Chapter 9: Saturday Morning

I struggled awake the following morning. Tasha had wrapped herself around me, and I was held in her arms and between her legs. My girlfriend typically wakes up with a full bladder, so I playfully poked her abdomen. Her eyes sprung open, and she muttered, “Bitch!” before rolling out of bed and almost running into the en suite. I giggled before following her in. I stood, leaning against the wall and admiring her athletic body with her full C-cup breasts, which she bemoaned as too big to run effectively with.

That was clearly crap because she held several age group records and titles, she was the current Australian women’s 400m and 400m hurdle champion, and was on the cusp of representing her country. She finished weeing, wiped, and stood. I took her place and did the same thing.

“You okay, babe?” She asked.

“Mostly,” I replied. “I’d held that inside for so long that I guess it was inevitable it spewed out at some stage.”

“You were quite cruel towards your m ... Mandy last night. Are you ready to forgive her yet?”

I shook my head. “Not even close. What happens next is up to Dad. If he wants her back, then I’ll come to terms with her abandoning us. But if he says she’s gone, I won’t hesitate to kick her out. I’ll threaten all kinds of things, but I’ll get The Trust to buy her a one-bedroom inner city apartment, and dump her saggy ass in there.”

“She won’t be able to afford the utilities, let alone the rates,” Tasha pointed out.

“The unit will remain in The Trust’s name,” I explained. “The utilities, etc., like this place, will be paid automatically from The Trust. Her only expenses will be food, toiletries, etc. Even the dole will cover those.”

“I’ve got to get me one of these trusts,” Tasha joked. “It must be nice not to have to worry about money.”

I laughed with her but knew how lucky and privileged I was. Granddaddy Morshuis had invested wisely in several burgeoning businesses like Microsoft and Apple when they were in their infancy. Also, he got lucky when a gold exploration company he invested in found a rich mine in Bougainville. The shares were bought as a tax write-off, but they’re now worth nearly eight hundred dollars a share, and The Trust owns one hundred thousand of them.

Tasha and I got dressed and went to the kitchen. No one else was up because it was still quite early. Chatting with Tasha as she ran through her stretches, I grated cheese, sliced bacon, and diced onions. Then, I dropped eight eggs into a measuring jug, added chopped chives and salt and pepper and mixed them with a fork until everything was beaten together. Next, I took out two muffin trays and placed a half-cup sheet of puff pastry in each cup. The bacon slices went in next, followed by the egg mix and diced onions. Finally, I filled the cup with cheese, sprinkled a dash of Tabasco sauce over the cheese and stuck the trays in the oven.

Forty-five minutes later, I brought out the bacon and egg mini-pies, and Tasha grabbed three while I took only one. Mum came in next, attracted by the delicious smell. She took one and then grinned when Tasha returned and took another three pies. Some women would be horrified by how much my girlfriend ate, but with her in the depths of her fitness regimen, I knew she’d probably grab at least another couple before she left for the track. I ate a second one as Tasha finished her sixth, then we kissed, and she shot out the door, carrying two more pies.

“What is the plan for today, Carina?” Mum asked.

“Mistress,” I said firmly.

Mum’s eyes lowered submissively, and she repeated, “What is the plan for today, Mistress?”

“Your saggy ass needs sun,” I told her bluntly. “So, you will put on one of my bikinis and help me tidy the gardens. It’s early winter, so you should be able to handle an hour in the sun. Then, we’ll cover up and do what remains to be done.”

Daytime temperatures in Brisbane are typically between twenty-four and twenty-seven degrees Celsius (75-81), which, as long as there isn’t a westerly blowing, is plenty warm enough to be outside in a bikini.

When we went shopping yesterday, we hadn’t bought Mum a bikini, but I have several that range from quite conservative to outright scandalous. I made her wear one that was outright scandalous, of course. Mum tried to object, but I ignored her protests and impatiently told her to hurry up. Mum begrudgingly put on an old, battered pair of sneakers I had, and we went outside.

“Wait!” Mum protested. “Why do I have to wear this when you’re wearing shorts and a T-shirt?”

Because you’re my bitch, and I told you to,” I said haughtily.

Mum looked down at the postage stamps that barely covered her thick nipples and clit and sighed. However, she picked up the hoe and began clearing the weeds. She was weakened from her months of privation, so I didn’t push her when she needed to rest, which was a lot of the time. After an hour, I took her back inside and got her a cold drink. Gordon and Dad were up, and I was pleased when they eyed Mum avariciously. Dad may have transitioned to female, but he still appreciated a woman’s body.