Mouse Bk. 05 Ch. 01

Mouse felt singular amidst the crowd. She was the only one here alone. Families, children, young couples all talked, or walked together in smiling silence, or laughed openly beside her along the paths of the Lincoln Park Zoo. Still, she liked to come here, remembering their day here together, whenever she missed Michael.

It seemed so long ago.

One young couple walked slowly by, the father pushing a brightly colored stroller bearing a crying toddler, the mother pushing a stained and aging carriage with an infant. Mouse glanced furtively into the carriage at the baby. She'd never cared much for babies before, but she noticed them more and more now. That bothered her, yet she couldn't stop herself.

The poor guy, clearly exasperated and out of patience, struggled to quiet the needy boy, openly getting angry that he couldn't understand what the child wanted. Children were unreasoning and unreasonable, much like their fathers. Michael would be so much better with him, she thought. Michael had the patience of a saint.

Mouse, on the other hand, would probably leave the stroller here and just keep walking. Let the kid fend for himself if he was going to be a nuisance.

The woman was smiling at Mouse, who realized, with a touch of panic, that she'd been caught staring at the baby. To cover her discomfort, she asked the woman the baby's age, as if she cared.

"Three months."

So tiny. Three months old and so tiny and helpless. Mouse could do that, she thought. She could be a mother to an infant. With Michael's help, she could even deal with the toddler.

"She's cute."

Mouse tried to say it in a perfunctory, heartless way. She even tried to stifle her small smile as she said it, but she couldn't. It was true.

The mother beamed at her like an idiot. That's what happens when you become a mother, Mouse thought. Some little blob takes over your life, you spend every waking moment enslaved to it, while your brain turns to mush and you actually enjoy having your whole life superseded by the little tyrant.

"It's too bad they get older," the annoyed dad put in with an expression that was a cross between a grimace and grin.

"Yeah," Mouse and the woman chirped, almost in unison, but with the same, whimsical, far off tone.

Inside, Mouse panicked. She couldn't believe she'd just done that. She made a show of wishing the couple a pleasant day, then virtually ran for the exit.

This was all she needed to complicate her life, to actually want, to even consider raising a family of her own. How could she possibly, ever want a baby?

* * *

"I still can't believe it, Michael. Law school. My Doug is going to be a lawyer."

Michael smiled into the table, happy for Doug, but unwilling to actually smile at his sister over her gloating proclamations. She was also a liar. She most certainly could believe it. She would never have accepted anything less from or for her perfect son.

Not that her ambitions for him were a bad thing. She'd raised a good kid. A good man, he corrected. She'd raised a fine man.

That part bugged Michael. He'd been around, in the wings, watching it all unfold for all these years. He got to be the fun uncle. He could play basketball with the boys, then run and hide whenever he wanted, being asked for and taking no responsibility in the whole process.

He and his wife had tried, and failed, to start their own family. They'd tried for some time. Their failure was ultimately for the best, seeing how that marriage wound up, although the lack of children may itself have lead, at least in part, to the painful friction that tore their marriage apart. It was all so hard to tease apart from the mess they'd created.

That knowledge didn't make up for the emptiness, though. Michael would have loved to have had a son. He knew exactly the sort of dad he would have been. He would have given the kid guidance, yes, but space, too, room to breathe. He'd always felt, feared, that he had let his own dad down. He knew how hard Melanie had pushed Doug. The poor kid was terrified of being anything less than Super Son.

Michael wouldn't do that to his kid.

"I wonder what kind of law he'll like?" Melanie asked, while chopping up celery for the tuna salad.

Michael rolled his eyes at her back. As if the poor boy had any choice. Whatever would be most impressive and lucrative was the answer.

When he didn't say anything, she turned sharply to look at him. Michael blushed as he realized he'd been caught staring at her ass, even though this thoughts were elsewhere. She had a nice figure, especially for a woman her age and size. He'd always admired her figure. And she caught him doing it often enough, but he hated it and blushed every damn time it happened.

