedling extra tales out of her. "Then it's lights-out. We've had a big day today."

She lifted Deborah from the couch where she had laid her and carried her into the girls' bedroom. She had just put her in the lower bunk and pulled the covers up over her sleeping form when Becca came back into the room, lugging a book almost as big as she was.

"The World's Best Fairy Tales," she read the title. She cocked an eyebrow at her oldest daughter. "Okay. But I get to pick the story. No scary ones tonight. A nice short one with a happy ending." She moved a couple of cushions around, then leaned up against the wall, with Becca snuggling up beside her so she could look at the pictures. The book was over seven hundred pages long, and had every fairy-tale she had ever heard of, and some she had not.

She flipped through the pages. Ah. Here we go. "'As long ago as forever,'" she began, "'and as far away as yesterday, there was an ugly duckling...'"

By the time the story was over, Becca was half asleep.

"Am I an ugly duckling, Mommy?" she asked drowsily, as she climbed up the ladder and into the top bunk.

"Of course not," Mary replied. She kissed the warm cheek and pulled the blankets up over her. "You are my beautiful angel, you and your sister.

"Now good night and dream sweetly. I love you."

"I love you too, Mommy."

*****

I know who the ugly duckling is, she thought, as she dried off from her shower. She kept her eyes away from the bedroom mirror. She didn't much care for the sight of her own reflection.

Still, as she turned off her bedroom light and lay down in her own cold, narrow bed, a knot of tension which she had carried around for years began to loosen. The night had been a welcome respite in a life which had become a long, slow slog towards an unknown destination. For so long her life had revolved around work and money and bills and the girls that she had all but forgotten the necessity of friendship.

Eveline had changed that. The woman charged through life fearlessly, and forced her to come along with her, or be left behind in her wake. Mary remembered the way she had casually mentioned that she had a female lover when she was Mary's age, as if it were a matter of no consequence, instead of the blackest, foulest sin imaginable.

No. You left that behind. They were wrong. You know that. Don't fall back into their way of thinking.

Her face warmed in the dark as her mind lingered on Eveline's elegant form. The older woman was everything she dreamed of becoming. The effortless way she wore her expensive clothes, the way she carried herself, her self-confidence -- Mary ached to have that sort of poise.

And she made her ache in other ways, as well. She turned over on her side, the heavy comforter suddenly seeming hot and confining. She closed her eyes, willing sleep to chase away the sinful images inside her mind.

At last she rose up, throwing off the covers and sitting propped against the headboard. She undid the straps of her thin nightgown and let it pool around her waist. She cupped her right breast in her palm, the weight of it heavy in her hand. In the dim light coming through the window, she could see her nipple rising high and proud.

"Oh," she sighed as her fingers lightly stroked the taut nubbin of flesh. It felt so good! She closed her eyes, giving way to pleasure. In her mind's eye, Evey stood in front of her, slowly unbuttoning her blouse. Her hands drifted lower as she imagined her breasts coming into view, followed soon after by the rest of her spectacular body.

They kissed, and Mary trembled with longing. Her free hand stole surreptitiously between her legs.

No need to be ashamed any longer, she insisted to herself, trying to drive away the memories. The fury of Brother Elijah when he caught her touching herself in the bathroom. The carefully blank faces of her sister-wives as she was marched naked out the door into the raw February wind. The sting of the whipthin tree branch, used as a lash across the tender skin of her thighs and calves. The way she couldn't walk for over a week afterward. The sick, gleeful gloating of Brother Ezekiel when he took her the next night, hard and brutal, his cock tearing at her fragile insides.

No!

She shook her head from side to side. Never again! I will not let myself be used like that again!

As if declaring her independence, she pushed her hand between her legs. Her nether lips were hot and slick with arousal. She circled the small nubbin of flesh with her index finger, groaning as pleasure coursed through her body. Her legs sagged apart, and she imagined Evey was there, doing wonderful, unimaginable things to her. Her thighs shook, her hips slowly rolling her womanly mound upward to meet her hand.

