Susan Fucks Better Than Andie

"Because I'm not your real father."

"But you were first."

"Yes."

"Come on girls. Let Miss Carolyn show you to your room." Mrs. Wilkinson told them.

"Thank you," I told her. It wasn't going to be easy.

The girls came out. Margaret seemed to be the spokesperson for the two. "There's only one bed."

"I know. I thought you would like to go with me to get two new ones. You can pick them out."

Jennifer spoke for the first time. "Can we get bunkbeds?"

"If that's what the two of you want."

They looked at each other, smiled and said it was.

Mrs. Wilkinson asked if I wanted her to go with us. "Yes, please," I said. The girls hadn't eaten lunch so we stopped at what used to be one of their favorites. We were on our way to the car after eating and one girl got on each side of me and took my hand. I smiled. It was during lunch that I learned that Mrs. Wilkinson was really Miss Wilkinson, or better yet, Deb

We had a good afternoon. The girls chose bunkbeds and matching chests of drawers. Deb just kept looking at me. Right after we paid for the furniture and paid extra to have everything delivered that evening, Deb took me aside. "You're only going to have them for a month, you know."

"I know. But maybe they can take some stuff home with them. I won't want it." Before dinner we bought the bedding needed for the bunkbeds. At dinner the girls really started to relax and remember. It was a fun evening. I watched as the girls giggled through ordering and eating.

I awakened the next morning to the sound of girls running around. I lay there with a big smile on my face.

The four weeks became five and five became six. I was in love with my girls all over again. After four weeks, I talked almost daily with Deb Wilkinson.

Then the call came. "I'm sorry, Brian, but it's time. Andrea is home and wants her daughters. We will take them tomorrow morning."

That evening, I told them. There was not much enthusiasm for going home, and I certainly wasn't enthusiastic about them leaving. The next morning when it came time for them to leave, Deb was there more to support me than the girls, but they needed support, too. They didn't want to leave and we all three cried until the girls were literally pulled away from me and put in the car. I'm glad Deb's shoulders were wide because I needed all of them.

She stayed with me as I sat in their room. She finally left when I started blaming her because she was the one who suggested they come with me in the first place. It wasn't her fault and I knew it, but I was frustrated and I missed the girls, whoever their biological fathers were. She, rightfully, was upset that I was taking it out on her, so she left me alone.

The next day, I called the Dallas office and talked to their case worker. I asked her if I could send their beds. She told me she would check with their mother. Two hours later, I was informed that I could stick those beds up my ass per my ex-wife.

A week went by and I was still missing them. I called Deb. She wouldn't talk to me, but I left a message of apology.

Thank goodness we got busy at the dealership. Shipments of the new models were coming in almost as fast as we could count.

Another month and Child Protective Services called me again. Andrea was back in rehab and the girls wanted to "come home". I thought of how difficult it was the last time when they left. "How long would they be here this time?" I asked.

"At least six weeks."

"Why didn't Miss Wilkinson Call?"

"She's no longer their case worker."

"May I ask why?"

"We don't normally discuss personnel matters, but Miss Wilkinson felt that she put too much pressure on you to take the girls last time and your reaction to her when they had to go back upset her so she asked to be removed from their case. Our caseworkers try to not get personally involved in their cases and your conduct is a perfect example why."

We made arrangements for the girls to "come home" the next day. I volunteered to go get them, but they wouldn't allow it.

I called a florist and had some roses sent to Deb at her office. I called her number and left another apology. I never heard from her.

The girls jumped out of the car and ran to meet me.

We acted like a family and they were even calling me "Dad" again.

We were two weeks into the scheduled six weeks when Margaret, asked about Deb.

"I haven't seen her since you left last time," I said.

"Can she have dinner with us," She asked.

"I don't know if she'll want to, but you can call her and ask."

