Special Deliveries

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Amateur

Smokey Saga


1: “Special Deliveries”

*****

This story’s adapted from an idea suggested by a Reader and friend called Henry. It’s an original concept I’ve never seen done before…then again, that’s also the case with lots of plots I shape about lesbians. It’s always interesting and novel when women take on the kinds of decisions and issues normally faced by men. Which is something that (eventually) happens here. This is now the longest story I have written and posted. But there are three good sex scenes for you to enjoy throughout.

Oh, by the way…what with the unabated bomb proliferation running amok—and a feeling I’m getting that they’re no longer being swept—score voting’s back off. So at this point I’ll say sorry about that, but hasten to add that just like last time, if you don’t like the voting turned off, you know whom to thank. Regardless, (real) Readers, your feedback is still welcomed, valued and appreciated.

*****

Business As Unusual (And A Lashback)

Wednesday, February 17th, 2016, 10:43 a.m.

“And so, given that third quarter sales have been down, this will obviously require a closer look at the objective goal as we approach quarter four. Now, in times we’ve hit setbacks like this before, we’ve found that we’ve drifted a bit from our original success formula…”

Riley Hutchins sat with her colleagues in the meeting, scribbling on her notepad as the presentation went on. She’d chosen a seat with vacant chairs on either side, as she’d done more and more often lately. She hoped this didn’t make her appear aloof or standoffish to her co-workers, because this wasn’t her intention at all; she tried to conduct herself sociably and pleasantly otherwise. She did this because these meetings never really taught her anything she didn’t already know, and so no one would see that instead of taking notes, she was making a handwritten diary entry with decorative little squiggles and doodles. She was in a decent mood to perform work duties adequately, but not really to sit here and listen to this redundant chatter.

“…And that it’s helped to take things back to basics to get on track again. I realize a third quarter decline is rare, and that it’s not the ideal time to revert to fundamentals, but sometimes we have to take a step back before we can go forward again.”

Riley was 28, very well-to-do, a lone dweller, single, and an executive with Seven Seas Systems in downtown Juniper, Minnesota. She was not the youngest person in the office, but pretty young—in comparison with her peers—to have achieved the position she had thus far. She’d zipped through college with ease, earning a degree in business by 25. She was one smart cookie, and allowed nobody to tell her different. Post-graduation, her degree and sharp, savvy mind paved her the way here to Seven Seas, and a short series of interviews granted her access into the prestigious corporation. The company was soon to learn of her finesse. She kicked in constant ideas and input to the bigwigs upstairs to further things along, although she knew the corporate world could be cutthroat, even to its own within. Sometimes she was duly credited for her efforts, sometimes not. But, she’d done well enough so far to win a position at her current level. She was good at her job, and she enjoyed being good at her job. What she didn’t enjoy were the meetings.

Another big reason she disliked the meetings was this. Alone at her desk, she wasn’t (also redundantly) reminded that she was virtually the only unattached person in this office. Furthermore, while this didn’t even occur to her co-workers, resting their ring-adorned hands on the table gave her the “privilege” of being “happy” for them. In reality, sadly, she was not. She was on her own, without a partner to share her life and the world…and she was frankly getting sick of it.

While she wouldn’t yet say she was desperate—be it only a little, or enough to do something considered, well, crazy—she felt sad, envious and slightly bitter. It wasn’t fair, she thought. She had a few things stacked against her she couldn’t change or control. She was gay, she wasn’t exactly a supermodel, and she was troubled due to some rough childhood trauma, the sting of which never quite went away. She wasn’t mentally anguished enough that she couldn’t do her job, socialize or trust anyone, but some days it got pretty tough to roll out of bed, and work her facial muscles into something resembling a smile. She was starting to seriously crave just a nice young lady in her life. It didn’t seem like asking for the world. And, so she wasn’t exactly a beauty goddess. She certainly wasn’t repulsive, either. When she looked in the mirror, she saw no glaring “flaws.” Was there something she was doing wrong?

