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Alexander’s Resort Ch. 02

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Babes

Olivia was a slightly older first cousin to Sandra’s mother, and the black sheep of the family. Sandra did not know why and had assumed it had something to do with her being a lesbian – maybe not.

Sandra was working on a family genealogy project and Olivia was the only person she still knew almost nothing about. They had never lived near each other nor visited together. The morning was still cool and Sandra was at her mother’s house trying to convince her to reveal more about Olivia. She was not having much luck.

“Absolutely not,” her mother screamed facing away as she stormed towards the door. Her leather shoe souls banged hard on the hardwood floor of the dinning room where Sandra’s laptop sat on the table. Sandra had just asked her for the fifth time how to contact Olivia and for the fifth time received the same response without further explanation. Sandra slammed the laptop closed and chased after her, only catching up when she reached the microwave with the timer buzzing.

“Why not? What is so wrong with Olivia that keeps you from helping me get in touch with her? My god, she’s only a lesbian….” The pitch of Sandra’s voice increased a few octaves.

Betty cut Sandra off quickly. “Only? Queer is wicked.” She was not overly religious and Sandra had never heard her express such opinions in the past, except when she talked about Olivia. She hated lying to her daughter, but she was terrified of telling her about her close relationship to Olivia and the shared need to be missing limbs. The later was something she feared telling Sandra more than anything else.

“Yeah, perhaps I don’t buy into that bullshit. If she were married to a guy, would you still not want me to find her? Anyway, I suspect there is something else going on.”

Sandra could see her head nodding the whole time but saying nothing. She stepped closer, and grasped her waist and shook slightly. “Why? What has she done that is so wrong? Rob a bank, kill a child? What?”

Betty shook her head and forced the hands from her waist. She roughly grabbed the muffin from the microwave and walked off in silence. Not willing to give up, Sandra followed her to the patio and sat across the glass top table from Betty who stared off into the distance across the small field into the forest of redwoods. A small blanket of fog rested atop the coastal ridge rising above the tallest trees. Just beyond was the vast Pacific Ocean. Sandra had lived there for most of her time at high school and college before moving into her own flat in town when she started graduate school.

“Sandra, this is something I wish to not talk about.”

“It’s important to me to find out about our family. This is the only hole in the family tree, I think. Are there others more hidden than Olivia?” Sandra watched her mother’s head shake from side to side. “Damn!” she shouted and slammed her fist on the table. Betty stared back, her mouth slightly open, shocked at the anger. “Mom … what if I was a lesbian? Would you disown me like you have Olivia?”

“No darling, anyway you’re not.” Betty took her first bite of the muffin. Her gaze locked on the young woman who watched her swallow and shift uncomfortably in the metal chair with a black cushion. “Um,” she stammered. “Wait,” she said and walked towards the house. Sandra fumed and twisted in the chair unable to relax and becoming even more agitated.

Betty returned with a journal. A page was loose and extended from the edge of the other pages. She pulled it out and handed it to Sandra keeping the journal in her hand. “Read this. I guess you’re old enough.” She managed a strained laugh. “Anyway, now that you’re hell bent on finding out about her, you’d find out eventually. Once you get an idea in your head, you’re like a mule.” She took her unfinished muffin and walked away.

Sandra began to read the few words written in a curly cursive that looked like something by a young schoolgirl, all near the middle of the page.

‘Rape sucks. Matt forced me. Something I will carry with me forever. A huge scar that will not go away. I hope I’m not pregnant. Glad my other secret is still mine. Someday I’ll live that out, I know.’

The page lay under Sandra’s hand on the table to keep it from blowing away in the gentle breeze. She stared at the words knowing there were more unanswered questions now than before. She turned the page over and read.

‘I don’t know why missing a limb is such a negative. She looks beautiful without her leg. She loves being that way. I would too.’

“Ah shit!” Sandra screamed banging her fist on the table. “Mom!” She stood and held the page containing so few words generating so many questions. Betty appeared at the open French door to the patio and leaned against the frame. Sandra scowled as she stared at her. “What is this all about … is there more in the journal? Who was the person with one leg?”

