My Second Piece of Ass Ch. 15

{Real names have been changed; fictitious names have not.}

After nearly two weeks we were getting used to living with one another and sleeping together without having sex. Even after I came home from my motel date with Huley and decided to sleep in my own bed Laura joined me sometime during the night. She must have heard the shower running and known that I was washing Huley's scent down the drain.

On Saturday night she kissed me good night and said we should dream of playing Restraint as soon as the doctor gave us the OK. I told her I was counting the days, eight to be exact.

But while I was counting the days until we could have sex together again I was no longer looking forward to the day with excitement. Laura had told me she was going to give me a night to remember, after which she would go back to the brothel; back to that dark life that I had started to abhor.

What was hard for me to understand was her mention of boredom. Was it me? Was I boring? During the two weeks she had been at home I had spent as much time with Laura as I could spare. Was that boring to her? I had even cancelled a Saturday night date with Huley to help Laura entertain her new friend, Nadine, a former whore who had opted for the picket fence.

Each time I dropped her off at the end of the street it was becoming harder to let her go. Each time we parted I could see the pain in her eyes, the same pain I felt as I watched her tread along the street to the house that stood alone half way down the block. She would not turn until she reached the door, and then only briefly, to wave as if she was going to her nine to five job and would be home for supper.

"We have a lot to discuss this morning," Laura said as she came to me in the kitchen where I was making pancakes for breakfast.

"Good morning to you too," I said, still in the melancholy mood that had been with me since she announced that she was going back to work in eight days.

"What's gotten into you?" she asked, giving me a peck on the cheek and then on the lips. She was brushing her hair, wearing a sweatshirt over panties.

"Go put on some socks," I ordered in a gruff tone.

"What's wrong?"

"Am I such a drain? Do I bore you?"

"Oh, I see. It's because I'm going back to work in a few days. No, you're not a drain and it's not you that's made me bored. It's me," she said, peering up at me with that same sad concern that I knew so well.

"I am a drain. You're supporting me. I don't like it that I'm taking from you," I insisted.

Without a word Laura reached around me to turn off the burner and take my hands. Backing toward the bedroom she led me, eyes blazing with loving apprehension. At the bed she undressed me and shoved me backwards. Shedding the sweatshirt, she crawled on top of me. "Now tell me. What's really bothering you? You're not draining me and you're certainly not boring. What is it?"

I could feel her tits on my chest and her face next to mine. I kissed her shoulder. "It's getting harder and harder to say goodbye, to watch you walk from the corner to the brothel. I want you all to myself," I said, my voice strained and tears welling in my eyes.

Laura laughed. "Don't get mushy on me, not now. You've known all along how it is with us. You have me, I'm yours. Nothing else matters."

"Bull shit!" I couldn't help the outburst. She was acting like nothing had changed, like I was not supposed to care what she did with hundreds of guys, like I didn't care as long as she fattened our joint checking account so I could have a good time.

"Bull shit what? Don't you believe me? You're the only thing that matters to me. What else do I have to do to make you understand? Haven't I told you everything? Haven't I done everything to prove to you that......," she began to cry. Her shoulders quivered in my arms and I could feel her damp cheek next to mine.

"Ah shit, now I've upset you," I said, holding her, feeling like crap.

"What else must I say to make you understand? I've told you everything," she repeated.

"There's one thing you haven't told me."

Laura raised her head. Through teary eyes she shook her head and put a finger over my lips. She smiled sadly, pressing her finger to my lips.

I smiled back, somehow knowing that this was not the day to express our true feelings. I sucked her finger into my mouth and circled it with my tongue. She smiled and brought her moist cheek down next to mine. Nothing had been settled. Although I was still upset I was feeling better.

Soothing my feelings was only Laura's first order of business. As she had said, we had a lot to talk about.

My pancakes ruined, we had cereal for breakfast and Laura told me what was on her mind. She wanted me to call Jimmy and have him come by for a meeting. While I did the breakfast dishes she got dressed. When she came out of the bedroom she was wearing a simple light blue housedress and white shoes, neither of which I had seen before. She had even put some makeup on, something I had not seen her do for a long time.

"You look cute." I said, staring. "Is that a bra you have on?"

