Chapter 14

Monica felt all strength leave her body. Leaning on the back sliding-glass door, she slowly slid down to the deck and began to quietly weep. The far-away voice of some priest was telling her that Mrs. Flynn had died, and Monica was filled with regret and guilt.

She could imagine the old woman walking in the cool spring air, walking all alone to the church, her frail body finally giving out as she attempted the set of stairs that led to the large front doors of the church. Monica felt guilty, believing that if she had been there, had given her elderly neighbor a ride, the woman might still be alive. Monica only slowly came back, hearing something being said by the priest.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t hear that. What did you say?”

“We really did try to get in contact with you. I’m afraid we’ve already held a funeral mass. Her wishes were to be cremated and interred next to her husband. If you wish, I can give you directions on how to find the grave.”

“Um, yes. Perhaps later. I’ll come by later.”

“Of course. She really was a very attentive and caring woman. Lit a candle for her husband every week. She even sponsored a day of remembrance on the anniversary of his death a few years ago. We’ll all miss her presence.”

“Yes. I see. Thank you for calling.”

“Oh, no. Don’t hang up. The other reason for my calling is because you were also a part of her will.”

This caused Monica to open her eyes and raise her head. “Her will? I didn’t know she had one. Why? What did she say?”

“Well, I’m not at liberty to say. It would be best if you could make an appointment with the lawyer who represents the archdiocese. He’s taking care of everything for us. You’re the only other person mentioned. Let me give you his number and you can make arrangements. Will that be okay?”

Later that evening, Greg was attentive and understanding while Monica talked about her neighbor as they ate dinner outside on the patio. He ventured that the woman couldn’t have left Monica very much, given the state of the house. “Perhaps she had some depression era glass she thought you’d like. My mother has a storage closet full of that stuff somewhere.”

The rest of the week passed, the weekend notable only for the rain that threatened to wash away the very young cherry blossoms just beginning to bloom in the orchard across from the plant. It wasn’t until the following Tuesday that Monica could meet with the lawyer for the church. She found it odd that a priest from the church was also attending, but the lawyer assured her that this was normal.

“Given that the diocese, specifically St. Joseph’s, is a co-beneficiary of Mrs. Flynn’s will, its standard procedure for an appointed witness to attend.” Monica shrugged, wondering if she should have allowed one of Greg’s attorneys to accompany her, but she couldn’t imagine that such formality would be necessary.

In short, Mrs. Flynn had left Monica her house.

Monica was stunned. She was torn two ways. First, amazed at the generosity of a woman she had only known a few years. Second, what on earth would she do with the place? It was a house, more than Monica had ever owned, and yet Monica knew better than most the decrepit condition the structure was in. Both inside and out, the house fully matched the body and appearance of the old woman that had lived within it.

The lawyer broke in on Monica’s thoughts. “Of course, all fees and taxes and such are attending parts of your gift. It will take a while for this to work its way through the various local and state offices, so I wouldn’t celebrate your new status as a home owner just yet. Given that all of the paperwork seems to be in order, I’d imagine two to six months before you have complete ownership, and even then there will be unforeseen headaches.”

“Yes, I can imagine.” Monica couldn’t, but it seemed the right thing to say.

“Given the quite generous amount that Mrs. Flynn bequeathed the local parish, I think it wouldn’t hurt if I saw to the initial filing. I’ll get things going. You leave me with your contact information and as things arise, I’ll call you. Naturally, future costs, such as those taxes and fees, will be entirely up to you.”

Monica nodded, making a note to herself to contact Greg’s lawyer in the morning.

Greg wasn’t impressed with Mrs. Flynn’s generosity. “Money is one thing, but property is quite another. If she has any kind of relative in another state, this could drag on for years, and you’ll be responsible for everything, from insurance to mowing her lawn. I have a friend who knows property law. I’ll have her office obtain a copy of the will and give it a once over, just to make sure something wasn’t missed.”

Another week went by, notable only for Jim’s repeated phone calls and voice messages. Monica finally called him back, and of course his first and only point of interest was Monica’s newfound wealth.

“Heard you’re a homeowner now. You know that’s half mine, right? I’m still your husband.”