“No, there isn’t more. I found that page on the floor the last time I saw Olivia. That was seven years ago at a motel out on bahis firmaları Route 24. She was storming out the door and I don’t think she knew I had found it. Just a few words, just some scribbles. I have no clue what it means. The journal is mine. I just keep the page there.”

“Matt was her older brother?”

“Yeah, that Matt. It was so many years ago. She was nineteen, he twenty-seven. I get the idea he thought he could break her of being ‘that way’.” Her fingers made quote marks in the air. “I suspect others put him up to it.”

“Not a chance that would change her.”

“I know. He was foolish.” Betty shifted the weight from one foot to the other and crossed her arms while considering just telling Sandra the whole story.

“What about the woman?”

“Got me, maybe it’s some fetish. I never heard her talk about it.” Her voice strained as she lied.

“So, will you help me find Olivia?”

“Let me think about it.”

“What’s to think about?” Sandra’s hands were jammed against her hips, her feet spread. Her eyes locked on Betty. “What?” Sandra said loudly.

Betty pulled a scrap of paper from her jeans and held it out to Sandra. “You sort this out by yourself. I don’t want to know.” Her heart pounded knowing this could be her answer to long restrained needs of her own.

Sandra’s feet moved as if encased in lead. At last, she was close enough to take the paper from her mother’s hand. Almost unwilling to look, she finally glanced at it. Scrawled across it was a phone number, nothing else, not even a name.

“It’s the last number I have for her … from that visit to the motel. It was a cell phone so maybe it still is hers.” She turned and walked back into the house leaving Sandra alone. She thought to her self while shaking her head, “So many lies, I can’t go on like this.”

As Sandra turned onto the paved two-lane road, a small sliver of sunlight poured over the page resting alone on the tan leather of the passenger seat. It was as if some deity was telling her something important, giving her a clue to her future.

Seth was Sandra’s best friend and twice her age. They had known each other for several months. He lived a hundred miles south but traveled to San Francisco on business often. Sandra had met him by chance at a coffee shop one morning when she sat on the stool next to him. She was approachable; he was easy to talk with. They had spent the rest of the morning in his hotel room.

The air was crisp and clear as she sat on the bench downtown waiting for him. Watching people was one of her favorite hobbies. She loved the rush of adrenalin when an unexpected amputee appeared. It would last for hours. Visions of past times with her naked body against his filled idle moments.

“Hey darlin’,” Seth’s baritone voice called. She glanced up and watched his foot move between the tips of his crutches. Her eyes looked up the khaki pants leg towards the empty pants leg wrapped around the left hip without much of a thigh attached.

“Hey sweetheart.” Sandra stood and moved towards him. Her arms wrapped around his waist. Her lips pressed against his. Their tongues touched. “Hmmm, you’re packing,” she teased as she felt his growing erection against her crotch. Without care if anyone saw her, she let a hand cover the stump and remain as her tongue explored his mouth.

“Too bad you only love me for my stump.”

“Hardly.” Sandra reinserted her tongue and pressed her lips even tighter. Her crotch ground firmly against him. She did not care that he was married. He did not either. Between her thighs was like a swamp. She was ready to toss him to the ground by the bench. “Ah, um, darling. Can we, ah….” She ground hard against him and sucked his tongue into her mouth. “Can we….”

“Do you mean you want to go to the hotel room?” He teased and laughed. She walked in the direction of the hotel before he stopped laughing.

The elevator doors opened on the twentieth floor and she followed him to room 2012, her gaze fixed on the legless hip. It had been a week since she had seen it in person, not so long since a dream last night that she had seen it in her mind. The door clicked then the lock. Sandra bounced on the bed like a schoolgirl ready for her first guy. The skirt flipped over her waist. The black thong beckoned him.

“Get undressed,” Sandra begged as she unbuttoned her blouse watching him move across the floor. The sound of his crutches banging together as they fell to the floor, his zipper sliding down, each drove her closer to her own auto-orgasmic rush. The crotch of her panties was soaked; there was no need to touch to know that.

The mattress gave under his weight and his hand rested on her thigh. A finger brushed against the near non-existent patch of cloth guarding her pussy. “Oh-h Seth,” Sandra whispered urging more. A hand pushed against the elastic. Now several fingers massaged where one had brushed. She grabbed at his wrist.

