Painting Pearls

"Wow, on the first try!" Carrie marveled.

"Yes, Mother, I really should go to college," Priscilla shook her head.

Much to Priscilla's relief, Carrie asked if she could take a shower; it had been four days since they'd had water at the house. Priscilla agreed and Carrie dashed into the bathroom, slamming the door behind her.

The local news was on and Priscilla lay back on the king sized bed and idly watched the two newscasters, a bland looking man and a bland looking woman, both with too much makeup on, chattering back and forth about their plans for the weekend.

"And Honey Bee, the radio personality from K. I. T. N, the kitten that roars will be at Brick's Pizzeria on Fontenot Road, showing how to make the perfect cheesecake," the woman prattled.

"Love cheesecake," her male co-anchor smiled.

"She'll be at the Brick's Pizzeria at two thirty tomorrow afternoon. Its five dollars for a piece of cheesecake and the proceeds will go to the Make a Wish Foundation," the woman said.

The sportscaster was chattering about the stunning defeat of the Myndee Blue Jays by the Connelly Cougars baseball team when the door of the bathroom opened.

"Sorry," Carrie said, blushing hotly as she came out in a small camisole top and thong panties. "It's all I got that's clean."

"Sorry about what? It's cute on you," Priscilla said.

The top revealed spindly pale arms and shoulders with some light freckling. The hem of the top did not reach the waistband of Carrie's panties; Priscilla saw that Carrie's belly was very thin, very pale. Her navel was a slit in Carrie's concave flesh.

Her breasts were mere bumps in her skimpy top; Priscilla guessed that Carrie probably wore a 28A bra, if she wore a bra at all. In the chilled air of their room, Carrie's nipples were two bullet points in the top.

Carrie's legs were long, thin, very pale. They looked almost coltish.

"Now, what you like on your pizza?" Priscilla asked, pulling her cell phone out.

The pizza came while Carrie was drying her hair. Priscilla set the pizza onto the table and grabbed the ice bucket.

"Zeke hates Brick's; don't know why; I love their sauce," Carrie enthused when Priscilla returned. "And thank God they got real Coke; hate Pepsi but that's all Darlene ever gets."

Priscilla made a show of looking around the small room. She even lifted a corner of the bed spread and peered underneath the bed.

"Well, don't see neither one them here so I say we get what we want. What you think?" Priscilla said, grabbing a slice of the pizza.

Carrie laughed, a pretty little tittering laugh. Priscilla poured them each a cupful of the cola and Carrie guzzled the drink down.

Eating and drinking did not stop Carrie's mouth. And she chattered about nothing of any importance.

Priscilla stopped after the fourth piece. Carrie hesitated, looking at Priscilla.

"Go ahead, Carrie, finish it up," Priscilla said gently. "Why I got us an extra-large. Figured you'd be pretty hungry."

"Thank you," Carrie whispered, a single tear forming.

Carrie finished the pizza and also drank more than half of the bottle of cola. Priscilla idly flipped through the channels; there wasn't much showing on Friday evenings. She dropped the remote onto the bed and went into the bathroom.

"Oh, hey, says they got movies," Carrie called out.

"Good God; do you ever shut up?" Priscilla smiled.

Seeing the wadded up dirty clothes in the corner, Priscilla shook her head. Priscilla would not call herself a 'neat freak' but she did believe in putting her things away. Of the many arguments she and her mother may have had, Priscilla's untidiness was not one of those.

Priscilla exited the bathroom and saw two blonde women kissing one another, large boobs pressed against large boobs. Carrie gave a guilty squeak.

"They uh, there's free movies with the room," Carrie said, trying to locate the remote control. "And this is what was on."

"Hmm? Oh, okay," Priscilla nodded and located her pajamas. "You want watch that, that's fine."

"My sister's married. To another woman," Carrie blurted out as the two blondes on the screen swung into a sixty nine.

"Uh huh," Priscila said, stripping out of her clothing.

"She even has a baby," Carrie supplied.

"Your sister?" Priscilla asked, watching the two blonde lesbians licking at each other's pussies.

The action on the screen was obviously fake; the two lovers barely touched one another with their tongues. Their moans were also obviously manufactured groans of pleasure.

Carrie watched as Priscilla pulled on her long tee shirt. Priscilla tore her eyes from the television and looked at Carrie.

"Uh huh, named him Brad; we had an older brother, brad, but he died," Carrie said as the scene changed and showed two women using vibrators on one another.

"Oh. Sorry for your loss," Priscilla said, not knowing what else to say.

"Died way before I was born," Carrie said, now watching the dildo action. "But uh, what you think about that?"