“You want half of that hovel? It’s yours. And don’t think of burning it down for the insurance money. I don’t know what kind of coverage Mrs. Flynn had. Maybe none. Until this all works itself through the courts, do something useful and weed her garden.”

Jim hung up, obviously upset with Monica’s uncaring attitude toward him. She found solace in Greg’s arms, though not as much as the joy of holding a sleeping Ash in her arms. The friend’s law office also assured her that the will seemed in order and that although ownership of the house remained in limbo, she was in her rights to enter and inspect the house.

The following weekend, Monica found time and the strength to enter Mrs. Flynn’s home. Jim had rushed over as soon as he saw Monica’s car pull up to the curb. He tried to be polite, asking how she was, but other than a few introductory niceties, they really didn’t have anything to talk about.

She of course had a key of her own to the front door. Monica had helped her elderly neighbor so often with so many different chores that she didn’t think it wrong to make a copy for herself, yet she had never thought to be entering the house as its new owner. The air was stale but still smelled of Ben Gay and various other scents that seemed to linger around the elderly. Jim walked through the kitchen and living room, then peeking into the bathroom, before walking out.

“Place is a pigsty. Looks like a real dump.” He wanted to go into the detached garage, but there was a padlock on the front that Monica didn’t have a key to. Jim finally left, much to Monica’s relief.

She really didn’t know where to begin. Walking around, it seemed as though Mrs. Flynn had never actually cleaned anything other than the occasional dusting or vacuum. Papers, magazines, books, photos, mail, and a hundred other things were piled on and around every piece of furniture. Two chairs in the dining room were available for sitting, and of course a chair in the front room near a large old-fashioned television set, but otherwise the place appeared to have been used as a storage container. Monica thought it best to back out and wait, perhaps hire some kids from down the street to lug all the detritus out to the lawn. But then what?

That’s when June showed up. Monica had texted the teen, letting her know what she was planning, but hadn’t really expected June to show herself.

“Hey Monica. Is it safe to come in? Congrats on the new digs, but I hope you haven’t already moved out of Greg’s. No way you could get me to spend a night here. Gives me the creeps.”

“Its fine June. Thanks for coming over. She didn’t die here. Over at the church. Maybe the best place any of us could choose to collapse and die. I had no idea she was going to leave me her house, but I also have no idea what to do with it. With all the taxes and stuff, I might owe more than I can get for the place.”

“Hey, don’t kid yourself. The market’s getting better. I know Jim thinks half is his, so sell him his portion and get out with some cash.”

They talked for a short while, and June was able to convince Monica to at least clean up the most questionable part of the house: the kitchen. Everything in the refrigerator of course had to go, as did the boxed and canned food in the lower cabinets. June found some garbage bags and within an hour the house was already smelling and looking more pleasant.

As they were winding down their efforts, Monica thinking out loud about what she could make Greg for dinner, June broke in with some news of her own.

“Met a friend of yours just last weekend.”

Monica mentally went through the list of friends she still remained in contact with, but couldn’t imagine anyone June would recognize. June’s face showed a large wicked smile and she looked around herself before loudly whispering, “Nina. Remember her? She sure remembers you.”

Monica’s eyes went wide and she laughed. “Nina? Of course. I remember you and her having quite a meet and greet some time ago.”

“She asked about you, again, but I hope you don’t mind that we got to know each other a little better. Well, maybe a lot better.”

“Okay, a lot better. Like lunch or...”

“Oh, that hot little hole fed me a lot more than lunch.”

Monica had to think for a second and then gave out a short laugh as she realized what June was referring to. “Really? Didn’t know you rocked that way June. Fine with me, but I’m kind of shocked.”

“Hey. Nothing you and I haven’t shared before. Her guy was there. Name’s Eric, by the way. They did treat me to a coffee which then turned into a long weekend. That was something.”

Monica’s large grin vanished, her face becoming more serious. “This was without all the other party folk, right? No Jim or anybody involved?”

“No. Just the three of us. Seems that Nina and Eric aren’t all that big on the party scene either, at least not since a friend of hers came down with AIDs. That’s enough to scare a girl straight. Worse than getting pregnant.”

