The Single Mothers Club Ch. 02

I followed Samantha back inside the house, careful to take off my dirty shoes and brush off my clothes before stepping onto the cool tiles of the kitchen. At a small table, Ms. Okinawa had set out two more sweating beers, and some expensive looking cheese and crackers.

I sat down and finished off my first beer. "Do you want one?" I asked Samantha.

She laughed. "I'm only 18, I don't drink!"

"Oh yeah," I recalled, "your mom is pretty strict, right?"

"Strict is an understatement," Samantha admitted. She started to slice up some of the softening cheese.

Suddenly I felt a presence, as if another light had been turned on in the room. Ms. Okinawa's cool, affectless voice came from behind me. "The yard looks great, Ansel," she said.

Ms. Okinawa glided to the table and sat in one of the chairs. Even sitting in a kitchen chair, she looked elegant, like a statue carved from cold white marble. She had let her hair down, and it flowed almost to the small of her back, long and lustrous like Lupe's, but with more body to it. She brushed a curl from her forehead and took a sip of beer. I saw her throat working as the cool liquid slid down.

Ms. Okinawa smiled cooly, and looked between us. "I didn't realize you two knew each other."

Samantha nodded. "Ansel helped me out a lot in high school. He was like my guardian angel."

Ms. Okinawa gave me a long look. "We need nice guys like you, Ansel. I hope you find one in the fall, Samantha."

"In the fall?" I asked Samantha.

"I'm going to college in August," she said. "UC Berkeley. I'm so excited!"

Sammy did a little dance in her chair, her soft body bouncing to a beat from inside her head.

Ms. Okinawa said, "I'm sure you'll miss your mom. Are you leaving anyone else behind? A boyfriend?"

Samantha gasped. "Oh no, Ms. Okinawa! My mom never let me date."

"Oh but come on," Ms. Okinawa teased. "Surely you've been seeing someone behind her back. I have to imagine you have a line of boys interested in you."

I saw Sammy blush and she looked away. "My mom would have found out, I'm sure of it. What she says is the law in our home."

Ms. Okinawa shook her head sadly, then turned to me. "Ansel, don't you think a young woman like Samantha needs some dating experience before she goes to college? The men there will eat her alive."

I shrugged, not sure what to say. "Sammy's a smart cookie. I think she'll figure it out."

Samantha gave me a thankful smile. I could tell the conversation had upset her. Once more, I was acting as her guardian angel.

Suddenly there was a whine and cry from down the hallway.

"Uh oh," Samantha said, standing up. "Little Leanne is awake. I'll go check on her."

Ms. Okinawa's dark eyes followed Samantha as she walked from the kitchen. Then she turned back to me. She propped her chin in an elegant hand, and gave me a strange look. "I hear you've been helping out with the other Single Mothers," she said.

I nodded. "Babysitting and cleaning, mostly."

She raised an eyebrow. "Mostly, hm?"

The corner of her mouth rose in a wry smile.

"I guess you really are a nice guy," she said.

...

I could tell Ashley wasn't home when I walked through the door. The apartment was silent, and more than that, the smell of her was absent. I felt something drop in my chest.

In the shower, my thoughts returned to Ashley. I thought of her last night, touching herself on the couch. How she told me she liked to be spanked, her hair pulled. Her beautiful mouth fucked. I felt myself getting hard. As I stroked my cock, I'm not sure who I thought of. The images in my mind were of Ashley, but also of Samantha's luscious bouncing tits, of Kimberly Okinawa's slender neck and piercing eyes. Perhaps I thought of Lupe's ass in her leggings and her long black hair blowing in the wind outside the museum. Or Erin's red locks and full legs beneath her jeans shorts. As I came, my mind was crowded with lips and tits and thighs and asses, flooded by beauty and lust.

Dried and shirtless in my towel, I saw I'd missed a call from Ashley. I immediately called her back.

"Hey Ansel," she said, "I just talked with Kimberly."

"Oh yeah?"

"She said you did a great job in the yard. I'm not surprised."

"Oh thanks!"

Ashley paused for a moment, and then I heard a bit of wickedness sneak into her voice. "She also told me you ran into Samantha."

"Yeah, Sammy was babysitting for Ms. Okinawa."

"She's turned into a little hottie, hasn't she?"

I laughed, and I knew that Ashley would be able to practically hear my cheeks blushing through the phone.

"Anyways," she continued, "Kimberly was asking if she could take you out to dinner, as a thank you for the hard work you did today."

"These moms and their dinners!" I exclaimed.

"Well, you know what they say. The way to a man's heart is-"

"Through his stomach," I finished.