She had to leave a message because Deb would see it was my number and not answer it. "Hi Miss Milkersen. This is Margaret Scott. Me, my sister, and my dad wondered if you would have dinner with us." Other than getting the name wrong, I thought she did okay. We didn't get an answer so we went out and had pizza. The six weeks went fast, but the separation was easier because I felt Andrea would relapse and I would get the girls again. I sensed the girls felt it as well. I didn't miss them quite so much when they left that time. We never saw Deb Wilkinson during their visit.

I was feeling a bit better and even started actively looking for a date. I went back to the online sites and almost immediately closed them down again. I went to laundromats, bars, and even church a couple of times, but nada. Zero. Zip. Zilch.

There was a strip joint on the other side of town. When you're talking about Houston, the other side of town is a long way off. If I couldn't fuck a pussy, I was determined to at least see one. After work, I headed in that direction. About half way there, I was rearended. The other driver was drunk and did a lot of damage to the rear of my car.

The medical people were the first to arrive. The police were next and took my personal and auto information. They told me other officers would meet me at the hospital to get details of the accident after the medics were finished with me. The other driver was taken away in cuffs and the medics insisted they take me to the hospital for a checkup. I was just being released when two police officers approached me. They wanted to get my side of the accident. One of the officers was female. She looked at the paper she had in her hand, then used her phone and took my picture. I asked why. "New policy for accidents," she said. Her partner looked at her but said nothing. Her partner was male and the one asking all the questions. At first I looked at her as I answered, but she started shooting darts at me with her eyes so I stopped looking at her. When they finished, they started to leave.

"Hey. How do I get home? My car is on its' way to the garage." Actually, it was going to the service department of my dealership.

"We'll be happy to take you," said the male.

I was hoping the female would say something but she never did. They did take me home and she never said a single word to me. She talked to him, but ignored me.

For the next two months I gave up trying to get laid. I was driving one of our new cars as a Demo until mine was repaired. When it was, I decided to keep the newer one. Another month went by and one Sunday morning, my doorbell rang. I opened it and was attacked by two girls. I almost said little girls, but they weren't. They probably weren't any bigger than the last time I saw them, but for some reason they looked bigger. They knocked me all the way back to the sofa. We roughhoused for a couple of minutes before I looked up and saw Andie. I settled the girls down and stood. The girls ran to their mother.

"Come on, Mom, look at our room." They dragged her there. When they came back, Andie and I just looked at each other.

"What can I do for you, Andrea?"

"I have an opportunity for a job in Vegas, but I can't take the girls. Would you like them for a while?"

"How long?"

"It may be two months before I can afford to get them there."

"Sure. Do the Child People know?"

"Yes. Here's a letter from me authorizing you to have them. My case worker said it would be okay."

"Okay."

"I have to go. Girls let's get your stuff from the car. Mommy has to go."

There were no tears when she left. I helped the girls with their luggage. Just before she got in her car she looked at me and said, "Thank you."

I never said anything.

Inside, I read the letter. It said she was leaving the girls with me for an undetermined period of time. I sat in my chair with a smile on my face.

The next morning I called the dealership and cancelled my appointments for the day. Then I called the Houston Case Worker for the girls and brought her up to date.

"We know about it, and we're checking on it's legality."

"What's to check? Their mother is going to find a job and left them in my care. What's not legal about that?"

"We're just trying to do our jobs, Mr. Moore. Someone will be out this afternoon to look around.

Around mid-afternoon, the doorbell rang. I opened the door and there stood Deborah Wilkinson.

"Hi. Won't you come in?"

"I came to check on the welfare of the girls."

"Their welfare is just fine. Would you like to sit down?"

"No, thank you." She took out a notebook. "Would you show me where they sleep, please."

She was not being very nice so I stopped being cordial. "You know exactly where they sleep and you know exactly what condition their room is in."

"We are concerned about their welfare and have to check."

"No you're not. You're concerned about the mental state of their current guardian because he screwed up and yelled at you once; for which he has apologized several times I might add." There was a pause. "Why are you here anyway? I didn't think you were their caseworker anymore."

She looked at me.