She’d met a small handful of girls in high school and college who seemed nice enough, but showed no bahis firmaları interest. And while she couldn’t force a girl to like her if she didn’t, this made the situation all the more frustrating. It was difficult enough already just to meet another lesbian (or bisexual), and the ones she’d been fortunate enough to meet hadn’t given her a fair chance. She had her good points, like anyone else; she considered herself a decent catch. If only being met with the right person and given the opportunity, she really felt she could get something serious off the ground.

She pretended to swipe an itch across her face so her officemates would neither see her yawn. She was only a bit tired getting out of bed this morning. But nowadays, the bimonthly—and alas mandatory—meetings drained much of the energy she had left, and today’s was no exception. As she half-attentively looked back up at the presenter, the thought dawned that this colleague, Denise, reminded her of Christine, one of her mothers. At such moments, just to keep herself alive and going, she tended to let her mind wander, normally through a string of random thoughts, which inevitably led to a past memory, usually about her and her Moms.

When Riley was old enough to understand, they explained to her that she was born through a process called artificial insemination. And that her essential biological father was a donor they had granted the privilege to be part of Riley’s life. So while she lived with her two Moms, she got to see and visit her Dad justly often as well. Sometimes all the four of them went to do something together. This was the way Riley liked it best. She considered herself especially lucky to have three loving parents, one more than most. Still, her family dynamic did not always play in her favor, as in the case of parents’ night at school. If her mothers appeared without her donor Dad, certain classmates felt the need to tease or question her about it. Riley didn’t see what the big deal was. But then, she had accepted the nature of the world with which she’d been presented, just like any innocent kid. So often enough, when her mind scampered off, a random childhood memory of her family was a good one.

Sometimes, it was very bad.

Once while little Riley sat in front of the TV, her Moms Christine and Amber were talking in the kitchen. Well, “talking” was not the most accurate way to describe what they were doing. “Bickering” would be better, but still wouldn’t quite cover it. “Screaming” would about do the trick. Altercations between her Moms didn’t happen extremely often anyway, and never like this. The conversation heated and escalated to the point that Riley’s attention was shifted. The television program continued at the same volume, but Riley stopped listening. This seemed to be a new level. She knew her Moms quarreled sometimes, but was less than familiar with the likes of this. Their voices loudened and intensified from the kitchen. And one of them sounded sort of…weird.

Riley was becoming scared. She didn’t like this.

“Amber, I told you I wasn’t gonna put up with you drinking like this anymore!” Christine yelled. “Have you forgotten you have a daughter?? Who looks up to you, and takes after you? Who wants to be like you?”

Riley gulped. So that was why Amber’s voice sounded strange. Was this fight about her? She didn’t wish to cause any tension. But also, her mother Amber had been drinking…excessively?…She knew Amber had some wine, whiskey or rum once in a while, but she never thought it anything unmanageable. Christine evidently begged to differ. And Amber did sound pretty soused, as she roared back.

“HEY!” Amber half-shouted and half-slurred, shaking a bottle with her fist. “I told you to shut up, bitch! You don’t tell me how the hell to live my life! Riley’s your goddamn daughter, not me!”

Riley’s heart accelerated. So they…were fighting over her? It was still hard to tell. The argument raged on.

“Well, you know what?? Too bad!” exclaimed Christine. “You can’t hide it from her anymore! Now I’m warning you, Amber…you are gonna stop this, and right now, or else. And that is not a request, lady; it’s an order.”

“Or else what?!” Amber challenged.

Christine paused, arms folded, and delivered her ultimatum in a calmer, but strong firm voice.

“Or else, God as my witness…I’ll take Riley away from you.”

The bottle dropped from Amber’s hand, cracking on the floor. It was almost empty, leaking only a few drops onto the tile. But Amber was not to be daunted or threatened. Her eyes went wide with ire, just as Riley peeked around the corner.

“You wouldn’t dare.”

Christine refused to be intimidated either. Her response was instant, curt, and to the point.

“I would. I love my daughter more than anything in the world. And I will go to all lengths to protect her. Even from her own mother.”

Riley didn’t know how long kaçak iddaa it was until the next thing happened. But it did, before her eyes, in living color. Amber raised her hand.

SLAP!

Riley gasped in horror, as the sight stung her eyes, penetrated through, and seared her brain. There it was: instant trauma. Riley was shaken by hot chills and cold sweat as Christine cried out, clutching her assaulted cheek.