"I mean, that's one way to a man's heart. I bet you could think of another way," Ashley teased.

"Are you playing Hot or Cold again?" I asked.

Ashley laughed. It was good to hear her laugh. "No, no, I don't want to get in trouble at work. Oh, speaking of work, I'm going to be staying late. There's a lot to catch up on. Before you get dressed for tonight, check out the suit I left on my bed. I pulled it out of the closet this morning, thought you might like it. Your dad wore it once or twice, and it looked sharp on him."

"Do you want me to wear it?"

"Yeah," Ashley said, "it would make me happy to think of you in it."

"Okay," I replied, "I'll check it out."

"Kimberly will be swinging by to pick you up around seven. I've got to get back to work. I..." Ashley's voice trailed off for a moment. "I hope you have fun tonight."

"Thanks Ashley," I said, ending the call.

Thinking over Ashley's final words, I wandered to her bedroom. On the bed lay a well-cut gray suit and white button-down shirt. I tried it on, and looked at myself in a full-length mirror near Ashley's bed. For a moment, my heart shuddered. I was looking at a ghost of my father, a reflection of his younger years. This must be what my father had looked like when he met my mother.

I felt him, suddenly, in this room he had shared with Ashley. In the bed where he had slept next to her. Where he had fucked her. Where I had fucked her. I felt a wave of guilt, knowing I still lusted after my dad's wife. I felt revulsion, knowing I wanted to fuck my step-mom again. I felt lust, my cock stirring, wondering when I would once more share Ashley's bed.

...

A little before seven, I heard a honk outside. I ran down the steps in my suit and my nice shoes from the funeral. Kimberly Okinawa sat in the driver's seat of a black Tesla, her thick black hair down over her shoulders and back. I saw her eyes dance over my suit, and she gave me a half-smile. "Looking good, Ansel."

I got into the passenger seat, and we set off. Ms. Okinawa told me she was taking me to one of her favorite Japanese restaurants. "I wrote them a great review once. Now they let me park in a private spot in the back. One of the many benefits of being a reporter," she laughed.

Ms. Okinawa had a beautiful laugh, like crystal clear water flowing over smooth pebbles. Sitting in the car with her, I felt a little dizzy with her beauty. She was wearing a starched white blouse with a high collar, half unbuttoned to show off her ivory sternum and a hint of her small breasts. Her long, gorgeous legs were concealed under a pleated green skirt the color and weight of seafoam.

Cars filled the street outside Ms. Okinawa's favorite restaurant, but she pulled down a tiny alley and parked in a secluded spot next to a cinderblock wall that had been painted with a mural of fish and mermaids. When we got out of the car, I was reminded how tall and elegant Ms. Okinawa was.

We entered the restaurant through the back, and Ms. Okinawa led me through the crowded tables to the hostess at the front. The whole way I could see men and women turning to stare at this statuesque beauty walking before me. I couldn't keep my eyes away from her tall, slender figure, and the thick mane of black hair cascading down her back like an ocean's waves on a moonless night.

Ms. Okinawa had made a reservation, and we were led to a small table near the window. As we sat down, Ms. Okinawa grabbed both menus and handed them to the waitress. "Omakase, and my usual, but for two," she ordered. "And sake, hot." The waitress nodded and walked off.

Ms. Okinawa turned her dark, narrow eyes towards me. I felt as if a spotlight were shining upon my seat, the rest of the restaurant fading away into the darkness.

"So," she said. "Are the rumors true?"

I gulped. "Rumors?"

"Come now, Ansel. I'm worried about Ashley. It's unusual for her to be ordering someone around like she is with you. She's usually a much more... submissive person. She's acting out of character, don't you think?"

I felt pinned, as if in a spider's web. "Um, I'm not sure. I never really got to know her well before I went to college."

Ms. Okinawa stared at me, her face almost emotionless. Only her eyes showed her interest. She had a feline beauty to her, Ms. Okinawa, and I was a mouse frozen in her gaze.

I suddenly found myself telling Ms. Okinawa all about my step-mother- that is, about my life with her before my father's death. I confessed to her the poor relationship I'd had with my dad. How I had been so distrustful of Ashley when I'd met her. She'd been 23, in a new relationship, and I hadn't made things easy. I detailed for Ms. Okinawa the two years of high school I'd spent babysitting my twin step-siblings while my dad and step-mom fucked loudly in the bedroom. I couldn't stop the flow of words, talking about college, about the awkward phone calls home, the few visits. And finally I came to the funeral. Recalling Ashley at my father's wake, her black dress contrasting with her pale arms and face, the hug and kiss she'd given me, and that night, the night I first held her in my arms... I suddenly went silent.