Her breath was loud and panting in her ears as her pleasure grew. Suddenly, she halted, as the muscles in her belly and her womb seemed to lock and loosen, all at the same time. A deep, wrenching groan emerged from between her clenched teeth, and she sagged back in to the mattress in sudden release. Stars glittered behind her closed eyelids, and she felt the hot track of tears flow down her cheeks.

Not guilty. I am not guilty. This is not a sin. This is right and natural. I will not feel ashamed. It is my body, not theirs.

In the dark, she forced a tremulous smile to her lips, driving back the shadows of her own memories. She slipped out of her nightgown and, her bare body singing in contentment, spiraled down into a deep, dreamless sleep.

*****

The next day, Evey waited impatiently for Mary's arrival. By the time four o'clock rolled around, she was checking outside every few minutes, and wondering if the younger woman had decided not to come. She mulled over the idea of calling her to find out, then put it firmly aside.

You've got her trusting you a little bit now, Eveline Rose Kershaw. Don't blow it by acting like some dumb teenager, full of hormones. If you come on too strong, all you'll do is scare her away.

Luckily for her state of mind, Mary showed up a few minutes later, the noise of her rattletrap Buick unmistakeable as it pulled into her driveway. Eveline exited the house to help her with the girls, the two of them removing the blond-haired twosome from their carseats as if they had been working together all their lives.

"I'm sorry we're late," Mary said, as the two of them climbed up the stairs to Evey's condo. "We went to the library this afternoon for one of their reading programs. They had a woman dressed up as a princess reading 'Cinderella,' and Becca was just entranced. I wouldn't have been able to get her out of there with a crowbar. When she was done she went up to her and asked her questions about her dress and her tiara and everything. I'm pretty sure I know what she wants to be next Halloween."

"Well, all girls go through a princess phase," Evey said good-naturedly. "Lord knows I did. Though for me it was Jasmine from 'Aladdin'. I wanted a pet tiger like she had for Christmas, and was very upset when I didn't get one."

She opened the front door. "Here we are. It isn't much, but it's home."

Mary gasped.

"My goodness, Evey. I know you said you were rich, but..."

"We prefer the term 'well-off.' Or 'comfortable.' Or even 'well-to-do,'" she replied as she led them into the condominium. "Stating you are actually rich is so...so gauche, don't you know. Rich people don't need to tell each other how rich they are. They leave that to sad little upstarts like Donald Trump."

"So, how 'well-off' is your family?" Mary asked weakly, taking in the polished hardwood floors, the high ceilings, the modern furnishings, and the deep-pile carpet in the living room, just to the right of the foyer. She glimpsed a huge, high-definition TV screen, surrounded by what appeared to be a stateof-the-art entertainment system. To her left, a pair of stairways wound both up and down, apparently to a basement and to the bedroom (or bedrooms?) on the second floor. Past them was a kitchen, with stainless-steel fittings and polished granite countertops.

"Oooh," said Debbie happily as she walked into the living room. She fell to her knees, plunging her fingers into a strange object.

"Is that...a bearskin rug?"

"Yes." Evey sighed and smiled. "My brother sent it to me last Christmas. His idea of a joke."

Mary swallowed. Unbidden, a vision came to her mind of Evey lolling naked on the rug, her black hair spread like a fan across the white fur.

"How rich are you?" Her voice sounded plaintive in her own ears.

"Well, we're not Bill Gates rich," said Evey laconically, as the children's footsteps thumped off into the distance. "But we get by, somehow. My grandfather was fond of me when I was a little girl. I was a tomboy, and loved fishing with him and taking hikes in the woods. I think he had a premonition that I was going to butt heads with my parents at some point. So he put a big chunk of his money in a trust fund for when I turned twenty-one. If I wanted to, I could just live on the interest for the rest of my life."

She made a face. "I'm not going to, though. I've got too much pride to end up just another useless drone, like half the kids I went to boarding school with." She shook her head. "There's something wrong about being sixteen years old and having nothing to live for, because everything you could possibly want has already been given to you."

She smiled at Becca, who was had scampered up to stand beside her mother. "Would you and Debbie like to watch a movie on my TV?"