“So, you and Nina probably did more than just share Eric. Is this a new June? You going to the other side, or just bi-?”

“Just a fun weekend with a lot of exploring. And we still didn’t do much more than what you and I have been through together. Of course, she doesn’t squirt as much as you, but she’s just as wet. Thicker though. Hard to tell the difference between her own cum after an orgasm and what Eric shot into her.”

“Don’t want to know June. TMI.”

“Come on I know you’re interested. Jim said you and Nina did a sixty-nine on the floor in front of everyone, so you know what I’m talking about. Just like that night at the party where she sat on my face. This time we took turns and Eric was happy to help. Not nearly as thick as Cole. Maybe that’s why I hated blowing him so much. Then she returned the favor and was happy to drink a load of Eric’s finest from inside me. Girl knows her way around a clit.”

Monica had closed her eyes and waving her hand, hoping June would stop with the details. “I’d rather not go into that. Jim was a fucking asshole for talking me into going.”

“Fine. You’re becoming too straight and narrow Monica. I liked Nina. You should give her a call. She’s a fun woman, and Eric was a very capable man, if you get what I mean. I like them. Reminds me a lot of you back when I got to watch you and Cole go at it. Come on. I know the slut in you is still in there. Maybe next time we can turn it into a foursome. I won’t tell Greg if you don’t tell Cole.”

Monica laughed and got up, intentionally ignoring June and lugging a bag of smelly perishables outside. Yet even after June had left and Monica got ready to close the house up, thoughts of Nina did remain in her head. More troubling were the many thoughts of June and the fun the two had when June had crawled into bed with Monica and Cole. It wasn’t something Monica wanted to dwell on, but the thoughts wouldn’t go away, and as Monica drove home, she was very aware of how very wet her panties were.

Two weeks later, little had changed. Summer was quickly pushing spring aside, no matter what the calendar said. Life for Monica was settling into a simple pattern she could enjoy if not fully understand. A few more visits to Mrs. Flynn’s old house didn’t seem to make much of a dint in the mountain of clutter that filled every corner.

Then came the day Monica returned home late, many visits to many places over the day taking up all of her time. Days off seemed to be just work with new and varied tasks. She was tired as she pulled up to the house, hoping Greg was in a good mood and willing to go out for dinner. As she walked into the house, everything seemed quiet, lonely, even empty. She couldn’t explain it, but there was a sense of dread sitting in her stomach. Walking over to the office, she could see Greg working at his computer. Then she walked around the kitchen, and then outside. Everything seemed fine. Walking further out onto the deck, she spotted a lump of wet fur floating in the open Jacuzzi. It was Ash.

Monica came completely apart. After lifting the wet limp corpse of the kitten from the water, she lay on the deck and openly wept for a long while. She was surprised at herself, at the grief of the death of the kitten. Monica had lost a friend to a car accident just two years before and she hadn’t wept nearly as much back then. Yet here was a kitten, a cat Monica had known for only a few months, and she was inconsolable. Perhaps because Ash had been so innocent and forever giving of herself. Perhaps because Greg had so often shown himself to be moody and unapproachable, Ash being the most loving companion Monica could hold within her arms.

As the shadows of late afternoon began to cover the deck, Monica found the strength to go inside the house. Hiding her grief, forcing herself to do the unthinkable, Monica first informed Greg where she had found Ash. She was ashamed to harbor the fear that Greg had intentionally drowned the kitten. He had shown little care or concern for the wayward feline, and she knew Greg could lash out at unexpected times. She felt ashamed, yet she watched him intently as she tried to hold back her tears while telling him of where she had found Ash. She was waiting for some cynical remark, perhaps Greg saying he’d have to drain and wash out the Jacuzzi, but he stood up and hugged her and asked how Monica was feeling. Of course he then sat down and went back to work, leaving Monica alone.

That was fine with her. She wanted to be alone with Ash that one last time. She found a shovel and went out into the orchard, digging a hole at the base of one of the younger trees. Monica placed a large flat rock over the grave, saying goodbye and shedding tears all the way back to the house. When Greg asked when dinner was going to be, she shrugged and said she wasn’t hungry. There was just enough Merlot in the fridge to fill a tall glass, and she took that to the deck and watched the sun set. Greg ordered for something to be delivered, but she didn’t feel like eating anything. Everything in her life seemed dark, the death of Ash overwhelming Monica.