This was not going well for me, I could tell. This lady carries a grudge and it appears she will do anything in her power to make transgressors pay for fucking with her. All of a sudden I was concerned. "Look, Miss Wilkinson, I have apologized for blaming you when the girls had to leave the first time. It wasn't your fault and I wouldn't have had them had it not been for you, so I owe you a great deal. Actually, what you did was one of the best things of my life. You have to know that they came back a second time and stayed for several weeks. I love having them and miss them when they're gone.

Her look softened and she started to say something, but the girls burst in the room and squealed when they saw her. They ran to her and almost knocked her down. She smiled for the first time since coming in the house.

"Can you have dinner with us? Please? Please?"

She looked at them. "I'm sorry, but I can't."

The girls were a bit upset, but they got over it in a hurry. Miss Wilkinson stayed for about an hour talking to the girls and asking questions. I could tell she had done the same thing numerous times because of the way she asked the questions. It was more like a game, but provided the information she needed. Questions like, what was your favorite breakfast would reveal the kinds of food they had to eat. What color is your favorite dress revealed the type and number of dresses or other articles of clothing they had. The questions revealed a lot because not only did the girls answer the questions, but they ended up engaged in conversation they might not otherwise engage in. It was interesting to watch, listen, and learn.

For example, I learned they had more fun at my house than their own. I learned they ate more at my house than at their own. I also learned that there were lots of men in and out of their house.

Then she asked them the biggie. "Whose house would you rather be at? Your house with your mommy? Or this house with Mr. Moore?"

Margaret didn't hesitate. "He isn't Mr. Moore. He's our first daddy."

"Your first daddy? How many daddys do you have?"

"I have my daddy Scott," said Margaret. "That's my real last name."

"And I have my daddy Conners," said Jennifer.

"How often do you see your other daddies?

"Never. They're too busy."

"Then how do you know they're you're daddies?

"Mommy told us. She said that when she was married to our first daddy, she made some mistakes so we have different daddies."

Jennifer came over and sat in my lap. "But he's our first and best daddy." She hugged me.

I smiled.

Miss Wilkinson decided she was finished, said goodbye and left. I enrolled the girls in school for the third time. That had to be difficult for them. One school for four weeks, then their real school, then back to the temporary school for six weeks. Just didn't seem fair, but I was able to help them with their homework and I enjoyed that.

When I took them back to school, I met the principal. She was familiar with the girls' temporary status and agreed with me that is was both difficult and unfair. It took two hours to complete a fifteen minute enrollment. The last hour and forty-five minutes was me getting a dinner date with her.

Summer was coming and I would have to come up with something for them to do and someone to do it with, so I started interviewing fulltime Nannies.

My first date with Principal Victoria Meyers was pretty successful. We had an early dinner because my babysitter had to leave.

The second date was the same. The third date was dinner at my house so we could stay up and have an adult beverage or two after the girls went to bed.

It would have been easy to send the girls to camp, but I was selfish and wanted them home, even if it was just in the evenings and weekends. The nanny I hired was perfect and the girls got along fine with her.

Victoria (not Vicki or Vicky) and I had several dates. All of them at my house and she was perfectly fine with that.

It was on a Sunday afternoon. The girls and I were playing grabass in the front yard when a car pulled up. Miss Wilkinson got out. This time the girls were courteous, but not overly excited to see her.

"Hello, girls. Mr. Moore." She said as she approached us. We all said hello.

"Another welfare visit?" I asked.

"Yes," she answered.

"Well, the front door is open, go on in and help yourself. Go anywhere you want and do anything you have to."

She laughed as the girls attacked me. She sat on the front porch for another hour and watched us. She stood and came over to us. The girls took off running around the house. When they were out of sight she came over to me. "If that offer for dinner is still open, I'm available."

I looked at her. "I, uh, I'm sorry, but I've just started seeing someone and I don't ,uh ..."

She interrupted me. "Oh. I understand. By the way, how's your car?"

"My car?"

"Yes. I understand you were in a crash and your car got rearended. How is it?"

"Oh, it's fine. The other driver went to jail because of it. How did you know about it?"