“It’s nice you want me so much. I wish she kaçak iddaa did.”

Sandra forced his hand against her pussy and stared into his eyes letting him know how much she wanted him. His naked body was close, his uncovered stump closer. His natural fragrance filled her nostrils, more with each breath. She reached out and curled her fingers around his cock, held it, her breath cooling its heat as her lips neared.

“She’s a fool,” Sandra whispered, her lip touching the tip of the head.

Sandra lips suckled the head, swirled around the hot flesh, tongue flicked against it, let it slip inside, deeper. His groans soothed her. His stump soothed her eyes. Cancer as a teen he had told her. It no longer mattered to him. He liked it as Sandra would like her own. Her fingers teased it. Her palm massaged it.

“I love this part of you.” She often wondered if he really had cancer, perhaps he wanted it this way.

“I know you do. I’m glad.”

Seth’s hand played with her hair as her mouth brought him closer. A grunt hinted. A twitch ran along the shaft. Sandra could sense the initial drops not long before the first stream rushed across the base of her tongue. She squeezed her lips around the shaft and sucked more down her throat.

“She never….”

“I know.” Sandra loved to have his cock in her mouth. She loved to pleasure it. She loved his mouth on her clit, his fingers filling her.

Her thighs lay next to his face and she could feel his breath against her mound. His hand massaged the upper thigh. A finger played with her clit. His lips swirled around the aching bud. It took moments for her release. She moaned through it. Neither of them had taken long this time. Later they would take longer.

Now his lips rested near hers. “I had a dream the other night. You were missing a leg. You seemed happy.” He stopped and kissed her. She could feel him thinking. She was too. She had never told him her secret. He hoped he could draw out her feelings.

“Were you happy?” she asked, her lips brushing his as she spoke. Her hand rested on his shoulder. His head nodded, his lips speaking no words, only kissing hers. “Then I was too,” she whispered still not giving away her dream. She felt his tongue for a moment. “Would she be?” They always referred to his wife as ‘she’, never Barbara. Sandra knew little about her. For all Sandra knew, she was missing a leg, or something. For all she knew, she was just like herself.

The fog still lay atop the ridge at the back of the property as the late morning sun began to warm the day. Betty was a few years younger than Olivia was and more attractive. As teens and young adults, they were inseparable. The land and house had been her parent’s estate, inherited after their death years ago. Betty had suspected Conner, who was now her former husband of a few years, had married her because of her wealth. She now enjoyed her freedom. These days, Sandra visited on occasion, but never over night.

Betty walked from the bathroom, her body lightly covered with the remains of the shower and her medium length black hair in disarray and dripping. She paused to glance at herself in the mirror, posing like a model as she admired her still exciting appearance. She let a hand grope between her thighs as she thrust her crotch towards the mirror and muttered, “Fuck me baby.” Several fingers slipped inside as she gyrated and performed her own sexual performance. An orgasm snuck up and soon all she could do was stand, knees bent and parted outward, with fingers drilling rapidly while she moaned though the spasms.

“Whew,” she exclaimed standing upright and wiping her fingers on her hip.

She pulled one of Sandra’s well-worn university sweatshirts over her head and pushed the right arm though the sleeve then worked the hem towards her waist leaving the other sleeve empty, her left arm dangling along her hip underneath the material. Shorter than Sandra, the sweatshirt hung past Betty’s naked hips like a dress. She spun on one foot letting the empty sleeve sail out unrestrained by an arm.

“Heaven,” she said aloud. She pranced across the room stopping by the closet to slip on red high heal shoes. As she walked towards the doorway, she flipped the bottom of the sweatshirt up and glanced towards her ass. “Still lookin’ good babe.”

Settling at the desk in the library, she crossed the left leg over the right and let the foot swing casually. She placed the cuff of the empty sleeve next to the open journal then took the pen in her hand.

‘This morning I had an argument with Sandra, again, over Olivia. She thinks the reason I will not put her in touch is that she is a lesbian. I held my tongue, again, and resisted telling her the truth. It of course has nothing to do with her sexual feelings. God, we had some wild night back then. I hate that she ran off and had her first amputation when she knew I was still stuck with Sandra. Maybe at least having her learn about Olivia’s amputations will set the stage for kaçak bahis mine. I still don’t know what to do first. Arm, leg, it does not matter which or how many. Eventually several will become stumps.’