She was thinking of going to bed when Greg came over to where she was sitting and embraced her. More surprising was when he suggested they go for a walk, mentioning that the full moon would be just visible over the orchard. Monica nodded, and for the next hour she and Greg walked together, sometimes hand in hand. Little was said, but Monica found great solace in Greg’s presence. Him simply being there brought Monica back to herself and made her realize that there was life, even after death. Her heart remained heavy, but at least she could breathe more freely, and at home she was able to find solace in sleep.

A few days later, Monica found herself back at Mrs. Flynn’s house. The trash cans of refuse hadn’t made much of a dent in the contents of the house, but Monica found the endless cleaning to be calming, a wonderful way to escape from all the other things that filled her mind. Monica had attempted a quick search of the house, thinking of making a list of things to review after returning home. She didn’t expect to find anything worth keeping, but the old woman’s bedroom had a couple of surprises. Everything in the drawers of the bureau needed to be thrown out, but in one she found a small box of jewelry. No large diamonds, but a few pieces of what look like very finely wrought gold filigree. Monica put this in her purse, thinking Greg might have a better idea of what it might be worth. If nothing else, Monica knew her mother would love it.

Then Monica took a glance inside the closet. Mostly shoes and boxes of old clothing, but also a box of old magazines covered with some clothing and yellowed newspaper. On second glance, Monica saw that the magazines were old issues of something called Life and dating from back in the 1940s. Nothing exceptional, though many had pictures from World War Two on the cover. She tossed a few to the side, thinking Greg would find them interesting.

There were lots of boxes, on the floor of the bedroom and closet, and also on the upper shelves of the closet. They were too heavy to pull out on her own, so Monica decided to focus on one simple task. She hated the idea, but if she was going to continue with her labors, she would need to wash up afterwards, and that required that she at least make an effort at cleaning the shower. She first attempted to clean the rust-stained toilet with a brillo pad but found her efforts giving little reward. That’s when she moved on to giving a quick scrub to the large, old-fashioned tub that took up half of the bathroom. Then Cole walked in.

Monica was wary at first, but Cole seemed relaxed and at his most amiable. It was actually nice to talk with someone. Cole sat on the toilet and Monica on the edge of the bathtub. They didn’t mention Greg or June by name, but Monica finally did bring up Jim. “Cole. I know you and Jim have something going on. He used to be over at your house, talking with you as much as with me, and he just mentioned having some deal with you (a lie), not that he’d give any details. What’s up with you two?”

“Better you not know Monica. If Jim won’t tell you, it would be inappropriate for me to say anything.”

Monica wanted to continue to probe, but in true Cole fashion, he changed the subject. “When I walked in I saw you on your knees and scrubbing the tub. I’ve got something that can help. Wait here. I’ll be right back.”

While she waited, Monica emptied the old-fashioned wall cabinet of its contents. Pills and nail clippers and the like. She then stuffed the aging and mold-stained plastic shower curtain into the garbage bag and was hauling it out to the front when Cole returned.

“Here. I have a few things that will make your work much easier.” Rather than a new cleaning chemical or pumice stone, Cole presented Monica with a pair of knee guards. “Put these on. Your back won’t thank me, but your knees will. Makes the job of kneeling much easier.”

Monica had known of such things but hadn’t thought to get a pair for herself. These were made of thick pliable foam with elastic bands on the back. Strapping them to her knees, she found that kneeling on the old cracked tile floor to indeed be much easier. “Thank you Cole. I’ll sure put these to the test. I’ve got a lot of cleaning to do.”

Cole remained, talking of the types of work he did that required just such knee pads, and then asking what Monica planned to do with the house. She had no clear answer. Cole insisted that her attempts to clean the house were a waste of time and that he knew someone who could gut the place of its accumulated trash and have it ready as a rental within a week. “That dinette set is fifty years old if a day. I’m betting that with the retro market heating up, you could trade it to him with that old gas stove and he’d clean this place out for free.”

