Chapter 25: Pillow Talk

Belle Wilson also seemed to be purring, her mother thought. She lay, face down, her left arm stretched out across her mom’s flat stomach. Her breathing was steady and regular, as she was totally spent after another night of exploratory, occasionally raucous, sex with her mom.

Sara turned towards her daughter, so that Belle’s arm draped over her waist and gently pulled them closer together. Until their recent adjustments under The Pact, neither was even remotely attracted to one another.

But this ... this seemed blissfully right. She and Belle had spent every night together since she’d requested of her weekend lover (me) that he make these changes. Belle had no idea; her sexual preference was now almost entirely female. That she was an enthusiastic lover was a bonus.

Belle’s breathing changed. She was awake.

“Is that sunlight?” she moaned as she pulled the covers over her head.

“More correctly, the noonday sun,” Sara said. “Time for us to get out of bed and get on with the day, wouldn’t you say?”

“Can we at least shower together?” Belle said, pulled the sheets down suddenly and looking to her mom with eager eyes.

“I hope so,” Sara said. “You scrub my back better than your father ever did.”

“Race you to the shower,” Belle giggled as she jumped out of bed and rushed back to the bathroom without attempting to cover up. Sara sighed and wished she didn’t find her daughter’s butt so attractive; it reminded her so much of what she’d lost.

Belle had the hot water steaming by the time she arrived. The water streaming over her after feeling the morning chill was doubly satisfying. So why did she feel like crying?

Belle had the loofah lathered up and ready for her mom when she realized she had tears streaming down her face. She dropped it and instead took Sara into her arms.

“Mom, what’s wrong?” she pulled back to look her in the face.

“Belle ... have I ruined your life?” Sara asked, now sobbing.

“Don’t think so. I’m pretty damn happy, truth be told,” she said, trying to be flippant. Almost immediately, she realized it didn’t work. “Why are you asking me that?”

“Baby, did you have someone ... a man ... in your life? Someone you loved? Someone who loved you?” Sara asked, gripping Belle’s arms for emphasis.

At first, Belle realized that she could not remember. But the more she thought about it, the answer found her.

“No, ma’am,” she said. “I fucked daddy on the road trips...”

“I know, baby,” Sara answered quickly. “Doesn’t matter anymore.”

“That’s not what I’m saying,” Belle said emphatically. “He was all I had time for. He was a convenience, a means to an end. I had an itch; he scratched it.”

She reached up to kiss her mom.

“And now you fill that need. And so much more,” Belle said, now crying herself.

“I will free you of this, if you want,” Sara said. “You didn’t ask to share your bed with me.”

“What if I don’t want to be freed? What if becoming your lover is the most fulfilling thing that’s ever happened in my life?” Belle said with a sob. “Why would you take that away from me?”

“That’s not what I’m saying!” Sara shouted. “I’m afraid I did this to you to fill a need that has been missing from my life.”

“Why are you saying that?” asked Belle, feeling the water chilling slightly.

“Baby girl, how can I say this?” Sara hugged her daughter. “I love you so much.”

“I know mom! I know,” Belle sobbed into Sara’s shoulder. “It’s okay.”

After they’d dried off and found fluffy, warm robes to fend off the chill, they sat at the kitchen table with a mug of steaming coffee. Sara set hers down and sighed; it was a long story.

“Baby, do you know that you’re not my first child?” Sara began.

“I seem to remember when I was young, you sat me down and told me something about losing a child earlier. Is that what you mean?” Belle said.

“Yes and no. I lost her – yes, your sister – but it wasn’t a miscarriage, or an abortion. I actually lost her,” she said. “I was happily married before I met your dad. Baby, he was the fling, and you were the accident.”

“What are you saying?” Belle said.

“I had a wild hair that needed scratching. The first time I went to Vegas, I met your dad at the dice table. It was great weekend, but it left me pregnant with you,” she said. “My husband was a controlling, violent man, which was why I needed to break away, but I underestimated him. He bought off my doctor, and found out I was pregnant before I could make up my mind about keeping you.”

“Oh, mom...” Belle was crying again.

“He had me grabbed, locked away in an old apartment complex. I thought he’d left me to die there,” she continued, looking off into the distance. “It turned out that he’d given Bud instructions to find me, but it took him days and days. He found me before I got weak enough to lose you, but my husband had left and took my daughter with me.”

“Disappeared?” Belle asked.

