Bubbles and Troubles

by Bebe Balocca

  Deb huffed. “I’m just telling you what I heard, Colby. Besides, that man has no children. Who’s he going to leave all that land to?”

  “I certainly hope it’s not true,” Dora clucked. “That would mean huge changes for Charade. I don’t want a bunch of rich city people moving in. I like our little town just the way it is.” She took a sad breath and her ample bosom heaved.

  “Ladies, it’s time for class,” Carmen interrupted. “We’re not going to learn anything about this in the next hour, but we can get a great class in. Are you ready?”

  Carmen turned on the stereo and led the class through a series of hip drops, shimmies, and kicks. As always, the Middle Eastern music soothed her, but worries bubbled beneath her surface. Were her beautiful woods—well, Calvin Prescott’s beautiful woods—going to be cut off from her view by a tall brick wall? Would a passel of the very people she’d left behind in Chicago move into her transplanted hometown? Would they overrun mellow, stuck-in-the-sixties Charade with fancy gourmet food stores and interior design shops? Would the sweet, simple life she enjoyed be uprooted by a lucrative real estate deal?

  Not if she had anything to say about it, Carmen decided. She concentrated on her moves, stepping and bending to the music. As usual, she felt a lusciously erotic stirring while she danced. Her bared physique wasn’t fashion-model skinny, but belly dancing emphasised the tactile desirability of authentic, healthy curves and exposed skin. At first, Carmen had been embarrassed to feel aroused while she danced, but now she welcomed the sexual energy that sparked through her while dancing. Feeling a sweet, hot slickness grow between her lower lips, Carmen knew that she’d have to finish herself off with some personal attention as soon as she got home. Her nipples stiffened in anticipation. Belly dancing made her feel sexy, nimble and desirable, never mind that she was a single thirty-something woman who raised chickens.

  While gyrating her hips to the seductive soundtrack, Carmen glanced up at the window. That same grey tomcat was sitting on the windowsill outside, staring in as though it saw a roomful of flightless birds. It licked its chops. Carmen rolled her eyes and looked away with a smile. Maybe I’ll get my new mouser after all, she thought, amused, or, at the very least, a devoted belly-dancing fan.

  The class wrapped up, but her six students remained in the room. Monica giggled with excitement and Beth hushed her. “What’s going on?” Carmen asked.

  Bernice pulled a gold-wrapped box from her tote bag. “This is for you, dear,” she said, handing it to Carmen. “We all chipped in. Happy birthday!”

  Carmen took the box and blushed with pleasure. She had completely forgotten that today was her birthday. And it wasn’t just any birthday—it was her fortieth. “Thank you all so much,” she whispered, choked by gratitude.

  “Well, open it!” Monica urged. She bounced on her toes and squealed.

  Carmen slipped the ribbon off and opened the box. Inside was a gorgeous confection of bronze silk chiffon and beads.

  “It’s Turkish!” Monica exclaimed. “Isn’t it fabulous?”

  Carmen lifted the beaded bikini top from the box and shook it. Long strands of golden coins and beads shook like drops of metallic water from the bronze sequined bra top. “It’s so beautiful, guys.” Carmen smiled. She passed the top to Dora and held up the matching beaded belt and skirt. “I can’t wait to wear it when we perform together for the Fourth of July. This is too much, really. You are so generous, every one of you.”

  Beth, Monica, Deb and Bernice hugged Carmen then gathered their things.

  “I’ll let you know if we hear anything about the Prescott place,” Deb promised as they departed.

  Dora and Colby hung back after the others left. “Let us take you out tonight, Carmen,” Dora offered. “We’ll drink some beer and throw some darts at the Mine Shaft. What do you say? A girl doesn’t turn forty every day, you know.” Dora covered her voluptuous figure with a fringed floral shawl.

  “We’ll pick you up at nine, okay?” Colby confirmed. “It’ll be fun, Carmen. I’ve arranged a cab from Aldridge, so we don’t have to worry about driving.” She gave Carmen a knowing wink.

  “Suh-weet!” Dora crowed with excitement. Her heavy breasts jiggled with merriment. “We’ll catch a buzz, okay, Carmen? See you at nine!”