Monica nodded, but remembered that she didn’t really own the place yet. When she told this to Cole he agreed that she wait, but to also stop trying to clean the house on her own. “Go ahead. Try scrubbing that bathtub. I doubt that you’ll ever get it clean.”

Cole kneeled next to Monica, showing her that even using steel wool did nothing to minimize the stains in the old porcelain tub. Monica wasn’t thinking of the tub. She was too aware of Cole’s hand on her ass, massaging her cheeks with one hand while distracting her with his other.

“Enough Cole. I get what you’re saying about this old tub, but it’s my knees that were hurting, not my ass.” As she tried to raise herself up, Cole moved to kneel behind her, his hands surrounding her body, his hands embracing her breasts.

“Come now Monica. Let’s stop the work and go back to my place. We can relax and I can show you how much I’ve missed you.”

“Forget it Cole.” Monica tried to laugh him off, pushing one of his hands off her chest, then pushing back with her hips in an attempt to create some distance and make it possible for her to stand. Cole used her movement to lean in, pushing her over the lip of the old tub, grinding his crotch into her ass and pinning her underneath his large muscular frame. Monica complained, but Cole pushed aside her comments, talking in soft tones of how beautiful she was, even in an old shirt and jeans.

“Cole. Please go. Please don’t do this.”

“Monica, my most lovely angel. I’ve longed for you every day since we last parted. I know June has missed you too. You are loved and missed, and I don’t understand why you lock yourself up in that far tower with a man who you see as a prince. Come back to us. You know how much you are loved.”

“Get off of me Cole. Leave me alone. Please.”

Monica tried to push the man off, but she had the wall on one side and all of his strength fighting her on the other. Monica seemed to view the entire scene as a witness standing to the side. Cole took his time in unbuttoning the top of her work shirt before growing tired of Monica’s constant squirming, finally ripping the rest of the garment down the middle. So too went the inner garment, Cole letting out a lusty laugh when he found no bra to impede his fingers. “There they are. Such perfect tits. So nice to have them in my hands again. Your nipples are so hard, Monica. That’s always a sign that you’re ready for me. Tell me now. Tell me you want me. Admit it.”

Monica had to fight herself, too aware of the longings Cole was referring to, yet fighting her temptations and pushing back against his unacceptable demands. “Get off of me Cole. You shouldn’t be doing this. It’s not right. Please go.”

“No, no. I know you too well Monica. The more you beg me to stop, the more you want me. I learned that about you long ago. Let me prove it to you.”

With a strong arm pressing down on her upper back, Cole locked her legs open, padded knees pushed down into the floor with his own knees and shins. Pushed down against the high edge of the bathtub, Monica could only imagine what she felt Cole doing.

Her jeans were held up only by a simple elastic belt, and she could feel his free hand reaching around to unbutton her front. When Cole brought his second hand down to pull off her pants, Monica rose up on her knees, but this only aided Cole in his efforts to disrobe her. Within seconds, Cole was able to push her jeans down to the middle of her thighs. Monica was very aware of the nakedness of her hips and ass, but as she tried to stand, Cole again forced her over the edge of the tub, one hand pressing her head down low and almost to the bottom of the tub.

“Just stay there for a moment Monica. Let me get a good look at you. Your ass is so beautiful. Not a blemish, and so firm and round. Even more perfect than June’s. I dream of you every night.” Cole’s hand was no longer holding her down, but Monica was too shocked to move. Her shirt had been torn open, her breasts hanging out, and her ass being inspected by a man she had once trusted. She tried to take a few breaths and quiet her beating heart, but before she could attempt sitting up, Cole had pushed his crotch into her ass cheeks and one hand had reclaimed its place on her left breast.

“Monica. Can you feel my need for you? There, pushing between your legs. There I am. Reach back and hold me. Let me show you.” Monica could easily feel Cole’s long hard length pushing between her thighs. He used his one free hand to guide her left hand back and down, instructing her to hold his cock. “There. I’ll guide you. Keep me pressed up between your legs. Can you feel how wet you are? It’s easy to feel how much you need me, but I’ll let you decide. Keep your hand there to control me. I’m ready to explode.”