"Well, like you said, happened before you were born," Priscilla said, slumping back against her pillows.

"No, no, I mean, about my sister and Gracie being married?" Carrie asked, tearing her eyes away from the television again.

"Well, what do YOU think about it?" Priscilla asked as Carrie peered over her shoulder at her.

"I uh, I don't know, I mean, it's kind of weird, you know? I mean, Nancy used be living with this guy, and next thing I know, she's marrying this woman," Carrie said, face flaming hotly. "I mean, I didn't even know she was, you know..."

Carrie mouthed the word 'gay.' Priscilla smirked and Carrie turned to look at the television again.

"Well, I mean, does it make you uncomfortable? Does it make you think less of her?" Priscilla pressed. "Your sister being gay?"

"I uh, I don't know," Carrie whispered.

"Would it make you uncomfortable if I told you I'm gay?" Priscilla asked.

"Where did that come from?" Priscilla asked herself, noticing Carrie's body tense. "I've never even kissed another woman and I'm telling this girl I'm gay?"

"I uh, I mean, I uh, wait. Are you really?" Carrie stammered.

"Am I?" Priscilla asked herself. "Looking at all the dicks I've sucked."

Carrie again looked away from the television and looked at Priscilla. Priscilla did not look at Carrie; she was staring at the ceiling.

"All the dicks I...and hated every God damned minute of it, even Paul," Priscilla thought, thinking of the young man she'd almost married.

"I uh, well, I mean..." Carrie said and lapsed into silence.

"Mean, THAT shut you up?" Priscilla almost laughed.

"I, uh, it okay I change this?" Carrie asked almost five minutes later.

"Go ahead; I'm not watching it," Priscilla said softly.

"Ew, oh gross, God! That's just wrong," Carrie exclaimed.

Priscilla looked up in time to see a large breasted red head sucking a black cock. Carrie again brought up the menu. Priscilla watched as the small arrow scrolled upward, highlighting the selections.

"And, wonder..." Carrie said, hitting 'enter' when 'Gang Bang' was highlighted.

They were just in time to see a large breasted brunette using a strap-on cock on a large breasted blonde. A blond man entered the screen and began to fuck the blonde's mouth with an incredibly large cock. The brunette pulled her cock from the blonde's gaping pussy and knee-walked behind the man.

"Ugh! Wonder if that's why Darlene has that..." Carrie grunted as the brunette began to fuck the blond man's ass with her large strap-on cock.

Carrie nervously looked over her shoulder at Priscilla. Priscilla simply shrugged and lifted the corner of the bedspread.

"Been a long day for me," Priscilla said. "Good night."

"Good night," Carrie agreed.

A moment later, Priscilla heard Carrie say, "And thank you so much."

"Welcome," Priscilla mumbled.

When she woke at five thirty, the television was still on. And it was showing lesbian action. Priscilla looked over at Carrie. The red head was sleeping peacefully, face only a few inches away.

They were in a large king sized bed; there was no need for Carrie to be so close to Priscilla. She gave a small smile; Carrie was cute when she was asleep. She knew, most girls objected to the word 'cute' but it was appropriate here. Carrie wasn't pretty, she wasn't beautiful.

Carrie's ankle length carrot orange hair framed her pale face. From the light of the television, Priscilla could see just a light smattering of freckles on the girl's pale cheeks. Her eyes, Priscilla knew, were large, light brown eyes underneath a light orange brow. Her nose was slim, almost pointed. Her cheekbones were high, making those large brown eyes look more expressive when they were opened.

Carrie's lips were soft, pale pink, kissable lips. Her chin had a slight point to it, again, making the girl's face cute, very expressive.

"And when you sleeping? That mouth isn't running a hundred miles an hour," Priscilla thought, slipping out of the bed.

She stripped off her tee shirt and did her yoga in the small space afforded between bed and wall. The room was lighted by the lesbians performing almost silently on the 32" television.

After her shower, Priscilla pulled on the red monokini, then slipped on her coveralls. She sat quietly at the small table, watching one blonde fisting an Asian woman's pussy while a second blonde squatted over the Asian's face.

"Know what? I am gay," Priscilla thought, watching the lesbian action.

She resisted the urge to masturbate as the scene changed to show a blonde and a brunette kissing. Either the two women were very good actors, or their affection for one another was genuine. Priscilla found their tender kiss to be far more erotic than much of the other pornography she'd watched so far.

At seven thirty, Priscilla gently woke Carrie. Then wished she hadn't. Carrie popped up and her mouth began chattering.

"There's a breakfast in the lobby. After that, I'm going to work," Priscilla said, actually putting her hand over Carrie's mouth. "I didn't know if there was somewhere you wanted me to drop you off or what."