"Sylvia picked out the dress, you might know, she favors blue. And while she was in the shop she called me to get my shoe size. She remembered that I admired the shoes the nurses were wearing," she turned to show how well the dress fit, the shoes soles squeaking on the floor.

"It fit's," Sylvia exclaimed as she came through the back door. She was carrying a pastry box under her arm.

"I was just telling Randy that you picked out the dress. He said he could tell you had something to do with it because it was blue," Laura said to Sylvia.

I made coffee without commenting, not wanting to dispute Laura, knowing that she was having fun with me and Sylvia.

We were just sitting down to have pastry and coffee when Jimmy knocked on the door. Sylvia jumped up, preparing to leave.

But Laura put up her hand. "Stay, this concerns you," she said to the confused Sylvia.

First, Laura outlined the points that she wanted to discuss, the status of our business and its future.

"I've been looking at your books," she began as she handed Jimmy and I copies of reports entitled, 'Income and expenses,' which she had to explain to us because there were terms that I had not seen before.

She went on to congratulate us on the way the partnership was going, considering how much profit we were accruing and the amount of work we had ahead. Then she dropped the hammer.

"You're in the painting business, not construction," she said, leveling her eyes on me, then Jimmy. We both nodded.

"I told you this concerned you," Laura said to Sylvia.

She went on to say that she was proposing that we hire Charles to finish the two additions and we would give him help as we could. Jimmy was in full agreement, saying that he preferred painting. I went along, saying that I was sure that Charles would do a good job. Sylvia was ecstatic that her addition was finally going to be completed.

Later, after Jimmy was gone, Laura told me that Nadine had divulged to her that Charles was out of work and he was having trouble getting jobs. "I told her that was Jimmy's problem and that you had taken over the responsibility of keeping him and Davey busy,"

"You're not suggesting that I take on the responsibility of keeping Charles busy?"

Laura smiled that sisterly knowing way that I had come to expect. "Let's see how things work out with the additions," she said to Sylvia and me.

I kissed them both goodbye, saying that I was already late and hadn't bought a gift for Petri yet. Laura pinched my midsection. I was sure that Sylvia had opened her mouth slightly and kissed me back.

Two things struck me about the cars parked on the circular drive at the Pettersen home. They all had an 'Ollie's Auto' label on the rear bumper. Except for Huley's Corvette they were large four-door sedans.

"You didn't call," Huley said, stepping onto the porch before I could ring the doorbell. She was wearing a white party dress and white sandals. The dress had a bow in the back and ruffled sleeves. Her hair was piled back in a bun, the five small black combs holding it in place. She came close for a kiss.

"When was I supposed to call?" I asked, becoming defensive before we even got inside.

"You could have called last night. Or couldn't you tear yourself away from your sister's company?"

"You weren't home. Didn't you have a party to go to?"

"I didn't go. I stayed home and waited for you to call."

"How come you didn't go? I thought you were looking forward to going?"

Huley released the hold her arms had around my neck and stepped back, aghast, "that's what couples do. When one has to stay home with his sister the other one, me, stays home and waits for him to call," she said mischievously.

Petri came out and broke us up, taking my gift and thanking me with a dramatic kiss. She was dressed the same as Huley, except for her hair which hung loosely at her shoulders.

"What did you get her?" Huley wanted to know as we entered the house.

"It's just something I picked up in the drugstore," I said as she led me down the hall, toward the noise.

"Remember to call me Julita," Huley whispered to me as we approached the kitchen on the left and the family room on the right where most of the noise was coming from.

"Can't I call you Tess?"

Stopping in her tracks, Huley stuck her fist in my chest. "If I can call you my fucker," she said, grinning.

"Randy," we heard Rosita call from the kitchen, "come meet Aunt Clarisa."

"Mom," Huley complained as we stepped into the kitchen, "I get to introduce him; he's my boyfriend."

"Can't I introduce him just this once? He's my boyfriend too, aren't you Randy?" Rosita said, coming to me and patting my shoulder.

From the look in her eyes I thought she was going to kiss me but instead she took my arm and turned me to face the blond.

They both talked at once, saying that aunt Clarisa was Ollie's sister, dad's sister, Ollie's younger sister, dad's younger sister, the sibling that inherited the looks in the family.

