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*Author’s Note: Any and all persons engaging in any sexual activity are at least eighteen years of age.
*
Chapter 1
“My wife is nuts.”
That’s the only thought I had when my beautiful twenty-year-old wife jumped up and ran outside to grab someone she thought she recognized.
We were at our favorite restaurant, a small ‘Mom and Pop’ Italian restaurant. I’d finally convinced her that Olive Garden and Dominos weren’t the only places one could get fine Italian cuisine. I was still trying to convince her that Red Lobster was not the epitome of fine dining.
Everywhere Rachael went, she made friends. The waitresses loved her because she remembered their names, had in-depth conversations with them, and just couldn’t seem to grasp the concept that they were there to serve us. If they had let her, she would have simply gone into the kitchen to get us our meals. She really had no concept of a ‘class system’ of any sorts.
At forty-eight, I knew I fit into the category of ‘dirty old man,’ and ‘should be ashamed of myself for taking advantage of such a naïve girl.’ She was only eighteen when we met and were married less than six months later. Sometimes, yes, I do feel like a dirty old man and a bit of a pervert, but most of the time I just considered myself lucky that I found her first.
Rachael was five feet and one inch tall, and weighed less than one hundred pounds. Her hair was the color of straw and her eyes were pale blue. Her sharp little nose was dusted with freckles and she had a sharp little chin. She would never win any beauty contests, but she was the most beautiful, most sensual woman I’ve ever met.
—-
Her parent moved into the rental house next to my house. Being a good neighbor, I offered my assistance to the Burkes, you know the ‘call if you ever need anything’ kind of assistance where you hope they never call.
Well, they asked me to baby-sit Rachael, even though the girl was eighteen years old. I did so, and found myself becoming infatuated with the girl. I’m not talking about the creepy kind where you stalk the object of your desire, just the kind of infatuation where you think about them a whole lot when you masturbate.
The Burkes managed to get themselves arrested one night in a bar fight; thankfully, Rachael was at my house when that happened. I simply moved her into my guest bedroom and continued to care for her.
It was she that took our relationship to the next step. I was content with spending time with her, swimming around in our in ground pool, and stroking myself to knee-buckling discharges over imagined images of her.
She’d discovered some of the little clips I’d downloaded on my computer, little clips of a short blonde teen sucking off a large cock. Or taking a large cock in her blonde muff. Rachael snuck into my room and performed oral sex on me while I was asleep. Boy was I embarrassed! I could have sworn I’d had a wet dream.
I married her a few weeks later. Call me what you will, but I do have a conscience. I knew I could have used her, had sex with her, treated her as a servant, but I had crossed over the ‘infatuation’ line into ‘love’ line at some point
—-Anyway, we were at our favorite restaurant and had just placed our orders when Rachael looked up and squinted out the window. I turned to see what she was looking at. It was a transient; we used to call them ‘homeless.’ I don’t know when it became politically incorrect to call them ‘homeless.’ The few that I have witnessed didn’t seem to have any measurable amount of shame, so calling them homeless or transient wouldn’t make a bit of difference to them.
“Hey, I think I know her!” Rachael said and was up and out of the door before I could react.
“See, Jim, I told you I knew her,” Rachael was babbling happily as she dragged a young girl into the restaurant.
Antonio began to approach our table, thought better of it and waved our waitress over to us.
The smell was as close to intolerable as I’d ever had the displeasure of smelling. To say that Tonya stunk was a gross understatement; she smelled of raw sewage and sweat and burnt flesh. Rachael didn’t seem to smell it at all, though and sat the girl down next to her. Patrons at other tables were looking over and glaring and our waitress looked absolutely ill.
“You like lasagna?” Rachael asked. “This place has the absolute best lasagna in the world. Jim likes their sausage and peppers and that’s pretty good, but I like the lasagna, oh! And they also have this great veal Sicily, you can cut it with a fork, Louise, this is Tonya, she’s my friend from when we lived in Tennessee, go ahead, tell her what you want to eat.”
I sighed; I knew we’d be taking this Tonya character home and taking care of her for the rest of our natural lives. Every stray cat within a twenty-mile radius knew that 1142 Polk Drive had food available. I didn’t complain, though; I happen to love cats. To this day I still mourn the passing of Anastasia, my longhaired cat.
“Oh, and this is my husband Jim,” Rachael kept babbling happily. “Jim, Tonya and I went to Stratford erzincan escort High School, that’s where I graduated, did you graduate? I don’t remember if you did or not, but anyway, Tonya was in about four or five of my classes…”
Chapter 2
Tonya was bundled into the back seat of my 1965 Mustang, where she promptly vomited heartily the manicotti she’d barely chewed.