"Breakfast?" Carrie whooped, bounding out of the bed.

The girl dressed quickly, mouth running non-stop. Priscilla checked that she had the room key and gently guided Carrie from the room.

Carrie loaded up a plate with scrambled eggs, bacon, cinnamon rolls and whole wheat toast. Sitting for their meal, Priscilla resisted the urge to clamp her hand over Carrie's mouth. The girl prattled on about wheat toast, white bread, biscuits, English muffins, cinnamon rolls.

Priscilla dropped Carrie off at 208 Conway, then told Carrie to grab her dirty clothes. She used her remote to open the door of her garage.

"Your dirty clothes. Your clothes. Not Frankie, or Zeke, Or Darlene's," Priscilla said firmly. "Just yours."

Even though she had told Priscilla to start after 8:00 am, Dr. Beard was still grumpy when Priscilla began work at 8:30 am. Priscilla ignored the woman; even at 8:30, it was already quite warm.

"Priscilla?" Priscilla heard Carrie's voice.

"Yes?" Priscilla asked, fighting hard to keep the irritation out of her voice.

"I, they, they 'bout to evict us; I can put some of my stuff in your garage?" Carrie asked, peering up as Priscilla scraped the old paint from the boards.

"Same as the clothes. Yours. Your stuff. Your stuff, not Frankie's or..." Priscilla said.

At eleven, Priscilla stopped her work and walked to her house. She found that Carrie had put some boxes into the garage, neatly stacked and out of the way. Her washing machine hummed and gurgled. Her dryer thumped and bumped.

"Tennis shoes make a lot of noise," Carrie apologized.

"I'm going have a protein drink and an apple; want one?" Priscilla said.

They sat on the front steps; the house was a furnace. As they ate, Priscilla heard all about Zeke and Henry; they were still in jail, they had no money for bail. Darlene was pissed off that Carrie was able to wash her clothes and was demanding that Carrie make Priscilla allow Darlene to wash her own clothes. Darlene also wanted Carrie to make Priscilla give Darlene some space in the garage for her own possessions.

"Know what? Maybe if she'd been a little nicer? But, walking around being a hateful bitch whole time? I don't think so," Priscilla snapped, swallowing the last of her apple.

"Then you better put the door down," Carrie informed Priscilla. "She's planning sneak some of her stuff in minute you got your back turned."

"Okay. That's all your stuff?" Priscilla asked, pointing.

"Yeah, well, except for my bed and, dirty like it is? I really don't want it," Carrie agreed.

"Hey! Aw, fuck, bitch! You told her, huh?" Darlene screamed as she heard the garage door going down.

"Told me what?" Priscilla asked, face a blank mask. "She said she's finished in there so I closed it."

Carrie followed Priscilla back to 201 Conway. She sat underneath a pecan tree and doodled in her sketch pad while Priscilla worked. At one o'clock, Priscilla stripped out of her sweltering coveralls and continued to work in her skimpy monokini. She was now working along the rear portion of the house so felt no hesitation in removing the coveralls.

Even if she'd been in the front of the house, though, Priscilla would have had no pause in removing the hot coveralls. All of her body that needed to be covered was covered by the swimwear.

At three o'clock, Priscilla was beat. Shrugging into her coveralls again, she did not zip the garment as she herded Carrie to her home again.

Carrie transferred clothes from dryer to garage floor and clothes from washer to dryer.

While Carrie tended to her clothing, Priscilla jumped into her shower. The house was sweltering, stuffy. Priscilla did not dawdle; just washed sweat and paint flakes from her skin, quickly washed her hair.

Priscilla took them to Wedges, for deep fat fried sandwiches. Waiting for a table, Carrie's mouth ran non-stop. Reading over the menu, Carrie's mouth ran non-stop. Waiting for their meatball marinara and their Italian Stallion sandwiches, Carrie's mouth ran non-stop.

The arrival of their sandwiches did not cease the chatter. Priscilla smiled; Carrie's conversations did not require any input from her, other than 'uh huh' and 'oh.'

"By now, Zeke or Darlene would have been screaming at me to shut up," Carrie confessed as Priscilla paid the bill.

"Does it work?" Priscilla asked, signing the slip and giving it to the cashier.

"Does what work?" Carrie asked as they turned to leave.

"When they scream at you to shut up," Priscilla asked, taking Carrie's very small, very slim hand into her own hand.

"I uh, no, not really," Carrie said, not objecting to Priscilla's hand in her own. "I mean, yeah, for about a minute, but then I forget and..."

