Run Ch. 03

This story is a bit wordy and fairly long, so if you are looking for immediate gratification, you might want to look elsewhere. It contains heterosexual and lesbian sexual activity.

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The following story is a work of fiction. Any resemblance between actual persons, living or dead (or just confused) is entirely coincidental. Please do not copy/redistribute the story, in part or in total, without the author's permission.

This story takes place in the entirely fictional city of Springfield, California, so don't go looking for it on a map. And in my little fictional world, there are no unwanted pregnancies or STD's, except as plot driving devices. The author encourages the practice of safe-sex.

This is part of an ongoing series. Please check out earlier part(s) for background and character history.

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"Thanks for seeing me on such short notice," Pat said, having a seat in Dr. Martin's office once again.

"Not a problem. I must say I'm happy that you're so much more willing to talk, particularly since you're not really required to be here anymore." The attractive redheaded woman looked over the top of her glasses at her young "patient." "What's on your mind?"

Pat had worked it all out in her head, but suddenly her words failed her. She just sat there with her mouth open.

Carolyn Martin was amused. This was a bright, athletic and beautiful girl, but she had the social skills of a hermit.

"When . . . when did everything get complicated?" Pat practically growled, standing suddenly and beginning to pace. She felt a pressure inside her that had grown increasingly uncomfortable as of late. "I don't know what to do, and I'm not even sure what the problem is. I mean, they're just teenagers . . . I guess friends . . . so . . ." She stopped and took a breath. She had to keep control of herself.

Carolyn watched the young woman enter into an almost trance-like state. "Are you really THAT afraid of letting loose?" she asked.

"What do you mean?"

"The whole point of coming in here to talk to me is so that you don't need to keep stuff bottled up, but you're still trying to do that. Just let it out."

"I can't," Pat whispered, sitting down. "Mr. Baker doesn't like mistakes."

"Your father . . ." Carolyn was in the rare situation of getting frustrated herself. "Is pleasing your father THAT important to you? So important that you'd drive yourself insane to do it?"

Pat uttered something she'd never thought she'd say out loud. At first, she wasn't even aware that she was doing it. "If I make him 'proud,' he forgets how disappointed he is in my brother. And making him 'proud' is the only thing I know how to do."

For a moment, there was silence. It was the most genuine, personal thing that Pat Baker had ever admitted to anyone.

Carolyn walked over, knelt and took Pat's hands in her own. "I don't understand what it must be like for you. I know of both your parents. People like that don't move to a town like this and not be noticed. Big time players, right? But you don't have to be like them. You're eighteen years old. You're entire life is ahead of you."

"I've already told you," Pat whispered, depression setting in. "It's not my life."

"Why not?"

"Because . . . because I don't know how to make it my life."

Carolyn kissed the girl's hands. It wasn't a come-on or erotic in any fashion. It was a sympathetic move.

"The first thing you have to do is open yourself up. Let these new kids in your life be your friends. Let them in. And for crying out loud, give yourself a break! Let yourself make mistakes."

"I can't. If I make mistakes . . ."

"I know, you're father will be disappointed. But if you don't, you're going to make yourself sick, and you'll wind up making mistakes anyway."

Pat sighed. She wondered if Ms. Martin had any idea how accurate she was, or of how sick Pat already felt most of the time.

Carolyn smiled. "Talk to your friends. They'll probably admit to a lot of mistakes. But they're probably happier than you seem to be. Actually," she added, "why don't you talk to Lola?"

"Your . . . girlfriend?" Pat asked. "Why?"

"Because Lola can probably explain better than anyone that making a mistake doesn't have to be the end of your life. It could just make it the beginning."

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At lunch the next day. . .

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The group of four teenagers was sitting at their table, and Keith was telling the story of when he and Gail, then both fourteen, had gotten caught trying to toilet-paper the house of a local politician who had been trying to get the city council to past a stricter curfew ordinance for the district they lived in. The motion-detector activated lights, causing the two conspirators to panic. When they turned to run, Gail's foot had slipped and she had fallen into the soft earth of a flower bed. When the owner of the house had looked out his window, all he saw was a mud-covered creature dripping lilies and leaving a trail of toilet paper screaming down his lawn. It had been pretty easy to find which house she had gone to at that point, and Gail had been grounded for a month. Throughout the story, Gail had tried to keep her face covered to hide her blush, but she was also laughing so hard she couldn't breathe. Todd was grinning and taking mental notes of things he could use against his girlfriend at a later date.