“YOU BITCH!” exploded Amber, with such ferocity Riley felt tears prick her eyes.

“Don’t you DARE take my daughter away from me!” Amber thundered on. “DON’T, YOU, DARE!”

Her voice cracked slightly. It seemed Christine’s ultimatum and her own reaction had sobered Amber up a bit. A chilly silence fell over all three Hutchins women. Then Amber looked to the corner to make out two Rileys swirling into one another. She said nothing, but knew their daughter had seen them, had seen what took place. The next thing she knew, both Rileys were gone.

The stunned, terrified girl covered her mouth, bolted from the kitchen doorway down the hall, and didn’t stop until she got securely into her room and locked the door. Out in the living room, the TV played on. And on.

And…and…

“…Miss Hutchins?…

“…Miss Hutchins??”

Riley looked up.

“Wh—…huh?”

The presenter and fellow colleagues gazed at her with apparent concern.

“I’m sorry, Miss Hutchins, are you with us?…Is something wrong?”

Riley realized she’d let her mind wander a bit too far. She was back to the present, sitting here in her work meeting.

“I, uh…” She cleared her throat. “…I-I’m fine. I, eh…thought I just had a question, but you just answered it. Go ahead, please, go on.”

*****

Trauma Queens

Wednesday, February 17th, 2016, 11:06 a.m.

Riley felt sheepish as the meeting adjourned, especially as one or two colleagues again asked her if everything was okay. But she stuck to her story that all was cool, as she made her way back to her cube, sat and slipped on her headset. She went on with work, but the memory du jour festered on her, as the more severe tended to do.

The day after that harrowing event in Riley’s young life, her Mom Amber awoke stone sober. Seeing single again, she noticed a red patch on her wife’s cheek. When she asked what happened and Christine told her, non-drunk Amber immediately felt horrible. She broke down and cried, sobbing how terribly sorry and ashamed she was. Christine was right, they saw. Amber didn’t think she had a problem, but she did. She realized her drinking had gone too far. As difficult as it would be, she knew she had to stop, once and for all.

“Oh, God,” she wept, realizing a new petrifying worry. “Oh, honey, I…I didn’t do anything to Riley, did I??…”

Christine didn’t answer right away.

“Oh, please, Chrissy, please! PLEASE tell me I didn’t hurt Riley!!”

“You didn’t hurt Riley…”

“OH! Thank God!”

“…Physically. You did, however, make her cry and traumatize the hell from her. She does not drink, Amber. She remembers things.”

Afterwards, Amber joined the local AA group and went to her meetings, and she and Christine managed to stay together for Riley’s sake. For a while she seemed to be doing better. But she wasn’t perfect, unfortunately, and sometimes she would slip. As much as Riley and Christine wished their family’s anger, violence and tears never resurfaced…occasionally, they did.

Subsequent alcohol-fueled outbursts would not scar Riley as the first did back when, but they didn’t make her day either. Throughout the sporadic periods when Amber went intoxicated and got violent, she never actually managed to hit Riley, but only because Riley had quick reflexes and knew when to duck. And the unfortunate Christine was placed between a rock and a hard place. Her marriage had turned abusive. Even if the next day things were peaceful again, she sensed the verbal and physical attacks always inevitably returning. She wanted to be free and rid of them for good, but knew how much they meant to each other. She could remember the days when she fell for Amber, when they pledged their forever undying love, when Amber gave birth to Riley. Amber delivered, and in Christine’s eyes, it was she who was Riley’s biological mother—even though Chrissy’s own eggs were transported into the womb as well. While she’d threatened under duress to take this action, she questioned her right as the non-birth-giving parent to take Riley away. Now if they were to hypothetically get divorced, and have the court system assign custody, that might be a different story. But Christine really didn’t want that. Divorce was an absolutely final resort. The idea alone broke her heart.

But as Amber kept trying desperately to clean up her act, Riley rode out her teen years and became a young woman. A young gay woman. kaçak bahis As it turned out, she did take after them. Her apple of sexuality dropped right beside the tree, as if magnetized by polarity. Amber had given birth, but Christine knew her genes were also in there somewhere. It was fortunate that Amber kept her unnecessary roughness to a minimum throughout their daughter’s stay in the nest. After she turned 18, she finished high school and headed off to Denmore to get her business education up and running.