"Then it really wouldn't make much sense for me to scream at you, now would it?" Priscilla smiled, unlocking her car door.

"No. Not really," Carrie admitted, buckling up. "I mean, I try, but then I think of something I need to say and then I'm off again."

"Uh huh," Priscilla said and drove to the motel.

Carrie asked if she could take a shower and Priscilla nodded. Carrie was amazed that they had fresh towels and new bars of soap and even new bottles of shampoo. Again, Priscilla just nodded and said 'uh huh' as Carrie called out this information.

While Carrie was in the shower, Priscilla stripped down and put on her long tee shirt. The local news didn't have much of interest; the weekend anchors seemed incapable of saying anything unless it was on the Teleprompters in front of their faces.

After the news broadcast, a syndicated showing of a 'Friends' sitcom played. Carrie came out of the bathroom, dressed in her camisole top and panties, her normal sleepwear.

Carrie apparently knew the sitcom, knew the episode; she told Priscilla everything Priscilla had never wanted to know about the sitcom and this particular episode.

After the show ended, Carrie asked if they could change the channel; she didn't really care for what was coming on next. Priscilla shrugged and slid the remote control to the girl.

There were sixty four channels available, sixty one of those in English. And Carrie found nothing worth watching. It took her nearly ten minutes to scroll through all the selections twice.

"Well, what'd you do? At home, I mean? There wasn't any television with the electricity off, was there?" Priscilla asked when Carrie started on her third trek through the channels.

"Not much, I mean, I'd draw when I could see, oh! And I read; I have a kindle, my sister's wife gave it to me, I mean, other than being gay, she's actually really a very sweet woman, but I need charge it, kind of hard charge it when nothing works, right?" Carrie babbled.

Carrie turned, chattering on about Christmas; what her parents had given her, what her brother gave her. She of course had given everyone paintings she'd drawn herself. It wasn't like she could go shopping; she had no money most of the time. But a painting, that's something personal.

Priscilla leaned over and kissed Carrie, hard, on her mouth. She grabbed Carrie in a fierce hug and jammed her tongue into Carrie's open mouth.

Releasing her kiss, Priscilla brought her hand up and lightly stroked Carrie's face. Priscilla looked into Carrie's light brown eyes and saw the surprised, shocked look in the girl's eyes.

Her second kiss wasn't as hard and demanding. Priscilla's fingers continued to lightly stroke Carrie's face as her lips pushed against Carrie's lips. When she opened her mouth, Carrie took the opportunity to jam her tongue into Priscilla's mouth.

"Mm, oh," Carrie moaned, her small hand reaching up and gently touching Priscilla's face.

They kissed for several moments. When they broke apart, Priscilla again looked into Carrie's eyes. Carrie sat, panting slightly. But she did not start to ramble.

Carrie leaned forward and softly kissed Priscilla's lips. Her small hand continued to stroke Priscilla's face. Then Carrie's hand dropped to Priscilla's throat. From Priscilla's throat, Carrie's fingers softly traced along Priscilla's left shoulder.

"Sometimes?" Carrie whispered, breaking the silence. "I close my eyes, try to see what I can 'see' with my fingers. You know, like I'm blind or something."

"Is that what you're doing right now?" Priscilla whispered.

"Uh huh," Carrie whispered.

Carrie's fingers again touched Priscilla's cheek. She kissed Priscilla softly, then traced her fingers lightly over Priscilla's face, Priscilla's forehead, the ridge of her brow, her eyelids, her nose. Carrie softly kissed Priscilla's lips again, then continued with her blind exploration of Priscilla's beautiful face.

When Carrie's fingers trailed from Pricilla's ears to Priscilla's throat, Priscilla moved away. Carrie opened her eyes in surprise and opened her mouth to speak.

Priscilla kissed Carrie's lips, to silence whatever rambling monologue was about to burst out of Carrie's mouth. Then Priscilla wiggled out of her tee shirt. Nude, Priscilla picked up Carrie's hands and placed them where they had been moments earlier. With another kiss, Priscilla shut her eyes.

Carrie smiled, kissed Priscilla's lips, then closed her own eyes. She again began her blind exploration of Priscilla's throat and shoulders.

"That's the difference between boys and women," Priscilla thought as Carrie's hands went from shoulders to upper arms.

Anytime she'd exposed her flesh to Paul, or to any other boy she'd dated, fucked, they'd not bothered with throat, or shoulders, or upper arms. Paul's hands rarely ventured anywhere except to Priscilla's breasts, her pussy, her ass.

"You work out?" Carrie asked softly, exploring Priscilla's firm biceps. "Oh! Carrie! Spent whole day watching her do hard work! Never mind, stupid question."