Betty tossed the pen against the wall and screamed, “Shit!” then slammed the journal closed. She lingered staring at the journal shoving her right hand under the sweatshirt and grabbing at a breast. A fingertip trailed around the nipple and she began to relax. A calm soon flowed over her tense body. Memories of times past alone with Olivia filled her mind, good times, recent times, naked under the slowly turning ceiling fan with their lips pressed tightly together. Long conversations about stumps, the joys they would someday find minus one or more limbs without regard to how it would affect their lives, only to provide a new found sense of pleasure.

The thoughts did not erase the hard feelings she harbored towards Olivia, thoughts that would be difficult to overcome, probably only after she also lost the first limb. She replayed some of the conversations with Seth about how much attention Sandra paid to his stump, about how willing she was to allow him inside of her all the while moaning how wonderful it was the leg was not there and the occasional accidental references to what it would be like for her leg to be gone. Betty thought about the times he had been in her and how she had feelings exactly like the ones Sandra had spoken. She did not know how much longer she could maintain the charade everyone was playing with Sandra. It had been years and would end soon.

She placed the right foot on the desk leaving the left one unseen under the chair. Her hands dragged along the leg from the ankle to the top of the thigh while imagining that was no longer possible to do so to the other leg. Her pussy quickly became damp and in need of a touch. Her palm cupped it. A finger dug inside, then a few more. A groan filled the space around her as her head fell back, her mouth open. She paused long enough to pull the left arm inside the sweatshirt then listened to the slopping sounds as her fingers filled the wet opening.

Images of Olivia missing both legs below the knee and most of one forearm began to swamp her mind and drove her closer to bliss. “You cheated,” she whispered. “I’ll catch up,” she added then enjoyed the rest of the orgasm letting the hard feeling towards Olivia vanish.

Sandra kept the page and the phone number for a few days as she digested the significance of Olivia’s words. Was the person with one leg a friend, a lover, and what did she mean about loving having one leg? Was she like me? Alone in the car parked under a streetlight by the Sociology Department building at night; Sandra slowly pressed the keys on her cell phone.

“Olivia, this is Sandra, Betty is my mother.” Sandra waited for some recognition of who she was. The pause, the silence, was painfully long.

“Yes-s,” Olivia dragged out, unsure of what to say.

“I’m sorry we’ve never had a chance to meet. You seem to be the only family member alive I haven’t.”

“Yeah,” she said with a sorrowful tone.

“I’d like to change that. Is there someway we could get together?”

“I don’t know.”

“I’m at the university and I have next week off. I’d be happy to come to some place close to you. I can understand how you might not want anyone to know where you live, I could pay your travel expenses.”

“Why is this important to you?”

“Well it started as a hole in a family tree project I’m working on, but then mom showed me a page you wrote, one she found on the floor the last time you visited her.”

“Fuck!” Olivia roared. “She had no right!” She hated games, but she had promised Betty to continue to string Sandra along. They both knew this was the best way to ease her into a position where both Betty and Sandra could have the same joy that she had.

“Don’t blame her. She….”

“She shouldn’t have kept that. She shouldn’t have given it to anyone.”

“She said it was about seven years ago when she found that.”

“Yeah!” Olivia was breathing hard and it sounded like she might be crying. The page had not been left seven years ago; it was only two months ago on their last visit, a wonderful night for both. On other visits, Kate had made it a threesome. Olivia sniffled again as the play-acting continued all the while thinking she should receive an Oscar for the performance.

“I don’t mean to pry, I don’t want to….”

“Then don’t!”

“Sorry.” There was a long period of silence by both of them. “I’m sorry about the rape. He had no right. What I’m more interested in is the other side of the page. The part about the missing leg, what is that all about?”

“You’d never understand.” Olivia was terse, obviously a subject she would not easily talk about more, probably a subject more personal than even the rape.

“I want to. Please.”

“Listen.” There was another long pause. “Because of the family, um, some because of my own foolishness, I’ve lost a few loves. Now, for the last year, I’ve been with someone quite wonderful.” Olivia paused again. “I don’t want to lose Kate.” She groaned realizing she had given too much information.

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