But Pat noticed one thing about the story that almost got glossed over. Despite his involvement, Gail hadn't turned on Keith. And Keith had appreciated that. He had snuck over to her house whenever he could and they played cards and gorged on the candy he brought. They had tons of stories like that. Todd had heard them all already, so Pat's ears were a welcome outlet.

"What about you?" Keith asked, looking right at the newcomer. "You ever get in trouble?"

Pat wracked her brain. "No, not really."

"Your dad keep a close eye on ya?" Todd said, a grin on his face. Todd looked at his comrades. "On a military base, everyone knows who the boss's kids are. You're a brave soul if you're the one who gets them in trouble."

"I guess," Pat said. "No one really tried." Her friends looked stunned. "You've never really dealt with Mr. Baker. He's not someone you cross," she added, trying to find something else to look at. She noticed that Lola, the lunch lady, was popping out the back of the kitchen. "Hey, I'll be back in a few."

Keith watched Pat stand up and wander off. He figured she was just going to the bathroom. He also caught himself checking out her firm backside. Gail had said she was in great shape, and he had often wondered just what that drab fashion of hers was hiding.

Pat snuck out of the cafeteria and around the side of the building. She had half expected to find Lola smoking. Instead, she was kicked back against the wall reading a book.

"Lola?" Pat said.

The beautiful, tough looking Hispanic woman looked up and smiled. "Hey. Carolyn told me you might be comin' round sometime."

"She did?"

"Yeah. Figured you were finally tryin' to figure stuff out in your head. Got it in that brain of hers that I might be able to help."

Pat sat down next to her. "What are you reading?" she asked.

Lola held up the book. It was titled "Tender Buttons" by Gertrude Stein. "She's one of my favorites.

"I'm not good at poetry."

Lola put the book down. "I can't get enough of it. I write some too. Carolyn keeps encouraging me to do it. She wants me to send it to some agent or publisher or somethin'. It just helps me get my head clear."

"I wish I could do that," Pat muttered. "How . . . how did you two meet?"

"In prison," Lola replied. She noticed that Pat didn't back away or look nervous. 'This is one cool customer,' she thought. "When I was young, I thought I was invulnerable. I was the baddest girl in the world," she added, a look of sardonic amusement on her face. "Strange. I always thought I didn't need anyone, but eventually that just made me pick the wrong kinda people to be around. Don't get me wrong . . . I'm not passin' the buck. I made my decisions. I just didn't have anyone around who tried to help me make the right ones."

"So how'd you end up in jail?"

"Armed robbery," Lola said. "I had a big-time heroine habit to support. Me and these guys were gonna hit a liquor store. Things went bad when one of my supposed friends decided it would be fun to rough up the guy behind the counter. It was just some white kid workin' his way through college. That was when I realized that somethin' was wrong. I didn't want to hurt nobody. It was just one of those moments, ya know? I realized I'd let things get so bad that some kid wasn't gonna get capped just 'cause I needed a fix." Lola closed her eyes. It wasn't one of her favorite memories.

"What happened to the clerk?" Pat asked. She was totally absorbed in the story.

"He lived. My associate pointed a gun at him and I stood in the way. Could'a swore I was gonna die right then and there. Kept tellin' him that we didn't need to hurt nobody and that he'd be in a hell of a lot more trouble for killin' somebody than for robbin' 'em. Didn't know the clerk had already triggered the alarm. I was just standing there when the cops showed up. My partners freaked. One of 'em ran out the back door. The other turned and pointed his gun at the cops. They shot 'em dead right in front of me. I dropped my piece. I was scared shitless. Cops came stormin' in and pointing guns at me. The bad-ass-bitch was cryin' like a baby when they stuck me in patrol car."

"I'm sorry," Pat said.

"Don't be. I put myself in that place. But I got myself a majorly reduced sentence for tryin' to help the clerk. He actually showed up and testified on my behalf. I'd tried to rob him, and he was tryin' to help me. It sucked. I'd finally decided I wanted to turn stuff around when the judge's gavel was comin' down."

"But you did, right? Turn things around?"