Aunt Clarisa was wearing an apron over a white blouse that buttoned to the throat and a red skirt. I did not dare check below the skirt to see if my suspicions were correct, black shiny shoes with high heels and dark silk stockings with a perfect seam running up the back. We stood not three feet apart at eye level; hers were blue with a hint of freckles along her hairline. Huley released my arm long enough for us to shake hands. She smiled and said I know not what, too busy drinking in the way her left cheek dimpled while the right side puffed out.

Huley's grasp on my arm reminded me to close my mouth and let her drag me from the room, knowing that I would wonder for the rest of the day if I had said anything and if so what I had said. Knowing that I would dream of the woman, undress her to find sparsely spaced freckles on her shoulders and more freckles on her perfectly shaped tits than I could count in the thirty minutes I wanted desperately to spend alone with her. But I was dreaming.

Even as I let Huley lead me to the room full of people, I was dreaming, awakening when I heard Huley complain again, "Dad, I get to introduce him, he's my boyfriend."

Ollie was taking my jacket and slapping me on the back like I had just paid full price for one of his jalopies. Ollie paid no attention to Huley.

First, I met his mother, Julita's grandmother. Mrs. Pettersen resembled Ollie more than Clarisa. Her light hair was more gray than blond and her face had more frown lines than wrinkles made by smiles. Not bothering to switch her drink from her right hand, she presented her pink tinted left hand with a gigantic diamond on her ring finger.

Fortunately, I did not inquire about the man who had given her the ring. As I found out later, Mr. Pettersen had moved three states away soon after he had presented the ring in a failed attempt to reconcile.

Next was Uncle Phil, Ollie's brother-in-law. "If you need tires, Dunstand's is the place to go," Ollie was saying as the man with dark slicked down hair rose to take my hand. "Randy's in the painting business. He owes me an estimate to paint my shop, don't you Randy?"

I may have said something, I don't know. I was too stunned, thinking, how did this overweight tire man get the magnificent specimen in the kitchen to marry him? Huley's tug at my arm brought me out of my spell.

She pulled me past Petri and a young lad in a red coat to a couple seated on the other side of the room. Huley shoved me toward them, her hands on my back, stopping two feet in front of the couch. She peeked around my side, "Grandmother Hernandez, this is Randy."

The woman's aura captured my being. Both of her hands reached for mine and I was so captivated by her, by the irresistible twinkle in her eyes, by the serene smile and by the feel her hands gave me that I placed my left hand on hers to pat the soft loose skin and returned her gaze.

Huley owed her beauty to Maria Hernandez. The woman exuded a splendor that I yearned to know. Her pale skin was parched from the Arizona sun and the hair, long blond braids joined at the top of her head, had lost some of its luster but the woman was alive.

"Nana Maria, you're going to have to let Randy go. He hasn't met Papa Raff," Huley said. I felt her hip press against me in an effort to move me sideways.

"Nana's going to take your boyfriend," we heard Petri say, to which I felt a desperate push from Huley's hip, knowing that she had turned to her sister with a warning salvo at the same time.

Raphael Hernandez was just as affable as his wife although there was a reserved manner about him. He stood to shake my hand, showing a sparkle in his dark eyes and a set of stained teeth. His hair and mustache were almost black and his skin was dark and cracked.

"What would you like to drink?" Ollie was directly behind me but he sounded like he was announcing a reduction in the price of the Chevy that had been parked at the end of his lot for over two weeks. I turned and ask for a beer.

"Wait, he hasn't met Jerry," Petri announced from the side. It was true; Huley had stirred me past the young man in the red jacket. I turned and strode towards him as he stood. He was taller than me and he towered above Petri who stood with us. As I learned, Jerry was a neighbor and a member of the same high school class as Petri.

"Did you see Jake Trainer get hurt the other night? I heard it was pretty gruesome," Jerry asked.

"Yes it was," I answered. "Do you know him? Have you heard how he's getting along?"

"He's from our high school but no one seems to know."

"Was that Jake Trainer that got hurt?" Huley asked and I thought, aw shit.

"Didn't you go to the game?" Petri questioned her sister.