Monica’s fingers were forced around the fat tip of Cole’s cock, his one hand guiding hers as he pumped in and out between her thighs. His long length was pressed up between her labia, making itself at home within her slit, and with every move, she could feel her own body weakening, her own sexual needs taking her over. Cole’s chest pushed Monica’s body down, her head again coming close to the bottom of the tub, but she wasn’t thinking about that any more. With his one hand thrumming her bare chest and nipples, his roving cock causing her clit to scream out in pleasure, she found herself moaning, her body trembling.

Cole pulled his hips back, the leading hood of his cock pushed into the opening of her vagina, but there he stopped. “Monica. Do you want me? You can rub me off if you’d rather, have me waste my love on the floor, but I love you so much. I know you need me too. Go ahead. Show me.” Without thinking, acting only on her body’s own selfish desires, Monica pushed her hips back and impaled herself on the first few inches of Cole’s cock. As her vaginal opening was levered open and the leading hood of his cock popped in, both Cole and Monica released a moan of satisfaction.

Cole quickly pushed in with his hips, embedding another few inches inside of Monica and causing her to grunt with the effort of taking him in. She had to move her hand from between her legs and hold herself up, partially supporting Cole as he leaned over her back and began pushing harder into her. Within a minute Monica could feel the full length of Cole’s cock inside of her, his balls pressing into her lower ass. Then began a slow back and forth. Monica was mortified at where she was, at what Cole was doing to her, and yet she could hear herself moaning at the pleasure of the act. For another minute she allowed herself to be lost in the fuck, willing to throw judgment and shame to the side as the joy of her reunion with Cole took her over.

Monica was crushed under Cole’s weight, her stomach pushed down into the lip of the tub, but all she cared about was the rising pleasure of what Cole was doing to her. Then he stopped. Cole rose off of Monica’s back, his hands freeing her breasts, his cock pulling all the way out. She was unsure whether to curse him for stopping so suddenly or demand he leave the house immediately. Then she felt Cole push something into her wet and expectant vagina.

“I forgot. This is something I brought over from June’s room. It’s her favorite, and battery powered. I’d say half the time she slips into my bed she already has this pushed up into her butt hole. She used to wear it to school, but it kept her from concentrating on her studies. Just as well. Now I can show you why she liked it so much.”

Monica was used to Cole pushing a dildo or some other phallic object up one hole or another, only to fill the remaining orifice with his cock. This didn’t sound any different. After wetting the short length within her hole, Cole played the tip around her anus and pushed in. There was resistance at first, the thing being a little thick at the beginning, then tapering to thin, allowing her anus to close over the short length and hold it tight. Then Monica felt the difference.

She turned her head, trying to look back at Cole while gasping out her surprised thoughts. “It’s vibrating. I can feel it. And not just a little. That was big. Damn.”

Monica gave out a groan and collapsed into the bottom of the tub, pushing her ass out as the feeling of the little electrified butt plug took her over. With a groan of satisfaction, she felt Cole reinsert his own much larger and longer flesh and blood phallus into her, even pushing her hips back in a voiceless demand that he get back to work. Leaning over Monica’s body, his hands again coming around to hold and massage her breasts, Cole pushed in deeper.

“Are you sure Monica? I’m so in need of you, but I’ll leave if you ask.”

“Would you shut the fuck up Cole?”

Apart from Monica’s loud grunts, that was the end of all conversation for the next five minutes. Cole pushed in deep, then began pounding into Monica’s ass, his crotch and balls making loud slapping sounds as his cock was pulled back and thrust back inside of her. Then he moved back, sitting up and with a hand around Monica’s hips, fingers deep within the front of her slit. For another couple of minutes Cole slowed, pulling the leading head of his cock out of her, then levering Monica’s pussy open to reinsert the first few inches, then pulling out. It was then that Monica stifled a scream, one hand over her mouth as she forced her ass back and impaled herself on Cole’s entire length.

“Ah. There you go Monica. I see June’s little toy is good for you too, but you always were a wet little slut. I’m afraid your gusher of liquids has soaked your pants. We should have taken them off, but no matter. It’s my turn now.”