"My sister is a police officer. She and her partner took your statement at the hospital. She recognized your name from me having talked about you. Then she took your picture to show me to see if you were the same Brian Moore who upset me. You were."

"Look, Miss Wilkinson ..."

"Deborah or Deb, please."

"Look Deborah. I was really hoping our relationship would go someplace because I really liked you. Then I went apeshit for all the wrong reasons and took it out on you. I apologize again for allowing myself to blame you for something that wasn't your fault."

She smiled. "Apology accepted. And I apologize for ignoring your apologizes, especially after you sent those beautiful roses. I'm usually a sucker for roses."

The girls came running back around the house, screaming. Deb and I both laughed.

"If you ever find yourself in need of a dinner companion, give me a call." She said as she said goodbye to the girls.

Victoria and I finally had a real date. Dinner in a restaurant with music and dancing right afterward. We had several very nice dates, but no sex. Things kinda petered out after that.

On Deb's next welfare check the girls were playing so she and I talked. I asked her why she was their caseworker again.

"Honestly? I missed you. Coming back gave me the chance to see you again. I came back only to find you're in a relationship."

I chuckled. "That relationship went the way of the Dodo bird."

"Does that mean you're available for dinner?"

I moved in close to her. "Dinner, dancing, and debauchery, if you are so inclined."

"Why don't we start with dinner?" she smiled.

We dated regularly after that. We made it to the dancing and making out stages with a little groping thrown in to keep it interesting. No debauchery up to that point.

Two months were up and no word from Andrea. Three months passed and still no word. Deborah came by the house to tell me that Child Protective Services was going to take the girls from me.

"Why?" I asked with incredulity."

"Their mother seems to have disappeared so we are going to ask their fathers if they want to take custody. They have that right."

"You're their case worker. Don't I have any rights?"

"Unfortunately not."

"But I'm the only father they have ever known."

"I know that, and you know that and they're perfectly happy and safe with you, but you're not related to them and regulations are regulations. We've talked about this before."

We had indeed, and I knew she had no control over the regulations. I knew I was preaching to the choir and the state was going to win, but I didn't have to like it.

"The state is charged with doing what is best for the children. Children living with an unmarried man who is not related to them is not considered good for them." Deb recited for the hundredth time.

"But living with a whore of a mother is?"

"She is their mother. You are nothing to them."

"When are they taking them and what happens to them?"

"In the next two days and they will be put in foster homes."

"Why can't they stay here? This can be their foster home?"

"It doesn't work that way. I'm sorry, Brian. I wish there was something I could do."

The next morning, Jennifer was resisting getting in the Child Protective Services car and one of the case workers was trying to force her. I saw the case worker slap Jennifer. It took me three seconds to get there. I pulled the woman aside, took Jennifer and held her. Margaret came running to me and held on tight. "If you want them, send the police, but you're not getting them." I took them back in the house.

That night on the nightly news a video showed Jennifer being slapped by an employee of the Child Protective Services and our story was told. My next door neighbor knew the history of the girls and me. When he saw what was happening, he videoed it and afterward hauled his ass to three of the local TV stations and gave interviews. One of the stations sent the story to a National Network. The next morning Deborah rang my doorbell.

"You have to take them downtown, Brian."

"No. If they want them, the police can come get them. I'm not letting some broad get them so she can slap them around." We talked about it and she advised me that I could get in deep trouble. I told her I understood and was willing to accept whatever consequences came my way. When she left, she gave me what felt like a goodbye kiss. I guess she thought I was going to jail.

Late that night my doorbell rang. At first I thought it was the people from the state coming after the girls in the dark of the night, but it wasn't them. It was Andrea. She had seen the report on the national news. We woke the girls and had them pack their stuff. Before she took them, I used my phone to video her and a close up of her driver's license. I didn't want to be accused of hiding the girls.

She gave a short little speech about why she was late getting the girls. Then she thanked me and the Child Protective people ... except the one who slapped Margaret. "If I ever see you, I'm going to kick your ass." Was her message to that woman. That was the last thing she said into my phone. Then the three of them were gone.