Rachael was completely unmindful of any of this as she hugged the girl and comforted the now sobbing girl. If I thought the smell was intolerable in the restaurant, it was unbearable in the cramped quarters of my car, and the smell of vomit didn’t improve it one bit.
—-
“You go ahead and take a shower, Jim can Tonya have one of your tee shirts and a pair of your sweat pants? There’s shampoo, do you need a razor? I don’t remember if there is one in there or not, let me know and I’ll put your clothes in the washer,” Rachael was rattling off as she dragged this miserable girl upstairs.
The girl that emerged from our bathroom did not look anything like the girl that went in. Tonya was actually a very attractive young lady, twenty years old, just like Rachael. She was about five feet, five inches tall, with light brown hair, pale skin and brown eyes. Her face was round and so were her boobs, her belly and her backside.
She was also around eight months pregnant. I had suspected that either the girl was the fattest transient I’d seen in a while, or was pregnant. My sweat pants were pushed down underneath her belly, the tee shirt barely reached the tops of the sweat pants.
“Eat the toast, it’s good for nausea,” Rachael was saying as she fixed the girl some eggs.
After she’d finished the eggs, we got her story.
—-
She hadn’t graduated from Stratford; she decided that school was a big waste of time. Instead, she preferred to sit in her room and smoke pot.
“Yeah, my mom’s boyfriend got me turned on to the shit,” Tonya sniffled. “But my old lady threw a major fit, said if I wasn’t going to go to school, then I needed to get me a fucking job.”
She did get a job, working at a gas station/mini mart.
“The one off I-75?” Rachael asked.
“Yeah, that one,” Tonya agreed.
Anyway, she would go to work, work her ass off, then come home and whatever money she had, went to paying the bills or paying for more dope for her and Steve to smoke. After a year of this, Steve and her mother got married and Mom started making noise about Tonya moving out and getting a place of her own.
“So, I’m talking with Rodney and he’s all like ‘yeah, I got this bitching place, you should come and live with me, it’ll be cool,'” Tonya sniffled some more.
It was obvious to me; even if it wasn’t to my wife that Tonya had told this story before.
What Rodney didn’t tell her was that this ‘bitching’ place is a one-room apartment. And that he expected pussy to go along with half the rent. And half her dope.
“But that’s cool, you know?” Tonya sniffled. “I mean, it ain’t like I’m this big virgin or nothing, you know?”
—-
She’d worked all day long and came home tired. Rodney and about four of his friends were just sitting around, smoking dope and watching porno movies. She sat down and started smoking a couple of joints and watching the movies with the guys.
“Next thing I know, I got my shorts around my fucking ankles, Rodney’s sticking his dick down my throat and some guy I don’t even knot’s jamming his cock in my pussy,” Tonya let a few well timed tears slide down. Rachael hugged the girl tightly until Tonya could continue.
Rodney and his pals took turns filling Tonya’s three holes for the next few weeks; all they did was smoke dope, fuck her, smoke some more dope, pass out, come to, eat, and fuck her again. In between all of that, she was also expected to go to her job and work her ass off.
“Then when I find out I’m knocked up, mother fucker kicks my ass out, Believe that shit?” Tonya sobbed.
She tried to go home, but her mother didn’t want her either. Doug, the manager of the gas station invited her to stay with him, but he had the same idea that Rodney had; smoke a little dope with her, have sex with her, then pass her around to his buddies. That went fine, until she began to show. Suddenly the attractive girl found herself without a job or a place to live. None of the boys or men that were only too happy to fuck her when she was slim wanted anything to do with her when her belly was poking out.
She decided to give Atlanta a try; she’d heard that a few of her former schoolmates had moved here after graduation. She put on a pair of short shorts and hid her belly under a loose tee shirt. Quite a few truckers were only too happy to pick the girl up and give her a ride for a face fuck. (Her words, not mine.)
“Really? Who else lives here?” Rachael excitedly asked.
“Yeah, one mother fucker took me all the way down to Tampa Bay, got real fucking turned on when I told him I’d been in a few gang bangs,” Tonya said bitterly. “When I woke up and found out we was in Tampa, erzurum escort he’s all like ‘Oh, sorry, forgot to wake you up when we was in Atlanta, ha.’ Had to let him fuck me up the ass to take me back to Atlanta when he was swinging back around.”
