Reason & Reward

"Bitch, really?" Paris asked, bottom lip beginning to quiver. "Do you really think you can just..."

The apartment was furnished from consignment shops in Falwell City, Oklahoma and Broken Field, Kansas. Paris promised her two brothers a fifty dollar bill each for the use of their trucks and their muscles. Her oldest brother bought her a case of Gratchley's beer to 'christen' her new apartment, but he and Paris's next oldest brother decided she really only needed one six pack and helped themselves to the other three six packs of beer.

"What. Ever," Paris shook her head. "Thanks, butt heads."

"Welcome, butt-breath," her two older brothers said and left the apartment.

With part of the twenty five thousand dollars that Moisette had gifted to her, Paris had bought herself a used but well maintained Ford Ranger pickup truck. After her brothers left, Paris got into her truck and drove to the Burns & Burns Grocers grocery store in Billingsly, Kansas. She grabbed a grocery cart and slowly traversed each aisle, carefully made her choices.

"Hey!" an excited voice cried out.

"Hmm?" Paris asked, then smiled when she saw Becky Richardson.

The former waitress was wearing a Burs & Burns Grocers uniform blouse. Even though the blouse was shapeless, Becky's soft, feminine curves were apparent.

"Hey! I, hi, how are you? How have you been?" Paris greeted the attractive blonde with a genuine hug.

On many days, when Becky either did not show up, or did show up for her shift at Rio Del Sol, obviously intoxicated, Paris had been ready to kill the blonde. But those days were in the past. Becky Richardson was still a friend. They'd been in school together, had shared the same circle of friends.

"I, yeah, I, um, after I got popped for that DUI?" Becky said, digging in her jeans' pocket.

"DUI?" Paris gasped.

Becky pulled a pink disc from her pocket and held it out for Paris's inspection. Paris saw '4 Months' and 'AA' imprinted on the small circle. She looked up from the chip to Becky's worried eyes.

"I, so, so you're sober now?" Paris asked and smiled happily. "That, Becky, that's great! I, I am so happy to hear that."

"I uh, yeah, I, I'm supposed to have six months, but..." Becky offered.

"No. You have four months," Paris said firmly. "We should never look at what we should have. We need to look at what we do have."

"Wow," Becky giggled. "You sound just like my sponsor, I swear!"

"Your what?" Paris asked.

Paris and Becky quickly exchanged phone numbers; Becky could see her manager glaring at her. Becky then scurried to her next task while Paris finished her shopping.

When the water main was repaired and Rio Del Sol was once again opened, Mr. Frank let everyone know that Shannon had quit. He glared at Paris as he made this announcement, but Paris held his gaze. She'd done nothing to cause Shannon to quit; she had no guilt.

The next night, after a grueling shift at the restaurant, Paris saw a layer of fresh snow on the ground. Thankfully, she could actually see her apartment complex from the parking lot of Rio Del Sol and trudged to her apartment. She stamped her feet several times outside of the building to shake off any snow. Inside the apartment, she quickly got into her shower and warmed up. Then, ice cold Gratchley's beer in hand, Paris sent Becky a text message.

Soon, Becky responded; she was just getting home from the eight o'clock AA meeting. She and her AA Sponsor had stayed behind to clean up the meeting place.

'Service work keeps you sober,' Becky texted.

The two texted back and forth for the better part of two hours. Becky told Paris she would be receiving her five month chip, God willing, next Friday. Paris arranged to work the lunch shift that day and showed up for the meeting in the Billingsly's Methodist Church's Hall.

"I, what, what are you doing here?" Becky asked Paris.

"What? I came to see you pick up your chip," Paris said, hugging the girl. "I mean, that's a big deal, right?"

"Any day a drunk stays sober is a big deal," an old, withered man smiled. "But, yeah, we're mighty proud of our Becky here."

"That's Joe Passini. He, he's kind of like the resident old-timer here," Becky said as Joe walked to the coffee urn.

"So, when do you become an old-timer?" Paris asked and was startled when several people laughed.

"Uh, in about thirty years," an old woman smiled. "Hi, I'm Barbara. Are you..."

"Hi, I'm Paris Williams. I'm a good friend of Becky's," Paris said, shaking the offered hand.

During the meeting, Paris listened in awe as the people shared. Joe Passini, who looked like a sweet old man, a loving grandfatherly type, shared about his time in prison for armed robbery and attempted murder.

"Were you drunk when you did that?" Paris gasped out, interrupting Joe's sharing.

Joe broke into a large smile and said, "Well hell yeah. If I'd been sober, I might have gotten away with it."

At the end of the meeting, Barbara offered the chips. The first chip she offered was the 'Surrender' chip. Many of the people in the meeting looked at Paris, but Becky shook her head 'no.'

"Four months? How about six months?" Barbara said.

