Chapter 3: Shock and Aww

In the morning, there was a knock on the bedroom door.

“Are you ready for breakfast, or do you need ten more minutes to, uh, ‘dress,’ Mom?”

Diane pulled off my cock enough to say, “Ten minutes.” Then she grinned and latched on again. Tillie knew what was delaying us and snickered when our nude bodies joined them in the kitchen. Annie served us some delicious breakfast with another one of her smiles.

Have I mentioned that Annie is beautiful? If she can find her way to full self-confidence, some guy is going to be thrilled. I should be clear, though. Her dog business was limited. Annie could talk if necessary, even when she was in dog mode. She didn’t eat out of a dish on the floor or move around on her hands and knees.

Obviously, she didn’t think of herself as an actual dog—more like the family pet. I wasn’t going to get up on my high horse about it. Heh.

“I made the bacon, and Annie scrambled the eggs.”

“That’s brave, Tillie; aren’t you worried about getting hit by spattering grease?”

“I wear an apron, silly. If you weren’t busy not dressing with my mom, you would have seen me with my ass hanging out under the apron ties.”

I shifted uncomfortably on the dinette chair. Essentially, it was sticky vinyl stretched over pieces of plywood for the seat and back, with the legs and frame made of plated steel.

“Diane, how are you fixed for money?”

“I guess we’re OK; why do you ask?”

“I see you don’t have a regular dining table and chairs, just this set in the kitchen.”

“Yeah, years ago I sold the fancy table and chairs because we weren’t using them. Again, why do you ask?”

“I made fun of Tillie; I apologize. This chair is really hard to sit on with on my bony butt.”

Diane looked uncomfortable, while Tillie looked off into the corner.

“I don’t think I can replace this set right now. Tillie has aged out of child support, and what I get for Annie added to my salary means I have to budget pretty tightly. Maybe I can find a cushion for you or something.”

“No, that’s not what I mean. I remember you said I could be coming over ‘several more times.’ If I visit and you feed me, I want to be comfortable. I’m going to buy you a new table and chairs that won’t torture my tiny tush.”

Annie giggled while her sister snorted.

“That’s crazy! I mean, thanks for offering, but I can’t let you buy furniture for a house you don’t live in.”

Diane was scowling at me again. I didn’t like it.

“Yet,” Annie whispered.

“Annie? What did you say?”

“Mom, she said, ‘Yet.’ She beat me to it.”

“What? I don’t understand.”

“A house you don’t live in YET.”

“That’s a very gracious invitation, ladies, but I think Diane needs to be the one to invite me.”

Despite my cautious words, I clasped my hands in front of my chest and fluttered my eyes at her, beseeching. For her part, Annie made the whining noise you’d hear from a dog begging while watching the canned food being spooned into her supper dish.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake! You’ve been in my house less than 20 hours, and you’re ready to move in? My daughters haven’t scared you off?”

“Your daughters are adorable, and they approve of me. Already, Diane. Let me do this small thing, for selfish reasons as well as bribing my way into your affections.”

“Wait a minute, wise guy. BOTH of those are selfish reasons.”

“Well, true. I want your affection, and I want to avoid bruising my butt. You’re giving me permission?”

“Yeah, OK.”

“Great. I’m going to clean up the kitchen, and then we can chat in the living room.”

“The hell? You’re the guest.”

“I didn’t come here just to look pretty, Diane. The girls made breakfast, so I’m going to clean up.”

“I can’t let...”

Annie growled loudly, and Tillie told her to shut the fuck up.

“Fine. I’m going to take a shower. I smell like ... Never mind.”

Tillie giggled, gathered the dishes, and put them in the sink for me. I made quick work of the two frying pans and loaded the dishwasher, then headed back to the master bathroom. On the way, I noticed she had changed the sheets and made the bed.

Diane had just stepped into the shower.

“Can I join you? I’ll wash your hair.”

“Lovely.”

Afterwards, we snuggled on her living room sofa.

“Let’s see. In the past 24 hours, you washed my dishes, washed my hair, promised me furniture, and made my pussy explode over and over and over.”

“I’m trying to make a good impression. Is it working?”

“Of course it is. I’m worrying, though.”

“Worrying?”

“You can’t keep this up. Soon enough, you will start to remember I’m just an ordinary woman in my forties with dependent daughters. I make just enough money to get by.”

“All you need to do is watch and see. I’m going to show you how I feel, not just this week, but this month and this year. You’re going to discover who I really am. Jeff Carter is not going to disappoint you.

“Now, I want to talk about something practical. Your new furniture needs to be delivered, and your house is too hard to find. Why isn’t there a sign for your lane?”

“There was, but somebody mowed it down and drove off, leaving it lying in the grass. I saved it and put it in the shed with the lawnmower. I can show it to you.”

To simplify, I realized the pole could be easily re-erected at the corner, which was a project I completed the next day (Sunday) with some quick-setting concrete. On the pole was a stop sign and a blade for “Eaton Lane,” so deliveries were possible.

I excused myself Saturday morning, dressed, and drove home. Without enthusiasm, I looked around the familiar surroundings. I had learned over the years to take care of myself, keeping things clean and tidy, and cooking for one.