Ms. Okinawa's eyes narrowed. She leaned forward, and I could see more of her breastbone and the tops of her small pale breasts through the open top of her blouse. It looked like she wasn't wearing a bra, and imagining her nipples rubbing against the fabric of her blouse gave me a shock of pleasure.

"I'm a prize-winning reporter, Ansel," she said in a stern voice, "and that's because I can smell bullshit from a mile away. I'm going to ask you a question, and if you lie to me you'll be walking home. Do you understand me?"

I nodded, wondering and fearing what this goddess was about to ask.

She raised her sharp chin and looked down her thin nose at me. "Are you two fucking?"

Suddenly the waiter was there, placing a bottle of warm sake on the table, and pouring a small cup for each of us. Steam rose between us. My heart was thudding, and I picked up my cup in a shaking hand.

The waiter told us the food would be ready soon, and left. Ms. Okinawa picked up her cup, but kept the steaming sake by her lips, her eyes frozen on mine. I felt the heat of the sake starting to burn my fingertips, and knew Ms. Okinawa must be feeling the same. I also knew she wouldn't drink until I answered.

I took a deep breath. My voice seemed to be trapped in my stomach. My answer took its time crawling up my lungs, through my throat, and out my mouth.

"Yes," I said.

We drank.

As I released my cup onto the table, I added, "But just once."

Ms. Okinawa refilled our glasses and we drank again.

"Kind of," I finished.

Ms. Okinawa raised a fine dark eyebrow. "Are you two... a couple?"

I shook my head, blushing. "No, no. Just... I don't know. I think she needed comfort."

Ms. Okinawa nodded thoughtfully. She refilled the glasses again. I was starting to feel a little loopy, but I gulped the hot sake down.

"Okay, I understand," she said. "This will stay between the two of us. Don't worry. I'm very protective of my friends. And I think you and I could be good friends. Ashley told me you studied writing in college?"

I nodded and started to tell Ms. Okinawa about my studies. I had been absolutely passionate about writing for the first few years of college, but in my senior year I felt myself burning out. It became harder and harder to get the words down on paper.

Ms. Okinawa listened thoughtfully, adding her own opinions and experiences. Slowly our food arrived, a plate at a time. Ms. Okinawa told me about each dish, what she liked about it or found challenging, serving generous portions onto my plate. When we finished the first bottle of sake, she ordered another, though didn't pour herself any more. "I need to get us home safely," she laughed.

The sake and food seemed to melt Ms. Okinawa's icy demeanor. She started sharing stories from her own college years, hilarious stories about boys she lusted after, girls she experimented with, professors she still had crushes on.

"I was a bit of a slut in college," she admitted. "Does that tarnish your view of me?"

I laughed and told her that I found her honesty frankly attractive. Ms. Okinawa was a fantastic conversationalist. She asked interesting questions, gave insightful answers, and made me nearly shoot sake through my nose with laughter. She seemed to be warming up to me, too. At one points she reached out to wipe some salmon roe from my chin, then left her slender fingers here. She traced my cheek with her finger and looked me in the eye.

"I can see what Ashley sees in you," she said. "I guess I understand now why you're the hot topic of the Single Mothers Club."

I blushed, and Ms. Okinawa laughed, pulling her hand away.

Suddenly, over her shoulder, I saw a face staring our way. It was a man in his late 30's, with black hair pulled back into a short ponytail and a scrum of beard on his strong chin. Below his thick black eyebrows, his eyes were hot coals staring death in my direction. He gripped a pair of chopsticks like a dagger he wanted to plunge into my neck.

Ms. Okinawa must have seen a strange look cross my face. She turned, then sighed. Her beautiful slim shoulders slumped.

"Oh god, that's John. That's my husband," she said. She turned back to me and hurriedly added, "We're separated."

"I, uh, I heard about it."

"Oh yeah? I guess you're not the only one being gossipped about."

"He, uh, looks angry."

"Well yeah, his wife is on a date with a handsome young man. I bet he's angry. Let's see how he feels when I do this..."

Ms. Okinawa reached out, grabbed my chin, and pulled me across the table for a kiss. Her lips parted mine and her tongue writhed into my mouth. I felt electricity enter my body, I felt the restaurant shift and fall off a cliff, I felt the moon crash into the earth and I felt Ms. Okinawa's hot breath and beautiful face pressed against mine.

She released me, and I collapsed back into my chair.