"Hey!" Becky cried out, already half way out of her seat.

"Oh. Did I forget one?" Barbara laughed. "How about five months? Does anyone have five months today?"

The people applauded and Paris clapped her hands happily. When Becky sat back down, Paris startled Becky by giving her a kiss, directly on her lips. Then Paris studied Becky's five month AA chip.

"And AA Birthdays are celebrated on the last Friday of the month. Eating starts at seven, meeting starts at eight," Barbara concluded giving out the chips.

After a few announcements, the group ended the meeting. They stood in a circle and recited the Lord's Prayer while holding hands.

"I almost wish I was an alcoholic," Paris confessed as she wiggled into her coat. "I mean..."

"Sweetheart, no you don't," Joe said gruffly. "You don't wish you'd trashed your life and the lives of those that love you. But, you're welcome here every Friday, hear? Friday's are the open meetings."

Sunday morning, Paris was awakened by an incoming text message. She dug her cell phone out of her purse and saw she had two messages from Becky. The first asked if Paris was awake. The second message asked if Paris was doing anything.

'Awake now,' Paris responded.

'Waking up. Not fully awake yet,' Paris amended a moment later. 'Need coffee.'

'Need donuts?' Becky responded.

'Yes!' Paris responded with a smiley face.

Twenty minutes later, there was a knock at the door. Paris opened it and Becky came in, holding a large box from King Klover Donuts. The Mordbrand, Kansas icon had been opened in 1975 by Olaf Klavershaw, who had five hundred and twelve dollars and a simple recipe his mother's mother had given to him. In time, the people discovered a place where hot doughnuts and good coffee could be had for a reasonable price. Every year, on April 26th, the original day King Klover Donuts had opened, every doughnut and every cup of coffee was sold at the original 1975 prices. On April 26th, the line starts at 4:00 in the morning, stretches nearly seventeen miles down to the Interstate, and does not let up until 2:00 am, April 27th.

"Are they..." Paris asked and whooped when Becky affirmed that, yes ma'am, the doughnuts were still hot.

"I mean, look; the chocolate's just melting off them," Becky laughed, holding one hot, gooey doughnut in her hand.

Becky wiggled out of her heavy coat and laid it on Paris's couch. A moment later, she wiggled out of her heavy bulky sweater, revealing her lush figure in tight fitting blouse and snug jeans. Paris was still in her sleepwear of Whittle College tee shirt. She'd pulled her terry cloth robe and her fuzzy socks on when Becky had knocked at the door.

Paris and Becky sat at Paris's small kitchen table, sipping coffee and chomping their way through seven of the eighteen count doughnut feast Becky had brought with her.

"More coffee?" Paris asked as Becky drained her cup. "The, the chocolate cherry? That, that's my favorite doughnut."

Slowly, Becky brought her lips to Paris's lips. The kiss lasted for several seconds. There was no urgency in Becky's kiss, but Paris could feel the passion.

As Becky brought her lips to Paris's lips for their second kiss, she opened her mouth slightly. Paris opened her mouth and welcomed Becky's tongue. Paris brought her hand up and softly stroked Becky's face.

"Couch...Bed, bed's a whole lot more comfortable than these chairs," Paris quietly suggested.

"Okay," Becky moaned into their third kiss.

In her bedroom, Paris shrugged out of her robe, then gently helped Becky undress. Each movement was punctuated by a soft kiss, a soft touch to any exposed skin. When Becky's blouse was removed, Paris combed her fingers through Becky's thick mane of blonde hair then kissed Becky hungrily.

Becky's 35DD bra was designed for service, not attraction. The plain bra was easily unhooked and Paris slowly removed the garment, slowly sliding her fingertips along Becky's arms

Paris then eased Becky to lie on her neatly made bed. Paris leaned over the prone woman and softly kissed Becky's lips, then throat, then shoulders. Becky moaned as Paris's lips gently kissed the tops of Becky's fat breasts, kissing slowly, softly toward Becky's light brown areolae.

Becky moaned, shivering as Paris captured Becky's aright areole in her mouth. Paris gently nibbled on the areole while tonguing Becky's erect nipple. Paris's hands went to Becky's jeans, unsnapping and unzipping Becky's snug jeans.

"Mm, oh, oh yes, oh God," Becky moaned as Paris's mouth suckled on her left areole.

Paris's hands gently pushed aside the flaps of Becky's jeans, exposing Becky's plain white cotton panties. Apparently, Becky had not thought of seduction when she'd dressed this morning.

With a gentle bite to Becky's left areole, Paris knee walked off the bed and knelt on the floor at Becky's feet. Paris worked Becky's cowboy boots from her feet, then pulled the tick socks down and off. The Paris pulled Becky's jeans and panties off, exposing a bald pubic mound. Becky's inner lips stuck out, plump and wet with her excitement.