  * * * *

  That evening Carmen had a simple meal of a grilled cheese sandwich and tomato soup. She took her dinner outside to eat with the chickens. They pecked in front of the dense, mysterious backdrop of Prescott Woods. Carmen chewed thoughtfully as she watched ruddy Suellen chase fluffy, multi-hued Scarlett and Melanie around the yard. Surely Calvin Prescott wouldn’t sell off the woods, Carmen thought, when it’s been so important to his family and to Charade.

  That huge old stone mansion built by Calvin’s great-great-great-grandfather was the most historically and architecturally impressive structure in eastern Kentucky, if rumours could be believed. Calvin Prescott, a noted recluse, refused to allow visitors to his home. The limestone mansion stood half a mile from the road and was veiled by trees, but glimpses of it were impressive nonetheless. A tall wrought iron gate surrounded the mansion and lawn, and the two-hundred-acre forest stretched beyond it.

  Carmen finished her meal and gathered her chickens into their coop. They roosted promptly at sundown, so it was best to have them all tucked in before it grew dark. Spare Tire helped her round up the girls then strutted in behind them. She gave the latch an extra tug to make sure it was firmly fastened before going inside to get dressed for her birthday outing. She chose a snug pair of her favourite jeans, a black silk tank top, her dressiest pair of cowboy boots and a chunky handmade agate necklace.

  * * * *

  At eleven, Dora was bringing around the third pitcher of draught beer at the Mine Shaft. Colby had declared herself Dart Queen Extraordinaire and was loudly challenging everyone in the bar to a match. Vonda Richardson, Charade’s real estate agent, was quick to rise to the challenge. Carmen giggled to see dainty Colby—her ear smudged with brick-red paint from her current artistic project—talking smack about her skill at darts.

  “Hey, girls!” Deb appeared by their table, radiant in a turquoise tie-dyed tunic and frayed denim miniskirt. “Mind if I join you for a minute or two? Marcus just put quarters on the pool table, so we’re up next. Are you having a fun fortieth, Carmen?”

  “Indeed I am.” Carmen beamed. She hopped from her stool and gave Deb an enormous hug. “Thank you so much for my present, Deb!” she gushed. “And thank you so much for being in my class. I love belly dancing with you guys!” Carmen bounced with beer-fuelled enthusiasm, causing her enormous gold hoops to flop against her neck.

  “You are just so welcome,” replied Deb. “We love having you in Charade. I bet there’s no other small town in Eastern Kentucky that can say they’ve got a lawyer, belly-dancing teacher, and veggie co-op owner-slash-employee all in one cute little package.”

  Carmen gave a self-deprecating shrug and rolled her eyes upward. “As far as I’m concerned, there’s no place in the world as wonderful as Charade.”

  Dora poured a glass of beer for Deb from the pitcher and pulled the seat out for her. “So, did you hear anything else about the Prescott land thing?”

  “Oh, God, don’t get me started,” Deb groaned. She downed half of her glass in two big gulps. “It looks like it’s going down, girls. Marcus said that while I was at belly-dancing class, a guy in a suit came in and asked where Calvin Prescott lived. Marcus gave him directions, and told him that historically, Mr Prescott did not appreciate visitors.” She cleared her throat and tossed back the rest of her beer. “Suit tells him that he’s sure Mr Prescott will welcome his visit, since he’s about to purchase a great deal of his land and make Mr Prescott a very, very wealthy man.”

  “Puh-leeze!” Carmen interjected. “He’s already a very rich man! Good grief.” She poured another glass of beer for Deb and topped off her own glass.

  Deb twisted her mouth to the side. “Who knows, Carmen,” she
said. “Nobody goes up there, and nobody knows what old Calvin’s financial situation is. He certainly doesn’t bank around here, that’s for sure. Marcus’s friend Tom is the manager of First Trust in Aldridge, where ’most everybody around here does their banking, and he’s already asked about the Prescott money. Tom said that there’s no Prescott money at First Trust, so who knows how much Calvin’s got squirrelled away.”

  “Huh,” Dora mused. “Maybe he’s house poor after all, living in that big old mansion. There’s got to be a lot of upkeep to that thing.”

  “Well, he still doesn’t have any right to change the whole flavour of Charade, damn it,” Carmen complained.

  Deb lifted her hands in resignation. “Well, it is his land after all, so I guess we have to like it or lump it.” She waved over Carmen’s shoulder and stood with her half-full glass. “Thanks for the beer, girls, and happy birthday, Carmen. I wouldn’t worry too much about the Prescott land if I were you. Charade’s been around for a long time, and it’s not going anywhere.”