"With help from a certain redhead I did." Lola noticed that Pat looked confused. "She was providing psychiatric evaluations for the prison. She started there about a year after I arrived. Weird. I wasn't even on her case list. But by then, I'd started spendin' time in the prison library. I figured I needed to know more stuff if I wanted to turn my life around. I didn't have the slightest fuckin' idea how I was gonna do it. Mostly, I just wound up reading books of poetry. That's when I started writing but . . ."

"But what?" Pat asked.

"But I was scared to show it to anyone. I felt like such an idiot. But one day, Carolyn was doing an interview in the library 'cause her usual meeting room was being renovated. She saw me readin' a book of stuff by Edgar Allen Poe. I don't know why she did it, but she came over. I still remember her quotin' 'The Bells' just off the top of her head. I just looked up and saw this . . . beautiful woman . . ." Lola was actually blushing. "All I could say was 'Hi. I Lola.' I just stared at her and she started to laugh. She was just so . . ."

"Beautiful?" Pat finished with a smile. "I got that part."

Lola covered her blushing face with her book. "Sorry. It's hard to stop once I start with that. Anyway, she just sat down and talked poetry with me. Some of my stuff was on the table, so she just started readin' it. She liked it for some reason. I dunno. But she started comin' round to see how I was doin.' She was the only visitor I had, and sometimes she'd drop by the library when she could take a break from work. She donated some new poetry books to the library so I'd have more stuff to read."

"When . . . when did you figure out that there was something more between you?" Pat asked. "Sorry. I guess that's none of my business.

Lola smiled. "Prison riot."

"What?"

"Prison riot. The maximum security wing 'residents' decided they didn't like there living conditions I guess. Anyway, when things get hot in a prison, they lock everything down to keep the mob from spreadin'. She and I got locked in the library together with a couple other girls. These other inmates were lookin' over the Doc like she was a sack lunch. I let 'em know in no uncertain terms that they weren't goin' to get anywhere near her without a lot of blood loss. They knew I meant business. She and I went and hid back up in the stacks. Carolyn's no scaredy-cat, but she was freaked. She was clinging to me . . ." Lola was remembering how wonderful the woman had smelled. "Sorry. This is the part where I need to stop talkin'," she said. She could still remember Carolyn hugging her for protection . . . then kissing her and then . . . Lola had fucked a lot of people, but she had never made love until that day in the stacks.

"That's the same looks SHE gets when she talks about you," Pat said.

Lola felt her heart flutter. "She does?"

"Yep."

Lola was smiling from ear to ear. "I'm so lucky I found her. I wanted to make my life better, but I don't know if I could do it on my own."

"But you DID make it better," Pat said.

"Yeah. I just had to make a decision. Continue along a self-destructive path or make a new one. I made the choice, and Carolyn made it worth it. I had to lean on her a bit, but sometimes that's the way it goes." Lola shook her head as if coming out of a sleep. "Sorry, I can't believe I babbled on like that. Carolyn said you might want me to talk about something. What was it?"

Pat smiled. "You just said it," she said. She stood up and headed back inside as the lunch bell rang. She looked back. "She really does love you, you know."

Lola clutched her book and sighed. She couldn't wait until she got home. She had a certain redhead she needed to make love to for a long, long time.

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That evening . . .

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Carolyn dropped her keys and purse off on the end table next to the front door of an apartment. She stopped in the hall, taking a deep sniff. She smelled a heavenly aroma! Something spicy, Carolyn suspected.

'Hot damn!' she thought. 'My woman's cooking!' Her girlfriend made the best Mexican food on the planet. But as she turned the corner to the kitchen, she discovered that food wasn't the only thing Mexican on her menu.

Lola was standing next to the stove, her strong hands chopping up an assortment of peppers and onions. She was wearing a chef's apron and . . . that was all. Her brown hair tumbled softly down her back, leading Carolyn's gaze to that firm, perfect bottom. Lola glanced over her shoulder, a shy but sensual smile residing on her face.

"Hey beautiful," she said, turning back to her work but flipping her hair and exposing that delicious neck to Carolyn. Carolyn couldn't resist, just as Lola had expected. The redheaded woman sidled up behind Lola and kissed Lola's neck. She pressed herself against her girlfriend's naked back.

"What's the special occasion?" she asked. "Not that I mind." She kissed Lola's neck again.

Lola was struggling to keep calm. She wanted to drive Carolyn insane. "Just felt in the mood," she replied. She put the knife down, reached behind her and grabbed one of Carolyn's hands, placing it on Lola's bare ass cheek. "Mind keepin' those warm?" she asked. "The rest is almost done."