While the Moms were sad to see her go, they were happy and proud of her for starting her own life on a good foot. Also, while they’d be hesitant to admit it, Riley’s departure gave them a bit of relief. It didn’t allow Amber to resume drinking like a fish, nor Christine to forget her maternal feelings. But, they were now granted a nice spell of extra time to tend to chores around the house, or just sit down and relax: watch television, play cards, assemble a puzzle, make love…not that they didn’t enjoy doing (most of) these things with their little girl, but it was nice to unplug the phone, turn the lights off and themselves on, and know they wouldn’t be interrupted.

Riley of course loved her mothers, and loved that they loved each other. Not that she needed to see them love each other. But even flawed, as were all human beings to their own extents, she admired both greatly. They were lovely, beautiful ladies, and complemented one another’s strengths with a nice blend. And while Riley would not say she was expressly jealous of them, she often imagined how nice life would be with a pretty lass who was like her Moms.

She supposed she started out by disadvantaging herself a bit. Ideally, she romanticized the situation, fantasizing meeting her beloved in a peaceful setting that allowed them to share undivided attention, as if in a great work of art—an Austen novel, or a Renoir painting. Highly unlikely in the 21st century, but…Riley’s mind tended to work in such ways. She guessed she was a dreamer. She had to be, as she figured anyone would, to get away and escape the harsh realities of actual life.

She was pretty sure she was the only lesbian in her office too, which was just as well; workplace romances were a patently bad idea. But how one attempted to find love, especially given her homosexuality, had her a bit stumped. She thought maybe she could join some kind of club or activity group, but unless it was created exclusively for singles, she’d be in it for the wrong reason. And that was far too much of a crap shoot to find the chick of her dreams anyway. She guessed maybe she could try a bar, like LesBeers…but the problem here was she’d be out of her element. She’d have no game being distracted by smoke, loud noise and music, and what with her bad memories of Amber scaring her and striking her other Mom, she wasn’t too keen on being anywhere surrounded by alcohol.

This left little more than cyberspace. Riley supposed there was nothing really “wrong,” per se, meeting a maybe-mate online. And despite her growing solitude, she just didn’t know if this was her avenue either. It all seemed just…sketchy, and abstract.

It occurred to her this day that strange as it seemed, she couldn’t for the life of her recall where, when or how her mothers had met. They might have told her the story at some point in the past, but she honestly didn’t remember. Perhaps she could pay them a visit and have a chat about it. A phone call could accomplish the same thing, but she’d really prefer visiting in person. Every now and then she began to miss them, as well as the house she grew up in. Besides, she was struggling with this bad memory today thanks to her dumb old wandering mind. And going home to hug, kiss and talk to her Moms would help put the agitation to rest. She slogged through the remainder of the workday, called home, asked if it was okay to come over, got her yes, and was off.

*****

My Two Moms

Wednesday, February 17th, 2016, 5:41 p.m.

“Hi, sweetie pie! It’s so nice to see you! A—hey, Ambie, Riley’s here! C’mon in here, girl, give us a hug!”

“Ohhhh…thanks, Mom. Hi, Mom.”

“Hey, baby doll! What a treat to have you by! Well, sit down, sit down! You want some iced tea? Root beer, anything?”

“Umm…iced tea’d be good, thanks.”

“So, Riley, what brings you over, sweetie? Wanna watch TV? Play a few hands of cards? Do a puzzle?”

“Uh, well, maybe later. I kinda just wanted to ask you guys something.”

“Oh, sure thing, babe! Here’s your iced tea. So what’s up?”

“Well—thanks, Mom—well, this might seem a little, kinda…outta the blue, I guess, but, how did you guys first meet?”

“Oh. Well, sweetie, that’s an interesting question…may we ask why you ask? I mean, not that it’s a big secret or anything.”

“Well, honest, Moms, it’s more like an advice thing. See, I haven’t really told you this before, but, I’m actually starting to get a little…well, more than a little; real lonely. For love. But, not exactly the kind of love you guys can give me…you know what I mean.”

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