  * * * *

  Two pitchers later, Dora and Colby were singing an off-key but enthusiastic version of Happy Birthday to Carmen in a black-and-white Aldridge City Cab. The driver pulled in front of Carmen’s house and waited for the ladies to hug their goodnights and for Carmen to exit. While Carmen fumbled for her keys, she heard Dora and Colby resume their singing as the cab eased down her driveway.

  Chapter Three

  Arr-uff! Arr-uff-uff-uff!

  Dax’s bark drew her attention to the backyard. It wasn’t like him to bark for no reason. Could it be that her egg poacher had returned to swipe another basket?

  Carmen clomped in booted feet around the side porch. “Get ’im, Dax!” she shouted as she raced to the backyard. “Get that thing and hold it down, boy!” Carmen rushed through the fence gate towards the sound of Dax’s barking, which was, sure enough, right next to the door of the chicken coop.

  Carmen saw a tall form in the shadows. Unmistakably masculine and incredibly imposing. Even under the influence of alcohol, she felt the icy tongue of fear lap down her spine. She and Dax were no match for a grown man, let alone a trespasser with bad intentions…

  Carmen took a step back towards her house. “Just take the eggs,” she said in a shaky voice. “I’m going inside now. Take all you want, okay?” She felt dizzy with dread as adrenaline coursed through her limbs. With her hand on the doorknob, she stared at Dax, who was barking nonstop, and the shadowy figure. Before her eyes, the figure shrank and moved. Carmen shook her head in confusion. It was…a cat? The big grey tomcat hissed at Dax and darted up to Carmen’s feet. Stupid beer. Thank goodness birthdays only come once a year, Carmen thought, and opened the back door.

  “Here, kitty, kitty, kitty,” she called. Noisily purring, the cat walked into her house as if he owned the place, his tail held high. Dax followed, visibly annoyed with the whole proceedings. “It’s okay, Dax,” Carmen soothed. “We need a mouser around here, boy.” She took a rawhide bone from the kitchen cabinet and held it up for Dax. With a sceptical glance towards the cat, Dax chomped the bone and trotted out to his doghouse.

  Carmen turned to her new house guest. The huge furball sat on the kitchen floor, staring at her. “So, you’re a stray, huh?” Carmen asked him. “You look pretty well-fed for a homeless cat. Have you been eating my eggs, mister?” The glossy grey cat bumped his head against her calf affectionately.

  “So, I haven’t been to the store yet, kitty, and I don’t know what I’ve got around here that you might want to eat.” The cat brushed once more against her leg before trotting out of the kitchen towards Carmen’s bedroom.

  Carmen followed him and chuckled to see him leap onto her bed and stretch out on his back like a sleeping lion. “Please make yourself at home, kitty-cat.” She laughed. Carmen slipped out of her boots and tank top, and yanked her jeans down to her feet. Clad in a silky turquoise cami and hot pink satin boyshorts, she held a hand out to the cat.

  “Don’t get offended, bub,” she slurred, “but I’m not letting anyone into my bed who has fleas. Just gonna do a quick check, okay?” The cat purred like an outboard motor as Carmen parted his thick charcoal fur with her fingers. She shook her head in bemusement at the fearless stray cat baring his belly to her. After a few minutes of careful searching, Carmen didn’t find a single flea or tick. In fact, the cat’s thick, shiny coat was scrupulously clean and as soft as a chinchilla’s.

  “All righty then,” Carmen decided. “You’ve got the all-clear to share my bed, mister. Hope you appreciate the honour. You’re the only male who’s been here since I moved in five years ago.” She took a quick bathroom break, washed her face, brushed her teeth, then climbed into bed.

  It seemed that as soon as her eyes closed, her dream was back, clearer than ever.

  Once more, she was in the depths of the woods. He was inside her, pummelling her cunt with that fat cock of his. He had his hands in her hair, around her waist, caressing her breasts, and she pumped her rear against him in approval.

  In a sudden motion, he yanked his shaft from her and whipped her onto her back. Carmen cried out in surprise then moaned in delight. He buried his head between her thighs and parted her folds with his tongue. Carmen lowered her hands to his head. His hair was silky, lush and thick between her fingers. “Fuck, yes,” she whispered. He lapped her clit delicately, and Carmen’s nipples puckered in response. His hair was so exquisitely soft, it felt almost like fur as it grazed the sensitive skin of her inner thighs. Carmen ran her palms over it, loving the cool, silky feel of his locks and the clever, wet attention from his mouth.