Huley looked like she had just choked on something. She gulped and looked at me, "you didn't tell me his name," as if it was my fault that she had opened her mouth.

"She wasn't paying attention," I said, trying to intercede before Huley gave away that we had not been at the game.

"What were you doing Huley?" Petri continued to pester her sister. "When dad asked her about the game she kept saying the score. She didn't say that Jake Trainer got hurt."

Huley grabbed my hand, "come on let's go up to my room."

She was dragging me toward the door when Ollie wanted to know where we were going.

"I'm going to change clothes," Huley said. "I can't stand this dress any longer.
"You don't need Randy for that," Ollie's voice was under control but firm.

"Yes I do, he's going to brush my hair," Huley argued.

Ollie showed us the blue vein again. "Brush your own hair," he said through clenched teeth, making Huley jump behind me as if she was using me as a shield against whatever action her father was about to take.

"What's this about?" It was Rosita. She was carrying a large bowl of salad. Clarisa was behind her, her hands full of rolls, butter and a tray of munchies. Indeed, her high healed shoes were shinny black and the seams at the back of her black stocking were perfectly straight.

"I'm going to change clothes and am taking Randy because we need to talk about something," Huley spoke up, addressing Rosita.

"She's going to change her clothes. She doesn't need him for that," Ollie also spoke directly to Rosita, his level of agitation having lessened.

"I told you," Huley was almost shouting, "we need to talk about something."

"It's Jake Trainer," we heard Petri say rather loudly, making us turn, silencing the room. "They need to talk," she said more quietly.

"We're eating in fifteen minutes, be back here, don't make us call you," Rosita said to Huley, and then turning to her husband for a two second stare before pushing past him to find the right spot on the table to place the salad.

Seeing Huley tug on my arm and seeing me look for a place to set my empty beer bottle, Ollie took it from me. He did not return my smile.

With me in tow Huley didn't stop running until the door was closed behind us. "Fifteen minutes," she said jumping into my arms and squashing her lips to mine. Then she was gone.

The dress was being lifted over her head as she walked to the closet at the far side of the room. She shook it out, placed it on a hanger and hung the dress in the closet before turning to me. Kicking off the sandals she did a deep knee bend to place them in the bottom of the closet.

The contrast between the white bra, panties and lace stockings against her brown skin captivated my eyes. I had not looked around her bedroom. Catching me watch her Huley grinned.

"You like?" She asked, spreading her legs before turning to reach for denim cutoffs which she stepped into, sticking her tongue out at me.

I was standing next to a brass bed with a colorful spread that contained shades of the light green shag carpet. The walls were covered with posters and pictures, some framed, other not. Her dressing table was white. Next to a small desk at the other side of the room was a door to the bathroom. From a drawer in her closet Huley took a T-shirt which she tossed on the bed as she came back to me.

"I'll wait to put it on until we have to go downstairs," she said, her arms around my neck again. "Should I wear the stockings or take them off? They really don't go with denim, do they?"

"I think they do. I like them," I answered. "Which shoes will you wear?"

"It doesn't matter. I'll put the sandals back on. It doesn't matter."

My sentiments exactly. The white bra was pressed against my chest. I agreed with her. "It doesn't matter."

"Take down my hair," she said, moving to the dressing table.

She watched me closely in the mirror as I removed the combs and dropped them on the table in front of her. I watched her facial expressions as the hair fell to her shoulders.

"You can take off the bra if you want," her eyebrows raised, questioning my desire. "But we can't fool around," she said, making me laugh as I watched her shake her head innocently.

"We better leave it on."

"You're right, no telling what it might lead to. I just thought you needed something to look at while you brush my hair."

"I have something to look at. I like watching you squirm with I hit a snag."

She returned my smile.

"You have a nice family," I said, thinking of how her grandmother Maria Hernandez and her aunt Clarisa had affected me.

"I guess they're okay. Nana Claudia can be a sour puss but the others are precious, don't you think?"

"Exactly," I answered, thinking of how well she had described the two women who had stolen my heart. "How come? What caused your grandmother to be a sour puss?"

"Oh, it's probably because my grandfather left. Mama says she ran him off but daddy doesn't talk about it so I really don't know. It's too bad."