“Worse than that,” her mom replied. “He took my older sister with him. Shay is five years older than me, and we seemed to fight every day of our lives. But every night – oh, God, I can’t believe I’m saying this – we shared her bed. We grew up exploring each other’s bodies, how we felt, how we tasted, how we smelled. But during the day, we had to fight to keep up the pretense. Someone, my husband found out the truth.”

“What’s my sister’s name?” Belle asked.

“Casey,” Sara said. “Casey Michaux. Her father’s name...”

“ ... is Edward Michaux, isn’t it? Former Prime minister of Canada!” Belle cried out. “You were his wife! But you died in a plane crash!”

“A convenient lie,” Sara said, relieved at telling her tale. “It was made clear, through Bud, that as long as I stayed with Bud and quietly raised my new family, he would leave me be. But if I ever made after my daughter, he would make me disappear forever as easily as he made me officially vanish.”

Belle knelt down beside her and took her mother into her arms.

“I’m glad I know,” Belle said. “I hope to meet my sister someday.”

“I’d like that, too,” Sara said. “But I don’t want to lose you.”

“You won’t. You never will lose me,” Belle said, raising Sara’s head to look her in the eye. “Now, get dressed. You have to take me to dance practice.”

Neither spoke of Shay again the remainder of the morning. But both had ideas swirling around in their heads how their fractured family might be reunited.

A final, wet kiss parted the Wilson women, and Belle hurried in to find both of the McKinnon sisters fully dressed, and Stacy Childers, Angel Harris and the newly reinstated Cassie Jenkins and Nicky Moore getting changed in the locker room, Dennie Gallagher came in shortly behind her.

“Where are Missy and Kay?” Belle said after hugs all around officially reunited the troupe.

“Missy is on her way. Her family were out scouting some properties for a new studio,” Stacy said in a hushed voice. “And both Miz Miller and Miz Castle are having a taste test with Kay.”

In the director’s office only a few feet away, Alice Miller was enjoyed a rare taste of pussy under her friend’s prodding.

“Damn, Susan, I got to admit it – this girl tastes like a birthday party,” Alice grinned, juices on her face and boobs.

“Uh, ‘this girl’ has a name,” Kay said from her reclined position. She was ignored.

“Don’t mind her, Kay. Being young doesn’t mean she’s still not a grouch,” said Castle’s suddenly grown-up niece, Maria, who did not hesitate to take up the invitation to taste Kay, despite barely knowing her.

“I know! It’s the greatest thing I’ve ever put my mouth on,” Susan Castle was as she swirled her index finger around in the teenager’s flavored pussy. “Oh, sorry Kay. You can dress for class now.”

Without a word, Kay slipped out the door. All three women left behind separately thought the room smelled of butterscotch.

Susan quickly changed into a new pair of leotards and Alice changed into a white vest with what the girls called yoga pants – the better to show off her new, improved ass. She also donned a thong for the first time and hated how it felt. Never again.

Susan, meanwhile, was enjoying the firmness of her restored body. She had her bunheads stretching when first Maria, then Kay, hurried out and took their spot. But that left Missy; the one girl Susan wanted to see this day. Alice was noisily running up and down the scales when Susan tried to call the class to order.

She clapped her hands. Nothing. Stomped her feet. Still nothing. She called, “Hey!” to the class. A couple noticed, but the hubbub continued.

“Hey! Cunts! Shut the fuck up!” she shouted.

That worked. Nine shapely dancers froze in place.

“On the floor, work on your pelvic exercises for 10 minutes, on my mark. GO!”

On their backs, all nine girls lifted their butts off the mat and began grinding their hips in a clockwise rotation. Susan slowly moved from to the other and occasionally reset the arc of their backs and, to my amusement as I peeked, she gave more than one girl an extremely inappropriate squeeze between their legs. Except for one or two grunts of approval, nary a disapproving word was spoken; these women were all on the same page, as it were, sexually.

Susan noticed me and I silently mouthed the words, “Get Stacy off!” and she nodded and moved over to my daughter, who was doing her pelvic rotations with precision. She briefly made eye contact, and Stacy gave the slightest of nods, and without further hesitation Susan slid her hand over my daughter’s pelvis.

Stacy did not miss a beat. She continued to grind her extended clit against her teacher’s hand through the silky fabric of her practice leotard, and it only took moments for a wet patch to become apparent.

“Good. Good. You’re still doing it correctly,” Susan said, her hand in place. Even as one or two of the other girls whimpered in need, Stacy remained determined to have her teacher bring her off.