She grinned at him in her usual way, with faux shock and a not even remotely hidden glow of pride. Before he could make a show of looking away, she turned away herself, still smiling, to scoop the diced celery into the bowl. As if in revenge, he just kept staring at her ass, very purposefully admiring the smooth curve of the tight if conservative dress hugging her left breast.

She wore a lot of tight clothes, lately, or blouses open a little too far, and even tighter, shorter skirts. It was out of character for her, for sure. She'd definitely been loosening up, almost advertising her beauty. It wasn't just that she looked good. She had always, always looked good. Melanie couldn't be seen by anyone, ever, without her hair and makeup and clothes perfect, proper, and presentable. She always looked sharp.

But lately she'd been appearing down right sexy. At least, he hoped it was her, and not just his own perception of her. Certainly, he looked at her very differently these days, a little more like a man looking at a woman and less like a brother looking at a sister. A normal brother looking at a normal sister, he corrected.

He made a mental note of the whole puzzle, of Melanie's changes in behavior, vowing to remember to ask Mouse what was up the next time they talked. Mel seemed to be telling Mouse a lot, lately. Mouse would know, or at least have a guess.

"He's going to be home more often now, he says. He's bored with school. His classes this last semester are apparently embarrassingly easy, so my baby's coming home lots of weekends. He thinks it will be to relax, but I'll make him do the chores I've been asking you to do. He'll wish he'd taken more useful classes."

"Don't be so hard on him. Didn't you take easy courses, at the end? Didn't you have other things to do?"

Melanie stopped for a moment, frozen in the act of scooping a tablespoon of mayonnaise from the jar. The pose lasted only a moment.

"I suppose I did. I'm not blaming him. I'm saying it will be nice to see him more often. A few weekends, and then one whole summer. It's probably the last time my little baby will be living in the house ever again."

"Oh, now don't get all soppy on me. It's not your style."

Melanie spun around, to lean easily back against the countertop. She inhaled deeply, ballooning her gorgeous chest even further out than usual. Michael held his breath with her, but for other reasons.

"You have no idea what is or isn't my style, young man," she scolded.

She turned quickly back to the task of preparing their lunch. Once it was done, Michael had to get back to the task of sealing and painting the deck for her. Dan couldn't do it. He'd been out of town too often, lately, for work, or taking Rick to look at colleges. So little brother had to be a surrogate house husband, doing assorted chores for Melanie.

It was probably a fair exchange for her services in redecorating his own house.

She came over to him with his sandwich, using that damn, nice, natural sway of her hips when she walked.

"My baby, the lawyer, living on his own, away from mommy. Who would ever have thought we could actually get to this point?"

Michael took a bite of the sandwich, so he wouldn't have to answer, while grimacing inside at her nauseating mommy and baby lingo.

Not we, he thought, you. You and Dan. He had never gotten to that point.

* * *

"Sweetheart."

"Yes, Six-Pack?"

Melanie nuzzled into his chest, comfortably warm in the afterglow of their lovemaking.

"I want to try something new."

"In bed?"

"What else?"

"Go ahead. Just do it. I trust you."

Melanie kissed his chest three times, lingering a little longer with each kiss.

"Are you sure? You have no idea what I might be thinking."

"It's worked out great for me so far."

"I want to have another woman join us."

Melanie could feel Dan tense beneath her. She looked up at him hopefully.

"You're serious."

"Yes."

He held her gaze, then closed his eyes, visibly relaxing his features.

"Why? For me?"

"Yes. And for me."

She knew he would look at her then, to see for himself if that was true.

"I never knew you thought about other women."

"I haven't, in a long time. I'm not, not just me and a woman. Both of us. I'll be jealous, I think, but I think I can trust you. I won't lose you to her, whoever we find."

"How do you go about finding someone for a threesome? Nancy?"

"No!"

Melanie snapped it a little too quickly. She silently calmed herself. She didn't want to come across as insecure.

"No, no one we know. I have to find someone else, somehow. I don't know how. I'm working on it."

"You're already working on it?"

Melanie looked up at him again, with a shy, mischievous smile.