“Didn’t that hurt?” Rachael asked.
We’d tried anal sex a few times. Rachael said I’m too big, but that’s not it; she would just tense up too much as soon as she felt the head of my cock against her tight little anus. Yes, we tried plenty of lubricant and she was always fine with two or three fingers probing her, but the moment my cock would approach, she’d clamp down.
“Yeah, but what the fuck does that matter to them?” Tonya spat. “Men don’t fucking care if they hurt you or not.”
“Jim’s not like that,” Rachael said and hugged me tightly.
I went and took Tonya’s clothes out of the washing machine and put them into the dryer. I dumped a good amount of bleach into the washing machine and started the wash cycle again, to kill whatever diseases this Tonya character had brought with her clothing. I decided to ignore the small bag of marijuana that sat along with her other worldly possessions atop the dryer.
—-
Rachael hugged Tonya tightly and ushered our guest into the guest bedroom. Rachael dragged me into our bedroom and kissed me passionately. She then disappeared into our bathroom for a few minutes. I didn’t think anything of her passionate kiss; Rachael was a very passionate girl.
What I did reflect on was that Tonya and Rachael could have very easily been one and the same; as loving and trusting as Rachael naturally was, she could have wound up with her shorts around her ankles, being used by a bunch of stoned guys.
She came out of the bathroom dressed in one of my tee shirts, holding a bed pillow underneath.
“Do you think I’d look sexy all pregnant?” she asked me and my erection was immediate.
She made me make love to her while she was on her hands and knees, ‘belly’ poking out. The idea of being pregnant was a real aphrodisiac to her; I’d no sooner pumped a large amount of semen into her pussy and she was sucking me back up to do it again. I was absolutely exhausted when my alarm went off the next morning.
Chapter 3
I tried to warm up to our houseguest, but she had a real distrust of men.
I made an appointment with an OB/Gyn and Doctor Tyson declared mother and child to be healthy, although she did caution Tonya about the inherent dangers of marijuana smoke on her fetus. If her words had any impact, Tonya didn’t let it show.
Rachael, however, with her usual cheerfulness and bubbly nature, didn’t seem to notice how her friend would just lay around all day, eat constantly, then disappear into the garage.
Either Rachael did not know what marijuana smoke smelled like, or was willfully ignoring it, but I did wonder where our unemployed house guest was getting the money or the connection to buy dope. I certainly wasn’t giving her any money, and Rachael said she wasn’t giving her any money either.
Then one night, Tonya staggered into our bedroom. Why do babies only come at night? Rachael kept up a cheerful rambling chatter while I bundled the groaning and wailing girl into the back seat of the Mustang.
Think I’m crude, think I’m selfish, but all I could thick was ‘I just got the smell out of the car last week.’
Chapter 4
Tatianna Tennessee Stevenson was born at twelve forty one that following afternoon. She was a blonde haired baby with her mother’s brown eyes and measured eighteen inches long and weighed seven pounds, two ounces.
She did not inherit her mother’s distrust of men; she slept peacefully as I held her and seemed to like my presence in the room. When she heard my voice, her eyes would search around until she found me.
Rachael was thrilled to be a ‘surrogate’ mother, Tonya went right back to her habit of lounging on the couch, watching insipid television for hours on end, eating ravenously of whatever food was put in front of her, and sneaking out to the garage to smoke a couple of joints.
Any effort to get her to make her earn her fair share, any effort to make her responsible was met with stiff opposition and any number of excuses. I could see why her mother had kicked her out, why Rodney and kicked her out, why Doug had kicked her out, why truckers and others were willing to discard her after they’d gotten what they wanted.
Rachael and I continued to try to get pregnant but her menstrual cycles were becoming quite frequent and unpredictable. It seemed as though she’d just finish one when another would start.
—-
“She’s gone!” Rachael wailed into the phone one afternoon.
“What? Who’s gone?” I asked.
“Tonya,” Rachael wailed.
“What about Tatianna?” I asked, concerned.
I wasn’t in the least bit concerned about Tonya; she had, as far as I was concerned, worn out her welcome long ago. The only reason I hadn’t firmly told her to either find a job or get out was because of the baby.
“She’s upstairs, sleeping,” Rachael wailed.
“Then bursa escort Tonya will be coming home soon,” I calmly said.
“No, she’s not,” Rachael, wailed.