"Oh! What, what a pretty pussy," Paris enthused, pulling her sleep shirt off and tossing it onto the floor.

"I uh, yeah, yeah, you remember that Jenna King?" Becky asked, then smiled at the sour face that Paris made.

"Yeah, I remember her," Paris said. "I remember her all too well. She's the one that ran around calling me 'Spot' because of my freckles."

"Anyway, I, you remember, I kind of started developing real early," Becky said, rubbing her hand over her smooth crotch. "Jenna started calling me 'Brillo Becky.' And it didn't help one bit that my bush was dark brown, I mean, not a little brown but dark brown. Minute I could? I went and got laser hair removal."

"Well, it is very pretty now," Paris enthused.

Paris lay on top of Becky and kissed the girl. She wiggled her hips, forcing Becky's legs apart. Both girls groaned when Paris rubbed her lightly furred crotch against Becky's smooth mound. Paris again kissed Becky, then brought her lips to Becky's throat. Grinding her hips, Paris rubbed her crotch against Becky's crotch as she brought her mouth to Becky's right nipple.

"Mm I, oh, oh yes," Becky hissed.

Paris silenced Becky with another kiss, then brought her lips to Becky's left nipple. Becky moaned out again as Paris suckled her nipple.

"You, you are so beautiful," Becky whispered, gasping for breath.

"You, you're the beautiful one," Paris insisted, thrusting her tongue into Becky's gasping mouth.

"Mmng, oh, oh God!" Becky cried out as Paris's insistent rubbing brought her to orgasm.

Paris wiggled down and lightly licked underneath Becky's heavy breasts. Paris could taste the sweat and skin lotion that Becky used. Paris certainly preferred the taste of Becky's sweat over the chemical taste of Becky's lotion. Becky's skin was soft, velvety under Paris's fingers and Paris's tongue.

"I, oh, ack, oh, you, you're going to..." Becky questioned as Paris knelt between Becky's splayed thighs.

In answer, Paris glued her mouth to Becky's hairless crotch. Becky's taste was light, fragrant. Paris was used to Moisette's heavy musk taste, but found Becky's taste to be very pleasing. Paris used her thumbs to part Becky's inner lips and dragged her flattened tongue from Becky's perineum to the top of Becky's slit, then curled her tongue and tried to force her tongue into Becky's sex.

"Ooooh!" Becky let out a long groan as Paris's tongue batted against Becky's clitoris.

Paris drove three fingers into Becky's depth as she flicked her tongue back and forth against Becky's fat clitoris.

"I oh Jesus! Augh! Augh! Oh God!" Becky suddenly screamed in orgasm, clamping her thighs around Paris's head.

Paris could taste Becky's nectar as Becky orgasmed. The taste was slightly stronger now and Paris ceased her assault on Becky's clitoris. Paris lapped along Becky's inner walls, lapping up the taste of Becky's excitement.

"Oh, oh my God! Oh! Augh, ack! Oh God! No, not again!" Becky cried out in a second orgasm when Paris again teased Becky's clitoris with her tongue.

Paris wiggled forward, dragging her breasts and hard nipples over Becky's damp body. Paris mashed her breasts against Becky's larger breasts, mashed her crotch against Becky's crotch, and kissed Becky hungrily.

"Oh. Oh my God," Becky wheezed out, voice dreamy.

"Yes," Paris agreed softly.

"You know, I, in high school?" Becky admitted as they lay, limbs entwined on Paris's bed.

"God. I, high school?" I hated high school," Paris admitted.

"I was so in love with you," Becky confessed, gently rubbing her small hand over Paris's flat belly. "I, I would have done anything for you. You know that?"

"I, you, you serious?" Paris asked, gently rubbing Becky's face.

"Uh huh," Becky said.

"Why, why didn't you ever say anything?" Paris asked. "I mean, shit, if anything? You were always so snotty to me."

"Because, God, what, what would have happened if I'd said anything? And you were all like, 'Becky's a dyke! Becky's a dyke!' With Jenna right there? Oh my God! I, I would have died!" Becky admitted. "So? It, it was just easier to be a bitch. Then? You, you can't hurt me."

"Becky, even if I wasn't gay," Paris said softly, pulling Becky's face to peer into Becky's eyes. "I wouldn't have ever been mean about it."

"I, I love you," Becky said and kissed Paris.

"Love you too," Paris whispered.

"God I'm starving! Those doughnuts didn't last too long, did them?" Paris sleepily said, waking Becky from her own slumber.

Becky watched as Paris pulled her robe on over her nude body. Paris softly kissed Becky and smiled.

"You just lay here, okay? I'm going heat up some lunch and we'll eat in bed."

"What'd we do earlier?" Becky teased.