Ms. Okinawa's cheeks were pink and her lips were flushed from kissing. She took out a stack of bills from her purse, placed them on the table, and stood. "Let's go," she said.

I followed Ms. Okinawa back through the restaurant to the back door. Again, the eyes of men and women were on us. This time, though, I could tell something was different. They weren't just seeing a beautiful woman and a young man. Ms. Okinawa had created something with that kiss, a dream, a story. The eyes on us could see possibility, could see lust and desire, could see my cock pressing against my slacks as it tried to burst out and plunge into Ms. Okinawa!

And I knew, the entire time, that John Okinawa was wishing death upon me. I just didn't care.

Ms. Okinawa burst out laughing as we exited. "Oh, to see the look on his face! That must have been gut-wrenching!"

I laughed too, still dizzy from the kiss. Ms. Okinawa took my hand as we crossed the small private lot to her Tesla. Before she opened the driver's side door, she pulled me into a hug.

I wasn't used to hugging taller women, but it felt amazing. Ms. Okinawa wrapped her long arms around me, and pressed me into her blouse and skirt. I held onto her waist and ran a hand up her back, feeling her trim figure.

Ms. Okinawa pulled back, but still held onto me so that our hips were pressed together. I knew she could feel my erection pushing against her skirt and what lay beneath it.

"I had a really great date," Ms. Okinawa said, smiling at me. "My first great date in a while. Thank you."

"I had a great time too."

"Let me drive you home," she said. She winked at me, and let me go.

Shakily, I crossed over to the passenger side door and got in. Ms. Okinawa was sitting in her seat, but hadn't turned on the car. The private lot was dark, barely illuminated by a street light almost a block away. Behind her I could see the painted fish swimming over the wall.

Ms. Okinawa turned towards me, her eyes narrowed over a wicked grin.

"We could start driving home," she said, "or we could make out like horny teenagers."

I didn't wait to answer. I sunk my fingers into Ms. Okinawa's thick black hair and pulled her to my mouth.

Ms. Okinawa was a strong kisser. She hungrily pressed her lips against mine and ground her tongue into my mouth. Her hands trailed through my hair and grabbed onto the back of my neck. The smell of her was in my nose, the taste of her on my tongue, and my whole body seemed to be pouring through my lips into hers.

I broke away from Ms. Okinawa's lips and kissed down her sharp jawline and slender neck, down to her collarbone in the open top of her blouse. Ms. Okinawa hurriedly started unbuttoning her white blouse, her fingers precise over the buttons. She was wearing no bra, and her small breasts, each perfectly palm-sized, were soon free. Her nipples were large and pink, standing out like twin thumbs. As Ms. Okinawa lifted her head in pleasure, I kissed my way down her breastbone towards her left breast. I licked around her areola, big wet licks coating her breast in my saliva. Then I flicked my tongue over her large nipple, teasing it. Ms. Okinawa laughed.

"Oh god that feels good," she moaned. "Suck on them. Suck on my tits."

I obliged. I sucked her large nipple between my tight lips. Meanwhile, I squeezed her right breast in my hand, pinching and rolling the nipple between my fingers. Ms. Okinawa breathed heavily, her head thrown back, her hair coiling over her bare shoulders and between her breasts.

Ms. Okinawa pulled my hand away from her breast and to her mouth. She slipped a finger between her lips and sucked on it. I switched breasts with my lips, sucking the whole breast into my mouth and working my tongue around the nipple. Ms. Okinawa moaned around my finger. She grabbed my hair and kept me at her breast. I continued to suck hard, my lips latched around her broad areola. My hands worked down her body towards her pleated green skirt. I started to work the hem up her legs, but Ms. Okinawa pulled me away.

"Wait, wait," she said. "It's your turn now. Sit back."

I sat up, then lowered the seat into a more relaxed position. My cock was pressing up against my gray slacks. Ms. Okinawa's eyes were on my crotch, a hungry look in their dark depths. With a long, pale finger, she trailed up and down the length of my erection. I gave out a shuddering sigh.

Ms. Okinawa skillfully unbuckled my belt, and unbuttoned and zipped open my pants. She pulled my cock from my boxers. It was swollen into a massive erection, the head of my cock purple and beaded with precum.

Ms. Okinawa gingerly wrapped her fingers around my shaft, then dipped the pad of her thumb into the precum. She swirled her thumb around the head of my cock until it was glistening. I felt like my cock was going to burst, it was so hard. I groaned.

Ms. Okinawa stuck the thumb in her mouth and sucked on it. "Yum," she said. She licked her fingers, then rubbed her saliva-coated hand over my dick.