I finished working with the client; he was trying to claim that a dented right front quarter panel qualified as ‘irreparable’ and therefore we should just ‘total’ his Mercedes-Benz. I calmly told him we’d be happy to bring it to court and let a judge decide, but he would be responsible for ALL court costs.
The truth was that he was no longer making the kind of money he had been making and could no longer afford the car payments or the insurance for a luxury automobile. Hell, the deductible alone was a strain for him. I’m not an unsympathetic man, but don’t sit there and lie to me, then expect me to help you.
Chapter 5
Tonya was indeed gone. She’d left a nice little note telling us (me specifically) what we could do with our ‘fucking pathetic (she misspelled ‘pathetic’) fucked up lives and judgmental attitudes and all our talk about rules and responsibilities.’
She also helped herself to a few hundred dollars in cash as she left. It wasn’t until later that I discovered that several of our DVD movies were missing; I guess that’s how she was paying for all the dope; hocking our movies.
“But what about the baby?” Rachael sobbed.
“Well, obviously she didn’t care about the baby,” I said. “I mean, if she did, she wouldn’t have just up and left her here.”
There wasn’t even any mention of the baby in her hateful little note. The note was quite obviously written with the intent of hurting my feelings. In order for someone to hurt my feelings, I have to care about what that person’s opinion is.
On cue, Tatianna began to wail, and I went upstairs and got her out of her crib and changed her diaper, cuddled her, and brought her downstairs where Rachael was already warming a bottle.
I held the baby and fed the bottle to her.
Rachael cuddled up to me on the other side of me, kissed me lovingly and whispered in my ear, “One day, I’m going to give you a baby too. I’ll be the best mommy in the world and you’ll be the best daddy in the world.”
But she was still on her period, so we didn’t make love that night. Tatianna slept soundly; I’d pulled her crib into our bedroom, since Tonya wouldn’t be there to care for her.
Rachael lovingly and happily cared for the baby while I showered and dressed for work. Once I was at work, I called my lawyer and outlined what had happened and what I wanted to do.
“Jim, that ain’t going to be easy,” he said. “I mean, this Tonya girl can just pop up again, you know? And she’s got family? They could make it pretty hard too.”
“Do what you can,” I said.
I Liked Yancy just fine; he was smart as a whip, but he was also one of the most negative, unhappy people I’d ever seen and never gave an optimistic view of any problem. I guess he did that so that you wouldn’t be disappointed with any outcome.
I faxed the baby’s birth certificate and Tonya’s little note to his office. Then I busied myself with work, anything to distract myself, to not focus on or fantasize, or build my own hopes up too much.
Chapter 6
Three months later, Rachael and I stood in a judge’s chambers with Yancy. The baby was cradled in my arms cooing happily. Judge Jim Walker asked a few questions, Yancy provided the proper paperwork, Judge Walker scribbled his signature, and Rachael and I were the proud parents of a beautiful little girl.
Judge Walker also signed the name change forms for us; Tatianna Tennessee Stevenson was now Rachael Nicole Taylor. I requested that for two reasons; I really didn’t like ‘Tatianna’ as a baby’s name, and I didn’t want Tonya to be able to track the baby down.
“And Rachael is about the most beautiful name I know,” I said and kissed my wife.
—
We brought our little girl home, and celebrated by making love. Or at least we attempted to. Right in the middle of our little escapade, she began bleeding.
This wasn’t normal at all and I called the good doctor Dr. Tyson. She agreed to fit Rachael in first thing the next morning.
Rachael cried herself to sleep that night; I don’t know what kept me from crying.
Chapter 7
“I’m going to do some tests, but based on what you’ve described,” Dr. Tyson said gravely, ” I think its cancer.”
—-
Three days later, we were in her office again and Dr. Tyson looked at us with watery eyes.
“I know I’m a doctor, and I know I deal with this every day, but you never ever get used to telling a woman this,” she said. “Rachael, I am so sorry. But it is ovarian cancer.”
“Well, a hysterectomy, and she’ll be fine, right?” I dumbly said.
“I am so sorry,” the doctor said again and hiccoughed a sob. “It’s a little too far gone for any surgery.”
It took a full minute for what the doctor was telling us to sink in.
This was it. We’d never have babies together. We’d never play in our back yard wit them. The pecan tree that Rachael planted, she’d never eat the pecans that fell from it. She wasn’t’ even twenty-one yet, had never been to a bar to listen to a good country band, or a blues piano player. She’d never been to Las Vegas (I’ve never been either) and gambled on Black Jack. Isn’t it funny, the silly things you think of when given bad news?
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