  His hands moved to her thighs and yanked them farther apart. The dry leaves and twigs under her ass crunched. Her muscles protested the deep split stretch, but she relished the burn. Oh, God, he was touching her again. He slid strong, thick fingers over the crumpled, wet lips of her pussy as Carmen whimpered, impatient for more. His fingertips found the opening to her cunt and slowly, slowly, slowly eased inside.

  With his tongue skidding over her swollen clitoris, he unhurriedly fucked her with first one, then two long digits. Carmen arched and bucked against his hand and mouth, urging him to go faster and deeper and harder, but he seemed to be in no rush whatsoever.

  She fisted her hands in his hair in desperation and pulled his face tighter to her crotch. “Do it,” she begged roughly. “Make me come again.” Carmen cried out when he wedged a third finger between her legs. Her pussy wept at the tight fit. She ground against his hand mindlessly, her body twisting and undulating of its own accord.

  She realised with a smile what her dream lover’s hair reminded her of. So luxuriantly soft and thick, and unbelievably silky…

  Carmen’s eyes flew open in alarm. The room was dark, but enough moonglow filtered through the window that she could see her own spread knees on the bed. She reached tentatively between them, her heart thumping, and felt that unmistakable soft fur.

  “Oh my God!” she squeaked. “Kitty! No! Bad kitty!” Carmen grabbed fistfuls of fur and yanked the randy thing up from between her legs.

  “Ow!” a deep male voice protested. “What the fuck! Ow! Let go, Carmen!”

  “Holy shit!” Carmen grabbed the sheet and scooted back against the headboard of her bed. She fumbled for the bedside lamp with one shaking hand. Click. Yellow lamplight warmed the room and exposed the naked man tangled in sheets at the foot of her bed.

  He had a tousled mane of slate-coloured hair that stood wildly on end, like that of a manga character in a comic book. The man rubbed his head, wincing, and looked up at her with accusing sapphire-blue eyes. “You didn’t have to pull my hair out,” he muttered. “It’s attached to my head, you know.”

  Carmen gaped. He was the most beautiful man she’d ever laid eyes on. His skin was the colour of buttery, molten caramel. His chest was chiselled and sharply defined, his shoulders were gloriously wide and his biceps were bulky and knotted. And oh, those abs. Carmen let her eyes wander lower. A thick erection
, ringed by slate-grey curls of hair, jutted from his lap.

  She shook her head. “Am I drunk-dreaming or crazy? Who the fuck are you?” She leant forwards and lifted one trembling hand to his head. That rich, grey hair felt just like the fur of a chinchilla. Or a cat. “Are you the fucking stray cat?” she gasped. “What’s going on?”

  “I’m not a cat, but, ah, I might have looked like a cat a time or two to your eyes.” He seemed oblivious to the still-thick cock pointing towards his chin, but it was incredibly difficult for Carmen to feel the same. She found her treacherous eyes wanting to drift downward, again and again, to drink that luscious sight in. Clearly, it had been way too long since she’d been with a man. Five years, in fact, and Ian almost didn’t count, since his heart obviously hadn’t been completely into their lovemaking by the end of the relationship.

  “And that makes about zero sense,” Carmen grumbled. She rose from the bed and yanked her chenille robe around her. Knotting the sash, she glared at him. “You better do some talking, mister,” she warned, “or, I swear, I’ll call the police right now.” Carmen turned on her cell phone, dialled 9-1-1, and held the phone up threateningly.

  “Ah, yes.” The man stood and lifted his hands in an ‘I’m innocent’ gesture. Carmen swallowed with effort. He was at least six foot three and looked uncannily like David Beckham in his skivvies. Minus the skivvies. “I’m Brock. This will probably be a novel concept for you, but, along with members of my family, I have the ability to cast glamours on humans. To change what they see and trick them into seeing something else. I wanted to get closer to you, but I didn’t think you’d just let me waltz in, so I made it so that you saw a sweet little cat instead.”

  “Bullshit,” Carmen said. She pointed one finger at the ’call’ button and lifted her eyebrows.