Carolyn wasn't sure what was going through her lover's mind, but she liked it. Normally, she wanted Lola to be aggressive and just fuck the living hell out of her, but sometimes it was nice for a more romantic evening at home. This was apparently going to be one of those nights. She squeezed Lola's ass, trying to slide her hand up the woman's body but having it slapped away with the broadside of the knife.

"Unh unh," Lola reprimanded. "No dessert until after the meal."

Carolyn grumbled, but inwardly she was happy. She knew that Lola was up to something and it could only be good for her.

"Why don't you have a seat . . . besides mine, that is," Lola whispered, turning and giving Carolyn a warm kiss.

Carolyn didn't want to play anymore. She wanted to do very naughty things to Lola. But the girl, who was ten years her junior, was in control. She walked over to the dining room table and sat down. When she did, she felt her foot brush against a bag on the floor. "What the . . ."

"Don't you dare look in there," Lola said. "As a matter of fact, maybe you should put your hands on the table."

'Damn it,' Carolyn thought. She had wanted to provide herself with some personal relief while she waited, but Lola wasn't going to let that happen.

Soon, a sizzling plate of fajitas was placed in front of Carolyn, while Lola took a smaller portion. The redhead was a little surprised, as normally Lola was a voracious eater. Lola took off her apron and sat down naked across the table from Carolyn.

"Eat up," she purred.

No sooner than had the good doctor put the first fork of meat and spices on a warm tortilla than she felt something against her knee. Slowly, Lola was pushing her foot between Carolyn's thighs and against her swollen mound, rubbing against the woman's panties with her toes.

"Oh . . ." Carolyn gasped.

"Keep eating," Lola said with a grin. "You wouldn'a wanna upset the cook, would you?"

Carolyn started to eat. Every morsel seemed a million times more delicious than the last. And all the while, Lola's foot kept pressing and rubbing and kneading Carolyn's crotch. Juice from the meat was dribbling down her chin as her own juices were dribbling down her thighs.

Lola quickly finished her own meal, preferring to spend time watching Carolyn savor the bites and the passing moments. The doctor's face was perspiring and some of her hair was plastered to her forehead. And no matter how much she ate, she still obviously hungered.

Carolyn gripped the edge of the table as she felt a wonderful and familiar pressure in her loins. She squeezed her thighs together against Lola's leg and pressed her panty-clad pussy against that loving foot. And she came. It felt like it would go on forever as she achieved release on Lola's toes, and she half wished it would. She arched her back and stared at the ceiling as her breasts heaved and her body tightened, expelling her cum with abandon.

She barely noticed when the pressure from her groin vanished, but when she looked across the table, she definitely noticed that Lola was missing . . . missing until, that is, Carolyn felt her knees being pushed apart by a force under the table. Soft lips caressed the insides of her thighs, as did a talented little tongue. Carolyn couldn't eat another bite. Her body was at maximum arousal, and her stomach just wasn't interested in anything. It was Lola's turn to satisfy her appetite.

Lola sniffed her lover's crotch, then licked it . . . then kissed the moist satin of Carolyn's panties . . . then placed the width of her tongue against the fabric and drug it upward. The tongue started to move faster while Lola traced her fingernails along the sensitive skin of her girlfriend's inner thighs. For Carolyn, it was maddening. For Lola, it was just the beginning.

Lola let her hands drift to the floor where she opened the bag that Carolyn's foot had brushed against earlier. From it, she withdrew a small vibrator, a butt plug and a bottle of lubricant. She got the butt plug slicked up first, then nudged Carolyn's legs a little further apart before coaxing her to scoot closer to the edge of the chair. She then grabbed Carolyn's panties with her teeth and slid the plug into the redhead's willing asshole. She could feel Carolyn's sphincter clutching at it like a baby at a pacifier.

"One down . . ." Lola began. Then she fired up the thin, five-inch tacky-pastel-green vibrator and pressed the first inch into Carolyn's sex.

Carolyn was chewing on her cloth napkin and groaning somewhat loudly. Lola was running the vibrator up and down her slot while sucking on one outer labia and then the other. Having something in her ass was a happy bonus. Since Lola could check, Carolyn shoved a hand into her own blouse and tweaked her nipple.