"Just a bit. Doing research, sort of. So, if I can find someone, and that's a big if... if I can find someone, I think it might be fun. Is it a yes?"

Dan reached down to pull her lips up to his. Melanie melted into him, her nipples hardening against his chest throughout the kiss. By the time it was over, she'd decided it had to be soon. She was too easily and thoroughly excited by the whole idea.

<8 Cause and Effect

Melanie sat in her car in the parking lot at the local community college, watching pretty, young coeds hurry between classes, or to and from their cars. It brought back memories. She had always looked back on her college years as a period of both fun and adventure, and embarrassing regrets.

In high school, Melanie had always been the mature, conservative leader type. She'd been valedictorian, and captain of the girl's basketball team. She almost lead them to a state championship. She was the big sister and part mother to her struggling, insecure little brother and their fiery, precocious little, little sister. Being fourteen years older than Mouse, she truly was almost a mother to her. At least, that was how Melanie saw herself.

In high school, Melanie had taken everything on her shoulders. She was the oldest in her class, too, and by far the tallest girl. Everyone looked to her for leadership, her classmates, her teammates, her siblings, her teachers, everyone. Everyone put the weight of everything on her shoulders, and she learned to bear it.

Then college came, and Melanie was free. She was no longer the oldest. Her needy siblings were gone. Just as suddenly the college boys, or "men" as she'd thought them at the time, saw her as sexually appealing. That had never happened before. In a class of a few hundred, she'd always been the tall, athletic, daunting one, a "big" girl, never sexy and desirable.

When all of the girls began to mature, and Melanie most certainly had matured in a noticeable way, Melanie was still always too tall and too strong for a high school boy. Size was just unattractive. She watched in growing humiliation as all of the girls around her got dates and boyfriends. They all kissed someone.

The only three guys in high school that were really big enough to want Melanie, and to appeal to her own tastes, were off limits. One had no interest in her and was dating her best friend, a petite little vixen. He had always gone for tiny, fiery, flirtatious girls like Mouse eventually turned out to be.

The second guy was a huge jerk, who also went for the petite little ones. What was it with big guys and tiny women?

The last was her tall, muscular baby brother. So Melanie went through high school alone and dateless.

But then college came. Melanie discovered both alcohol and sex. She discovered them both in a big way, all at once. Suddenly she had no boundaries. She liked drinking. She liked sex. She let all the guys know she liked drinking, and liked sex, and was always available.

When she drank, she wasn't in control, and she didn't want to be. She let them take control. She let herself be a play thing. She was tall, but she was athletically built, curvaceous, and well endowed, and very openly eager to learn and to please. She had no shame in letting the boys know it. She had finally experienced sex.

And she loved it.

It didn't help that she'd also discovered alcohol at the same time, and that with her size and build she could hold her liquor, or mostly hold her liquor. At least, she rarely passed out. What she couldn't stop were the effects of alcohol on her lust, and her judgement. Alcohol made Melanie unbearably horny, and it freed her to do and try things she could never do sober.

A lot of guys quickly figured out that after just a few drinks, Melanie would be anyone's love slave, or rather, anyone's lust slave.

Now, looking back, she felt like a fool. She felt used, and sullied, but at the same time she missed the attention. She missed the sex. She missed the free, young feeling of being desired and handled and taken and wantonly available and pleasurably used. She missed, she had to admit, acting like Mouse, or more appropriately, worse than Mouse.

Prim, proper Melanie, always in control, both regretted and missed being a self-indulging slut.

It had taken a lot of work, after college, to mend her own self image, to regain control of herself and her life, and everything else. It had taken a lot of work to stop drinking, too. That had almost become a serious problem. A few very dangerous events had been necessary to jolt her into addressing that.

Melanie started the engine. Coming here, watching the girls, hoping to meet one, had seemed like a good idea. She knew at least some of them had to behave like she had, to be what she had been. But there was no way to pick them out. She had no real plan, no idea of how to approach them.

Melanie pulled out of the parking lot, frustrated, but promising to herself to wait longer before calling Mouse for more advice.

* * * * *

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