"Food. We'll eat food in bed," Paris smiled. "Silly."

"God, my, my dad's driving me crazy," Becky said after Paris returned with a tray.

"Hmm?" Paris asked, putting the tray of plates onto her dresser.

"He's just sure I'm off drinking with some guys," Becky rolled her eyes, showing Paris a text from her father, demanding to know where she was.

"Well, after lunch," Paris said, setting some pillows up behind Becky's head. "We'll go over there and show him, you're not off running around with some boys, drinking."

"You, he, he's a bit of an ass hole," Becky warned.

"I've got a dad too," Paris reminded Becky.

'I'm eating lunch at Paris's apartment; I'll be home right after," Becky dictated to her phone.

"I know this Paris?" Becky read her father's response out loud.

"Went to high school with her," Becky dictated, then took a bite of her hot ham and cheese sandwich.

"Show me," Becky's father demanded, so Becky snapped a picture of Paris, mouth full of food.

"Hey!" Paris objected. "Jesus! I, I had a mouth full of food there!"

Becky's father was either satisfied, or just didn't feel like arguing with Becky. The text messages stopped after Becky sent Paris's picture.

"I swear to God; he's driving me to drink again," Becky confided to Paris a few days later.

"Oh, please don't," Paris begged, lolling on her bed. "I, I love, I'm in love with the sober Becky, you know what? Becky? That's a drunk's name. I'm in love with Rebecca Richardson, okay?"

"My name is Rebecca and I'm an alcoholic," Rebecca tried out the new name.

"Hi Rebecca," Paris said.

A few days after that phone conversation, Paris and Rebecca went to the apartment manager's office and added Rebecca's name to the lease. Jacob Richardson did tell his daughter, when she drank again and Paris kicked her out, Becky didn't have him to come crawling back to.

"Thanks, Dad. I love you too," Rebecca said.

"Love you too, but I'm telling you. You've used me for the last time. I, no more. No more bailing your ass out of jail. No more paying off your bills. No more," the man said, dropping a box of Rebecca's belongings onto Paris's couch.

A few months after Rebecca moved into Paris's apartment, Paris received a card, announcing the birth of Ayshire Michelle Fordham. Paris sent a small cross and chain in sterling silver to Moisette's address. She received an invitation to Ayshire's christening, but declined to go. Instead, she sent a small book of prayers to Moisette's address.

A few weeks after the birth of Ayshire Michelle Fordham, Paris received an invitation to the wedding of Moisette Rose Seraque to Shannon Elizabeth Fordham. The pain of their betrayal had lessened considerably by this time; after all, had it not been for Moisette, Paris would most likely still be fighting against her natural desires. Paris would probably still be living with Tommy, would still be trying to convince herself that she was not gay. And, because of Moisette's betrayal, Paris now had Rebecca Richardson in her life, in her heart. But Paris declined to attend the wedding of Moisette and Shannon.

Paris did send a gift, a sterling silver picture frame with the birth announcement of Ayshire Michelle Fordham and the baby's date of birth and name engraved on the frame. Using Rebecca's name, Paris sent a second sterling silver picture frame with the wedding invitation inside and the date as well as the two names engraved on the frame.

When Rebecca picked up her one year chip, she and Paris celebrated by announcing their engagement to Rebecca's home group. They were planning on an October wedding, autumn being their favorite time of the year.

Paris and Rebecca were grateful for the support and acceptance of Rebecca's AA family. Jack Williams and Jacob Richardson were less than enthused over their daughters' decisions, their daughters' life style choices.

"Hey, Paris, that Moisette woman?" Rebecca asked one early October afternoon as she sat, sorting through their mail in the living room

"Moy SAY, not MOH sit," Paris smiled, looking up from the pot of stew she was stirring. "What about her?"

"Moisette. And Shannon. I take it you invited them to the wedding?" Rebecca asked, showing Paris a check from Moisette and Shannon Seraque for one hundred thousand dollars.

THE END

**Author's Note: I write these stories for my pleasure. I post them here for your enjoyment. I thank you sincerely for reading my stories.

I especially thank those that take the time to leave comments, good and bad. I also thank those that take the time to rate my words, those that 'Favorite' my works.

Again, this story is dedicated to the memory of Mordbrand, a fellow contributor to the pages of Literotica. Sadly, Mordbrand lost his long, arduous battle with bile duct cancer on September 10, 2022. Until we meet again, dear friend, until we meet again.

Moisette's mother, Rose Faye Clark, later Rose Faye Seraque is the daughter of Anthony Clark. Anthony Clark is the antagonist of the first story I'd written for Literotica, the 'Breaking The Family' series in the Loving Wives category. Rose Faye Clark could not live up to the memories of a deceased child, Anthony's first daughter, Lucille. And apparently, Anthony could not and would not let go of his losses.